First half of this year was like that unsalvageable dipped biscuit that fell right into the tea. All the plans of relishing it disappeared as unpredictably and accidentally.
Second half, is turning out to be the second biscuit which has gone behind to scrape the remnants.
a lot of people talk about living things as machines. I think this comparison misses crucial differences between the two. wrote a short piece about it
in biology, unreliable parts make a reliable whole
Significantly it is also Draupadi’s constant inner dialogue that rips through the ideal and the idol. Points to observation of internal flaws whilst being on a slippery slope of control. Commend the author on delivering such a challenging philosophical narration with finesse.
Been a while since I landed my hands on some Unputdownable writing ✍️ never the one to re-read or rewatch a known story but Chitra Banerjee has given me a first through her adroit crafting of prose. Interestingly this book is a theme of personal intrigue, the one on perspectives.
Coldplay might have fixed us but Greenday taught us what broke us in the first place. Bombay has taught me that a Boulevard of Dreams is one that you plant, water, till and glue back if needed. A city that makes you grind to your bones and later makes it all worth it.
The phenomenon catching everyone in their 30s where they’re all endlessly healing their ‘inner children’. Petition to go back to the era where adults adulted responsibly please.
I only recently realized that my thoughts move much faster than I can type them out in words. as the thoughts form there's a kind of "buffer" in which they're held while they're waiting to be transcribed, and that buffer is slowly emptied as my fingers type. I've been having a lot of fun with a kind of "free association" writing, where I basically discard the buffer altogether and try to stay "present" with the thoughts, type out words as soon as they're formed in my head. of course this is impossible to fully do for the reason I just described – the thoughts move too quickly – but nonetheless there is something freeing about discarding the buffer (and with it, the need to form coherent sentences) and instead just blurt out words. even though it makes less sense to the unfamiliar reader, this kind of writing somehow feels more faithful to the actual state of my mind. I've been surprised sometimes by the stuff that comes out, sometimes it feels beautiful and other times insightful. maybe this what Freud was onto. this practice consistently ends up making me feel more clear-headed afterwards, I recommend trying it out