Cloud Storage

What must it feel like to be a memory?
To be stored somewhere, dormant, impotent for an undisclosed and unimaginably infinite amount of time.
To possess the ability to instill nearly any possible cocktail of emotions in somebody.

Come to think of it, we're all memories in a way, already. Where even digitally captured moments can soon turn us to into old dusty photographs. Where we may soon be referred to as someone's better half, someone's father, someone's dear friend.
We live in a cynical world that allows us to partially but still peacefully exist in oblivion and then catches us by the throat and calls us to do our memory-related duties.
But in the very sense of dualism that only you and I may be able to comprehend, we are also, not, memories now.
All that surrounds us, all that we choose to surround ourselves with, the faces we see, faces we choose to love, the faces we unknowingly and uncontrollably admire, are all happening now.
The memories you call upon now and all the related thought processes are all happening now.
Do you not think of that as a good thing?

Im in that extraordinary place where everything is special, and nothing is.
Where nothing is invisible but not everything is entirely visible.
And yes, that makes perfect sense.

I can only hope, that memory or not, I have a good time.

You can carry on now.
-
V

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Although I wrote this only sometime back, they are collected feelings of late today morning and the after-effects of watching The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, which I liked.
As for the title, keeping in mind the content of the piece, is like my pun on how we store memories now.

Now Reading : Darkly Dreaming Dexter - Jeff Lindsay
Now Listening : Again - Archive
                         Red Dust - Zero 7
Now Feeling: Pretty damn good man.

Bisu

Firstly, the title. Its got nothing to do with anything occult.
I just read Birth of The Demon again, sometime back. Its the origin story of Ra's Al Ghul. Beyond this, if you don't understand the meaning of the title; then you need to get to speed on your Batman.

Im just very bored as I write this.
My journal has been left untouched for a while and that just makes me sad. Like somehow a small part of me has been forgotten by myself. Thats just betrayal, innit?

Hah, but why would I concern anybody but me about all this?

I dont even know why this post is published. Maybe its one of those subconscious contigency measures Im setting up for myself.
Like Im stuck in a dark sea. With only a few batteries left for my torch so Im rationing the amount of time I use it for.
Its a complicated analogy. Im not gonna bother explaining.

Right, I'm gonna leave you now. 

I think this note will fascinate me in a year, maybe.

Night,

V

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A beautiful woman delights the eye; a wise woman, the understanding; a pure one, the soul.  

- Minna Antrim

Now Reading : Arkham Asylum - Grant Morrisson

Now Listening : Crystalised - The xx

Now Feeling : Bored

Silence

One more deviation from the commonplace. I usually like to title my notes with 2 or more words. Usually something vague and I hope, intriguing. This time however, its one word. A word that I like and dislike. A word that most of don't enjoy and some of us tuned to submit.
Silence

Its a weird thing. There are varieties of this silence. A bone chilling silence. A library's often-violated silence. An induced silence. An inspired silence. A forced silence. An awkward silence. (Trust me, I could write a book on awkward silences and my experiences with them) A solemn silence. A thought-filled silence. A mournful silence. A cut-the-crap-and-just-speak silence. An eerie silence. A romantic silence. A hungry silence. An eager silence. A silence that you feel before something wrong happens. A I-dont-belong-here silence. A pre-conversation silence. A stare-into-the-eyes silence.

All these silences, under the right circumstances can be forced/faked on someone. Which happens to all of us on an almost daily basis. But thats not my point.

My point is the kind of silence that you want to be a part of. It could be any one of the ones mentioned above, but what makes a difference ( a world of a difference at that) is the fact that you want to be silent. Out of respect. Out of love. A silence that you, not enjoy, but will not break unless necessary.

I spent this evening at Borders. With a Starbucks in my hand and a great book in the other. I was part of a silence that I truly wanted to be part of. A silent so calming and peaceful, you should have been there to understand how awesome it was. To say the least, I reconnected with my spiritual side. This will sound unbelievable and quite a bit stupid to most of you but with the right kind of silence and a great book, perspectives change. Lives change.

I never knew 4 hours would do so much for me.
By the way, the book was The Five People You Meet In Heaven by Mitch Albom. It took me half an hour to find the perfect book and this was indeed it. I haven't read such a simply written yet descriptively beautiful book in a long time.


As of now Life is good. Wanting to try Burger King. Studies Good. Music flowing in. Movies flowing in. HIMYM flowing in.

In other news, a Wise Man told me recently that I contradict myself a lot. Gotta work on that. Tired now. Off to Sleep. My Third Level, if I may say so.


Forever,
A Silent Reader,
V



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Now Listening : To the opposite of silence.
Now Feeling : Content

Good Night.