Cranberry Sauce

You are the highest of highs You are the reward of my toil You are the untouchable You are the insurmountable You are unprotected, and thus indestructible You are the epitome of the human spirit Yet you're only human That's what makes you supreme You are the promise land... the dream destination... You're always the goal, yet always unattained You're the light at the end of the tunnel Always in sight, but always far away If only I could have you... I would be redeemed of my sins I would be immortal I would be alive........ If only I could. You're the frail beauty that perishes when possessed But I would never know You're the angel's voice in despair that I have never heard You're my saviour, my guiding spirit The twilight of eternal youth The elixir of life So I'd like to believe You're the love of my life You're a figment of my imagination I'm trapped in...

I was about to write something stupid but thought against it. Metacognitive as I always am, I am aware now that my feelings might merely be a projection of a conscious reflection arising out of the superimposition of years of environmental conditioning, social structure and human evolution. In essence, I might just be constructing a reality that is made essentially out of nothing. But yet, these fictional realities sometimes overlap, sometimes coincide between two or more people, resulting in consensus. Consensus doesn’t necessitate correctness, it merely represents reinforcement arriving from mutual acceptance. The consented matter might be grounded in reality, or floating in delusion, yet for the consenting believers, that's all that matters. That is true, that is uncontested, that is given.  In a sense, by the very nature of human incompetence of arriving at an absolute, only the relative can be consented on. And so, every act of consented conviction must probably arise, to som...

Some say I'm on a quest to uncover the fabric of the universe. Others say I'm just kidding myself. Among the believers of the holy grail, there are some that believe I'm looking to discover myself, while others are convinced I'm trying to make sense of the people around me. And then there are some that believe that the self and the other are but trivial and inconsequential objects in the majestic vignette of the universe. And yet, for us imbeciles, we are our world. Life revolves around the self and the other, more pertinently, the significant other. We often spend lifetimes comparing and contrasting ourselves with our contemporaries, and occasionally with our ancestors. Yes, we are remarkably short sighted, but everybody is, so we're not made to feel the need to see otherwise. I'm both amazed and vexed by the amount of time we spend trying to merge with the social structure, the latter of which is also incrementally shaped by our actions. In effect, we cons...

(Warning: The following review contains spoilers. Please watch the movie before reading this. For an introduction, read my post HERE ) George Barber is a mathematical genius that works in a corporate firm. Due to his psychic abilities, he can 'see' himself simultaneously living out his life in parallel universes. In each of the possible worlds exists Joyce, playing different roles in George's life (a dead wife, a casual partner and a stranger). At the beginning of the movie, George is found murdered with his brain extracted. Detective Berkeley and his sidekick try to investigate this crime throughout the film. This is interspersed with flashbacks of George's different lives. In the end, the detectives figure that Doctor Kleber, a brain scientist murdered George so he could study and manipulate his brain. George's brain, still 'alive' and fundamentally conscious is brought back to Joyce. In the last scene, George's brain simulates a romantic evenin...

Life is as random as can be. Ubuntu is good, but the grass is always greener on the other side. Web horcruxes means that my life isn’t really my own, even in the individualist west. I’m so well connected, like everyone else, that life doesn’t really require human intervention to run. It runs almost in autopilot mode, just like the myriad tech gadgets that we now use. Sometimes, it proceeds without an administrator password, making it appear that my life isn’t my own after all, but a coordinate in a haphazard conglomeration of entities incapable of self existence, adding up to a complex dynamic system called society. I wish I could use the word robust or systematic, if only I could make sense of it. Maybe, just like ant colonies, we're not meant to comprehend the role of an individual in the bigger picture and yet contribute to it. However, a human ostensibly possesses consciousness, and hence is constantly aware of most of the things s/he does. This is the perfect recipe for que...

6:05 AM I guess I have nothing much to do otherwise, so I’ll just write. Such moments of paradoxes, existential or otherwise, should rightfully be celebrated by writing about them. And that being said, I do feel like a sell-out again, and the self-reinforcing loop continues. The self-loathing is strong, it always has been. An endured punishment called existence. I might sound too full of myself, but that’s not necessarily true. Besides, alternate techniques of living a life have somehow eluded me. Not that I am complaining; I’d only know what I’m missing out on if I knew what it’s like to be otherwise. But then, the design is robust, and the curtains provide good insulation from light, so I (we) might never know. This last comment was entirely uncalled for; I just pretended to rise above my own problems and generalise them to the world, thus demeaning people around for my own flaws. Nice try, Watson. Turns out that the once sleep-hungry procrastinator has turned into a sleep-deprive...