The Perspective of the Blinded

Solitude...the single word that can capture the essence of the human condition.

I have become acquainted with this dear ally, a synonym for the long suffering poet, widowed from inspiration. And I have embraced this fitting concept, such a lonely comfort sitting here in the utter yet daunting silence of the bathroom floor which over the many spaces that I could have chosen became my practice, my studio, my office, my study, for gazing at this forsaken space, I feel content, knowing that no one shall disturb my ravings. Here I can dissect and examine every strand of but monotonous experiences and find that single thread which can weave mere excitement, but with all this lacerating sentences and deep cuts of self discovery, all that may be left is a ruined body of thought. Well I may be a surgeon in thi

s situation, a patient in the next scene, but ofcourse casualties are 

remembered in all great scenes, for they dare to escape to their temporary haven rather than risk the cruel slaughter that reality has predicted for them. Solitude has caused exactly the situation I am confronted with, it has been what I cherished and hoped for, moments of self importance, where upon my ideas c

annot be diluted yet cannot advance by critique either. It has led me to a frontier which offers no growth, as there are no obvious challenges, it has engraved me with all that I have know, but did not carve enough to cause the agony of yearning. I have been placed in a purgatory hell, well not to sound too drastic although when the incessant sound of typing occupies all relevant action, it does cause quite a stir, and dramatic movements. Social interactions have become as foreign as the prospect of communication. Ofcourse I have engaged in idle conversation but they are no sustenance when only consuming yet scarcely any tedium. 

There are no ravenous debates to rip apart all foundations, no savage conquest and dominance of arguments and not humour of unintended puns. It's quite a stale diet, really, which I mean transforming into a hermit, it does not offer the freedom of the omnivore to engage in subtle chats, the ferocity of the carnivore, where verbal aggression is vital to hunt for those mistaken statements and gather great bodies of evidence to support the weight of the oppositions carcass of an argument, or even the gentle and natural flow of the dissonant diet of the herbivore. No for I have been fed the aesthetically pleasing yet hollow meal of the lonely, where regurgitation is all that is allowed in those typical and normal chats, the repeat of the same substance, tainted by boredom, the continuation of the bland usage of words and the same thickness of material, yes the diet of the lonely is quite repetitive, no wonder they suffer from the malaise of monotony. So I ha

ve decided on a life style change, yes my words are now coated with the sweet substance of curiosity, my sentences elongated with the plasticine named detail and my exclamations are heightened with the soft crea

m of articulations and passion. The stale diet of the suffering poem cannot be digested any longer. Although with all these revelations I am hoping it will not be too dramatical of a change or a mere fad diet.

Silence has led to deprivation and malnourishment of rich words, and now it is time to begin another gastronomically rich discussion.

Am I still welcome on these foreign and desolate fields of the Blog? Well you might not be ready to embrace my unhealthy condition that solitude has left my sorrowful vocabulary, but this sustainable unawareness has helped my grow a new defence against the decaying weeds of the isolated. So this has been an extract from my dramatic return to the thriving fields of communications, I have travelled over the emaciated horizons of the mute, the muted and unheard signals have been heard, so I shall tune in from these bathroom floors, which I have made my office and space to obsessively type away, surviving on 4 cups of fair trade coffee and a passion to confess all the innards of this coffee and knowledge drenched soul.

By a insomnia driven reporter, the ally of the maniacs and normal alike (as in this day and age there is not much difference between the two), Suzy!

Personal Notifications -

In the period of my unnoticed absence I have travelled across the world and visited the familiar land of my ancestors and my missing identity alike, and went to Europe, I shall post this and the next week all the details of my new routines, the paths of wizards, warlocks and scholars and now ofcourse me. Every ambiguous alleyway taunting cowards, every crevice of the hollow night, each unrecognized part that led to beauty and terrors, from the heights of enjoyment, to the depths of understanding, I will describe everything in ferocious detail, which will mercilessly rip apart any misleading pest of foolishness. So let me introduce you to the premonition of a new segment named 'A Misunderstood Scholar's Lecture'. it shall be posted next week, although i am a known false prophet...the question is are you such a devoted and desperate worshipper, or a false believer? 

QUOTES-

"Death by Tedium must be such an uneventful tragedy"

"Humanity maintains civilization by ferocious instinct, ripping apart any chance for advancement, with savage methods to ensure normality"

"We cannot rid ourselves of sin, all we can do is regulate and cope with the crucial fact that cheap tears cannot clean away such deeply engraved sins".

            Picture taken in Slovakia-