confusion will be my epitaph ....

The epitaph of a certain non descript writer named Kilgore Trout.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Or

The animal life is in no way a treat, what can i say confusion will be my epitaph...

To die in obscurity, there, somewhere...

of fatal dream ...

Tralfamadore ...
A planet where there is no concept of time, where one exists simultaneously in all of time. Where time is but an infinite fractal with consciousness being split to be present at many points at the same time, so that while you're aware of yourself as a child,as also of yourself in death.

Its like being part of a never ending panorama, rays of light extending their slender fingers outwards, circumscribing everything in its path...

The beginning of an end

"There are things known, and things unknown, and in between there are doors"
JM-An american poet
"There are things known, and things unknown,but in between there's more"
JM-An Indian idiot

So the fateful hour is upon us, the solstice has just gone by and the spotfulness of the sun has provided the right shines(signs, i mean, a bengali slip of the tongue) and I have finally arrived ... the wait has ended for those of you who have been dying to see me splash my literary skills upon this infinite canvas ... (Writer).. looks about ponderously to see a dog thoughtfully licking its tail while simultaneously appeasing its gastronomic tastes with a rather dubious delicacy, which seems rather to be of the excrementous nature. Well, holy cow he thinks, rather sheepishly, this world has gone to the dogs. And after this brief animal escapade he thinks to himself, why do this ?

The love and adoration of his wide eyed fellows at his vision and foresight.
The praise that would rain from the skies like a man releasing his fury after a cold shower
or is it
The satisfaction of letting your tongue wag in an inappropriate manner and yet be pardoned in the name of art and freedom of expression

Tis something i will ruminate upon in the days to come ...

But well for bitter or for verse,
Do come by from time to time,
To share in this terse,
Yet wordy pantomime.

And though i be the master
Of oxymorons, pretend
to overlook this disaster,
the beginning of my end.

And thus begin the chronicles of "The eternal spotfulness of mindless sunshine"

The beginning of an end....