Jan 13th 2018

The day has been one of contemplation about how to write a new novel of art encompassing philosophical fiction. I long for some weed to awaken my consciousness. Weed has become so scarce thanks to the vigilantism of cops. Dope sellers don’t trust me and so they don’t give me weed. My lover in Bali, a Hindu, who practices yoga and meditation sent me some photographs. She is so sensual, so passionate, so bubbling with romance. Yes, I long to travel to Bali and make love to her. I long to smoke the clove coated cigarettes of Indonesia. I long to eat the tasty grilled fish. Oh Lord make it a happening. Yes, I am tired of work: would love to settle down probably in a hill station of India and spend the rest of my life in writing. Would love to win the First Prize of 6 Crores of Christmas Bumper offered by the Kerala State. I am tired of my nagging wife. I would love to spend the evenings having a quiet drink and chatting with my loved one. Yes, I feel marrying again. May be I will marry the woman from Bali.

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Dusk

Dusk’s a floating
Opera …
Orange hues
Are soaked petals
And linger as a
Painter scattering
A hazy abstract…
Time’s a music
Of mediation…
I am fond of
Nature …
It’s a metaphor
Of solitude…
My lover for her
Awakens like a dove…
Would have loved
An evening with her…
Love echoes the
Evening as a poem …