Totally Random Fucking Things
I so want to dub this one with a Lacan. I guess I have become a pornographer, Lol.
That sits well with my trajectory as a self-proclaimed artist. I will not be feeding YouTube , literary publishers et al. I have scrapped Punjabi poems, songs or writing projects from the public domain. I will still be working in Punjabi but not on those platforms. Whatever little I might do, will be here- in a private space. Enjoy the song and buckle up for more unhinged shytz. SourDog is almost there, now a matter of a few weeks. Expect it on kindle for a price, or free if we meet.
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Finished 15 draft panels for SourDog. Mustafa Ceceli was a good company.
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Thursdays
Two medium Cappuccino and one ‘on the house’, often a cocktail Backroad café is yet hesitant to offer to people for a price. Halfway through revising SourDog for the N’th time. Improvised the following.
”While most of my phobias vanished after I moved to Toronto, ones which survived- hit back with a vengeance. I cannot call them nightmares, as night is the only time when I feel home. “Cars and buses coming close to me then stopping” kind of shit happens in broad daylight.
In the old days I could jump into bushes and wait until they were gone. It’s a difficult trick to pull in Toronto, as there are not many bushes to be found. Fear has found a backdoor, as white cars and vans from my childhood have merged with my City-Transit. Now I have to stand still and wait for them to slow down, and stop for me. I bribe them first, so they let me slip-away anytime I wanted to. Even then; the thought of opening the door and jumping off the moving bus, has always been there. These beasts run with a peculiar limp on their well-laid tracks, and smell like diesel and burnt rubber. Why on the earth would a machine so nasty pull closer, and come to a halt?
{simplify}Machines can do anything they want, and get away with it. It would be naïve to think that we haven’t met these MECHAs. First, when we found a wheel, then the language and now- a judiciary. We go a long way back. And talking about the world; I am well aware of its clandestine ways.” {ADD | Ease later: There were no people but their stories. Stories of what happened to them, and what Zeitgeist ate them up}.
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Writing and singing Punjabi songs stopped making any sense a while ago. Writing anything in Punjabi makes no sense, leave alone a desire to publish it. But I got a cool Tattoo. Little things.
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ZettelKasten 4
Played around with form, setting the rhythm to chronological order than order of memory recall. It’s a different story, making a very different point, shifting focus from the meaning to Linear Timeline. A tough one, lovin’ the ride though. Tomorrow will diving into the text again to see, if it flows well within new structure.
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Acid Horizon Reads Bataille | 21st Jan 2025
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SourDog and the usual soup | 25th JAN 2025
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I will be writing on Substack and Medium | 27th Jan 2025
SourDog will make a debut on Medium and Substack before hitting the kindle. In the meantime, I will be busking it around in Toronto. Here’s the link to my medium page. You won’t miss anything if you live far away.
Find me on Medium.
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Three more Panels for SourDog and some Kaleo
