Die Blog Die

I’m officially sick of writing about the weather, the season, all things happy and all that la la la! No, I do not know what to write about these days. I want to make this blog more personal than it is. Then I want to write about how, what and when I really feel. Then I want to be somewhat like my tall friend whose writing has this sharp, acidic courage that mine could never achieve. I really want to vent. But this blog is now not personal. And that is excruciatingly annoying. It is only my fault that I let myself go. I think it was the greed of getting some comments on my erstwhile no-hit blog. I think I was a bit tired of wallowing in that anonymity which now seems to be such a luxury. In between all of that, I have resorted to another privately tucked in scrap on the internet, but this one is still my oldest, my favourite. Blogspot is still comfortable. Tumblr is a step sister of blogspot. I was never much of a fan of wordpress. And this red and white and black header is still what is typically me. This strange, senseless title of schizophrenicsalad given to me long ago by a friend is also a part of me. And with this blog now becoming a yawn-inducing machine, I don’t know what to do to revive it again. How I miss the venting and the bitching. Being older sometimes comes with a disclaimer. Politeness and all the shitty jazz sometimes just strains and drips itself into your writing. And this is how we all become dull and insipid. And this is how a perfectly good blog dies.

I am almost tempted to let it die. And restart again. But like a nagging, incomplete story of the past, this blog also seems to have the last 6 years of my life. A lot of it has been deleted for god knows what politically correct reasons. My curious cousin discovered this blog thanks to my negligent brother who discovered this blog thanks to my negligent internet history. So all the sex had to be erased. All the smoking had to be gotten rid off. All the bitching, the drunk episodes, the stoned scribblings and the massive stupidities I have done in my first post graduation days and after had to be let go of. What is left then to write about? The god damned weather, the city and more of the bloody city, the monsoon and so much of the monsoon, my annoyingly unpredictable health and maybe some food and ofcourse the oh-so-often swimming posts? No wonder I had to resort to a new link. Who wouldn’t? Who can live with this boring crap?

So even though I do want to kill this blog, I am going to try to let it stay. And maybe care a little bit less about appearances? And write a little bit more about the strained relationships and the blooming ones? Maybe I can write about the fantastic poems I come by thanks to some friends? Maybe I can post interesting videos I come by on days? Maybe I can light up a bloody cigarette and not wonder who is reading about it. Oh by the way, if you listen really hard, the lit cigarette is not quite so soundless. The small noise of the thin paper burning really does make me want to pull out another one. It’s like diwali in your mouth.