just felt like writing

.. coz on moonless nights like this, i empty those decrepit thoughts that the clouds of sanity refuse to carry away.

is it strange to remember your own lines, i wonder.

things have been busy lately. i have been working late hours, and long hours. i am afraid, i ll burn out at this rate. i dont need to slog like there s no tomorrow, but the urge to succeed far outweighs the ignominy of leisure. it is one of those periods in life when i dont necessary understand why i am doing certain things that i am doing, other than the fact that i think that it is right. there is a hunger, not flamed so much by the greed of fame or the welcome fortune, but some kind of restlessness, that life could end up as a collection of self-fulfilling events with no real distinction or application. i think/talk about this a lot these days, this feeling of not being "useful" outside one's self. addressed into some sort of variance of socialism, about how degenerate one is becoming as fragments of society indulge in meta-progress.

there is an assuming sense of purpose to all this. a light sense of moral satisfaction. an irreverent motion of challenge. in many ways, this is deliberate. in an odd stray cause, it is whimsical.

and then there are nights like these, when i sit down and seek parity.

there are a whole lot of things that i dont write about these days. i wonder, why. then, there are senses which refuse to believe, there are thoughts which refuse to die. in little murmurs, i breath out sighs.. sometimes to myself, at times to.. myself.

and in spite of all this, there is a light of clarity. a brightly lit room where everything lies uncovered..

...

i think the words have wandered into rambling now, but i think it is necessary. i need this blog back. and i would call this a start.