Tat Tvam Asi

when I was so clued into the western music scene. We used to just get good ole DD and they wd beam all kinds of fabulous stuff like 'top of the pops' etc at us. I knew the lyrics, the mukhdas, antaras etc. The last musician I was into for a bit was alanis morrissette...I still know some of her songs. Kinda sound like a dinosaur from the pterodactyl age etc but no really...
I do switch to the music channels, but they're usually airing the latest teeny bopper stuff...
The problem isn't them, its me. I've just kinda moved out of that zone...years ago. Maybe I will revisit that part of me again...with some jazz education. Hmm....

Time was when I collected stamps, wrote copious letters to my friend in germany religiously (now its more like a random card or bunch of pics in a year, though shes still better than I), ate walls, devoured books (I've just read 15 pages of a woolf book, I got a month or so back), and had an enthu for life, generally. I still can get pretty charged abt happy and unhappy stuff but...

I'm glad cos in a way, it means I've evolved, moved on, shifted homes. There is still stuff I want to do before the sun sets on me. Maybe I'll carry it over if I can't for some reason...

What am I? A bunch of organs pinned to a stick? An overactive pea poised atop a ladder? A contradictory smorgasbord of ideas, concepts, beliefs, opinions, desires and dreams? Conditioned by family, society and the human race.

I can safely say that at this point of time the only subject, topic, idea I can hold forth on and presume to understand is myself, the Me in me. Not my child, not my man, not my parents, not my siblings, not my extended family, not my city, not my country, not the world I live in. All these are incidental to the Me, clinical and curt though it may sound. Peel away all the noise, and theres just this naked Me. Apolitical, asexual, asocial...

I come and go...maybe I take on different guises, maybe I just float in the ether, disembodied. I go through the motions, the acts, the roles, the given permutation-combinations that the unseen arranges before me. Am I, essentially, at the very basic level, just a carbon-based organism, no better than the bare trees, the pebbles I so often stop to admire?

When the end comes, when I am disposed of, when the mannequin is stowed away in the dark, does it matter anymore, what I was? What I liked, disliked, hated, hummed, ate, read, wrote, blogged? Does it carry on into the next, if there is one, in a silent sleeper module?

I'm not tripping, I'm not high. I'm just thinking aloud. Shouting into the emptiness. No reply expected.

its raining! :-) schoolkids yelling...people taking shelter from the rain...birds drenched. Splashes, slush, wet wet wet.

if its tuesday, this must be belgium
if its wednesday, this must be rome,
if its london, why ain't it raining....

hmmmmhmmmhmmm

i liked the movie too...

where do I begin to tell the story of how great love can be
lalllaallaa
where do I end

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
...
...
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

- Donne