So I finished reading John Grisham s innocent man which was nerve wracking to say the least. Karl Fontenot along with Tommy Ward have been in prison for 31 years now and for a crime they didn’t commit. The surprising thing is that it’s obvious they didn’t commit those crimes and yet they were convicted and are still behind bars because of shoddy police work and unethical prosecution. Maybe remind you of a certain case or cases right here in India?
I believe gradual ends are better than the ones that happen all of a sudden. Some people believe that it’s better if the pain is excruciating but only lasts a moment. Me? I’d rather it lasted a lifetime, an instrument not for torture but for sorrow, a dull heartache that never seems to end. Because I believe that this pain lets you know that you are alive, that there was something worth losing, something worth mulling over for hours at an end. It’s easier to forget such pain and for a moment you are happy. The other kind -the one that comes from something being snatched away is the one that you should be afraid of, for it comes back in snippets, a ghost of that which once was – that which you can never forget. But it’s okay. Because after a while the day comes when neither of the two matter, a day when you are invincible. It’s only a day and maybe you won’t even remember it, but it’s enough to know that such days will always be there – the ones where nothing really matters and you don’t care.
I believe isolation is key to creativity. Because the way your mind works when you’re all alone, standing on the edge of society….your mind would never work that way if you were surrounded by people.
So I received the first copy of Mudmen in the mail today, and I have to tell you, it’s the best feeling in the world.
Grab your copy here of the book here –
A haze of forgetfulness seemed to have settled over the world, pervading lives that had earlier been untouched. People forgot their names and names ceased to have any meaning. And once that came to pass, there was very little left to hold the fabric of the world together. And happiness was gone, just like that, a candle snuffed out by a wayward wind. And the flimsy winds of change too failed to bring about change in this constant buzz of the memories, the dead and the dying, the lived and the universe. Imagination became just another imagined word.
A Review of Mudmen by Eric Lahti
Mudmen: The Quest for Humanity is one of the more unique books I’ve read. It starts with a question I think everyone has asked themselves at some point or another point in their lives: could I do a better job than God?
Don’t worry, the jury is still out on that one.
I think at some point in their development, every writer goes through a deeply philosophical phase. Most books don’t go too deep into philosophical territory for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is takes a steady hand to make such huge things small enough for most people to wrap their heads around.
Mudmen follows the events that take place after the world comes to an end and the whole of humanity is reduced to ashes. One person winds up with the ability to rewrite reality and sets out to do exactly that. Unfortunately for him…
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How are you today? What have you been up to? How long did it take you to answer these questions? I mean how long did it take you to give an honest answer and not the usual drivel that questions like these usually call for.
But of course the second of the two questions does not really entail much so lets take it out of the equation. Why did I ask you that question in the first place? Hmmm…..let’s think. Because it seemed like the obvious follow up to the previous question. Hmph..well small talk does make up for a huge chunk of everyday conversations.
All right…let’s get back to the real question. How are you today? How do you feel? Are you happy or sad? Maybe you don’t know how you feel, after all it’s all just chemicals anyway.The elusive quest for happiness, for your mental well being but then again mental health does not really have anything to do with happiness. I mean a crazy person can be happy can’t he. How would you know? You’re not crazy. You’re sensible. You fit in with the norms of society so why would people not love you. You are just like them. You must be so happy among these people who are just like you, upstanding citizens of a civilised society. People who are always looking for those cues so that they can smile or they can cry or feel whatever outside stimulus allows them to feel instead of just breathing and letting go, instead of exploring your own mind because everything that’s in there is a product of what is out there.
But how can you make sense of what is out there and your place among it all unless you look inside or look in the mirror and understand what you are? You are a building block of society but that does not mean that you cannot change your shape. That block does not have to be square, it can be a circle or a straight line or it can be ragged around the edges. Would it really matter as long as it supports the weight of the rest of the structure? You don’t have to carry the weight on your shoulders, you can place it on your palm or balance it on a fingertip. What is that burden after all, the one that society places on you? It’s intangible. It’s not really a burden at all. Gazes can be shrugged off, words can answered, fists met with fists and in all of it lies the seed of anarchy. But isn’t present society the very example of anarchy, leaders without a purpose, laws without basis and in the middle of it all you, still searching for happiness in a world where misery and confusion has made its home in every heart, fear behind a facade of confidence. Because we know that it is fleeting. Society is fleeting and so is anarchy, happiness is fleeting and so is misery. The only thing that remains is the search, because the search can never end, it must go on. The search for happiness, for purpose, for it is the only thing that gives shape to our dreams and for a moment peace lives in the heart that is plagued by turmoil.