Listen up unknown reader, time is of the essence here...
This is a confession of sorts. I feel at ease now and that helps with the narrative about to follow, I guess.
Now, where do I start?
Okay, so..
I have no trouble being wordy. In fact it's one of my most cherished and practically (let's not forget fiscally) useless gifts which serves me two purposes:
1. I get to 'vent' with a stream of synonymous jargon that strikes me at the time of inspiration. Sort of like 'pretentious stuttering' or 'eloquent squealing'. Like the stuff Stephanie Meyer can pull off with sparkles, abs and fangs to blissfully send teenage girls dancing into emotional retardation... you know, bullshit with candy hearts on top.
2.I get to smile wide at my LCD screen at odd hours these days in genuine satisfaction at my certifiable 'brilliance' at being able to breathe new life into stuff nobody wants to read (and most want dead). And I tip my hat in salute and generous encouragement at the poor souls who do give it a shot, but wake up from la la land minutes later with memories of suspiciously boring dreams.
Then why start this blog? Why start a blog that makes no sense to the general population.. or just population? or just people.. with eyes?
Side not: Blogger just told me the word 'blog' doesn't exist. Irony anyone?
The simple answer is - I haven't the faintest idea.
When I started the blog, the notion that possessed me one late September day, was to think of it as a digital diary of sorts that can be read and commented upon by strangers. A bright endeavour based on the stupidest of logics, unfortunately cleverly concealed by routine boredom, a broadband connection and the sound of belching buffaloes in rural Andhra.
This product, also brought to you by a guy who never in his life kept a diary or even vaguely wanted to (except for about a few days in primary school after reading Dracula, when a diary seemed like a good window in to the supernatural - it did not work out).
Now the genesis of this fine piece of cyber real estate explained, let me move on to the more pertinent 'why still?' Why not just stop?
And that is my tale of woe. How I've been paying for a mistake I made months ago. A slip of the mind which spiralled in to madness with each click on Blogger.
Why can't I just stop?
Because he likes it now... in other words - that door is closed for good and I am a prisoner.
See I have a problem and no, admitting is not the first step here. If I like something, the kid inside me (who periodically wakes up to reach for the stars and pretend to be a couch and so on) takes over. I have no say in the matter.
I (this would be the grown up part) tried reasoning with him. I even brought out the big guns like 'page views' and 'g+ shares' to make him see the error of his ways. I begged and pleaded with him to no avail.
He just seems hell bent on exploring all possible avenues of worldly uselessness before letting me take the wheel again.
And so, I sit here day after day, hoping the kid would choke on his own thesaurus and let me have my moment in the land of communication, where the 'shares' roam free and pretty 'likes' frolic in the sun. And I pray to a deity that looks more and more like the logo of Google each passing day, to save me.
Maybe tomorrow is the day, one hopes... staring at the playfully blinking modem, enchanting in its cosmic design.. the day I get to write something worth reading.
Let me be clear though, I have no illusions - he is strong and stubborn.
As I'm writing this now, I know my time is running out. I can already feel the kid stir from his deep slumber, ready to take it all away and drag me back to those forsaken verbal dungeons for my insolence in writing this. Of telling you what secrets lie behind this sinister URL.
So I leave you now, and I beg you to pray for my everlasting literary soul.
Oh I hear tiny footsteps approaching in my heart, and I feel a phrase coming - vociferous harangue.. Oh damn it, damn it all..
May Google help me...
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