July 31st 2020

I had not been writing my daily blog for sometime as I was procrastinating. The reasons were, I was not rich in thoughts. I have to get back to the habit of reading books. My troubled thoughts gallop like a horse. My mind is a whirlwind of rainbow of colors. How to syncretize the rich experience of life is a moot question. I feel like smoking grass but it is hardly available. I am tired of gulping Kerala’s proletarian rum called Karl Marx. I am trying to find ways to quit smoking but I can’t. I am being in want for the erotic passion of the body. Life is the simulacrum of chance and luck. How I wish to win a jackpot. Yes, I will! I call the process of winning the jackpot as BONANZOPIA.

Fictional Narratives

Two jokers were discussing about sperm. One joker asked: ‘how much sperm has been spilled on the earth’. The second Joker replied: ‘it is not quantifiable but it bears a resemblance’. The first joker replied: ‘What is the resemblance’? The second joker replied: ‘as big as the pacific ocean’!

Tastesy has been derived from Taste and Ecstasy. It refers to the following. If we think about delicious food: our mouth instantly waters and that is called Tastesy.

Evening an Epiphany
Sunset is sheer crimson passion; colors echo the song of love; birds are dancing in the wind and singing poems; the sky unfurls into many shapes and hues; many shapes of the sky bear resemblances to a bestiary; the sky is melting and mating with the fonts of colors; evening is a poem being written.

Night an Epiphany

Night is dark except a melody of twinkling pearls. My loins are soaked with leitmotif of the night and I urge God Jehovah Jesus to strengthen my loins. Why should night be a wicked witch casting a spell on me? When will the night become a bed of passion? The music of the crickets is a rising crescendo

April 2nd 2020

Getting a prize during the Nation shut down

The cops of India are mean fu***** ass *****. More wretched is the Govt. decreeing a person to stay indoors. I was on my way to buy provisions like butter, eggs and milk when I was stopped by the cops and they confiscated my scooter and asked me to find a person who will take bail for me. They said that they will release the vehicle only after the lock down is lifted. Getting a prize during the nation shut down as an idiom means, getting caught by the police. It is so wretched to get a prize during the lock-down.

Close One’s Eyes
Close one’s eyes is a Malayalam Idiom and it means overlooking faults and iniquities. The eyes wont’ close for blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. There are many a time when I closed my eyes.

She is a musical lyre ….her strings are in harmony with the fondness of life…Her body is an urn of sensual delight. Her passion is a river flowing with love…. She has enticed me with amorous seduction….I have grown with love and longing with her and I long to partake in the poetry of sensual intimacy.

March 15th 2020

March 15, 2020

Yesterday night I had a strange dream of being attacked by an unknown person. I looked up at the dream dictionary and found out that being attacked means the fear and insecurities of the dreamer. Anyway the dream was not a pleasant one. I hope unlucky days will soon vanish and the grace of God Jehovah Jesus will pervade with me with LUCK.

I developed a new figure of speech called (thought (a) phor). For example: the word liberal has the antonyms strict and also conservative. Such a word which has two different antonyms is called a thoughtaphor.

I read into the Bible and I have coined two new idioms. Long after the death of the Pharaoh and after the reign of Joseph, the country was ruled by a Pharaoh who ill-treated the Jews. God started sending the 7 plagues in-order to let the Israelites go. But the Pharaoh remained adamant as ever. Then God asked the Semites to kill a goat or sheep and smear the blood on their doors and in the night the hand of God will visit the country and kill the entire first one born except the Jews. Smearing the door with blood means victory over one’s enemies. Yes, God will smear my door with blood. God also asked the captives in Egypt to have feast with unleavened bread known as the festival of the Passover. The Festival of the Passover means joy and wondrous rejoicing after a period of great trials and hardships in life.

March 2nd 2020

Not much has happened in my life these days, nothing stimulating or exciting. I had a strange dream about two or three days back. It goes on like this. The police have booked me for murder and they are digging the earth where I have buried the corpse. What is the symbolic meaning? The dream plays on a mass of signals. The cops could mean authority figures. The dead corpse could mean putting an end to my epicurean desires. The unearthing of the body from the grave could mean, there’s a better life ahead.

I was reading the Bible ardently and read through the stories of Abraham and Noah. Abraham was childless for a long period of time and then Sarah his wife asked him to bed with Hagar the maid. Hagar begot Ishmael. When Abraham was 100 years old Sarah conceived Isaac. From Abraham I have coined the adjective—Abrahamesque. Abrahamesque means waiting patiently for God’s wishes to be conceived. I also dipped into Noah’s story. All of the folk laughed away at Noah’s God given wish to build an ark. Noahesque as an adjective could mean being faithful and devoted to God.

Feb 26th 2020

It’s been a while since I have written the journal. I have been stuck with a writer’s block and for a long time I did not write anything. My students are having their board examinations and they touched my feet seeking my blessings. I was overwhelmed with feeling and I feel blessed that I am a teacher. The students in India are so respectful a quality lacking all over the globe. It shows an ideal aspect of Indian Culture.

I took a couple of English lessons today for the 8th graders. One was a poem by Auden called Refugee Blues. The students did not know the meaning of a refugee and I had to divulge it in Malayalam. In Malayalam, refugee translated, is almost a sentence as there is no equivalent word for it. The poem is set on the backdrop of the Second World War and it depicts the pathetic condition of Jews seeking refugee status. There are very little tropes used in it. The students were not aware of who Jews where and I asked them who was the most prominent Jew in History. One of them answered it was Christ and I had to tell them that Jews belonged to the Semitic race. The students knew Hitler only by name and I had to give picture of how Hitler persecuted the Jews. I also had to tell them of the holocaust. Sometimes I wonder why Jews had to undergo such traumatic ordeal.

The next lesson I took was a ‘Lesson on the Tortoise’ by D H Lawrence. The lesson begins on a Friday, the end of the week, a day when students and teachers eagerly seek rest. The teacher presents a tortoise to the keen students and they observe how it comes out of its shell. Then there is a brief narrative of a stolen erasers and the teacher asking the students discreetly who the culprit is. The story did not catch the attention of the students and I also thought it was a boring one. But I admire DH Lawrence as a writer.

I am also reading Kierkegaard’s Philosophical fragments and I have just started its introduction. The narrative splits into an aesthetic and ethical one. Kierkegaard is famous for lyrical aphorisms called in Greek as Dipslamata.

I have also started reading the Bible from Genesis. The story of creation is a marvelous one. Adam and Eve committed the original sin by eating the fruit of the tree of Good and Evil and so Christ had to come as a Son of God to redeem mankind. Yes, the flesh is sinful and the spirit is holy. One has to keep the lust of the flesh in control.

Feb 3rd 2020

Life is a boring scum. I am wandering like a lost dream of words. I am sinking into the abyss of pathos. Mutiny is a million flowers scavenging a dead corpse. Feel tired and worn-out; feel like losing out the self to a rebellious resurrection. I want to peruse the meaning of life. I am feeling like losing my faith in God and I feel sorry as an empty canvas. Life has become a prison of routine. What had come of me? It’s been ages since I have a read a good book. I wonder why? I am the pillar of insomnia and depression. I wonder why I can’t end my life. Solitude, you infect me with fangs. Is writing a Moloch of dead dreams? I am depressed with nothing working favorably for me. Do dreams actualize life or are they merely wish fulfillment. May be in my previous birth I was a nomadic hunter who could sit around grandma’s fire pot and expurgate a story or two. Why does the avant garde decimate a good story or two? I am a mourning Kafka caught up in the riot of fin de siècle madness. My travel is limited to the four boundaries of a village. It is said that writers have to travel. I plant writer’s seeds with my pen. Even the iconic Joyce had a stint n Switzerland. I sink my lips into a cup of coffee as an art of rebellion. I love to wander, travel and write. I want to shatter the glass of memory and I want to relive the past as moments of happiness. Dark skies cloud my mind in epic sorrows. How does the prism of life actualize a quantum of experience? Cheer up there are better times ahead. I have to live in the castle of hope and make my dreams a wishing want of truth. Who does not want better money, space to travel, and enjoy life? Is Jesus the answer for all existence? Aren’t celebrity evangelists out to make a fast buck or two? Is life a hugger mugger of deception? Ideas in a novel are philosophical fictions. Is fiction the art of telling the self through a series of revelation? Is fiction the art of lying of the self? Do morals have place in the fiction of life? Myth is the solidarity of living through a series of fictional extracts. Every day I speak to myself to become a better fiction. I laugh all of myself in philosophical hyperboles. The body is a festoon of desires. Why can’t I be free and liberated? What causes me to doubt my desires? Are desires evil? They aren’t as long as they don’t offend a democracy. Passions are the mantras of poetry. Socrates said: ‘know thy self’ and I say ‘live yourself’. Words are to bear the dictum of truth. A good writer is in the art of making.

Jan 15th 2019

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’.