What a ride! #Quote8

 

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO- HOO what a ride!

(Hunter S. Thompson)

 

Cruel Bindings





Have you ever had the nauseating feeling when you find that you’re getting sucked into space? I had the feeling for the first time 2 minutes ago. One should never Facebook stalk / Orkut stalk ex girlfriends. It is a deadly sin, and I’m pretty sure the exercise causes some sort of hormonal disbalance in the body, which hits one as if hit by a bus and should this event occur in a dark room with a bright laptop screen, one feels as if amidst an acid trip. I feel the floor below me is on a different plane, and at a different angle, I feel I’m going to slip into the crevice created by these oppositely angled planes. The fan sounds like a Collator machine in full action, pumping out million books a day.
I feel my mind is bending into vertical reality. Its a funny feeling. Its like it is trying to assert its power over my body, as my body tends to retract into a fetal position. Very soon the huge bats flying all around the room will take charge, and suck all the life from inside me. This is the reaction when I’m totally oblivious and unperturbed the happenings in any of my ex-girlfriends’ (well, maybe excluding one!) miserable lives (Did you smell hatred? its not hatred! its just a congenial feeling of apathy reverse-engineered to sound like dislike. I’m at absolute peace with all of them, so don’t get me wrong here.) But it’s just the wrong choices that one makes in an existence, they leave this permanent burn, there is a sense of wastage. Wastage of time, money, emotion, dreams, reality, strength, weakness, alpha, omega and all that comes within.
That double shot of espresso at Starbucks tonight has kept me awake for a while now, and I have work in 4 hours, so that does not help the situation at all.
‘The Rum diary’ by Dr.Hunter Thompson is a fantastic book, and should be the Gonzo Journalism entree in all General Literature courses around the world. Just a thought.
I know where the sentiment storm is coming from!! That movie!! I did watch “What dreams may come” a couple of hours ago.
It makes one realize what true love feels like, and what potential it has. The part that made knots materialize in my belly, was where she can finish his sentences. They are so compatible. The tragedy is that I have had such a woman in my life. The relationship was ethereal. A sort of a soul to soul attachment, so discreet(compared to other relationships at that time) and oh so powerful. The relationship ironically ended with an extremely savage burn with a dash of permanence. The connection was so replete, that it haunts me once in a while, during uber-romantic cinema for instance. Attachment to things/objects is not really my forte anymore. But once in a while, coming close to heart melting experiences plummets my being into that haunted dream outhouse on some violet hill, which now looks like a deplorable ruin of something which was once magnificent, architectured by an energetic young love.
Life goes on.. NOT!