The Language of Speed

As far as humans go getting a high these days has boiled down to alcohol,drugs or some hallucinogens that are sold on the neighbour streets. I wont be heavy or profound (its getting monotonous and lame) ...let me get to the point. I LIKE CARS.Its my ultimate high. Metal beings built for transportation having a motor and 4 locomotory entities called the wheels( preferably round in shape unless you live in a cave and are just discovering fire.) ,equipped with seating arrangement for the drivers glutial comfort. But just like all things natural even these machines have seen mutations ... these mutations spawned from an extreme and untamed thought of the human mind. They were tampered with... made bigger,stronger ...faster, made into beasts of power and speed. As the ages passed the slight hum of a gas engine turned to monstrous roars.

Why i like them?Because unlike us, each one is built with a purpose, to run its course and then have a respectful death. Most people dont respect them for they are viewed as inanimate objects made to serve. Connect with them.. you will understand. Each car has something to say.. all you have to do is hear...but not with your ears.

As mortals we dont control the physical limitations to our existence but with them you can change that. "GOD" didnt build us to touch the speed of sound... but the loop hole is he gave us a mind,thumbs, sense to build things. So we built , substituting weak legs with wheels touching 4000 rpm, skin and bones replaced by carbon fibre. You must feel as strong as the car you are in.... Lay your hands on the wheel to understand that you are the missing keg in works, the roar is not from the engine but from you. The machine is an extension of you, feel the slight electric surge down you spine, sense your inhibitions and you fears..lay your leg on the accelarator... and let it all go. Your machine will hear you ... and will react just the way you want it to. The language of speed is not difficult all you have to do.. is look your car in the eyes tell her what you want.She will deliver.

Hence i confess to a machine ...because in people i just dont trust.

The Hope Generator

Ironically in an age when phones and wireless boxes can compute and prompt our thoughts, our own mind fails to make a sorted point on the simplest of matters. I've always had an intense propensity towards calculation and logic and the absolute truth that numbers and derived procedures could solve any problem at hand. But A greater truth lies underneath, we humans started off organic, worked with nature and its accessories and entered the stone,iron,bronze and the now known 'jet' age, our lifestyle now relies on, and aims to dive deeper into the sea of technological advance to seek each answer uninterpreted till now.

Lesser people realize that the ultimate technology ever made were the carbon based lifeforms themselves, organic, with the strength to self adapt and act in ways beyond human perception. Lets not limit this argument only to the physical or biological world. Technology now considered supreme relies on our organic ability to imagine, dream ,wish, believe and most important of all hope. (i know i sound like a hippie ... but keep reading.. )

Indian mythology speaks of a boy who was condemned a death much sooner than his time.As the days grew closer so did his breath, his tears ran rivers,his parents did bleed in sorrow. On the final day of his cropped life death descended to do the inevitable, the boy hugged the chiseled stone of his God and just hoped. Bore a fruit his innocent prayer as the sky moved to unveil the hand of God that broke the clutches of death.

A story to be forgotten but not ignored, when calculation fails, logic loses and procedures cant pave a road any more we have learnt to just be a child and still hold one last thread of hope. This desire to look up even when we have hit rock bottom is an organic thought in its purest form.No algorithms, circuit boards or logic gates will tell us to wish well even in the worst situation because you never know when things might just turn around.We start organic ,rely on artificial souls to do our thinking for us and then back to organic again....that is how stupid humans are. We must understand that there is a cycle in process and there is something more complex than mere math at work here, that behind our rib cage lies a hope generator... we need to know the right time to crank the lever a bit harder.Thoughts weigh.. yes they do.

Hence I confess to a machine ..... because in people....I just don't trust.

Next Speed Bump.

I now know for a fact that life, as abstract a word it is, surprisingly follows the same strictures as that of other real world physical entities. Science states every particle is in a constant state of flux, they constantly seek to get to an ideal state with least energy consumption .... (feel free to stop reading).... So do humans and the monotony that surrounds them - LIFE. We never experience a moment of true and absolute solitude. Its always induced by external factors and then taken away, in other words if you ever feel your having a smooth run and it might be too good to be true ....it is.

Hence i realize that we are always just waiting for the next speed bump.

Hence i confess to a machine ... because in people, ....i just don't trust.

Granularity

ts the greatest poem ever written they say.... a melody of feelings, only blessed eyes see the true virtue of this emotion. well...i say...im pretty blind, objectivity is a tool , one cannot yield it if one is himself doused in the muck of this "melody". Sternly they bend in and ask me what I think of it... my views?.. always as blunt as can be.
Love is anything you perceive it to be, the less you make it sacred the more you'll realise that its nothing but an electric signal poems are written about. BE CLEAR ! as the magnifying glass closes in on my face.
Love has no elemental form, it just a big undifferentiable broth of various good feelings.And like the various ingredients,over time,these good feelings will soon decay to unveil a dark,ugly and rotting remains of a once tasty delicacy.One who finds the will to drink it even then is a saint, and the one who relishes it is the world's greatest lover.
A slight sigh for my hopeless attitude. they turn and walk away.
So this is me... confessing to a machine....because, in people..... I just dont trust.