Apologies, my friend

Dear Blogspot,

Before you begin to get all worked up and pass on the word around the world that I’m back to my home page with this lousy apology letter as a gateway to express (show off, is what you’d substitute the following with as soon as I post this, you bastard!) my creativity, let me begin by telling you that this whole time there was none, other than my family and my work and my TV and my movies and my, hmmm let me think ya that’s it, life basically kept me away from you. I know it sounds like ant crap to you but that’s the truth. You have to primarily understand that Antbrain was my only brilliant brainchild and I orphaned him mercilessly in pursuit of higher echelons of literary glory, the pain of which has lately begun to itch unbearably. As a responsible parent, as most parents aren’t, I’ve come to claim my child again. And not without just love and compassion but also with express regret and shame, which I’m willing to forego as soon as you are done reading this. Everything is time bound in the world of the watchmakers and I’m concerned about it even though I’m not one. Despite its frivolity, I’m compelled to use this time-tested metaphor in order to drive home my point. Which is that, Antbrain is a religion to me. Ok, that’s saying too much. I need to make a seamless transition from a bitch to a Madonna of the Africa. Allow me to try again. To me, Antbrain is an identity. An identity so important to veil my true self as the identity of Batman is to Bruce Wayne. The domains of our expertise differ, yet we are both crusaders and that’s what matters. This again was metaphorical.

Now, you might wonder the reasons for this letter and its intended subsequent repercussions. Last week, as you might know from my updated Google profile, was my birthday. (All those cunts who didn’t care to wish me; this might not be too late a time to send your belated greetings!) I turned 27. And I didn’t know that. I still had a naïve belief that I was married at 25 and I would turn a maximum of 26 that day. But as fate would have it, I was denied that chance. I realized that I’ve wasted another year of my life doing nothing worthwhile. My name still isn’t associated with anything credible or original and whatever I’ve done till now could be pinpointed to a certain source as inspiration. The target of being a household name by 25 has eluded and my funeral wouldn’t possibly witness the largest turnout in the history of the country. It is still a long shot, but something tells me it is still attainable. I know when I say this all the wasted 28-year olds are going ‘yeah right’ with complete apathy and all the wasted 45 year olds are cursing their last 20 years and all the wasted 90-year olds are thinking about time traveling. Worse, the dead are giving my dead grandparents their coldest stares and shoulders. It is still not enough to chill my spine but good enough for my grandda to appear and plead in my dreams for quick action asap. I did not intend this. I told him that. But he’s in no mood to listen. Good man.

All that said, my true intention has always been to write original content. The true high one could experience out of creating one has remained a motivation to me for so long that I tend to forget my age sometimes. In this four months’ time of solitude and desperation, I have partially realized the true power of the written word. Concepts of simplicity and perspective have gained resonance in me. Molecules of tipping points have gathered to form a consolidated mass. And words, and words of words, and so on have finally held hands and arrived at my tollgate of creative dispense. The need to fulfill this long-standing obligation has trickled down to my conscious and now I know the path my footsteps need to leave an imprint on. And you my dear friend! How do I thank you for your generosity and kindness even in our times of turbulence! Now, don’t get all hyper-excited and think supremely of yourself. You have your own flaws like I do, lets face it and agree upon a common ground of individual self-respect. My gratefulness is for keeping my blog space intact and it feels so truly good to be back again in my realm of unitary self-gratification. Lets end at that.

So, beginning today, after this process of adoption has been carried in due accordance to all the ritual traditions of blog handover and takeover, I pledge to carry out thy will wholeheartedly. May the force be with me to wheedle words of appropriate importance and allow them to mould in their positions of significance to singularly convey my message with unforeseen clairvoyance. Simply put, lets stop this bullshit and start working. Thanks for the pardon already.


One thought on “Apologies, my friend

  1. whoo hoo! way to go! Lets start working! Let the words flow… let the content be created.. let all the unfinished work finished! and let us notw rite any more (fake) apology mails!But well, you are right, the true high of original content definitely surpasses the number of years we have clocked in. So lets cut the 27 yr bullshit! At the end of the day, it doesnt really matter. Lets be a A.S.Byatt rather than a Christopher Paolini. (Quite an unfair comparison but you get my point)!

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