Monday, November 12, 2012

Fractal. Grey. Solid. Sublime.

“This remarkable, sometimes incoherent transcript illustrates a phantasmagoria of fear, terror, grief, exaltation and finally breakdown. Its highlights have been compressed on this recording to make their own disquieting points.” – Voyage 34.

Straining in the eerie environment of a single bedroom with an attached kitchen and bath, the sounds found their way into my ears with one word resonating clearly. Ingesting the saturated sugar cubes, the feeling was way too exciting to be experienced. Standing on the cusp of reality, ready to take a step into a phantasmagoria of a fresh new world of visions, the moment was rife with the energy that would keep you on your toes all night long.

Yesterday someone bought a tumbler of coke, the plastic one at the movies but didn’t feel like finishing the god damn thing. For some reason it was stored in the fridge. Possibly to be drank a day later.

The sun rose up to brighten up the day and with it started Saturday. Slow, yawning and progressing into the weekend. The time is now 8 am when my eyes find light trickling in. The phone Is vibrating next to the bed and uncannily enough I always sense a vibrating phone, no matter how inebriated or dreamy I am at that moment. My hand reaches out on its own and the phone crawls its way and nestles itself square on my left ear.

 As soon as I pick up the phone, I realize it’s my dad on the other end yelling for me to get back home. Aah what a night it had been, leaving behind traces in its wake. There are countless cigarette packs strewn all over with some alcohol on the floor next to the fridge. There’s a big ass bucket I bought home from the NH7 weekender a week before which now serves as a king size ash tray.

Ash and cigarette buds have occupied the entirety of the bucket with most of it threatening to spill on to the floor. And as luck would have it, the alcohol on the floor spills out in a moment of ecstatic euphoria that has began to seep slowly into the consciousness of the mind.

Right and wrong, stand empty. But as I have read and as I expected the manifestation of this phantasmagoria isn’t as pronounced as I wished it to be. The alcohol on the floor seeped slowly into it, soaked up by the floor. As my perception alters, the floor disintegrates, separates and re aligns. It opens up in 3D as a geometric entity that is separating and re aligning every second.

Derealisation sets in and the floor is suddenly fractal. Going berserk with the music possibly, the geometric progressions multiply somewhat like how you would imagine a niche watch video presenting in fragments, each and every component of the watch in a 3D 360degree video ad.

Moments later, I step out for a smoke expecting the world to present itself in colors unseen, in visions unviewed and in sounds, unheard. As soon as I take a left for the lighter on the window sill, oblivious to the happenings, or more accurately oblivious to our altered state of minds – I pick it up and light my cigarette. As soon as the smoke gets soaked into my lungs I walk to the other end of the lobby and start peering out of the window.

As soon as my eyesight falls on the road, my eyes draw themselves to the wall im standing against. With cracks running across the wall from the outside, I suddenly hear the drowning notes of a lady’s voice which presents itself visually in my mind as a group of women standing and dancing in unison with a positive feeling running around them.

As soon as I tune into the sound of ‘Room 23’ by Shpongle, the wall starts moving to the music with the cracks smoothing out and moments later reappearing as freshly inched lines all across the wall. Alternating between the two states, the wall becomes an ocean of yellow that’s flowing to the music.

 Right at the far corner, my eyes are now transfixed on a drop of wax that might have been at the same spot since the last time the wall got painted. The drop immediately gets soaked back into its point of origination and starts pulsating to the music. The drop then goes on to slide down the wall to its current location and is full of life.

With ripples across the drop, the wall is an ocean of paint that joins the women in their chorus.
Fascinated by this, I try and look all around to sense if I see something out of the usual. I remember the street right in front being flooded by lights, as if some car was approaching.

This was quickly wiped off as a half baked thought as no car ever appeared. The building across the road has some light coming from every point, the architecture agreed in an angle. As soon as I look up to the building, the water tank on the top presents me with a portrait of a lady who looked strangely Victorian. The portrait was a classic image of a lady, possibly a helper at home, a bat woman.

Right after looking at it for a couple minutes, my eyes proceeded further down and suddenly I felt the entire building move. The song playing then was ‘Dread inn Babylon’ by Bluetech, and the building was moving in a ‘Rasta’ groove with vibes that felt assuringly calm. Right when I was jiving to the groove with a building for company, the entire world stopped for a split second when I felt that I was the center of the world at that moment. Exactly then I heard a deep bass note take over my body from the head to the toe. The moment subsided exactly 1 second later, with my sense of the environment fading into the sound.

As soon as I took a step back, I went into the room and sat. The weirdest bit would be me calling up Dominoes and ordering a pepperoni pizza, later forgetting what to order on the side. The hunger had me at its mercy and my mouth could only muster what it yearned for at the moment.

Half an hour later I was on the floor, sitting in the lobby starting to sink my teeth into molten cheese sitting pretty on a bed of tomato sauce and toppings. The plateau of the pepperoni slices were adorned with flakes of chili, made prettier by a dust of oregano- the pizza was ready to be relished.

A slice later, my senses came back to me with my stomach egging me on to dig my teeth into another slice. Right then was when I saw the unopened box of garlic bread sticks that felt like begging to me to be digested. I open the box and tear open the extra cheese along with. Dipping the breadsticks into the cheese, my taste buds were ecstatic with so much flavor oozing from every bite. Once the pizza was sitting pretty in my stomach, it was time for a smoke. But then again, as the moment would have it, a joint was lit and the cigarette was left untouched.

Clouds of thc laden smoke, flowed down my throat with every puff pushing them in further. A certain silence made the moment special with only more smoke waiting to be inhaled. With every drag, I expected a blurring sense of time and space, but the affects never arrived.

I felt like I was at a train station, with a one way ticket clutched in my hands. With not a soul around for company, the moment had me inserted into an environment which only felt like I was a layer above the image.

Shaking this off, I again went back into the room where the mood had shifted to ambient sounds that were soothing to my ears. Slowly the hours rolled by and a couple hours post the hallucinations, the journey was coming to an end. Only some slight feeling of energy remained, while most of my body were calling out to be rested. Lying on my bed, I thought of looking at some images I had clicked a couple weeks before.

Some of these images were multi-exposure shots taken of the Delhi metal project, wherein the keyboardists profile had been shot thrice and burnt on the same image. With 3 of the images stacked up in layers, left right and center – as soon as my eyes witnessed the image, the entire image came to life.

 The 3 layers seemed like a movie with so many unnoticed elements in the image springing to life.
These multi-exposure shots made me exclaim and feel so proud about them being clicked by me. This moment of triumph was reassured to me by the images that followed, which spoke of a completely different viewpoint to the original work being viewed right then.

If you wish to see some of them, click here:
Each frame was 3D incorporating and bringing out vividly to the eye, the various layers that went into this one image. Crossing my mind, it occurred to me that the park would be a strangely unique environment to be in right now. My friend guided me to the park and we discovered a whole new world of people.

Sitting in the park, we both lit up individual cigarettes and took a walk around. As soon as I looked up, the trees formed faces that did not look comfortingly accepting. As soon as the thoughts manifested into the leaves, I only heard the word ‘friends’ reverberating in my head. The sound went on to drown out the visuals and immediately, the trees had smiling faces all over. I could see the bushes move and the trees become mammoth sized friends who were surrounding us as this one big universal family I could only visit in this world.

The realities blurred and twisted, and we thought it better to go back to the room. Slowly as more and more hours passed by, the world became a brighter, happier place. Not that the world I experienced for a matter of a couple hours was unhappy, it was more like a utopian land. A land beyond perception, blurring realities and presenting a visual, entity that allowed us to enter, this world was all bright and all knowing.  Shpongleland.

Slowly receding, the world winded up and the morning was out on the streets, fresh and free.  Slightly disappointed since the world I expected did not really manifest in my eyes, the experience was still quite moving in terms of physical reality and the sense of space and time.

This unique voyage into the chasms of the mind, has only paved the way to more missions into the unknown. While I recollect and revisit these thoughts, a part of me has been absorbed by the room which only came to us as an embracing home which gave us all the love it had. And then some.

To sum it up, I guess all this might only be incoherent to you but let me give you a frame of reference to guide your way in.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

A song to sing..

There’s poetry in nature.
There’s a simile hiding behind a tree, a metaphor yearning to be free.
There’s an onomatopoeia right beyond the green;
 a crackle of a twig, the rustling of leaves.

There’s a rhyme in every flower, a sonnet waiting to be heard.
An alluring alliteration acquaint able and askew.

Drenched in a rhythm, almost a waltz in submission;
A denouement, much more an exposition. 

Tried to give you summer, but i'm winter.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

And just why do I get high?

“They give me disease, they give me a pain in my neck to feed off me”-John Frusciante.

Ricochet through the good times. Rumble with incoherent banter of the babble that spills love that surprises me the morning after. The bottles opens, my lips quiver with excited anticipation of the times to come. Flowing down the throat, the slow poison drowns my being into an emanation of love. Beaming with a radiant gleam of happiness, my being zones out into a parallel state of me.

A utopian state of mind descends upon a brain cranked up on endorphins. The world turns slowly, yet the time passes by so fast. Ascension from a lull into primal state of being with needs and wants only affixing themselves to basic needs of man, a contextual state of bliss slowly seethes in.   

Each gulp brings you closer to euphoria. Every sip opens up a jar of happiness that not only stems from you but branches out and breathes. Smiling faces, lips stretched from ear to ear and the auto-pilot mode your body goes into. Numb with a certain level of detachment and reattachment to the thought process that press the most touching issues of the hour, shake hands with me.

Living in my being day in and day out, a certain amount of time spent being detached is rejuvenating to say the least. Drowned in generous amounts of euphoria, the state of being not only absorbs me in completely but also becomes a weft of me.

Pushing, pulling, absorbing, every step of the way seems like a walk into the abyss. It’s a lovely moment which I tend to spend drowned in happiness in a world that gives me enough and more reasons to not believe in happiness and love.

Giving into reckless abandon is therapeutic. It’s a spa therapy for the soul, one which at times condones logic and reasoning – perfect for this illogical life.

Explanations are excuses. And I love explaining why I love getting high. With each passing day, crawl further towards death. In a state of thought that purports my yearnings of the sweet nectar, yet in many other only logically states that I should be far more generous towards my personal happiness.

 Ways and means turn up a new page of discussing the pros and cons of the medium yet I tend to take only to alcohol for reaching the heavens. Weed and hash just don’t seem to take to me kindly. I only get overtly hungry and lazy, all of which I love but then again not something to look forward to. That kick of craziness just doesn’t come through so easily, probably because everything becomes such a task to manage. If I wanted my world to get tougher I wouldn’t have been getting high in the first place.

Disconnection with the world and only focusing on the task at hand is what I feel lovely about when indulging the sweet poison. Such positive vibes flow through me that it’s just plain stupid not to partake in the revelry within. Give in and feel the love cast its spell slowly, steadily. The world slowly lifts off its mask and becomes a tad easier to believe in.

Not as an exit but more like the Promised Land. The alcohol might serve as a portal for escape but to me it’s a getaway to a land of happiness and love. Not delusional but just plain descriptive.

In me, within me the liquid flows down into the depths of me. 

“A liquid embrace to chase the day away, sweetly she draws me into her arms.” “The dark mistress of many, beholden to none.”  –Randy Blythe.

Court her, be together – in sickness and in health and flirt till death do us apart. Every drop serves to make you smile. Stepping up the levels of euphoria with endorphins going berserk, the mind feels a numbing calm descend over it.

Slip down the chasm of self and into a never-ending void, a void that delivers you from being. A being that has been shaped and contoured by the society which smothers an individual for the ‘greater good’ of the collective. 

Drink, converse, smile, be. Uncomplicate and indulge. 

Simplify life and live in the moments that weave together to become a life time.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

The Ineffable. Unspoken. Unsought.

“I’m as dark as December; I’m as cold as the man in the moon”-Sting.

Lines that draw between the unspoken; blur, bend, twist & contort: In & around every phase of me.
The golden age of being, of existence and of the state of me. I am you and you are me. Blend. Breathe. Exist. Be.

Walk down a flight of stairs to the wine shop and get a bottle of wine. Pay for it with means that serve you and walk right back up. Slowly as you ascend, the flight of stairs feel like a stair way to heaven. A one way ticket to your being. To revel in the spirit of me. The spirit of me.

The spirit I would soon engulf, swallow, slithers down my throat, starting from my mouth flowing down into my stomach and the core of me. I speak of me, as frequent as I be as I see.

Now, descending into me is my being. It is me who lowers my existence into the deepest depths known to me. ‘Me’ figures again so as to paint a figure that eludes me, in state of consciousness that I cannot see.
The brain comprehends, establishing an element of time. Of space and travelling to & from the eternal.
Every moment that passes by, yawning of it’s spawning. Thawed into being, pushed into seeing, the wine kicks back. Pushes and pulls me into a lull of euphoria. To revel in this phase of my hour, is to dwell on the pieces of me that lay scattered. Scattered yet one. One yet many. For I have not won, but spun into this myriad abyss that absorbs me further.

Further into the void. The void of me.

The void of being. The void spun by the society around me, to suck into it’s vice grip that tightens its noose around me. A slipknot that with every passing moment, only seeks to asphyxiate.
It’s not all that bad, when the day has been mad.

Had, which slipped through my fingers. Fingers that couldn’t hold on. Don’t get me wrong, you are the eternal. The golden being. The very droplet of rain that brings warmth. Fold the mould and watch it bend. Push the point, that stands at the joint. The joint that takes you from anorexia to gluttony. From an altering state of mind, to the truth you stand to find. Where every millisecond, my mind can only unravel as much as it can decipher. In this state of its enigmatic existence, is what you find that is the truth. The truth eternal. Which can stand on its own two feet of faith and move forward only as its veil is lifted to reveal a null.

The kingdom come, of which only some. Only some. Would make em, swallow that glum. That rum which overpowers the wine. The wine that only makes your transcend. Into, through, me & you. It’s this spirit that I feel, it’s this spirit that makes me squeal of things unsaid. Unspoken speaks more than words. The silence that falls still, the moment that holds in. The yearning that makes believe. The lie that’s woven, the words unspoken.

From me to you, & from you to me. What we are, is what we believe. But step back, take a plunge into the beauty of being. The joy of existence, of breathing this air. Makes it all fair, bright and colorful that drenches in it, the spirit of me. That spirit of me, far removed, I seek to find. To me, to bind. The spindle of time, that weaves every moment into the very fabric of my soul. The golden threads of this connect with you.

Connect this connect, don’t disconnect and select. A fresh new being, a fresh new soul. A fresh new you, and a deep black hole. The mole that turned into a mountain shall boast of its rise to fame that seeks to flame everything held dear. The ascension through phases, the phases of me. The me of you and the you of me. Of each other, we draw. Little by little, drop by drop. Until we stand still & then we stop.

Swim into me, sink into me. Blink not your eye, for this moment shall cease. The continuum of space and time, of words and rhyme. Of birds and the wind chime, of sounds and breaking new ground.

Till these words that escape my vein, they shall stand stolid. Stolid not the word, you perceive only as you believe. You see as you wish to seek. To seek only what ye know. To lands beyond, to kings dethroned. To minions controlled and the mind on a leash. The leash, that works as a harness of taking me back and forth. On this day, the fourth; I declare sanity in insanity. Of logic & reason, blending together the spirit of this season. With no rhyme and reason, I move further towards the deep, the darkness that lay below me, gentle as it absorbs, brings me in. Into its ineffable self.

Of words that leave my fingers, of veins let loose. Of blood that is flowing, of thunder that shall follow. The calm that hangs low before the storm, of me and my form.

From the C, to the A. From the D to the E. Oh dear you; who might read, this tyranny of me. This unspeakable state I see, this unfathomable darkness that descends, into, under and through. This darkness that absorbs seeks the light at the end of the tunnel. A funnel that only takes, as you move further. Further to conquer the unknown. The ineffable. The unspoken. The unsought.

Above & beyond, of none he knows. Of equality of gender, of this world that whips people together in a blender.

Of times spoken as golden, its words that solder the meaning, the purpose. The adipose, the bereft, the line of it and the disparity within.

Mind games that serve, serve a purpose of swerve to the rhythm of the soul that lays unconquered. Of winds, and moments spent. Of ticks & tocks, of clocks that wound. Boiled, filatured. unwound.
Condense into me. Oh ye the reader, despite you be that part of the despicable me which might read from the eye but not from the heart, I banish thee to my fleeting memory. Shall I come across as bare and barren, shall you not make sense of all this spoken and felt.

Cards were dealt, shall you draw a joker. The joke which leaves you speechless is what I leave you to guess. For if you shall not feel my feeling, shall not hear what I’m hearing. For you who shall not see what I’m seeing, or connect with my being. It is you who shall stop this instant, to move further is not too distant. Make amends, think from your mind and feel with your heart. It’s only our open arms that populate the swarms with the love that we speak, of shall not depart back into that stolid state of me.
Drift away, float into me. Don’t stand there staring, it’s not for you to see.  

To make sense, is futile. To think it over, is vile. Live. Breathe. Exist. Be.

For when you shall feel from your heart & think from your mind, is when you seek and you shall find.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

A weft

I wasn't meaning to write this post, exactly as i haven't posted in a long time. But what had to happen, finds its way out - through a thought or a meaningful plot, what is left at the end is what i initially sought.

Laughter and smiles, the beautiful world divine.

The green grass and the deep blue skies,

Each lending its own to make a wonderful life.

With love abound, be you lost or found. It’s these small little pleasures that make the world go round.