Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Tips of our Icebergs

We converse
With the tips
of our

A Duet

I just realized
I've been singing
A duet

Beginnings - A New Novel

Chapter 4 -

Morning was a dull one. It’s been a while since he wrote anything; the funds from the royalties of his last few books were lasting quite well.

There. Again.

He looked around slowly, turning his head 270 degrees, and then turning his body the other way so he could see the remaining of his room. To make sure he didn’t miss anything between the two sectors, he made sure the edges of his eyes corresponded to the same spots in the room.

He got the feeling that something just started.

He ignored it and did his morning ablutions. Then he sat down to write, shoving everything on his desk to the floor, with a few pleasant thumps and many angry clangs. What should he write about? He tried to recall his latest projects.

Nothing came forth.

He thought about recent events, and wondered if he should write about that instead. Well, why not?

He positioned himself in front of his desk, toying with his pen.

Finally, he began writing.

Writing was an equally arduous and pleasurable task. He realized, while writing, that he forgot to bring his diary-notebook with him, upon searching for which he found it safe under the pillow on his bed.

Taking it from under his pillow with a relieved sigh, he got back to his desk and resumed writing.


To be continued...

Chapter 3 -

Our hero sat in his armchair at home, nestled by the fireplace. It was warm, waves of heat rolling out according to the pattern of burning flames. He dove into his mind. Once he was in, he began looking at the universe.

Am I dreaming? If I am, then it’s natural that I would feel strange things, and feelings. How do I check whether I am dreaming or not? … Pinching myself will not work, because I have felt a lot of pain in dreams before. Killing myself is also of no avail, because were I to be actually alive,  I would then become one of the dead.

Have I taken any behavior and mind altering medicine, liquids or drugs? I don’t think so; unless I  had another self who did it, and then transferred control to me. Or perhaps i might have lost my memory of taking some substance, and then consumed it.

So. It’s one of the three possibilities I concluded when I was walking. If it’s the third possibility, then I could be physio-psychologically affected by some consumable ( and have duly forgotten about it) or could be dreaming, enabling such sensations of being watched.

There are many questions, and so few answers. I must write what I know now, that I may examine it’s slant and contents later.

Wait a second.

This is not the first time I’m having this problem - might it be that I had written something like I planned to write now earlier and forgot about it?

He leaped from the armchair and sped around the room, adding to the mess by throwing around plates, books and papers as he searched them for any previously written material. He felt a sort of inclination towards the drawers below his desk, so he went there and ransacked it.

He found a black book. There was a label on it, with beautiful cursive writing.

It read You put the papers your wrote on earlier somewhere secret on purpose. He opened the book; there were scribbles ( and a few doodles ) everywhere. Unfortunately, he couldn’t understand the hand writing, even though it appeared to be his.

He began to think, both out of habit and necessity.

How do I find something that when I hid it, did it with the intention of the future me finding it hard to find?

In other words, if I was a book hidden with the intention of not being found, where will I be?

He scanned the room, hidden by itself in papers, industrial material and things he didn’t remember.

It would take forever to find it. It’s best if he began anew.

He selected a black book at random from his drawer and began writing, I feel like I’m being watched. Possible reasons considered include physiopsychological  causes, (that I’m dreaming, on some sort of drug), being surveyed or some sorcery. I could have taken the drug and forgotten about it, or was somebody else when the drug was taken.

He paused. I also found a book that said on it’s label that I had to search for another book  that was hidden on purpose, and which contained the previous items I had written.

Anything else? I don’t think so. He stopped writing, and was careful to not put the book away. He held it wherever he went, and put in his lap when he had dinner that night, and under his pillow when he slept.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Beginnings - A New Novel

Chapter 2 -

He looked around. A drastic shift had happened, and he wasn’t sure what it was, but it didn’t feel good.

He analyzed the people passing by him for any  relative spatial causes, and then scanned the world mentally for far by spatial causes. Then he scanned his past behavior unto the last checkpoint, and then the present; he didn’t find many leads.

Among the few he found was increased susceptibility to paranoia and perhaps a little taste of mania. He also remembered that the feeling of being watched began not too long ago.

He walked, paying attention to the people who passed by him. A few returned a cursory smile that didn’t reach their eyes; and still fewer smiled whole heartedly, as though he was a genuine human being that deserved love and affection. Such smiles don’t fade easily, both from the smiler’s face and from the observer’s mind.

He got lost in a few minutes; he was never good at directions. Having parents who always did everything for him, and spoilt him with love, he grew up focusing on the bigger things in life; life, philosophy, logic, love and ethics.

 Why am I being watched? This doesn’t feel like a normal scenario. I can think of three possibilities: someone with technology far more advanced than the items I read about or trending is conducting surveillance; some sorcery is afoot; or I am not being watched, but physio-psychologically I feel like I’m being watched.

How do I get to the bottom of this?

He smiled.

Beginnings - A new novel

Chapter 1 -

“I feel like I’m being watched all the time”, he said.

“Watched by whom? Why do you think you’re being watched?” asked William.

William studied him closely as he responded,”I am not sure by whom exactly…I just have this odd feeling that something, or someone outside my field of vision is scrutinizing me.”

William nodded. His skepticism is obvious.  Damn him.

“In fact…I feel like I’m being watched right now,” he began to look around, until his gaze settled somewhere in the distance, on you, and then unable to confirm it, he looked back at William and sighed.

William tilted his head.

“What do you intend on doing about it?”, he asked.

Our hero raised his head and said,”Something. I will figure it out.” Casting a furtive glance at you, he got up and walked out of the psychiatrists office.

He went down the stairs and walked out of the building altogether. He didn’t know where he was going; he was too angry to care.

He also had the uncomfortable sensation that something was en-

Beginnings - A New Novel

I started a new novel about two weeks ago. The idea behind it has been running in my head for quite a while, but I was setback by a few ambiguous-on-purpose difficulties.

I decided to post each chapter as I write as a post on my blog. So far I've around 800 words, but I'm expecting more.

The name of the novel is as yet undecided, as is the names of the chapters.

Stay tuned!

Yours sincerely,

P.s. - Yeah, I stopped work on the Unamed Tome