I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.

_why the lucky stiff once tweeted:

when you don’t create things, you become defined by your tastes rather than ability. your tastes only narrow & exclude people. so create.

Forget the bit about excluding people. The important point here is: create. Creating something with your own hands and deriving joy out of it transcends almost all other pleasures known to man. At the same time, its sometimes difficult to be a creative person… to be disturbed, and questioned and ridiculed and shunned. To be unlike many others.

This is a small note in defence of creators and entrepreneurs.

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I looked up, into the mirror
Saw that I’d become,
A missing patron of darkness
With a soul so very numb.

I feel this mirror is cracked
It hides the threads that cause
Hovac, load, stress, toil
And ‘tacks at others’ jaws.

I try to gaze into it’s depths
So I can trap the cracker
Who’s trying to make me believe
I’m just a lowly slacker.

How do I judge, if what you show
Is the real truth to me
Broken mirror, with a dark demeanour
Fix yourself quickly.

Is there a place where I can gaze
To check the root of a soul
Can’t befriend a cracked mirror
Which tries to map black holes.

— written circa 2016

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.


For they could not love you
But still your love was true

And when no hope was left in sight

On that starry, starry night

You took your life, as lovers often do

But I could have told you, Vincent

This world was never meant for one

As beautiful as you

– Don McLean, “Vincent”

I don’t believe in magic but I do believe in you

And when you say you believe in me
There’s so much magic I can do

– Don McLean, “Birthday Song”

gham is kadar badhe ke main ghabraa ke pee gaya,
is dil ki bebasi pe, taras khaa ke pee gaya.
thukraa raha tha mujhko badi der se jahan,
main aaj sab jahan ko thukraa ke pee gaya.

ग़म इस क़दर बढ़े, के मैं घबरा के पी गया
इस दिल की बेबसी पे, तरस खा के पी गया |

ठुकरा रहा था मुझको, बड़ी देर से जहां
मैं आज सब जहां को, ठुकरा के पी गया |

— Sahir Ludhianvi, “Pyaasa

when things are “good”, they are still bad.
when they go bad, they are just worse.

the conflict is, hence, between
how bad the good can be and
how good the worst can become.

A rock feels no pain
    but I’m a tree
An island never cries
    but I’m a tree.

I’m deeply rooted
    my branches spread wide
Its my nature, to be fixed
    ‘n’ to take you in my stride.

A tree gives you shade
    a place to go to
You wants its fruits
    but not help it grow?