There is only one system. Alternatives are not possible. When we survey the landscape of choices that exist for you, when we see how confused you are, we understand that you have been misled. You have been told that this and this is the central system and it survives in such and such ways, either directly based on the market or some secondary or tertiary layer above it, depending on what we are talking about. Then you are told that this central system leaves lots of spaces open and these spaces…
The waiting room is where the slack catches up with us. Waiting is a good excuse to start breathing. Once you are breathing besides the flow of oxygen through your windpipes some other things also happen. For instance when you breathe, and you are in the midst of people, the stardust of broken and crushed stories flows into your lungs too. The perverted stories of the waiting room are not like the stories of the crematorium or the cemetery. They are not paused stories composed after a whole…
We don't believe in you as a singular creature, born in time, living in sync with the meta. At an understated level every voice is a bunch of voices, of course. But we don't see the understatements, we ignore them. We ignore the subtleties of expression that individuals can muster. Characters do not have depth. All personalities are paper-cut dolls. We believe in multiplicity. Each voice in the bunch of voices I hear from your mouth is a different person. A different individual. Some with a…
Passion, following it and hiding from it are the processes that describe the equations of all the stories in the world. Passion and the desire to deal with it has nothing to do with sincerity. Passions can be flirted with utmost corruption. The corruption of perusal is in season. It competes with distraction, disinterest and distortion to encourage inaction. This corruption is sometimes perversity, sometimes tortuous, sometimes basically sporting conflicts of interest. Holding something in…
A room is full of people, and you know they are there. But you pretend like you are talking to yourself, but we all know you are talking to presences and shadows. There is an inkling of comfort because it seems like they are all your friends, but your comfort at being a theatre of tumultuous performance is uncomfortable to us. That you learned to talk so well, prefacing six threads at the same time and proceeding at snail pace (talk about staying power!) is not a very comfortable fact. I would…
