A Katha Upanishad for Millennials and Ranchers

waltbox

The home of Yama, King of Death, was a craftsman bungalow near an urban area revitalized for Millenials. The plots in this neighborhood were tiny, the homes half the size of those in newer neighborhoods but twice the cost. Most had seen a non-load bearing wall removed to achieve an open floor concept. Owners of these homes owned vehicles with deluxe emblems on their trunks, and though the main road through the neighborhood was paved with brick, and walking for groceries or to a restaurant was encouraged, vehicles such as these needed to be driven, or rather paraded, often, if not daily. Otherwise what would be the point of anything.

Wet leaves dampened the thud of Nacho’s boot heels on the wooden steps leading to Death’s door. The steps smelled of fresh pine, and fresh paint. The potted mums of fresh soil. The curb appeal was to die for.

Nacho removed…

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My Shity Story

Before we start…lemmie just warn you this is literally a shity story! You have been warned.

So the other day I was chilling at home bummed out. Jobless, bored and no shit to do. You know how the economy and the job situation is in the age we are in right now. Sending out CV after CV and receiving those annoying “sorry blah-blah-blah we wish you success in your future endeavors” replies. And my mum calls out of blues and says she’s talked to some people who will call me later in the day with hopefully a chance of getting an interview. The news got me excited as it should. I kept telling myself “don’t fuck it up this time”. And you know the thing about waiting on a phone call…you become a slave to your phone. And the paranoia kicks in slowly.

When it was in the pocket, I sometimes felt it vibrate only to check and just get a dark screen. So I put in on the table. I was restless and getting anxious with each passing second. Shooting looks at the phone every now and then. At one point I checked if the signal was alright….you know like maybe the network had gone down today and that was why I hadn’t getting the call yet. As if.

The Past and the Future

Have you ever wondered about meeting the past or future version of you face to face? Meeting that 10 year old missing two teeth you who can be seen in the old family photos or that 50 year old you yet to be seen in the near future. What would you do? What would you say? Would you be bewildered and call it witchcraft or get excited and nosebleed to death? Okay maybe too much. Would you run and hide, maybe faint? Run up to them and embrace them? But first reactions aside and all is settled down and not panicky, what kind of conversation would you have with them, what would you talk about?

Pretty sure we would all have quite a lot of questions to ask the future version of us. How does the future look like? Is technology as the great animators and producers envisioned it in Hollywood? Are you rich, married and have a family? If yes, how many kids? What crappy or awesome names did you give them? What is the Mrs. like? Is she pretty? And if no, why aren’t you married yet? And bam!! They pull a “you’re no longer a heterosexual/gay in the future” and go like “You just got served!”  That would be some real mind fuckery right?! These are some of the questions I assume anyone would ask to name a few. Would you be scared to find out how your future turned out? To know your fate or completely disregard the mysteriousness life has to offer and find out just there and then. This would be a conundrum to many if not all of us. Though I would like to take a pretty wild assumption that with one gazing into our future’s eyes and face….we can probably tell how their journey has been. The long roads they’ve walked and the shortcuts they’ve taken. How fulfilling or disappointing it has turned out.

How about the little child you? Brimming with energy and excited about everyday experiences! Who even though sometimes may end up falling down, will always get up, wipe the tears and continue. The little you who doesn’t need a reason to smile or be happy but be rather amused by seeing a silly sight. I would like to think this will probably be the most strange of the two meetings. With the little you having a lot of questions and you not having all the right answers or explanations. I once had a child ask me why men have nipples! I had slept through that biology class so you can take a wild guess the kind of nonsense I was spewing out. Good thing children are easily distracted with candy. However what if they asked questions of a really complicated personal past. Like about how you and your first best friend were doing in your grown up life? Is life more fun and if you made good of the promises you made to each other? But you remember you aren’t friends anymore. What if they ask how the family’s doing but you had a fallout or just stopped keeping in touch? How would we explain such events to the little mind of someone who’s so hopeful, eager for life and always willing to give or take second chances to any circumstance that didn’t turn out so good? Someone who wouldn’t understand the it’s part of growing up excuse, which may be true, but which we may overuse to console ourselves of some of the terrible things happening in our lives.

Such scenarios are mind boggling and a little nerve wrecking since we won’t have all the answers. Would the future you be proud of some the choices you’re making right now or are going to make along the way or be baffled?  Would the young you be happy with the decisions you’ve made up to the point you are in your life right now or be saddened and disappointed by them? But there is some good news to this. The past is in the past. And we aren’t defined by our past but rather the decisions we make presently. The other good news is that tomorrow is first day of the rest of your life. You have a chance to make right some wrongs and make best of what you can.

My parting gift to you…..The future you is looking at you right now through your memories. Its creepy I know but the deep realization to its truth outweighs the creepiness right?

The Fate of Lambeth Polly

I was taken a journey and I loved it.

waltbox

I am excited and thrilled to present this next piece as part of Waltoween! Nothing I can say by way of introduction will do it justice. If you’re not followingWord Shamble,you’re missing out on some top-notch fiction. (Note: If you are viewing this post in the WP Reader, you may not be seeing the proper formatting. Please click through to the blog. Thanks!)

byLynn Love

He steps back to survey his work.

The alleyway stinks of the Thames, of fish baskets, of ropes steeped in river water. Snatching the handkerchief from his neck, he cleans the filth from his hands, grinds clean the half-moons of his nails.

Time to leave. He almost drops the ruined kerchief, but instead screws the sodden cloth into his trouser pocket to dispose of later.

Now the thing’s done he feels calm. The buzzing in his…

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Here at the beginning

This deserves to be read by everyone.

waltbox

Blood and pieces of bone begin to slide up the bedroom wall. A sonic boom sucks out buckshot, sealing holes left behind.

A pasty, overweight man in his late forties sits up in bed. Splatter flies off sheets. The back of his head pieces together, a jigsaw puzzle of skull and scalp.

He leans forward, removes the shotgun from his mouth, removes the cartridge, returns it to the box.

He stands, leans the gun against the wall.

He stares quietly at the gun, sighs, begins to feel less ready. He pushes a tear into his eye.

He sits at his desk, takes a pen, traces letters on a notepad. His sentences disappear under ballpoint. He returns the notepad to the drawer as shadows shorten with the rising sun. On the sidewalk below his apartment in the city, people open doors to return home, slip out of their clean clothes into something…

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Changing the World One Heart at a Time

It has been a while since i posted something and now i’m back. Though this is going to be one of those posts. The pensive ones. *Sigh* With the chaos and misery all around the globe going on. I don’t have to mention any of them. We all know and have seen them. The injustice, it’s really saddening and disheartening. The world has changed. Or people have changed. And the people have changed the world. People no longer feel. Or rather the people who feel have decreased so rapidly and it begs for the question…”where did we start going wrong?” So much callousness going on. The sheer malignancy has grown. And it’s really scary when you think about how the future is going to turn out. What kind of world will my children grow up in? A little part of me dies every day when I watch the news or read the papers.   But I have to believe and hope it’ll change for the better. I have to. That is the only thing I can probably do for now.

Me, Myself and I?

I usually find time to talk to myself quite a number of times. (Don’t judge me yet) Sometimes I don’t find it. It finds me. I may literally be involved in a serious conversation about politics or life with people and just like that, in the middle of the talks, BAM! that little inner voice says ‘hey! When was the last time we ate chips? Or coconut?! Uuuh we should get some coconut right now!! And probably fish! For a pet! And then feed him the coconut!’ And I would reply ‘Whaaa???!!! First of all who are ‘we’? I mean c’mon, how many of you are in there?’ And I would be so taken aback at what just came out of my mouth(well…my brain’s mouth. How weird would it be if our brains had mouths. Think about it) Jesus! You see what I’m talking about…anywhooo! I digress.

The Country Side

Life is crazy at times. Make that most times. Isn’t it funny and ridiculous how much it bears semblance to a roller-coaster with the thrilling plunges and bends, steeping climbs and calm stretches. Never giving you a heads up to brace yourself for the next turn or stage. Always trying to guess what direction you’ll be headed next. It’s really insane how you can be happy and ecstatic about life at one point. To be elated and full of bliss, invigorated by the favor that has been accorded to you by the mystical universe. And sad, broken the next moment. To feel shipwrecked in your own island, sunken and crushed at the very core of your soul with nothing to hold on to as wave by wave of harsh reality hit you and drags you into the deep. It is during such moments that you need to run away from yourself to find yourself, if that makes any sense. Run to the country side and get lost in the simplicity and remoteness.

A Quiet Evening & An Unlikely Encounter

I was having one of those days. The kind of days where your mind drifts off without you giving consent to do so. Days driven by pensive thoughts and memories that have been haunting you for a while. Days where life around you seems to be on the constant move and everyone around you looks happy or are really good at displaying an affectation of happiness. When you seem to be floating away further and further into a nether region of some sort, only in this case its only you and your ghosts and demons if I may, your failures, your unfinished work given up to the ghost.

I’m sitting in the local cafe, staring at my cup of coffee as the brown and splash of white from the cream swirl and mix. Seems so easy that two different elements can come together and find a harmony to form a blissful taste in your mouth. I take a sip and close my eyes unknowingly as I relish the sweet yet bitter freshly grounded taste. I open my eyes to find the waitress checking me out rather amused

Cat

I understand that i totally don’t understand this amazing piece but my understanding is needless to say overwhelmed with admiration