People can be weird. I ought to be crowned their Prince. Perhaps King. Well, keep it just Prince. Take my thoughts for example. They are a homogeneous mixture of logic and disorder. I have spent many hours hating all ism's & logy's for haunting me constantly and complicating life. Then I think I myself am an ism of sorts. I can't go beyond the boundraries imposed by my prejudices. But I intend to be free of all of them.

Whenever with great care I try jotting down words, they make their appearance in patches. As if they hate me. Or worse still I hate them. Can't quite pinpoint.

There are times when I don't want to move my bum. Like the sky will shower the world's pleasures upon me & I don't need to desire as I deserve them by birthright. Somewhat like Howard Roark being degraded by praise. And then there are times when I curse myself for being a lazy bum. I don't even remember how many endless hours I have spent dreaming of a perfect world. And the white paint of the ceiling has dulled by my burning stare. Then I scream at myself for being such an equalist. Dog eat dog Rat eat Rat, Crock style, Boom like that.

I prefer clear daylight and yet I feel a cozy comfort in the darkness of the night. Solitary mindgames after all.