Knock my block off
It is the time when the deep-rooted frustration wrings those brain cells – to act ‘sooner,’ before the very same brain triggers the palm to strangle the neck. The feeling’s sudden and often growing each day; to crawl to every breathing part of the body until this little act comes along.
I do not recollect when my last post came through. The post on the blog — that claims to be a paradise — has been lurking around the corner for a painfully long time; the corner of the mind, I mean to say, and is indeed far away from its intended cozy home – the internet. Or, in other words, an ABC product. Oh, ‘cozy’ did I say? How deceived and gullible could the post be for a title I’d given a decade ago!
Nevertheless, I tapped the ends of my fingers to discharge any dust that’d come in the way of my writing. But, to my much feared agony, I hit a block. No sooner had I started counting time up on my therapeutic act than the demonic-eyed hurdles came calling.
I took my palms and arms off the white-top table, only to realize that I’d painted it black with sweat while battling my block. I pulled my chair back and closed my eyes for soliloquy.
Write…mmm…how about ‘grammar in speech’? That’s a good start.
No. I’m writing. Hunting for fun and fact. Liberation.
Hear me. Technology and truce. Conspiracy and crime. Hypocrisy and health. Fraud and finance. Love and Hate?
Out of boundaries. Zilch.
My thoughts crawled further up my brain. They sat up high enough for a fair view of the world. I shot their ideas down. They resumed, again.
Creativity. Narrate a photograph. Colors and hues. Stare for a story.
A picture speaks a thousand words. Your words are yours. Read like no other. Tell a story.
I don’t have a picture.
OK! Close your eyes.
Now, knock us off your head. Open your eyes. Open up.
I stood up. My eyes were closed still. I counted to zero to blink them open.
I don’t remember if there was ever a window behind my table. I drew the curtains and looked out – for a beautiful morning, the air filled with the fragrance of chaotic life.
Thoughts seemed to have silenced themselves.
My post seemed to have taken an amoebic shape already. The clutches within felt loosened. I tapped my fingers.
And thus, this!
And thus, this!