Cerebral Fallacies

Nothing stirred me as magical words that define the process of an entire day or explain in a lilt the larger than life concepts in a nutshell. Imagine that a few vowels and words strung together hinge the entire history of human evolution to the species we are today. I read voraciously. Still do, strange books that are flung into a little dark corner on libraries and reading rooms have a special place in my heart. Also far flung stories that revolve orbit around the nonsensical, prose catches me. I wrote some. And some more! I wrote when it suited me. When something ached in me to scream in letters and phrases. I did write then. I made an education of it and then a profession of it. I wrote spuriously and with real connect. I wrote for an audience that moved. I replicated theories and introspections with calm affability. Only to find my writer languishing somewhere. The reverse osmosis had already begin. Rot and decay incessant. Word after word repetitive, hardly stimulating. For all I...

An unfilled page is like a festering wound. It drives you mad with a constant itch, a nag, a personal goal but a social pain. Some love to itch and colour it with blood in riotous reds, some let it get yellow, fecund in yellow rebellion while some make it go white with tubes and antiseptics and make it a clinical chore. Nevertheless the page will be named first. Labelling as the society's best pastime admits to itself here. Later the self-same words will then arrange themselves into organisations and rallies and clubs. No countries of servitude here and no sermons of religion to adhere to. They fall with military precisions with dots and tucks and zits and zig -zags into broad lines. Seems like they do not have any problem aligning their forces with their neighbours as word after word contain the selfsame alphabets. Zealous labourers, they work for their keep in a fastidious way that makes their management weightier with idioms, phrases, nouns and verbs guarding them religiously. T...