Skip to main content

Job X : Memories, 'She' VIII


Job X

'She'


Memory I

            “She makes the best of mine, of romance, of love, of craziness, and possibly every sanity and insanity of mine! If my memory cheats me, it is only in the thoughts of Her. And I love the game of my memory, which makes me a prey of memories.”
             Insanity, which is celebrated within the conceptual and aesthetic conventions of his spiritualized neo-radical-humanism, Job is every human being, he hasn’t ever experienced the existence of his soul and self through them, but the realization of the soul and self is closely related to his existence when he talks about Her because it is (was) she who brought him to realm of the celebration of self and soul. Feeling is everything. “She hasn’t ever talked to me or smiled at me or I haven’t ever had the bloom of being with her at least for a while, but I have seen her some yards away and at that moment I haven’t ever thought about her. I think of her now, what a story, I am damned! The exceptionality of Her is her presence in my soul and memories, and material or physical absence in my immediate present or progressive tenses.”
            “If I have loved anyone in my life and in this world, it is carol.” love for Her is entirely different from any love stories I have ever heard in my life.  It’s here She makes the difference; she is still active in his soul because of her physical absence. She becomes a part of his soul, that’s why, maybe he still loves her and she doesn’t know it, but being a part of his soul she must have felt it. Who knows it? I pity him for his classic love. He says, “There is weird pleasure in loving someone who doesn’t love you.” he is insane on his on terms and definitions, discourses and events.
            “I had crushes, romances, infatuations and everything that we would attribute to the love of a young man who is attracted to a girl...” I interrupted him for my own aesthetic comforts and voyeuristic tendencies. I wanted to start the journey from the beginning and I know it’s different because there is a beautiful and perfect fusion of all binaries including   sanity and insanity. I wanted to hear his romantic journey,  unanticipated occurrences of the far-fetched realities and the absence of the anticipated proximities; celebration of the self and soul; spiritualization of the materialism and spiritualized materialism of institutionalized religions and societal institutions; beautification of the absurdity and the celebration of the imperfection; pleasure of enjoying the stupidities and laughing at oneself; pleasure of doing something which is never wanted to be done and thinking which is never wanted to be thought of; anesthetification of the memories of unwanted assumption and resurrection of the memories buried in the thick thoughts of life; aesthetification of the absurdities of life and beautification of it in terms of co related elements of events; deconstructionalization of the structured and institutionalized life, culture, tradition, custom and practices; experimentation on the neo-radical-humanism which is invented by his insanity in which he adds 1% of faith, 3.7% of Transcendentalism, 5.30% of Existentialism, 15% of Buddhism, 30% of Naturalism, 15% of Radicalism, 10% of Spiritualism, 20% of Deconstruction. And he begins his story...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An Elegy on a Night Party II

They sing the funeral song on the death of their Day, “Day is dead, let's celebrate the birth of the Night from vivacity to ecstasy and finally a fall from the seventh heaven unto the abyss of dreams and lust.” Having nothing to do in the nights of my ‘usual routine’, I had my same chair on the same corner, a platform above the dance floor of the Seventh Heaven party club at the Down Town.             Everything in me tends to go on to become something else. The pervasive  aesthetics of life and the disposals of proposals from the mighty eyes of Almighty, I placed myself on the corner for no reason. My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. She holds spring against her breast and stares at me with sad eyes as if I’m a son of all other seasons other than spring. I don’t know who the she in my life is, but I keep watching and following her, th...

A Utopian Hallelujah

UPDATED : I saw her first on 26 January 2009                    : This post was written on 18/03/2013: 06:42 PM                          : And i said what i wanted to say on Wednesday, May 22, 2013 6:18:00 AM                    : I met her in person on 16/8/14: 12:07 PM, the craziest thing I've ever done in my life! They say I am crazy 'cause I am in love with the crazy utopia. "Crazy Utopia" could be a person or her, obviously her, thoughts or even her existence. Each day i born new and likewise my love for her is new. I know her for the past five years and i am in love with her from that very point of time whence the "past five years" started. I've decided a myriads and myriads of times not to think of her ever and for never. But, I st...

At the hour of Last breath

(A poem by Rafeeque Ahammad. Translated by Anand ) Stay with me at the hour of my last breath, Amassing the burning veracities of life, My Fingers are dead, Let them get ease by caressing you. Last molecules of my breath may cart thy fragrance. My love, let thy face plunge In the eyes of mine, never to be opened. Ears, no longer be opened for sounds, Be sealed with thy mellifluousness. Mind, burning with thoughts and memoir, Be filled with thy evergreen memories. Kisses-made scars on my lips, Heal in the sweet chants of thy name. Reminiscences of journey,   Unto thee my love, my feet tranquil. That’s enough for me, Buried under the earth, I resurrect- Newborn leaves of grass.