I am typing into this page after what anybody will agree,a rather long time.I remember when I first wrote here,one of my friends asked me to abstain from anything confessional as the world expects to hear about more significant things from me,or as he put it,"someone like me".That friend just sold his first start-up for a hefty amount.This was some wake-up call I mean,around the same time,I read about some call girl getting a book deal as a result of the popularity of her personal blog and I cringed at my garrulous online avatar yapping about the banalities of a life that lacked even the superficial vitality of a whore's.
I consciously avoided the sentimental and the confessional and worked towards the more philosophical and intellectual and however much of a self-fashioning it was,I liked how this blog took my contemplations about the universe seriously.
Now when I listen to myself telling the world about the absurdity of existence,I sound naive.
I know I have to write.Write a lot.Really start writing again.What will I write now?I feel lost inspite of the many moments of certainty that are accumulating these days.
I should write.No certainty like thoughts bubbling up in the brain,reaching the fingertips and conquering the screen.
I consciously avoided the sentimental and the confessional and worked towards the more philosophical and intellectual and however much of a self-fashioning it was,I liked how this blog took my contemplations about the universe seriously.
Now when I listen to myself telling the world about the absurdity of existence,I sound naive.
I know I have to write.Write a lot.Really start writing again.What will I write now?I feel lost inspite of the many moments of certainty that are accumulating these days.
I should write.No certainty like thoughts bubbling up in the brain,reaching the fingertips and conquering the screen.
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