Woke late this morning. Don’t know why? My life in this village hamlet proceeds at leisurely pace. The school kids came to the house for the dance practice. I have been given the honor of giving the Welcome Speech for the school day. Saw two yellow butterflies dancing gaily as though they were writing a poetic lyric. It’s my niece’s birthday and I am having Biryani in the night. Thought a lot about Maurice Blanchot the French writer and philosopher. I was fortunate to read his book: the space of literature. The ornament of Literature is put into the stoic space of literary thought. When writing, one must let go off the self and become a freedom self. There is no perfect literature. Literature lies only in degrees of perfection. One has to transcend one’s gender, nationality, race and caste when one is writing. Leave the past, live the present and hope the future. My android conked out and my dear wife was extra generous in buying me a new one. I have taken Maxim Gorky’s short fiction. Wanted to analyze it but did not get the time. Russian writers are passionate ones endowed with the rich soul of writing. Literature if it’s an art has to resemble music as music being the highest forms of all art. I don’t have a paisa in my pocket yet I am the happiest man alive. Bought a lottery ticket with a fancy number 275275. Most days the winning tickets are fancy numbers. The year is soon going to end and a new year will bloom like a flower. What is a writer’s consciousness? A writer begins to see art in all things great and small. A glass for a writer is sculpture, a cistern an aquarium, a bird, a bard on wings. Time speaks to us in our inner consciousness …Time is a horse on wings, a bard, a druid. She has not been contacting me for very long and I wonder why? I hope she is OK, well and fine. I feel so worried about her. I wonder if she has lost interest in me. I keep applying to schools abroad. They ask me to send my resume and I when I do, all I get is a silence. Sometimes I wish, I could retire and spend the rest of my days in solitude and writing. Most of my books are free and I am not interested in monetary benefits. Literature is the food of my life, my daily bread. Sometimes I feel bored with my work as I am teaching English to 6th 7th and 8th graders. Most of the texts though having high flying names like Oxford and Cambridge but are far away from the daily realities of the child. I have taught kids the art of writing essays, the art of making metaphors and I also teach them a new word in the assembly. I love Jazz and I try to incorporate its rhythms into writing. Blog writing has helped me to evolve the writer in me and I am grateful to WordPress and Blogger. What new avant gardism can I put into my writing? What type of writing will evolve after streams of consciousness? Our minds are always in streams of consciousness. We are talking selves. I have to buy a new set of books as my books are all exhausted. I need some money for it. Van Gogh’s letters to his brother Theo are so passionate so enduring and they echo an artistic symphony. I have read Salvador Dali’s autobiography and I love his ego deification. Art is life, and living a poem, making love is music.