D'yer Mak'er
My blogs
| Introduction | “...drifting to the streets of no destination was my eternal passtime... n' then comes the moment of gettin' caught in the swamps of memory... followed by hurried motion of arms n' legs. suffocatin' in the depths of past again n' again. all of these had a custom of layin' myself down in the tracks of reality.. n' then' would come the train of life... tearin' n' shatterin' every part of me. to still carry myself all torn n' withered n' broken was undoubtedly the worst part.” |
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| Interests | if you really want to hear about it... then you may or may even not. but it has got nothin’ to do with it. i wanted to start this disclaimer with the first sentence which i have actually used. goin’ strictly by the visible words even more than once perhaps would not give you any sort of clue. maybe some of you who tries their hands to play with entities which aren’t supposed to be played with.... would/might come up with the fact that it’s the first line from “The Catcher in the Rye” – which ofcourse it is... n’ more firmly evident – adequately “out-of-context”. but if you try to read the words which aren’t actually visible... only then you might come up with any one of the followin’ if not all of them – a) wanted to do somethin’ n’ eventually doin’ it – in this case.. the first sentence. b) claims what was done was “adequately out-of-context” – doesn’t really mean he’s out of his mind... just a casual reflection of the part that “doin’ what he wanted” ain’t a commonality but a “big-deal” event for him. what seems to be adequately appreciable is my attempts/abilities/indulgence of self make-believe... presentin’ a tormentin’ conversation between a non-existent/unreliable/yet-nonetheless-desirable “you” n’ “me”.... which is quite real. confusingly surprisingly n’ quite undeniably yes. talkin’ to someone whom you ain’t quite sure of is listenin’ neither makes me courageous nor necessarily mental. what i mostly refer to myself is “hopeless” – n’ yes.... i consider hopeless a more meaningful word than hopeful. n’ owin’ to this consideration... i often come into a relationship of misunderstandshiphood with everyone else... as they most often find me a suitable candidate of accusation... relyin’ on their understandin’/observation. although this goes as a confession – lament i do... for the minimality of sight in most of them. |
| Favorite movies | i neither forgive them nor blame them for their self-righteous attempts of forceful-contemplation within me... which i consider/believe no different from confiscation of thoughts. but comin’ back to you – my reader... makes me oversee the future of our relationship... goin’ beyond this point on verge of bein’ “friends”.... isn’t actually my attempt of self-openin’-up to show how much i expect from time (which i do) but only a humble revelation of my psyche that i do not believe/understand what “friendship” really is....which makes me think about you my “friend”. which is actually a difficult thing to do. because i’ve got no signs of your presence ... n’ yet i’m so tempted to think about you. the first thing that comes to my mind is the discouragement involved in this whole readership which you actually want to own. discouragement from your family who either do not want you to read.... or read but somethin’ else. your girlfriend who thinks is more flesh n’ blood than this blog is n’ thereby seekin’ more attention from you.... your boyfriend who is always/already so difficult to keep up with. n’ remotely/dominantly so... if you’re not discouraged from none of the above... then i shall undoubtedly assume you to be (a) lonely person (b) missin’-you person (c) confused person (d) idle person (e) all of the above. then i’m afraid everythin’ is already discouragin’... but nonetheless.... conclude i shall... you’re an interestin’ person. although i must inform you.... i’m a dishonest person which should not necessarily scare you the least... as this only makes me more predictable. n’ from now on.... i ask you to believe what i say. i shall be mostly referrin’ to myself as d’yer mak’er with the apostrophes.... which are infact very necessary n’ serious.... but nonetheless do not have the equity to make this name real. i use a false name.... although i’m in insatiable-love with my real one – a love at the first decibel of sorts..... |
| Favorite music | no mention of which is just a reflection of an age old tale of my longingness – an endless one i might like to add... to hear my name from you n’ everyone else. i’d like to claim my thoughts here as i believe they’re truly mine. any resemblance although purely possible is partially unintentional. but insist still i shall.... feel free to accuse me of piracy. the ownership of these thoughts is indeed a burden – although this pain actually tries to counterfeit its masslessness – but accept i must.... all of them show no signs of inertia. apparently countless n’ convincingly infinite.... it’s a fractal cluster of thoughtfulness. fluid concentricity.... one openin’ into another one.... sometimes astoundingly contradictin’.... n’ at other times profoundly identical. adequately directionless in their nature makes them almost impossible to recognize their source of origin or their sink of destination. n’ what remains is just a suspension of culmination n’ a tryst with viscosity. |
| Favorite books | travellin’ from the unattended pathways of spiral nerve-endings to the untouched labyrinths of my after thoughts.... from stories of the dead to the acts of sleepwalkin’ through the invisible walls.... from my soulful searches to findin’ divinity to my lustful pilgrimage to valleys of cleavages..... here i shall display all my forgiveness in my quest of vengeance.... tryin’ to invoke even the last drop of laughter from your meaningful lungs by payin’ all my life savings of losses.... narratin’ regretful tales of self-blandishment n’ grace-wreck..... attributin’ to the codes of freedom i had managed to achieve in my every fall to the tidal abysses.... retracin’ my footprints with the soul intention of erasin’ them from the soggy dusts of my yesterdays.... stretchin’ across this entire astronomical waste... travellin’ time more than space.... in debt with the darkness borrowed from a quarter n’ a half blackhole to fill all my desires invadin’ even the privacy of the whisperin’ willows n’ narratin’ the clichés of love-makin’ of the moths n’ the crickets. it’s a war of betrayal between my fate n’ my words. life gives all of us stories of our own... so that we don't have to move around lookin' for them. we don't actually see them because they're all invisible... only awaitin' to be seen... like a heart which is always open but hard to reach.... emotions far from expressions... desires which have volunteered for sacrifice much before they vanished permanently. i shall try to put down all these invisible lives which somehow fell just short of bein' lived... with stories of people who have just passed you before they could have been with you.... with walkways which stood unwalked... roses which were left unsmelled.. n’ butterflies which never made a single flight. i dare to tell you tales of lies n’ myth with my residues of honesty. |