A loner's Ravings

He comes to me often these days. Silently. A presence i feel before I actually see that transparent shimmer which is him. He doesn't talk. Maybe he is like me. Maybe he doesn't like to talk. Maybe he just blogs instead. No noise. No sounds of any kind. No nothing, if I may say so. He merely felts. [Can't think of a shorter word than that, to say makes himself felt. I have to think up a better word though. Any suggestions on that?]

It is dark. So it must be night. Anyway there is no sun in the sky down there. And I can hear the breath of the night, the sweet stench of doom draping the world. I can feel that also. I am pretty good at feeling things like this. There is this person. I have absolutely no idea who he is. I need to be frank about this. I don't really care who or what that person is. All I do notice is that he seems to be made of some kind of plastic. I can see through him. Except where his heart intervenes. He is a big fellow. May be close to seven. I wonder why he is draped in such black stuff. Especially since it doesn't hide anything. And there isn't much to see anyway, except the road going through him. And the shimmer of his substance. He seems to be in front of me. Mostly. Part of him is behind me though. The tremendous silence engulfing me must be owing to this guy. Because, most of the time this walkway is pretty noisy. And crowded.

Today was not particularly bad as days go. I had my usual share of being alone. Deep in the madding crowd. Sometimes I wonder who among the multitude teeming around me are actually of my special category - loners. We don't tell each other you see. And when we do tell, we use odd names, hmm. like loner2. My other life, the one everyone assumes is my real one, went off as usual. The same old crowd. The same old nonsense uttered all around. Everyone pretending to be the best guy or gal on the planet. Man, it is quaint. Oh, I forgot to mention this one. I need to tell about my dreams. Some people would call them nightmares. So brace yourself for some weird posts. Most of them are going to be disjointed, 'cause like most people I don't remember the dreams in full. But unlike Plato, I do know they are dreams. Maybe they ARE dreams. In fact I believe they are dreams. Just dreams.

Now that the waiting is over and the calamity was not as bad as everyone feared, I can go back to my loner status again. Which brings up the question: What has a loner got to do with involvement? I mean, what does a loner mean anyway ! Let the rebuilding commence. I go back to my old shell again.

First she went and got leukemia. Then she took part of her chemotherpy and just disappeared. Then she reappeard with a husband in tow. She was six months pregnant. She went to the labour room at term. Then he went and hanged himself. Now she is left with a baby girl and a leukemia.

When two million people flee the wrath of mother nature it is silly to talk about loneliness. At times even loners feel at one with everyone else. This is such a time. Thank whoever downgraded her to Cat 2

The swirlings winds do not care who you are. Neither do the swells. And yet... I wonder. Maybe there are gradations in natural disaster vcitims too.

I have been thinking. Maybe guilt, actual or imagined has somehting to do with loneliness. Not to mention inferiority and other things. But how does guilt correlate with loneliness. Take me as a case in point. There are things I wish I hadn't done. Maybe, just maybe, that is one thing that prevents me from opening up.

I come again to the levels of loneliness stuff. Are there infinite levels of loneleiness? Infinite is uncountable. Transcendental, as RWE would say. But 2005 is so far away from 1836. Society is not what it used to be. But, is it necessary to be deliberately lonely? Is that what an exile means. Find a silent corner somewhere, sit yourself down there, and ask what all that silence means. It doesnot imply loneliness. You can be physically lonely and yet be one with the rest of the world. You can be in the midst of the rush hour and yet be totally marooned within yourself. Continue that for a sufficient length of time and you can forget about socializing. As for spiritual loneliness, there is no working definition of loneliness that is universally applicable in this miserable age. Come to think of it, who is not lonely? Most people go through life without ever realizing that when the chips are down they are alone. Long live faith. That was one of the first things I lost. Having lost Faith...

I was asked this question today. And I put it to you as it was asked. How do you define an acceptable lie? Are there acceptable lies ? This was followed by a Question: How to be a hardcore liar. I suppose this is all about the so called white lies. You utter them to save your worthless skin. And then feel upset or delighted according to who you are. As for me, my whole life being a big lie, the question makes no sense. More importantly, I ask myself. How do you define truth . Given the situation of the world as of today. How many "acceptable lies" did I utter today? I am amazed. They are beyond count. Starting with the time I wake up to the time I somehow manage to close my eyes, with ample help from hmmm..Ok, that is not important right now. I tried to the ultimate answer tool:google. :-)and checked out Acceptable lies and got 402 pages. I also learned that most of it relates to law or government (Why am I not surpprised !). There are also unacceptable truths. More on that ...

How many levels of loneliness can a person rise to? The lowest would be mere physical loneliness. The lack of physical proximity to other humans, excluding extreme conditions such as imprisonment. (More on that topic later). As you rise higher up the loner's ladder you reach the level of psychological loneliness which is where most of us confirmed loners acually are. In this state you have people milling alla around you. But you are not part of the crowd. Empathy. I believe that is the word. Lack thereof. Next is a kind of spiritual loneliness wherein the lack of faith in anything whatsoever leaves you wondering what on earth you are doing here. And finally there is the existential loneliness where you are sure there is no meaning to the previous question. So what am I doing here?

I stayed by the beach yesterday. Most of the night. There is a deadly shimmer in the darkness and the thunder of waves. That is all I can make of the sea. Occasional walls rise out of the darkness and glare at me. I wonder what that wave must have looked like. The one on Dec 26, 2004. That of course wouldn't have given me time to ponder! And Katrina. What about Katrina. And here I am moaning about loneliness!

I skip the heading. They don't do me much good anyway. Except a headache. Plain posts are better. And a lot easier too. Today was not all that bad, as days go. I mean, there are days and then there are days. I would count today as one of my better days. Went down to the beach. And there were the waves, roaring in. Prettry tall, some of them. I prefer the beach with the sun down. The waves look sort of beckoning. And they call you. The crash of all that salt water in the darkness. Reminds me of all the souls that are inside. Of his bones are corals made kind of stuff. There was this eerie deep red wink of a light in the horizon. That must be the remnant of the sun.

I talked to him at ten in the morning. At eleven he had a massive coronary and was gone. Just like that. Leaves you sort of numb. Especially because I suspect he rather enjoyed life. Just before he left he told me "Will see you later". Now I wonder what on earth he meant by that. Did he have some kind of premonition. I doubt that. After all what else do you tell a friend. And yet. I couldn't see the hand of death holding him. He looked so vibrant, so full of that ethereal stuff - life. Death doesn't smell. Not immediately anyway. It didn't take away his smile, either. Now here. Now gone. Period. I guess i have to get used to the idea. That he won't be seeing me around here. A smile that actually warmed me up somewhat will never beem upon me again. Odd. Adieu.

Why am I writing this stuff? It isn't fun. Mostly I am talking to myself (just the thing my shrink says a person ike me would do!). This is a sort of worm hole to the my existence. (Deep!). When the dark matter gets to me this is a nice way out.