Yesterdays

This end marks a beginning.
Memories of the past.
Still flashing.
Four years.
Became a moment.
Sit still.
And reminisce.
Pleasure.Pain.
Smirks.Drenched eyes.
Concerns.Coldness.
Senseless.Sensible.
Silence.Rage.
Pity.Fear.

All this, is a moment.
With you, forever.

Moderne Melancholia

" To actually appreciate the height of attainment, I may have to grapple with some really appalling state of affairs", is what my conscience has been commanding me for the past few days. And the act of self-degradation is not merely a outcome of my non-involvement in the technical nuances of my studies for a very long time(It's been two years since i have actually indulged in a course related book,albeit I would make an exception for some intermittent instances of some serious reading of doctoral papers), all the happenings surrounding me also have contributed to this strong nonchalance towards education.

So this duration is more imperative for me in understanding the variety (and peculiarity) in human retorts and behavior, and then trying to plot a common pattern of outcomes from people. The experience indeed is classic cliched mind boggling and does leave you impotent of any further understanding.But I do consider this self-affliction to be vital for me in trying to figure out about life to whatever extent that i can possibly manage.All this twisted thinking to eventually help me think straight.blah!

Foxtrot by Bill Amend

spirit of decadence

"
Glorifying the loss and celebrating the defeat.
Is what we've accomplished all along.
Miles to cover before the concluding sleep.
Remember our lives as a simple broken song.

"

Art of losing

So here i am alone,with nothing much to do,and no one around. Haven't seen the daylight for the past few days.This semester still has some life left.Revived my forlorn habit of feeling good by watching anime.Finished listening to the discography of Sex Pistols and The Ramones (A comprehensive earshot). A very comforting experience indeed,with the thought of excitement about the origins of the punk movement loitering in vicinity.

Being punk certainly doesn't really mean going rogue.But then purposelessness becomes the purpose of life.For beginners,it's all fast and furious noise, dedicated to nothingness as a strategy for subjective intensification . The style was dismissed as petty at best, and deeply stupid and offensive to decency at worst.

And then i ask myself:Why do i adore it? Well,there is something so beautiful about being a non-conformist. About the feeling of not having anything to loose.Having the tendency to fuck it up when you are not supposed to. Always being under the impression of being a loser. And then, after all this, eventually doing well.(Oh hell yeah!)

My message for Sid Vicious: "Dear Sir, Punk is certainly not dead!!"

au revoir

Trying to imagine echoes

My history with the world of music and listening to music began when I was little.I like to think of my taste as being ever expanding and as open-ended and open-minded as I can be.And there are artists whose music seems almost more like religion to me, rather than just something made to listen to recreation-ally.Their music has stood the test of time for me; whether it be still music I listen to frequently to this day, or at least quite frequently for a good period of time within the last 7 years. And it holds a very strong sense of nostalgia and memory to me, that it's significant for my life.


And then came a thing called mars volta.


Singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala and guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez were pretty much The Mars Volta.They are the face of progressive rock now, and a new breed or style.Of course they don't sound like Dream Theater. But they were progressive somehow still. It was kind of chaotic and also energetic at the same time. The guitar lines were, and later a comparison to Led Zeppelin I saw, and the more I listened to them and their subsequent work, the more that comparison along with comparisons to Carlos Santana made a lot of sense!!!!