Noise

Hi there. Do you know someone who can suppress a yawn and an erection at the same time? Just a random thought, nothing else. Don’t read too much into it. Hell, do, if you can’t resist the idea. I am a man of ideas myself, a slave to multiple thoughts which come and go on their own. You could call them gate crashers if there is something like a gate of the mind. Sometimes I think how sane it is to read five books at the same time. More so when one is by Updike and the other by a man called Uday Prakash. The third one is a book I’ve read many years ago and, now, as I read the first two, I develop this strong urge to pick up this one. So it comes out from the shelf – Disgrace by Coetzee. Then the fourth and the fifth one. You wouldn’t want to know their names. If you insist, I may tell you.

What the hell is going on? (Haven’t I been using this hell word lot many times?) Nothing much, except the usual fights with inner demons and the occasional slipping into silence for hours. To put it into perspective, that means locking myself up in a room and wishing all noise – inner and outer – would just go away. But noises are noises after all. They don’t go just because you wish them to. They follow their own routine, their own schedule.

Here I stop. Will tell you more later. There is too much noise right now. Internal. But before I leave, here is the name of the third and the fourth book: The Human Stain by Philip Roth and Ann Weisgarber’s The personal history of Rachel DuPree.