Notes from rehab

Significant things have been happening. The latest bout of existential crisis has been the most stubborn fella so far. It hit almost a couple of months ago now and doesn't seem to fall off. Conversations helped, but didn't really solve anything. Goa didn't help, though i was hoping it would and even tried going around believing it had for a while, but the essence of this screwup is that you cannot lie to yourself. Social psych and American lit and Indian lit only served to compound the mess in the head and what a lovely coincidence that they had to be studied intensely for the exams bang when it was all peaking. Actually, the last wasn't quite that bad in retrospect, coz although it left me this far from insane at the time, i did get some masochistic pleasure out of the whole thing, especially Chitre and Plath and the Beats, and i totally cracked the exams. Of course they were to come with their own dose of cognitive dissonance, consolation that i'm not the only messed up one, and anger (don't know at whom) that i will never sublimate it the way they did.

And it kept happening. It will still keep happening if i let it, but exams are now over and my toes don't HAVE to touch that water. There was this Saturday night a couple of weeks ago when i got so high on the Beats. For God knows how long i went over and over and over Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti and Cassidy and Kerouac and Howl and Citylights until i was absolutely, completely, drunk. Drunk, and drained. I hallucinated. I dreamt about all of it all over again. I walked around in zombie state for a few days after. It was a pleasure. I think everyone should experience the simultaneous feeling of being drunk and drained at least once in their lifetime. And for those who have felt that way thanx to substance, you don't know how short ur selling urself.

Oh and how can i forget the pages and pages and pages i churned out with stream of consciousness. It takes ages for inspiration to strike when u have all the time in the world, but its amazing how, when ur running against time, cannot even spare a decent 5 hours for sleep, you get this huge urge to write it all down, like its some sort of catharsis that cannot wait, like you would implode if it weren't outta you NOW, like it never ends. It's amazing. Like when you look ur most beautiful and there's noone to see.

Happiness is no longer a priority. The Truth is. And it would all be pretty friggen easier if there was some starting point i knew of. Some hint. Some clues. But from whom? God as the world knows Him is becoming a little hard to digest. I do know there is some equivalent though, but right now the equivalent is in the mind. The equivalent, at best, so far, is a tendency of things happening as they are. So there is Faith. In what? I cannot tell. I do not know. What i do know is that this Faith is no longer a defence mechanism. We are getting closer and closer to the 'bedrock of consciousness'. Either that, or we are on a fantastic detour.