I write. It emancipates the shit outta me. It gives me rope to the other world. The world where I live freely. Emancipating the shit outta the souls that love to read what I write.
Lately, I haven't been writing. It indicates -> I can't write.
Hrithik Roshan, Deve Gouda, Hank Moody and the likes have experienced shit very close to what I am feeling right now. Lack of creative genius.
I can tell you where I've been, what I've been doing, what I've learnt and what I've got close to. But no man does anything till he feels he's been challenged. Yours truly just was. Times are hard. They get harder in anticipation of separation of beautiful and illuminating company of fellow humans. I've realized its got nothing to do with not blogging.
Been there, wrecked that:
I wreck. I distort the beautiful sounds of an acoustic guitar so badly, it turns into instant death metal and yes you can EAT mys hit. Fry mys hit, boil it, add salt and water to it. It still stays death. M-E-T-A-L. Ringin' my head.
Jumping from the 5th fret on the 3rd string to the 12th fret on the 1st string I'd like to say FUCK Y-O-U!
Not such a great post to start blogging again but whatever. I'm done polishing my writing in bulk to put it up on the web cause too many posts are stuck in the pipeline because of that. SO.
Piece of news: going for a vacation to India for two months. Plan to blog a lot from there, as usual.
