Fake Thoughts
There's a lot of mess on my table. Amidst all the crazy, there's Alexa Chung's "It" and it lies on top of my school register on which i take notes during class. I take notes, but I feel like i never return to them. Like when the ball of the pen drops to let the ink flow, it flows in vain; never to be read. Because hey, I have a perverted book lying on top of something that's supposed to help me get somewhere in life. I have covered the dirty parts in silver marker. So that it doesn't look ugly. I had once bought GQ magazine where the book shop keeper had covered all the nudity in it with black marker, making the pages stick together. It made the magazine look ugly. And I couldn't read the piece on some director of porn so I could feel like a moderate, progressive Muslim.
The camera is charging by the way. I haven't done any photo shoots lately because I have been trying to live life. I say "live life" like it's something we're supposed to do, in fact, our every breath dictates that we're doing just that. I have been trying to write a journal, note down the smallest details in life. And i am failing miserably at it. Because I feel like if i sit down to write about the living life part of my life, i'm living for the sake of documentation and not for the sake of living. I don't want stories to hold on to, because I know I'll never read them again. Just like my register. I feel like I'll be lost in the moment and miss it by not absorbing it but absorbing other moments.
I have been thinking a lot about the concept of perversion lately. I think that's what I'm doing, Perversing the concept of living life. In this age of ease of access and with new words coming in mind to connect to old thoughts, it's very easy to feel enlightened, holy, and something big. Insta fame does that. Or maybe it's the hunger for insta fame that does that. I have been looking a lot at the way people talk. By perverse I don't mean in a porn-y way; perverse means to completely change the meaning and the way the thing is supposed to be. We sure get a lot of pleasure out of it. I just wish our biases weren't so strong, that our experiences weren't so severe on our minds to make us form an idea about life and never let go of it.
The real challenge would be to let go of our selves. Because we know that the most perverse part of us is our inner self. And fighting that battle is the biggest concern I have right now. It's not that i'm supposed to be sad as i fight in the battlefield; it's the exact opposite. Somehow being able to fight with my own self gives me the confidence to bust the myths i have formed about my body or the way i am supposed to be. Like i'm fighting the stereotypes I was conforming myself to. Life is too limited to conform to stereotypes. Life is too short to be perverted.
If I am able to fight the butterfly that will show me the world; i can walk on my own and figure things out on my own. I might not even grow my own wings. But I have eyes, i have a brain, albeit a very confused one, but i also have my feet, ears and my sense of perception that forms my instincts. And fighting the innate instincts will help me form new ones.
I just have to let myself let go. I just have to let life go. I have to let the bubble pop. I have to let the ink flow. Or maybe not drop the ball at all. Just go. Just go.
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The camera is charging by the way. I haven't done any photo shoots lately because I have been trying to live life. I say "live life" like it's something we're supposed to do, in fact, our every breath dictates that we're doing just that. I have been trying to write a journal, note down the smallest details in life. And i am failing miserably at it. Because I feel like if i sit down to write about the living life part of my life, i'm living for the sake of documentation and not for the sake of living. I don't want stories to hold on to, because I know I'll never read them again. Just like my register. I feel like I'll be lost in the moment and miss it by not absorbing it but absorbing other moments.
I have been thinking a lot about the concept of perversion lately. I think that's what I'm doing, Perversing the concept of living life. In this age of ease of access and with new words coming in mind to connect to old thoughts, it's very easy to feel enlightened, holy, and something big. Insta fame does that. Or maybe it's the hunger for insta fame that does that. I have been looking a lot at the way people talk. By perverse I don't mean in a porn-y way; perverse means to completely change the meaning and the way the thing is supposed to be. We sure get a lot of pleasure out of it. I just wish our biases weren't so strong, that our experiences weren't so severe on our minds to make us form an idea about life and never let go of it.
The real challenge would be to let go of our selves. Because we know that the most perverse part of us is our inner self. And fighting that battle is the biggest concern I have right now. It's not that i'm supposed to be sad as i fight in the battlefield; it's the exact opposite. Somehow being able to fight with my own self gives me the confidence to bust the myths i have formed about my body or the way i am supposed to be. Like i'm fighting the stereotypes I was conforming myself to. Life is too limited to conform to stereotypes. Life is too short to be perverted.
If I am able to fight the butterfly that will show me the world; i can walk on my own and figure things out on my own. I might not even grow my own wings. But I have eyes, i have a brain, albeit a very confused one, but i also have my feet, ears and my sense of perception that forms my instincts. And fighting the innate instincts will help me form new ones.
I just have to let myself let go. I just have to let life go. I have to let the bubble pop. I have to let the ink flow. Or maybe not drop the ball at all. Just go. Just go.
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