Prognosis: Verbal Diarrhea

Blogging voids, heard of them? Vast empty spaces in between the city blocks of a bustling metropolis. Periods of carnal draught in the life of an ageing playboy. Random acts of financial ruin on Wall street in what would seem like a good run. That’s enough of metaphors, you get the picture. Lately my mind has been too full with the business of education. Like a fatigued, burnt out 9 hour cubicle worker, my mind assures me that one of these days it shall have a cardiac arrest. It also insists that I keep practising some of my earlier creative pursuits in case mental CPR is warranted. I am sure it’s exaggerating but it has been breathing rather heavily these days so here you find me, exercising my literary muscles.

Having ascertained the need to blog, I must wander around in search of an appealing subject. Nothing that puts too much strain on the brain, something just capable enough of resuscitating the joy in life. I look around in despair around my seat and find myself faced with a ketchup bottle. I recall the incident of rats being ground into several ketchup lots at the factory of a famous brand some decades ago. Unrelated and yet amusing. What else does ketchup make me think of? Blood in cheap movies and school plays, fried food, small round ketchup tankards at diners, extremely cheap conical ketchup dispensers at samosa vendors.  Hoarding of packets from McDonalds, a constant admonition for excessive ketchup consumption in one’s childhood. Parental disapproval stemming from preservative presence in the store bought stuff. Beyond memories of garlic cheese toast smothered with the stuff, my mind is at a loss for anything else. Aah yes, there is one more thing. When I learnt about patents and intellectual property I remember having crafted a literary character with immeasurable wealth. The source of his riches? He patented tomato ketchup. I wonder how he is these days?

Hmm, I see what my mentors mean when they say my writing seems to be like random walks with occasionally decent if humongous sentences. But its like running with abandon in a grass field. You are dragging your immense weight along but are at least free.

The joy of random randomness is only recognized by the mostly systematic.



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