" even wrong books outlast their authors" ... from essays on grief and reason , Joseph
that statement captures the infinitive temporaneity of books. well on that strand of thought anything that this human mind produces like one's thoughts, notions, idiosyncracies and well rantings. picture this own blogspot after you and me attain the kingdom of god carrying this huge bulk of worthless blogs in a huge, momentous and really mammoth hard disk. well these blogs are really the outpouring of the few who really blot their lives here on the cyber-ville, in the virtual spaces written in an menacinglyd-delible virtual ink (aha voila the keyboard). anyways such rantings are really going to outlast us, me, you, the person behind (who may blog in the near future) and chaqu'un.
on an "other" note i seem to have discovered that there is no real moment of happiness and contentedness except in the arms of death. just like whats happening nowadays with me. its like a state of being static, being rendered without time. time has no meaning for me these days. its like i have become "ahistoric", without memories.
"we have no past and we think we have no future" and " this present is just like a wind that is blowing but hitherto no one can feel it"
imagine this. i am living in reality which is just a conundrum. i have grown anti-gnostic because i just do not know what to do this moment. what am i going to do the next moment, the next second, the next minute, the next hour, the next day and the next month....................................
this reminds me of a rather pathetic song in a hindi film
"ham hai is pal yahaaan , jaane ho pal kahaaaan.....
agle pal rahein naa rahien"