sleeping

The devilish pleasure and luxury of being able to sleep the whole day, the whole night and the whole evening. There’s construction work going on in the apartment above us, and they were working in the room above mine. The noise under which I went to sleep was no joke. No room was spared either, the noises were everywhere. But I slept through, waking up in a compounded glory of multiple hollow meaningless victories.

It’s not even me skipping my responsibilities. They’re too less. What else am I supposed to do in a state of limbo, a state of lax muscles and an idle mind?

Any suggestions about better use of time would be welcome.

-Tanmay

unread stuff

I bought a hardcover box set of The Lord of The Rings, with the whole series divided into 7 small books. The set looks extremely sexy, it’s inviting and the blue and gold colours exude a sense of peace.

All that said I haven’t actually gotten to reading more than 80 pages of the first book. Tolkien is a genius but man he definitely takes his time to get to the point. It seems he’s screaming and laughing at us: “I have the goddamn luxury of time!”

What’s also awesome is the fact that he was friend with the writer of The Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis. It is said they both wanted to write fantasy and encouraged each other.

But I’ll get around to reading it, I’m sure. It is one of those books that should be read before your life is over.

-Tanmay

buried alive; logic; reasons

Music and loneliness have a symbiotic relationship. Music doesn’t cut away the loneliness but it sure numbs the pain that arises out of it. I remember in my second semester at univeristy I had my earphones resting on my ears constantly, no matter where I went. In February 2018 I was introduced to Logic’s Under Pressure by a fellow music enthusiast and music producer. I fell in love with Logic instantly. He is revered by a lot of people for his honest take on anxiety and depression, almost as if an older brother is listening to you and your fears. I remember sitting alone for breakfast eating quickly whilst listening to Buried Alive, the memory is etched so clearly that listening to the song again now brings back images from that time and a thump in my body because of the physiological changes that anxiety brought forth were sometimes more pronounced while listening to relatable music. It was mostly a wrenching of the gut- up and down so strong that it would force my hip up if I was on my bed.

There was a dependence that I fostered on certain types of music that helped channel some of my confusion with life into energy to get up and do shit. I owe a lot to the artists whose music I listened to then. The desperation of loneliness demands prompt attachment to anything constant. People couldn’t be there in the way I needed them to be, so an only child was still the only child at steel tables, with two hundred of his peers ten meters away. It was almost necessary, the way my life unfolded then; it made me impervious.

Everything happens for a reason and the reason is made clear after the happening; almost always.

-Tanmay

self portraiture in hell

rough sandpaper

against my cheek,

she hummed her tale of yesteryear’s glory

and I focused on the roughness against my portrait

what if it were to leave a stain?

what if I were to be a branded man?

a marked man

taken to the gallows

for not listening to the glory of a woman

glory of fire, blood and tears in a holy mix-

injected intravenous,

with Stairway to Heaven playing in the background

I never liked that song though

would have rather listened to the cat and monkey screeching at each other

and with her tale unheard still,

she slapped me hard

and I saw stars for a moment

and then she got up and left

and so did the monkey

naturally I named the cat Persephone.

-Tanmay

waste I

colossal waste

everywhere

dirty gritty wet waste

a bud from an expensive cigarette, a can of cheap beer, a rancid half eaten apple

oh such treasures

thrown away

into streets of ignorance with thwarting eyes

until a mountain erupts

showing off beautifully

the carcasses of a million yesterdays,

a million yesterdays of despair and

sadness shoved down to our gut

and then shed and then recycled and then shoved down again

debilitating

destructing…

(To be continued)

-Tanmay