My brain is cluttered.

I think that when one becomes absorbed in one primary object from many sources at a time (not going to go into details) all the different links that connect to the desired point causes confusion and a sense of continuity on pursuing the object, even though one does not particularly want to (as one wants to rid of the muddle state of mind at once, of course). However, the way out of this is not easily deciphered and in the process of deciphering one's brain is cluttered, which is what is happening to me.

Imagine drawing a brainstorm, you know, which the topic in the center and tonnes of relations shooting out in all different directions.

That's not too bad...

Now imagine drawing a brainstorm with the topic in the center and many complex and diverse relations shooting out in different directions, accompanied by a bibliography. This is also a messy brainstorm.

The emotion it's produced is camping in my head right now.

I think I'll go shower so the water will bring it rushing out of my ears.

Sorry for the lousy writing, I could have done better.

I'm experiencing a rather inconvenient feeling of dread.
My mind feels like a state of loss.
It's not a very nice place to be, at the moment.

I tried reading The Fountainhead to make things better, but strangely a book I fawned over for the whole of yesterday seems stranger to me now and I couldn't even get past 2 pages without feeling restless.

I have a reflection to write but it isn't helping my mind in any way.
In fact, it's increasing my soporific subconsciousness.

Maybe I'm just debilitated.

Even writing seems trite and tiresome.

Sorry for being so dreary.

People

No people are uninteresting.
Their fate is like the chronicle of planets.

Nothing in them is not particular,
and planet is dissimilar from planet.

And if a man lived in obscurity
making his friends in that obscurity
obscurity is not uninteresting.

To each his world is private,
and in that world one excellent minute.

And in that world one tragic minute.
These are private.

In any man who dies there dies with him
his first snow and kiss and fight.
It goes with him.

There are left books and bridges
and painted canvas and machinery.
Whose fate is to survive.

But what has gone is also not nothing:
by the rule of the game something has gone.
Not people die but worlds die in them.

-- Yevgeny Yevtushenko

1. The View -- Bread and Circuses
2. Noah and the Whale -- Last Night on Earth
3. The Vaccines -- What Did You Expect From The Vaccines?

I'm reading The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.
I recommend it strongly, along with the 3 albums above.


Sorry, I know I haven't blogged in a while.
I've been sick, busy, and stressed.
Mostly stressed.
I'd like to be happy today!
You too, guys.