Monday, May 20, 2019

Can Versova be like Paris?

I am a great romantic at heart. I am infatuated by how artists became artists - sitting alone in a room for hours and just hammering the keys; staring at a painting for hours to simply begin; day-dreaming for hours; doing nothing through the day.

But there is so much into me of what and how other artists did it that I am letting my own journey slip away. You know what is a tornado? My mind is a tornado.

I type this blog sitting alone in my 2bhk apartment feeling like a writer sitting famously in his/her Paris flat besides a window and getting lost in what he/she is creating. This is what attracts me, but my habits have become such that the time has come to re-tune my whole being. Now that's a task, I know, but nothing is also a thing with a "no", if that's possible, then anything can be (made) possible.

oh, the satisfaction in the simple act of writing a blog is like somebody quenching my thirst after hours. I can talk about hours because that's what I have felt. Even hunger. I have felt hunger in order to save money and it has had to effects on me, or rather three : shivering in my fingers, constant churning of weird acids in my stomach and a constant pull-away from the reality. When someone says that you don't know hunger, I would get a bit offended and would like to answer the person that I know hunger, I have been hungry because of the fear the money would run out of my bank. The feeling though makes me weak because I have never got used to it. yesterday evening I was hungry. i was smoking a cigarette with Arjun on Versova beach and i felt this magnetic urge to eat a chocolate because chocolate is cheap and gives energy, though I have never felt any significant difference after eating a chocolate. i don't know where does that energy gets consumed. and i think i am great energy consumer - i consume my own energy that my body starts craving for more which i cannot provide at time.

do i sound like an artist here? maybe. but each word is true and here i am not being a romantic.

i just realized what great feeling i am having right now; my energies have drastically altered into something positive, writing does that to me, though it did not do so yesterday but today as i open my heart and type this out, i feel liberated, i feel relaxed, my insecurity of time running against me and the world running away from has gone away, temporarily. so does that mean that i gotta write 24x7?

routine, man, routine. routine is the key. the word is flashing across my face, my life like an alarm that i am not bale to stop and which i should at the earliest. some people hate routine, even i do, but isn't that because those people have to work against their liking in a routine that has trapped them.

imagine: i being trapped in a routine of writing, even writing shit. what bliss would that be?

but i am content with one thing: i like to write more than i like to act. it took time to accept this but the moment i did i experienced something weird, something different, and i think people call that contentment. it's true, man: you accept your instincts and you live freely.

bye.
who am i saying this to? didn't i read a lot about artists being alone to create?


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