Persaudian Thought.

19th March, 2018.

It's one of those nights when a metaphorical cloud hangs over my head. Not of depression or the regular melancholy but of dire nothingness, the discontent of writing. It's strange that I say I have nothing to write and yet I know that somehow I will fill this when page with a meaningless casuistry. I find it nothing more than a blatant lie when people say that there's nothing going on inside their heads.

One of the most silliest things that I have ever heard is when someone says that while meditating, one should empty their heads and clear out all their thoughts, which is an impossible task to begin with. My guess is, there is a straight up confusion between being "empty" and being focused to one particular thought, they are not the same by any definition.

If I had left this page blank, no date, no thoughts, no signature, it'd have created a paradox; consider this - a blank page in itself is a blank page, but to explain its blankness one would have to cross all the barriers of language and philosophy. The blank page will not remain a blank page because it had to be explained by a series of alternative thought process, thus creating a feedback loop. When I say that I have nothing to say and yet I come this far in writing, am I explaining the "nothingness" or am I disproving it? Is there a gap or not? Schroedinger's cat was both dead and alive in the box - a page is both blank and full with content and thoughts.

Question - am I being clever, or stupid, or both?

Floating

12th March, 2018.

One of the most amazing human effort that I have most keenly observed is their attempt to provide everything with a general idea of causality - the idea that everything pertains to the boundaries of a cause to effect phenomenon. It indeed is a hilarious form of entertainment for me to see everyone running in this loop; 2+2=4 is always the easy answer.

Because that serves a better purpose, a firm and resolute structure of bliss that follows is extremely commonplace, provides a strong explanation for almost everything. And that just leads to a certain hubris of the human mind - control.

No one really ponders over this because everyone has got a plan, a backup plan and even if these two fail, they'd have a failsafe plan - everyone just believes that everything is calculable. But in retrospect, in the hindsight of everything, has no one learnt this yet? The only thing that is certain here is the random uncontrollability of life. And as clichéd as it might be, when indeed was the last time we had everything as we planned? The certainty of the outcome we hope for seems nothing but a major flaw in the design, right?

I know of people who claim to have learnt the way to control life, to plan ahead, they plan for joy, sorrow, hope, despair, love, pain. It just amuses me to see so many of them putting an effort on something which is well out of their bounds.

I will admit that there are some things which can be calculated and planned. I am not disparaging that, neither can I deny that because I do that too, the illusion of being in control is often a tempting one but really, what I've learned so far is the fact that the universe (metaphysical one) does not gives a damn anyways, and certainly it doesn't takes it kindly either. Mostly deaf and blind, the grand design is in itself a raging paradox.

I'm not a Buddhist or a Stoic, neither I am an existentialist or an absurdist or a nihilist, I find these labels more than insulting which encourages meaningless casuistry and provides an escape, but they all say the same thing over and over again. Mostly this is common knowledge, creating a value system for those who suffer much and now think that it's time to let go of the wheel, it really needs no label.

And for most of the part, the temporality of everything is so concrete, I'm sure that in given time, everything else will be rendered moot.

Eh well... That's gonna suck I guess.

But until then!

Accessible

9th March, 2018.

Now I guess I have been doing this wrong..

When I started ranting here initially, it was a lot of effort.. turn on the laptop, wait for the internet to connect, get pissed off at internet for not connecting, removing and reinserting the modem. By the time the page was up, I would've lost my mood to write and then wrote something.. although it was a sincere rant every time, sometimes the effort wasn't worth it.

Now I realize, that I should have used the phone for blogging.. I did consider it many times but the feeling was not quite right, using phone felt like cheating.

As much I'd like to be the good guy Sam, I think it makes more sense now to use the phone to rant on.. it'll be more easy and I can write whenever I want to without missing a beat.

Though I still don't know what's the point, who really reads this shit?

Aaanywhoo..

Peace out beeyotch !