Pulp fiction is mass adored fiction. But writing pulp fiction is not an easy one. One may have to do a lot of research or one may have to read up history and one may have to visit art galleries and museums. All pulp fictions are who-done-it stories. Pulp fictions provide the reader with entertainment.
Roland Barthes has said there are two kinds of fictions: one a writerly one and the other a readerly one. A writerly fiction is the one over which the reader constructs dialogues. It can be done through analysis and reviews.
The author of Literary Fiction is an artist-novelist. Literary fiction is a pure work of art. It is like a surreal or cubist painting. Literary fiction is meta-fiction where the author alludes to the self. In other words: the author is self-reflexive. The author weaves the pen through a mass of inter-textuality. One author becomes many fictional selves. Literary fiction is creative, adventurist and futuristic. Literary fiction can have legends within legends.
The Pickwick Picnic is an odd, jolly folk and every day in the evening they have a meeting on the days’ proceedings.
Mr. Bombast is the secretary of the Pickwick Picnic and the other members are Sheraton Jolly, Tom Grapes and Silly Alice.
Mr. Bombast: ‘Order, Order, let’s begin the meeting.’
Mr. Bombast asks Silly Alice: ‘Did you count the grass growing in your field?’
Silly Alice replies: ‘Yes I got the number 1 and the rest of the field is bald.’
Mr. Bombast: ‘Well done Silly Alice’.
Mr. Bombast to Sheraton Jolly: ‘Did you measure the length of your wife’s night gown’.
Sheraton Jolly replied: Yes Mr. Bombast, but dear me, I have forgotten it.’
Mr. Bombast: ‘For not remembering it, you will receive 5 beatings with a cane on your rump.’
Mr. Bombast is beating Sheraton Jolly.
Mr. Sheraton Jolly: ‘Ouch ouch it hurts’.
Mr. Bombast asks Tom Grapes: ‘What is the interesting thing that you did today?’
Tom Grapes: ‘I smooched Mrs. Robinson but I felt too shy when she invited me to her bed to do poetry.’
Mr. Bombast: ‘Why Tom Grapes, you should have gone for it’.
Mr. Bombast: ‘Today’s session is over. We will meet again at the same time tomorrow.
Canaan is the historic land given to Israelites as an inheritance from God. With the advent of Christ and the New Covenant, Canaan represents eternity with God in Heaven. Canaan as an Idiom means something very religious, holy and spiritual. The Bible is a Canaan, a valuable tool for all times.
One can count zero backwards or forwards. And when one counts forwards one reaches a positive infinity. When the counting is done backwards one reaches a negative infinity. Zero is hell backwards and heaven forwards. Zero is quite a quirk.
He has a strange, eccentric habit. Whenever he ventures out, he carries a pan over his head. On being asked why: he replied: ‘I am afraid that airplane poop would fall on my head.’
He is my colleague. One day we were walking towards a shop selling Porsche cars. Animated, he said ‘let’s go inside’. He grabbed my hands and took me inside. The asshole asked the manager whether he could take a photo. He asked me to take a photo of him, leaning on the car as a proud owner. I wonder about his character—a one with a low self esteem wanting to boost his ego with worldly things.
My best friend was admitted in the hospital. I went to pay him a visit. To my dismay the sign on the door was: ‘do not disturb: visitors strictly prohibited’
My Significant Other
Its many years since we have seen each other. There is many a time: that I have written love poems for her. Wanting to see her erotic posture: I asked to her to send me a photo with a towel wrapped around her body. She said bluntly: ‘no’. Let the old hag go to hell.
It is lying on the road as brown footballs. It’s quite a show of democratic solidarity.
Being a writer
Being a Writer is a puzzle! Sometimes I muse whether the writer has to read all the books in the world. How can that be possible? To write is to have an emotional pouring of a catharsis. No writer reads all the books in the world. In today’s world, fiction is littered with inter-textuality, and the authors are self-reflexive and there are multiple authors weaving the carpet of characters. Fiction is borne from the incongruity of reality and fantasy. Sometimes fiction is representation of ideas with the literary tools of aestheticism.
Flame of the Forest
The Flame of the Forest is a tree with orange flowers. It’s a beauty … a treat to watch. It sings the poems of love …I watch its leaves being gently shed. It bequeaths a soul full of love. Passion drenches into rich emotions on its petals.
Parallel between Sisyphus and Atlas
Both, Sisyphus and Atlas come to use from Greek Mythology. Both are punished by Gods. Sisyphus is forced to roll a boulder uphill only to find that it has rolled down and he is forced to repeat this meaningless task again and again. Atlas is punished by Gods to carry the earth on his head. These two characters represent leitmotifs of existential philosophy namely angst and life having no meaning and purpose.
Rupture Being and Rapture Becoming
Both terms are related to existential philosophy. Rupture being refers to unshackling the mind from clichés of self perception. In other words when this is done there is a rapture of being, a state to look at life with joy, creativity and catharsis.
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.
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.
Elephant Poop: ‘I am large enough to cover the earth. I am the biggest mammal in poop-history. I have won poop-accolades in the history of poop’.
Ant Poop: ‘My poop is as small as dust and I cover only a tiny fraction of the earth. So what if you are the largest: mine is the smallest.’
Now it’s poop time: let’s share our poop…. Ant poop ejected poop fragments of poop on elephant poop.
Goddess itch belonged to the tickly-too kingdom. She invaded my body and started irritating me. She spread her tentacles on my legs, on my back, on my face, and even on my balls. To get rid of her I decided not to bathe. At last she left me unable to bear my smell.
Today I had a strange dream. In the dream I was fondling a vagina. I searched the dream dictionary but I was perplexed as they gave more than one meaning. One text said: I have a poor sexual life. I smiled vexated. The second text said: it was a lack of self confidence which troubled me all the more. The third interpretation was: good things are going to happen on one’s life. I took the third pick.
The wanting to be a writer had a peculiar habit. He used to dug the grave of well known writers and amputate their hands. He used to keep their hands soaked in formalin inside his display cupboard. Every day he used to sprinkle incense and worship them with care. Strange are his habits.