He had a peculiar habit. He was fond of sending hoax messages to the Police stating the bombing of places. Till now he has not been caught. He likes to give a hard time to the police.
I wanted to get a disability certificate for my son who is having autism and so I had to go to the government hospital. The bathroom was horrible and un-cleaned with lumps of shit and urine lying all around. As I was sitting in the psychiatric ward, there was a huge notice board and on it was written—number of people with STDS counseled—number of condoms distributed. A smile broke out on my lips.
Nothing much has happened in my life. This day to day routine is trying and troublesome. I think of content to write but nothing much emerges.
I had a strange dream and in it I was going through a tunnel. I looked up at the dream dictionary and found the meaning as, going through a tunnel means solving a problem and beginning a new phase of life. I am excited at the prospects that the dream has to offer.
I wonder where life is taking me to. I dream of visiting enchanted islands like Bali, the Philippines where my significant other lives. I dream of smoking clove cigarettes and having Indonesian grilled fish and duck roast and rice with Sambal.
I nourish writing as a poetic dream. I draw writing with my pen and brush against the canvas of the paper. Form is the evolution of the ego into an aesthetic symbolism of an idealism. Content is what the pen plants as a seed and writing is an evolution of a fruit. Style of writing is a fictional utopia. Meaning is the recognition of the allegory in aesthetic semblances. I carve beautiful sculptures with my pen. Writing is the joyful exertion of freedom. The joy of writing is the liberation of the ego, the joyssance of the body. The text is the manna of celebration. Nietzsche the philosopher said: ‘a good writer is a one who is ashamed of the self’. We write in words about what is a bodily negation. Writing bears the angst of the self. Writing is the art of being a stoic epicurean and a philosophical Socrates. To write as Derrida has said: ‘is to have the passion of origin’.
The sky crimson
Lay with strewn
To their homes…
I am soaking
Into a dream
Of beauty ……
I woke up with two dreams in my head. In one dream, I saw a Shepherd’s Crook, a staff. I interpret the dream as follows. A staff shows authority and control and it also points out to attainment of one’s goals. In another dream, I saw a Serpent. The Serpent is a phallic symbol and it shows the awakening of sexual energies.
I woke up today with three strange dreams. In one dream I saw money, a one dollar bill and in another dream, I am falling down and in the third dream, I saw a smoking Bishop. Seeing money implies material gain. Falling down in a dream represents anxieties and fears. The smoking Bishop could mean, I am following a brand of Christianity that’s liberal.
My lips and teeth sank into the tender flesh…the outer covering was hairy and rough—the inner covering was smooth as flesh; its taste was salty and sweet….I drank into the rich concoction….All the way I thought it was just juicy and sweet like hers.
Thousands of pilgrims wait patiently to view the light (a so called divine light) purported to come from over the hills. For the government who got money from the pilgrims it was a fix-up-job. They are adept in burning tires and they are skilled in creating the illusion of creating the light for the hoi polloi.
I watched the illuminated cross all lit up for the church festival. I go back to history were the cross was victimized—stripped, naked and beaten and finally hung. My illumination is the cross which died for my sins.
He had a fancy to make verbs from nouns and thus he goes with the word flower. He cast his wand into its water and came up with the verb—flowerate. Yes, flowerate means a lexicon of ecstasy and catharsis. He loves to flowerate all the time.