Ginger drafts...

Are there anomalies in our socio-political systems? How else can one explain the seemingly ubiquitous civil unrest? I wondered if the world will ever cease from this mood of cultural ecstasies. Do differences exist in a system to keep it on a perpetual streak of life or is it the other way round? None of our moralistic epitomes are infallible. They are merely complete insofar that the adherents consent to. That begs us to answer the question we began with-do anomalies exist in our ideas, ideologies and systems? Yes, otherwise the system would never evolve and over a period of time, it perhaps descends into the grave of regress. But why in the first place have we, the adherents of the system, allowed for anomalies to creep into the system? The answer to this question lies in another question. That is, what is the yardstick to measure anomalies? The yardstick is the incumbent level or maturity of system. What this means is, unless the system itself evolves into a giant octopus, the ones

Can I stop writing? Can my world evolve without me? What is this uncompromising hand- buried under the rubble that is me is clawing at something sensible. Flushed and relentless, a streak of despair hovers around me. Time awaits me on the other end, dreamily I hand my self to the provocation only to be mocked, for now I am awake. Soon all this will end, and in the end all that I will remember is the heavy numb feeling in my head. It is oily and viscous, as I tilt my head; it slowly follows gravity and settles in the direction of the tilted head. So my life seems to me, a learning that I wish to lay asleep. Why I write is something of a physical virtue than a mental relapse or relief. Those feelings that are pulled taut and plugged into the sockets of a guitar would produce cacophonies at time. And so my writing as I will remember when I am forty will have been a struggling thick black bulbous heap of alien material that choked me as I pulled it closer to my throat from above. There is