tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3552570786337529529.post2245683256634534268..comments2023-05-04T16:41:07.454+05:30Comments on imprints on the sands of time: Fragments of a broken dayimprintshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05806360470273733460noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3552570786337529529.post-61427571689827835612012-07-04T17:02:44.942+05:302012-07-04T17:02:44.942+05:30You capture and concretize what's lost among t...You capture and concretize what's lost among the seekers, their groping hands, fingers, eyes, without betraying abstractness, lingering evanescence, liminality, uncapturability, elusiveness...<br /><br />Written so passionately that reading this feels like my feeling capasity itself is speaking about its failure so successfully. While majority of us are postpodernists/poststructuralists to the point of having given up on some 'presence' or 'meaning', there are a few minority of us who are crazy really and this conceptualize 'insanity' our own sense of being/identity/reality. Crying in a dream wets floods your eyes with real tears and you wake up with a lost feeling which you cannot dissociate from your reality. I always feel or am not quite unfilling about something quite not present and quite not absent--simultaneously. Histories are just the skin of the skin of the skin of the skind of....of our skin. Every life is lost in the act of living and gets lost as soon as it's lived. Memories are fragmented, they cannot make up the life lost. My fragmented memories cannot fill me up with my lost self. I am lost from me. I am searching for me. I quite feel it, don't quite feel it. I don't believe it's quite lost, it just disappeared or just I can't see it because it's behind some absent screen/curtain of time. By why this screen.<br /><br />While most psychologists and psychiatrists advise us to think about the present, I always find myself in the deep waters of some other moment or momentlessness. I think my sense of reality is different from the standard/sane sense of reality. I am mad, and my madness has its own faculties that really make me fell in a physically/biologically verifiable way, and more. I find it difficult to find my own boundaries, as if I am quite amorphous, quite breezing like the wind, flowing like water, fickle like gas molecules, expansive like though waves. I am more in these 'lost' than in this me here in flesh and blood. My minority self wants to join the majority self of me. I am joining. In the act of joining. I am walking to Union.<br /><br />You are a poet, Manohar bhai. Let me tell you, as if you do not know this thing about yourself already, and as if I am saying this for the first the in the history of man's civilization--you are a poet. and more than it.<br /><br />Now write more, man.Thoithoi O'Cottagehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06009090052227718471noreply@blogger.com