The Writer is Dead!!!

I’m running out of inspirations. I’m desperately trying to cling on to few thoughts and memories that may lead to a write up! That’s exactly how life’s shaping up right now. What hurts the cause more is living in the absence of alcohol with reflections of dazed & blurred images flashing in the mind before going to bed. I can’t exactly call it the writer’s block. I’d be in different league altogether if I were to reach there. My mind is univocal to that thought. I’m perplexed to the existence of a thought which suggests that there was a talent. I’m lost!

I do not suffer the usual symptoms of the writer’s block like pressurisation from publishers, depression, physical illness or a sense of failure. Actually, there’s much less to it. It’s the realisation of being a frustrated fucking carp of the world that can’t get his thoughts on to paper. Yes, I’m not capable enough to realise the importance of the language as a medium of communication. A thought that takes umpteen sentences and obscene words to be finalised as a draft is not good enough. And then it fails to prevail to any sane mind finally ending up as the intuition of callousness. Articulation is something that I’ve been forgetting. The last write up turned out to be a reworked article from a newspaper and the worst part lay in the impending certainty that it would be realised in the near future. If it were not for the friend who conjured the reality, I’d be living in the hangover of an inspired article. Hence, it was happily deleted! Cinish once said that, “The whole point of creativity is to be fresh and inspiring”. How thoughtful mate! Reckon dwelling in indentured sadism does not help anymore. Maybe I need to search hard & put my qualms at rest.

Where do I go from here? Well, dig deep into other people’s life & request them to give me stories. Maybe, that’s the only way to resist the effort to endure disappointment. Maybe return as fluently persuasive or eloquent. The writer is dead mates. Maybe the new one will survive!

Cheers!!!