Now. There are certain things a lonely man, a sad man, a man whose being the promise of hope is being slowly sucked out, should be allowed to do. Yet, he somehow gravitates to that, reading books that make him sadder, not about himself but at the irony and the strange overpowering nature of the world around. And he has the eternal company of Kafka.
No, he does not, as Kafka says, cannot force himself to use drugs to cheat on his loneliness — it is all that he has. He wanders along pathless lands and meets nobody, when there is nowhere to go.
And there is this meaningless dreams and meaningless daydreams, and meaningless awakedness.
There is this stubborn stupidity as well, which refuses to let go. It makes the days do round and round, till the nights and days look the same.
Yet, in the random cruel world he is, he sees a crucible of joy, indestructible, which seduces and tyrannises him. He refuses to let go of the pleasure.
Maybe this is how man goes blind. Or he goes mad. Or both.
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say much i cannot, for i am a man of limited vocabulary and leaden thoughts but quote i shall (and yoda it’ll be not)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
You know what follows, but i just realized what kipling took 3 stanzas to say, the great Mithunda said in a single line – mard ko dard nahin hota! [:D]
Spare a thought for me-i have kafka in my course!