a little[?] introspection..

soul searching, some call it. i dont want to get that deep here, i just want to examine motive and intent. the self induced ravings of free speech and its bondage.

i wonder why i write, sometimes, in those lost moments, the questions fill my head, as i pore over snatches of conversation, wondering at nuances, thinking, why do i even bother, if i ignore it, it will all go away. but it doesnt, and i do, and its all meaningless, meaningless, meaningless, under this ball of fire we call the sun. eh??

i write and i write, and i do not know who reads this. a few of my friends maybe, and a few strangers who wander across the blogworld. my friends know me and are my friends anyway. the strangers, are strangers until we communicate [which unfortunately nobody has done yet]. and then there is an indeterminate quantity of readers, that i like to posit at zero for my own sanity, who probably read these posts and proceed to form opinions. lol, may i point out that a strong reason to posit zero is that i get no comments from this third group of readers... actually i get no comments on my blog at ALL... which brings me to my motivation for writing... i wish i could say that i dont crave attention, but i'll give myself the benefit of doubt and declare i'm a closet exhibitionist. if blogging's the only way to flash you, then i must blog. what irked me, [ love that word.. irk] was being accused of it in a sly way, as if it's somehow wrong, or even that doing this helps me somehow. other than being a place to vent... somehow, i'll get famous among my peers, by blogging... in inimitable hyderabadi style. AS IF. as if i care about fame. as if my words are addressed only to hydeys.. as if i need anything more, than to say my words.

And that brings me to an argument i seem to rake up every so often with this friend of mine. Does an artist create his work for the audience or himself?

i submit, for himself. my words are strung together not for people to read and say oooh, but so that i can feel the shape of the words running through my mind, the sparkle of little word gems, the heft and warp of the skein i weave with syntax and grammar. like my God, i delight in creation. and just like him, i must. Create.

And that is my excuse to segue into those little tirades that roll around in my head. sometimes people suck, especially me. and sometimes, i'd rather whine. and sometimes, i'd rather not talk in the commonplace manner we've all become accustomed to. and my blog must reflect that. ahh, i wish i knew what the point of this post was. i sort of stopped posting because i didnt want to feel pressured into writing. every so often, i just about find enough inside me to fuel a post. about the only thing i can aspire to is Truth. bear with me. i will use everything, including your comments.

I hope some chicks read this and proceed to make contact.. :D