STATUTORY WARNING: The following lines might be harmful for the soft hearted...
Of the irresistible urge to write… just to express… couldn’t take the brooding inside… that’s the feeling I am getting after having watched the first 29 minutes of ‘Rock on’…
The aspiration, the desire, the inner passion and finally all gone to Waste… the story of most of our lives… the fleeting feeling to just break free… to chase all that seems impossible… and nothing to worry… the imagination of youth and the gradual unbearable silence of age…
We can say it’s just the economy… The GDP is proportionately linked to the expression of inner imagination… no worries to be able to maintain a creative life without starving… no need to put away all that might have mattered in the name of success… the story of all those 100 thousands of strangers created out of their own isolation of themselves… The question is why???
To counter the GDP blame all most can say in their utter monotony as if quoting a textbook is, “ you need the passion the frustration the fear of starvation to achieve”… too hoots to this ridiculous excuse… just a cowardly way of saying I couldn’t dare…
Why then why??? I guess its society… the enormous ability to chain all that could ever be free… to poison all aesthetic beauty in the name of success… to get back to that desk feeling why if there’s one life, must it be wasted with such a tremendous urge to protect all sense of guilt… to bury all trace of guilt from one’s system… guilt of never having the courage to hold one’s head up high…
Why then such embarrassing contradictions… to punish all who might have held their head high… and praise that insolence of building an ever more tailored society that will slowly pass into oblivion like all before us…
It always ends with the bitterness that is generated at the end of every Ayn Rand’s novel… the impossible urge to break the shackles, the overpowering strength of the lame societal living… the final subduing of all that was original, all that was free and independent and then the guilt…
I am an escapist… even now I am incapable of blaming myself for who I am… I do not know who I would have been… I do not know why I am like I am… I would rather blame the damn GDP for the woes of our creatives…
To all who can associate with this ridiculous expression of inner guilt… we are mostly at peace… but for the remaining few moments, just remember and dream… and pass on that dream to others and support them who have the courage and who feel the pain of guilt much more than the pleasure of hollow praise…
