"Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again..."

CRACK! A sharp, loud sound reverberates through my whole body. I turn to look at those around me, but none of them seems to have heard anything. Somewhat relieved, I turn and sink back into the state of uneasy acceptance that has become almost second nature. It’s been a sensation that’s stayed with me from childhood, kinda like the hiccups you get after crying for too long. And like a stubborn child, bawling on the inside, I lean back on the head-rest of this ancient bed to write yet another chapter in the tragedy of my life.

Recently, I posted a quote by Ingmar Bergman onto my Facebook page that read, “My basic view of things is — not to have any basic view of things. From having been exceedingly dogmatic, my views on life have gradually dissolved. They don't exist any longer...” I realise now that Bergman quantified this feeling long before I’d even felt it. Now what does that tell you about the human brain? If two musicians sitting in different continents, in different time zones, interacting with different peoples, living in different cultures playing on different scales altogether can come up with the same progression of notes on two separate occasions, how can you deny the presence of a Borg-like collective human thought-bank, secretly planting ideas into the heads of those it wants to empower or destroy.

In this dichotomy, I think I would have to be on the collective’s shit-list. I used to go around telling people to learn from their mistakes. I figured anyone dumb enough to make the same mistake twice, thrice or even four times over was unworthy of respect. And although that belief stays as it is, I have come to value my intellectual prowess (or the lack thereof) much less than I used to.

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled, according to CS Lewis in ‘The Screwtape Letters’, was convincing men that one is equal to the other, i.e. the belief that ‘I’ am no less than ‘you’, and in some cases, ‘I’ am more than ‘you’. ‘Animal Farm’ talked about how all animals were equal but some more so than others. And, of course, Bertrand Russell told us all about self-centricity, calling it ‘persecution-mania’. By this he meant people who thought all bad things happened to them and that the world essentially revolves around them. Catch 22: only insane men flew combat missions over German cities in WW2, and clinically insane men were not allowed to fly. But if you came and asked to be grounded, you were conscious of your insanity, and hence, not insane. So get back in the cock-pit, flyboy.

Inescapable.

I’ve been unfaithful to this blog for too long now.