addiction

On my recent visit home I was going through some of my old stuff.... found this in one of my notebooks from my UG days… remembered sitting inside a classroom sultry with may heat and the smoke from Shibajida’s filterless cigarette… don’t remember exactly what we were studying that day… but remember my classmate shifting restlessly besides me… in answer to my questioning but stern look he took my book and wrote this:

Mad,
Have you ever thought about the visuals we encounter, conscious or unconscious in the classroom. As I sit, disliking the pathological practices practiced by the academia on a poem whose poet has been dead for a long time! but I cant do anything about it, I cant change it, cant comment, speculate, spit venom, frustrate over it, I can do nothing. EXCEPT to create something out of this disliking, this intense stabbing pain in my head, to show this, this very moment, the very realization, feelings or insight, whatever one might call it. But, what I am trying to say is, I have got only one purpose, and that is to create something out of THE SITUATION, to show people, no, not even people, just to show that: look, this is this and that is that. And this seems to be the only purpose, the only motivation, only cause, only stimulant, even addiction or kick, I’m living for. If someday, I can find nothing to create out of or show or damn anything, I’d be lost. I’d not kill myself or nothing like that. But I suppose I’d be as passive as a pebble by the highway.
This is the beginning of what I’ve been trying to tell you and make you understand and accept for a long time.
Hope soon will be able to / get the opportunity to tell you the rest.

I don’t think I concentrated on Shibajida or any other classes that day….

I think I will call that friend today and ask him if his addiction is still as consuming as it was then…