Long before the days of the internet, there was an area in college which was called sugar corner. It was where the love birds of the college flocked and engaged in intimate conversions. Along with them was a man who called himself as poet. He made a living by writing poems in calligraphy for the lovers. There, lovers bestowed their poems to their loved ones as a token of love. I too was a recipient of those poems written by him. Gone are those days of love. Love is all social media and selfies without any passion.
Morning cruised around smoothly. I took two classes of Geography, one the Geography of India and the other Geography of the World. I felt happy as the 9th and 10th graders were active and attentive.
It’s evening now and I am looking at the colored sky, the setting of the sun, all melodious epiphany. Yes, we can learn the art of the novel by looking at nature.
I pondered on certain Biblical thoughts mainly the concept of sin. All humans are sinful because of the Sin of Adam and Eve. But there’s a difference. A child who dies won’t be punished for the sin of Adam and Eve and will partake heaven. The second sin is the sin from knowledge, a deliberate, scheming sin such as adultery, murder, covetousness and the whole lot. A mature human can be judged in Heaven based on the sin committed by willful knowledge.
I also thought about death. Though I was an atheist, the fear of death made me a theist. The dreams I had of monsters are very frightening. I have a fear-phobia-complex. I sometimes think that any moment that I might die. I also think that I might have an accident. I am also afraid of committing suicide.
What is the Manna for writing? The sounds, sights and smells of nature are favorite tools for a writer. Writing is like: in Wordsworth’s words: I wandered lonely as a cloud. The colors of the sky are singing a synaesthesia. Nature is the embodiment of the soul and becomes a text for writing. The manna of the clouds poured a celestial music. The brook played the Song of Songs. The waves frolicked in laughter. Wind kissed my cheeks making me glow with joy. Thunder grumbled in rage.
Writing is a painting of words. Writing bequeaths art in the form of figures of speech. Syria is a wailing banshee. The sword of Damocles hangs precariously over Hong Kong. A white beard covered the earth. Fortune is a Goddess of luck. The ribs of freedom started protesting. Seasons are a joy of music. I have a money-empty pocket. Rock-bulldozing rhythm makes the brain go berserk. Cure the tempest of my mind with an apothecary. Palestine let nectars of freedom fly as dove making a homeland to live. Dramatize life on the stage of the theater. Let not the poison of angst become the dread of your soul. Let dreams be saddled by fortune’s wand. Eye not lust: Eye Love. Patience is a wretch of oppression. The heart is a nation o love. Slam a fist on corruption. My neurons are a punch bag.
She is a favorite grandmother of the tiny hamlet. The youth of the village are especially fond of her. She is liberal, permissive and celebrates a free spirit and heart. Youth flock to her pastures to learn the first games of sex. She has serviced both fathers and sons. She is a nymphomaniac never getting tired, always wanting more. She is doing great service to the nation as a skillful instructor.
Today was lackadaisical day. I was on the couch most of the day. I did some Bible Reading and was reading Joseph’s story to rise from ignominy to fame and recognition. After Joseph’s brothers sold him to the Egyptians he became an official in Potiphar’s household. Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce him but he did not relent. Potiphar’s wife said to her husband that Joseph tried to molest her and then he was put in prison. When the pharaoh had dreams that no one could interpret: Joseph was called to interpret the dreams. The dreams of the Pharaoh were like this: the Pharaoh saw seven stout bovine creatures and then seven famished ones. The stout ones ate up the lean ones. Similarly the Pharaoh saw 12 grains of stout wheat and 12 grains of famished ones. The famished ones gobbled up the fat ones. Joseph interpreted the dreams as thus: Master there will be seven years of plenty followed by seven years of scarcity. The pharaoh honored Joseph and appointed him as the one next to the pharaoh. Joseph is a wonderful story of penury, disrepute to success and victory. Who would not want to be a successful Joseph?
Today was a smooth day sailing. The school had sports and I was relatively free. I was thinking about the story of creation of Adam and Eve. If Adam was made from the earth his body must be made of clay. But the human body is made up of skin and flesh. Similarly the Bible tells us that Adam’s wife Eve was made from Adam’s rib. That means all men should have one rib less.
I took some time do research on the God of the Masons. The Masons have a God: Jabolon. Ja is pronounced as YA being a short from attribute of Jehovah. Masonic scholars attribute Ba to God Baal a Chaldean deity, and /on/ being attributed to a Phoenician God. I am wondering if this entity will serve as talisman to boost my money status. But nothing of that sort has happened and in the end I had only torn lottery tickets.
Is the story of creation a fable? Is it an allegory? It is perplexing as to why God created the tree of knowledge of Good and Evil and to why God imposed a taboo. What did Adam and Eve experience after eating from the tree? They felt ashamed of their nudity. The consciousness of sex took birth in their minds. It is moot to ask whether sexuality is something that is awkward.
I could not write anything yesterday as I was accompanying children to an entertainment part called Wonder LA. Wonder La is an offspring of Masstainment of which I have no aficionado. Culturally speaking I am fond of the higher arts, especially reading Literature, attending literary symposiums, going on a cruise and all that. My vocation as teacher makes me a tight bottle always wanting to please my employers and kids. I did not take part in the rides of the amusement park as I have no passion to experience G-Forces. We were welcomed by a dwarf who dressed himself as a clown. I became so sad when I saw it. He is making a life on the stage of drama. The children were all excited and enthusiastic. There were two kinds of rides: dry rides and wet rides. Looking at the roller coaster ride: one could hear screaming participating kids. Are they doing it out fear or our out of excitement? I think both. As I was watching them, I was reading my favorite: literary fiction. One becomes fed up of the noise. Some puke when they go on rides. There was a ride called twin flip monster, a real frightening one. Again I watched children wailing out of joy and fear. There is a ride called a monster lift, which took you up very high and lowered you down in break neck speed. I spend my time watching my wards carefully while reading my book. All the kids had a wonderful time.
I dream of spending my time in famous art-galleries, going on cruises, attending literary seminars and that’s what I decide as aesthetic appearances.
I was able to coin some new metonymies today. Here they are:
He caught a sea of fish. The All Seeing Eye and the Unfinished Pyramid is money. The walls of my brain are trembling with excitement. She wore a garden of veils around her face. I long to pierce the chains of bad luck. I love to have money floating in my purse like Mermaids. Let the seed that you birth, prosper into fruit. Make a rudder to steer the storm of adversity. May the Shepherd’s Crook strike a huge windfall. His limbs were stiff as a cadaver. The air was cold as ice. I am going to marry a Mermaid. What is the harm of counting the chicken before they are hatched? Jesus said: I AM THE WAY THE TRUTH AND THE LIFE; they are edible fruits for a good life. The winds of fortune are blowing favorably for me. The plot of the Novel is hackneyed and no longer relevant. Socrates you were murdered for Democracy. He was looking like an antique clown. Works of art hung on the wall. I will emerge out victorious from ashes and dust to the fair winds of recognition. The effort made by the tortoise was more valuable than the sloth of the hare. The Bridegroom Dresses the Church his bride. A dancer was crawling on the wall. His mind was polluted with lechery. Thought rises as a plateau and the sinks as a valley. My feelings have crossed the isles of imagination. I live with a creative heart. The leaves of dusk brighten with the coming of the sun. Mind is Reason and the Body is Passion.
Should a Writer use Sex in the Novel
For many writers, this is an ambivalent question. With the mammoth spread of pornography on the web, writing about sex is rather old fashioned. Yes, the writer has to draw a fine line between sex and smut. It is necessary to use flowery language while penning sex. Give a reign to the pen; let it become a flower on whose the intercourse is carried by the pouring of ink. Some examples are: My Dearest Beloved, your body is chiseled like wheat; your breasts are a bounty of grain; let me lip your mouth is ecstatic mirth; let me sprinkle your fountain with joy of passionate love; let’s bliss into the river of passionate love.