Bukowski

“If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.”

Stories

No, wait, when did it come to this?? Stop… Please…

I am in office right now(yes, at 9:00 Pm on a Friday evening) . And the words decide to come, of all moments, they decide to come to me now. And this isn’t really about frustration. It is not a rant. It is not a pity party . It just is. A fact. I need to work.

But I digress, this isn’t really about work. This is about free flowing word, I let the words dictate their own curse right now. And I talk to them, I ask them “what do you want me to say” “Whose story do you want me to tell” ,and today, I want to tell the story of stories. What really, are stories. Those little snippets of information which float around the world. Everyone I meet, everyone I talk to, has a story. They may say it, they may act it , they may live it, but the story is there.

Tanvi Got me thinking. She had something to say to people, and those words were her words, her story. But in a way, it as also my story. Tanvi, I need to be talking to you about this right now, But you are away. Telling your story to Jenna from accounting, was it?

Aafreen taught you a lot, but she also taught me something. Notice how when she faces the camera, she does it without fear. We, are always afraid of what the camera might throw up. I have been accused of writing about “sad” things, but I noticed how my writing has changed. It really isn’t about sadness anymore, it just isn’t.

It is about happiness, and joy. Life is tough, yes, but think about it, it isn’t really that bad. I mean, decent food to eat, decent people around you and a half decent dressing sense, really it’s pretty cool J

Anywho, back to talking about stories. Stories matter, they matter to you, and they matter to me. When I tell my story, however, it isn’t really mine, its ours,. The very act of forming the words on a piece of paper or on air, makes me lose any rights of ownership on them.

And the story must have a beginning, a middle and an end. (though not necessarily in the same order: The most interesting stories are the one that start in the middle )

So watch this space, I think there us a story coming up soon, maybe a story about stories

I read this here : http://www.blabberings.com/2011/10/i-want-to-know-if-you-can-be-alone-with.html

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”
― Oriah Mountain Dreamer