It's a dismal rant. And there can be good ones. Like when praising Dravid's batting. But this is different.
This is a grim no-good-mind-fucking rant that's staging an uprising from within. This is a rant about being so useless. So pathetic, predictable and cyclical.
It's that voice from inside that most of us hide on a daily basis. We hide it when we have to go to a friend's wedding or worse, when someone has given birth to a child and you have to go to be nice to them. To congratulate them on their uselessness. To congratulate them for their pathetic victory of having found a partner or a baby or a job for that matter. On days like these, this rant shies away. Because it's trying to fit in and see if it needs to rise its ugly head at all. It does that because you have been engineered to be happy on those days. Someone else has already decided to be happy on these days and they've called you to be a part of their happiness. How can you possibly go to their occasion of happiness and say, "You stupid oaf, do you know this moment is not going to last forever ? What the hell are you getting happy about, this idiotically fleeting moment ?"
And since you can't say it, you shut it out. You really want to tell it to that friend of yours but you don't and the rant stays quiet. Some do it really well, all their lives, every single moment of their existence, they are able to let the rant stay quiet and it dies quietly. Such people are really lucky because they just are so consigned to being so ordinary. And consequently so happy.
Then there are others. Those who give way to the rant and become rank outsiders. The pariahs. They are the ones who listened to that voice and tried to do something about it. They wanted to lead their own lives. They wanted to create something, with their own hands and with their own minds. Not so much with their semen. Those who listened to that rant and did something about it, are even more restless. Or perhaps more useless. They feel they have silenced that rant. But it becomes worse. The rant overpowers them and sooner than you know you are a slave of that rant. Catering to it's whims and obeying those whispers. These people are consigned to be so pathetic, they become the rant.
So you can either quieten the rant and become a slave of the highest order without knowing it or you can become a slave to the rant knowing that it will then own you.
That's all that there's to life really - the rant. And how you've made your peace around it. If at all. See there's that rant again.
This is a grim no-good-mind-fucking rant that's staging an uprising from within. This is a rant about being so useless. So pathetic, predictable and cyclical.
It's that voice from inside that most of us hide on a daily basis. We hide it when we have to go to a friend's wedding or worse, when someone has given birth to a child and you have to go to be nice to them. To congratulate them on their uselessness. To congratulate them for their pathetic victory of having found a partner or a baby or a job for that matter. On days like these, this rant shies away. Because it's trying to fit in and see if it needs to rise its ugly head at all. It does that because you have been engineered to be happy on those days. Someone else has already decided to be happy on these days and they've called you to be a part of their happiness. How can you possibly go to their occasion of happiness and say, "You stupid oaf, do you know this moment is not going to last forever ? What the hell are you getting happy about, this idiotically fleeting moment ?"
And since you can't say it, you shut it out. You really want to tell it to that friend of yours but you don't and the rant stays quiet. Some do it really well, all their lives, every single moment of their existence, they are able to let the rant stay quiet and it dies quietly. Such people are really lucky because they just are so consigned to being so ordinary. And consequently so happy.
Then there are others. Those who give way to the rant and become rank outsiders. The pariahs. They are the ones who listened to that voice and tried to do something about it. They wanted to lead their own lives. They wanted to create something, with their own hands and with their own minds. Not so much with their semen. Those who listened to that rant and did something about it, are even more restless. Or perhaps more useless. They feel they have silenced that rant. But it becomes worse. The rant overpowers them and sooner than you know you are a slave of that rant. Catering to it's whims and obeying those whispers. These people are consigned to be so pathetic, they become the rant.
So you can either quieten the rant and become a slave of the highest order without knowing it or you can become a slave to the rant knowing that it will then own you.
That's all that there's to life really - the rant. And how you've made your peace around it. If at all. See there's that rant again.
