It is not because I have nothing to write that I pick my pen up so sparingly. It is because I have so much to write. Not events. My life remains as devoid of them as ever. But thoughts. And there is an unlimited amount of these for an idle mind like mine...
Its funny how right upto opening the diary and writing the few opening lines, I will have incredible ideas and remarkable remarks. But now there is nothing. Its like that incredible pulp of amassed thoughts is trying to makes its way through an orifice as big as this pen's nib has.
* from my journal, dated 2nd January 2007. The situation is not very different a year on.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
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my dear friend, what you summarize here is what i like to call the "philosophers" paradox (I am sure there is something else in this world which is called the same) . Its like there is some much to say but you mouth (or the pen in your case) does not have enough energy to sustain such thoughts. fight it man fight it... :)
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