16 September 2012

Tonight's the night.

Except being an allusion to just the awesomest lines in TV history, the words actually mean something. When the scholastic sword and swinging dangerously over your head and it's always a reminder of what actually should be done. Shamelessly blog about it and everything under the sun. And the black clouds, and the sun again, then clouds.. oh hell.

Constant use of public transport makes you question a lot of things and then curse still more. Going by the words of  Shaw, all great truths are first blasphemies or something in that line, I happen to realise as it so happens (in a very dictatorial leaning).. that the "right" to give birth should be reserved for a certain section of people. Perhaps it comes from the idea that homosexuals do not really partner up to make little people. Just like the setting up of the institution of marriage, there's a certain sense of duty/ responsibility or a necessity traditionally, to make children. While it can be argued that it's more biological than social, human nature does not really put up a brave fight in the face of social construct.

A lot of psychological leetspeak can be stuffed here but when it comes to being squashed against strangers in a lurching metro train, I'd take evil dictatorial misanthropic thoughts any day. The criteria for this "privilege" to have children can be various. But it always comes to who's gonna decide. I could put in a lot of hogwash but only in theory. Applying it might only be possible post-apocalypse. Perhaps in a novel of the Utopian sort.

Money always comes first when such things are thought of. But inherently flawed and perfect at the same time, since whatever criteria is set, in the end it will be wealth. I think that arranged marriage is such an antithesis to the process of natural selection (which is dead anyway, but a girl can dream), but gazing stoically at the gluey couples who don't let me read in peace, chattering away to marriage, my heart cries sinking a little bit lower that when mediocrity meets mediocrity, nothing's gonna matter.

This sense of personal liberty that everyone enjoys over their bodies, personal lives and whatever the hell they do all the time, it is just wrong. But the do gooder earthling in me tip toes on the fence among hate and the centuries of struggle the world has gone through to achieve such personal liberty. Sigh. Only in books, that is all. And films. And just the best thing to hit mainstream television. When it is fifteen days later, I shall be home and I shall feel being home in the way it was intended. It will be the night when things don't matter and only a godlike will to kill shall reign. Very, very sexily. Dexter.

This would probably feel a lot more psychopathetic if it wasn't for him, so thank you. Selfishly, Yours Truly.

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