EPEOLATRY

ESSAY

Ride 101 - How to still be on the way to find your niche after losing your muse:

by Yash Sinojia

Feeling down from time to time is a part and parcel of human existence and consciousness is a terrible curse, it's just a phase and there's much you can do about it - to give a meaning to your suffering and to start making something big because pain is the biggest inspiration if nothing else is around.

        The puffed smoke gets inside of you and exterminates all the viruses that’s been perpetually dwelling in, you can’t certainly kill them all that easily: they’ll stay but eventually you can clean up and achieve some peaceful of dormancy. Now, your visual resolution has a wider aspect ratio: you see the place so spacious and grandeur that an entire battalion can be accommodated. The engine explodes and the spaceship blasts off, trailing all the burnout exhaust flames: ‘Fasten your seatbelts and get ready for the space-time odyssey!’ and a white noise just shoots out ‘Bong!’ The dampness of night imbibes the void of space. It feels like you can eject yourself outside anytime you want just to swim in that infinite darker void. The voyage becomes more and more immersive as the velocity rises and forebodes an accelerated expansion until your soul in some astral dimension - a bulk just in the vicinity - has a point of view and a control over your physical plane. The beat is playing itself discretely, captivating the vacuum: echoes and buzzes like the flight of a bumblebee.

        It’ll make you realize that you are destined for far greater things beyond. The grog has its effects - it chills down the matter for hours but the aerosol does miracles - it lets you think about yourself and lets you accept yourself for all the mess you are. After all, Edvard Munch wasn’t a fool to paint a self-portrait depicting the coming aftermaths or as some would say a genesis of post-modernism. The times are hard and evil but somehow you are going to thrive and be that higher man you’re dreaming about. That fume harms your body but aides your soul in these tempestuous times, to make a portal where you can peek towards a ‘magical realism’ waiting ahead for you: the window around some celestial sublimity, A Utopia! A divine place on earth to cherish; even a gust of wind will make you fly high, a grace and wings spurts out from your shoulder blades and quite effortlessly swim in an ocean of tranquillity.

        While you fly, you exponentially increase your speed though it’s a ‘Route 66’ of the skies - 30 kmph and you feel the air resistance then in a fraction of seconds you go to 50, 70 and you hear a roar from the end of the lane then there’s 90, 120 and you see yourself above the erupting volcanos and a jungle full of violent beasts - now there’s no room for mistakes - you have the balance and that’s the time when a bizarre music starts and it’s classical and so compelling: makes your bodily fluids rush. It’s the EDGE! There is not a honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over, the others: the living are those who pushed their controls as far as they felt and then pulled back or slowed down; but the edge … is still out there for the romantics, waiting to be felt and there’s this thing about the crazy, the freaks - they never die. The extremity is not a place but an experience: an existential realization, indeed; that there’s absolutism - there you choose a side and not remain dangling in the mediocrity that you do every single day. Either you do it or not, there’s no trying. Well, as an exercise for prerequisite about your ‘fear and loathing’ meet Raoul Duke and Dr. Gonzo - they’ve been there and if it’s about ‘fear and trembling’, Søren Kierkegaard will help you out otherwise.

        Somehow, you made it in an epic: overthrowing that mess of dogmatic morality. There’s an unending field of greenery all around and not even an entity of plastic. Though the beginning was vague and nebulous but anyhow that crystal has decayed, finally! After all, you’re melted to a fluid and surpassed like a stream through hurdling space-time dimensions.

        I hope, they will remember you as a star-child: a product of a sacrifice; a kind of death for an aging red star but a renaissance for an individual, just to metamorphose you and render you an evolved consciousness of immense purity - classified and clustered out of mundanity.

        Take up your weapon: be it a pen, a brush or a camera because a generation is coming where the broken fellas will be most happening as they’ve endured the most and are thus immune to any level of drudgery and sufferings: the shortcomings have their own inherit meaning. Those who have seen their real inner self with acceptance will be stronger than ever. Now, you don’t have to worry because nothing matters and everything’s better. Go on with your flow and the world will see: whether they deserve a sweet box of chocolates or smattering drops of poisonous acid. Get on with it, take your shit and turn it into a rocket. Once you take a step forward, there’s no returning backwards. All the ideas will orifice out from a tap like water. This is your time and it’s ending one minute at a time: to make a difference, do not stop. Once your heart starts getting cold then you’ll know that the things are sliding, indeed. Buy the ticket. Take that ride, you’ll love it.