“ I wana hold your hand, I wana hold your hand”. Simple and so beautiful. Notihng profound, no artifice. Plain and clear. Just how it should be… the beatles with their simple lyrics and pleasant sound. “we all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine”. And some a wee bit less simple… “while my guitar gently weeps”… nice. We try often to simplify things. I wonder why. Why do we decode? Why try and understand things? Why do we need to know why it happened, what went wrong?
“we want to find meaning in everyone and everything. That’s the disease of our age”- Pablo Picasso.
I work a little more organized. Not madly taking up or looking for more work. I read. I study. I blog.i think. Less on the run. I teach. I pause. I do my research. I party less. I drink even lesser. I think. I go out less often. I want to just be. I am not on the fone 6 hours a day (work related and otherwise). I have started drawing after a long time. I used to do it so often. I am enjoying it. The drawings show a lot of angst. I hope it is catharsis. I really do. The drawings are unlike what I would generally do. Lot of influence of the works I have been following in the galleries in the past few months. But these are for me. Indulgence. Its been rather nice. Cant wait to move out. My space. Lots of it. The luxury of it all. I feel old. Scared. It will be lonely. Must keep busy. I better. Have been listening to one song a lot the past few days. Linkin park’s ‘in the end’. It goes…
I tried so hard
and got this far
but in the end
it doesn’t really matter!
Fits my current state of mind perfectly. There’s very little sense of achievement. I should be proud of/ happy about/ thankful for a few things. But I am not. It doesn’t really matter. I don’t understand me. At all. Really. I want to re read ‘An Equal Music’. Its sad and beautiful. I really could do with something nice happening to me. Must listen to the sound track of ‘Abhimaan’. Its nice. Love the lyrics. 2 beautiful songs. Must start my research paper. Its due soon. 2500 words. Have no clue what I’ll be writing on. I worry. A lot. I love the titles of some books. They say a lot to me. ‘ the god of small things’. ‘one hundred years of solitude’. ‘waiting for godot’. ‘ of love and other demons’.