Here's the first. A pocketfull.

A marathon of television shows throughout the past three nights of flu induced sleeplessness, as well as the occasional secret life which leads way into the morning. Alas, the state explained can only be truly supported by the need, this un-ending need to be associated with something, atleast something made to work out perfectly, be it the alcoholic writer who miraculously manages to juggle a goddess non-married life partner and unbelievably hot situations with countless voluptuous countesses whom he manages to seduce into a charmingly untidy togetherness with himself, and also not to forget the love child of the prior, entangled in this crazy little world, wherein taking to drugs and escapism just fits. Or, in another scenario childhood buddies living the high life riding on agents of playboy mansions, private airplanes and aston martins.

These visual escape routes have always been my forte. the exit from weed was a geographically inflicted wonder and a present emptiness seems to have enveloped me, so much as not spend about thrice as much as I would have back home on that JD, my humbleness as an automated non money spender (there are those 'other' streaks of course) and a terrible 'young person' has risen.

The West or the idea of it back home implied open sex lives, neurotic thought discussions, music and culture rape fantasies and the occasional understated but terribly effective freedom. The word in the true sense seems alien as far as my dictionary has its say. there are the parties and the party-goers, I on the other hand, wouldn't know how to describe what I would term and so would another compassionate anti social 'expensive and cock-sucky'. I did not ask him to elaborate on the latter, although thought the phrase was aptly put. I am not here to thwart the existence of boom boxes and dance floors, what if rap and dancing were never your thing.

The Perfect Party defined and personified through the following penned phrases will give you an idea of how much of a lost hippie I am.

From afar, it would look like a flurry of lights under the open moonlit sky, where moonlighters and their rockstar alter egos would bathe amidst this chilling play of sounds, vocal and string. I moonlight as a hippie and my pride speaks abundance through this writ. Bohemian words of wisdom brought together hellish minds and tired teenage defunct-ness to chaotic order. I want to be part of a larger, more direction driven cause where it all means something. I want to be led and bred, I want to feel my power emanating towards the direction of purpose. Music was created and only truly created during the duress of a million minds wandering the streets looking for needle dug black circular euphonic effigies which when not burned and used stood for something, a cause, a fervour of frankness and communication. this is the promised land of the tune, where is it?

Bling and Burberry: Brought forth in the laymen speak, sluts and satans with daddy's fat wallets buy and sell souls and miss the entire point of celebration. It was to be celebrated when a hundred jews were saved from the hand built plague of the nazi's right under their noses, It was to be celebrated when a baby survived a 5 day wait for rescue workers under the rubble, It was to be celebrated when life happened. I lose all faith and confidence when pointless social realms of existence and pretending to be friends became the cause. How did we get here? Who led us here?

The Glastonbury festival is sold out, even if I did want to go and shack at the tent for a good 72 hours I would have to spend just about a quarter of what is to run me the rest of the two months (Europe and all considering I WILL not work meagre jobs, dont hate, not racist but I am doing the wage giver a favour not having to deal with called in lethargy translated as sick and snort). This lethargy as least as being physical also does not imply my loss in the ideal anti-lethargic zest for what work I aspire for, a creative medium through which to place pieces, and build a shape as we go along, not a puzzle which has a definite solution but something to suffice and do better.

An extreme co-existential relationship can evolve, I am the pseudo fit, the non sportsman, the non small talk maker, the non smily one, the non niceties believer. I treasure friendship, time (even the drunken ones), money, food, relationships. Tell me now, am I lost? or am I just on track. I know the 70's have gone away, but I am right here. I am not 2010 although I like what I see, I ain't buying it.