Skip to main content

Pleasingly Positive Post for Posterity

Vacant with a few rooms to rent
Or a buzzing hive
Or calm like the ocean with volcanoes on the floor

Such elusiveness
Much appeal
No?

Please don't mind me while I mine my mind

Bad kidneys make you disturbingly obese when you're approaching senility (in other words, oldage)

I walked out this morning and passed a hawker by my gate
Hawking is great skill
Had me imagine a sweet father-son relationship
Regular training sessions
Where a little boy of four gazed in wonder and admiration
As his father taught him the art of hawking
The twang the throat had to create
To create an echoing reverberation
Throughout the entire society
Thoroughly​ throughout four buildings
How lovely it would have been: the days where he would hold his father's little finger while they walked through the city's suburban lanes
Selling and buying rejected old books
And old paper
He learned how to read from given up old school books
How to write basic English words by taking a pencil and writing over thrown away homework
Everything he knew today was because of those rejected papers
And today he goes back to a family that loves him
A good life his father chose for him
His own son is learning now everyday
How to hawk and how to read
And how to write
And how to be like his father
And his grandfather

How simple
And how truly wonderful

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

New Quotes

For people who believe strongly in the illusiveness of life, to doubt would be more correct than to bear full conviction about anything at all. But then again that questions their primary belief in illusions. - Aditi A world without faith in a higher power or a god is a better world where we can be responsible for our own actions; where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. Many events may have defied your ability to explain, events that seem like miracles, but if you are convinced that you failed to understand them because you're still woefully ignorant about the universe and the learning will never stop, then, you cannot and will not believe that a deity altered the workings of nature. Don't ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you. Understanding breeds empathy. We do not writ...
46 comments
Read more

ChAI

I used AI to make my chai this morning.   Why? Because I wanted to see if I’d still get that dopamine hit from something I didn’t even make.   I wanted to know if, by outsourcing an experience whose only purpose was my own consumption, it would take away from it.   By removing the act of boiling water, steeping tea—by only keeping the intent to make it—would I still feel the satisfaction when I took the first sip?   I read somewhere that you should aim to do hard things. That when you push yourself, when you fight resistance, and break through the boundaries of what you thought you could do, the dopamine hit is bigger.   But what happens when everything can be done by AI?   What happens when AI whispers, "I got you," and we stop doing anything at all?   The dopamine hit then wouldn’t come from the effort, but from the discovery that AI can do more, so we do less.   But here’s the catch—AI will do more, and w...
Post a Comment
Read more

Kept / Wept / Slept

For a while now, I've been wearing house slippers that are way too big for me. Firsthand experiencing the dangers of seeking (and knowing) too much, and finding out, rudely, unceremoniously, curiosity can kill more than just the cat. While exciting to taste the fruity slurps of seemingly full-knowledge, the satisfying crunch of acknowledgement, like punching holes through a thick stack of warm copy paper, the thrill of cliff jumps can culminate into bum-first crashing into the deceptive deep. Nobody warns you. That the water is always shallower; swallowing life too fragile to keep. No one explains that the depth is a trick. That the more that you dig, the less it will stick. Hunger loud from the tum; buns left in the breadbasket: none. And thread count of those slightly expensive sheets? No reliable guarantee of sleep. Long story short, if worry is the thief of joy; self awareness is the enemy of miracles. And so the slippers go into that unopened shoe cupboard, unused, where their...
1 comment
Read more