Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Darkness and dreams

From catching a brief glimpse in to the discrete charm of the bourgeoisie on my media-box through much of the night, I take a break now that my own discreteness can manifest, as it nears daybreak - just another coupla' hours to go. I step outside. Outside, I cozy myself against a dark corner on the rooftop, in all abandon (except a funny feeling of being beheaded by a violent lightning strike, as I sit right under an iron rod, in the month of the monsoonal rage that might whip up any moment and send thunderbolts screaming towards the terra firma). Here, I am among the shadows, of zero existence as far as this scene of this night is concerned, a mere observer, a pure detachment - and I like that. A dark grin first comes on my face, merging well with my dark place, a grin about all that we can do to take ourselves far and high, to drive away from the ordinary, to give us an identity, to save us some satisfactory thought for our last moments to have us die with a peaceful expression on the face despite fighting a biological reality. And I chuckle at that thought. Then I proceed into 'waking my big toe' - to spur myself into action (however I interpreted that scene in Tarantino's Kill Bill) - and try to look 'ahead'.

I get no delusions. My head is blank, if not for inspiration from my senses that give it processing to do and accidentally triggering some thought chain or two, or scanning some slice in our memory - what we call being pensive [see: pensee]. Such sensory input does come - through my vision, of the high wall of the neighbour's adjoining plot - and in the next second I see myself high up there... way high up than the wall itself, atop a fancy summit, bearing deep pink cheeks and a wide smile and a pink tongue rolled out dripping with saliva - in greed for life. I'm perturbed as well, mulling over two things: the time I have to build my dreams, and that which I have to chase those. Not all dreams can come true, as the aphorism goes, but I guess this is one single fact that drives me closer to being a fool, because I'm never gonna heed it in all my wisdom.

The cool air erases these images from my mind, and brings with it an image from a more certain future - one where I'm to start on the bananas to fuel myself on the morning run with S, to the stadium and thereon to that street where nice girls come out in the mornings, and back home to load on a scrumptious breakfast, to drift into sleep while worrying about shirking work yet again.
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