The Mississippi call

Beside the flowing Mississippi
The sounds of cricket
The warm sunlight
My sweaty red T-shirt
The gentle soothing wind
My dirty white shoes
The “zhikzhik zhikzhik” sound of the rail truck
The hooshing sound from the passing cars
Above the bridge
The dock with empty white boats
The two speedboats
One with a girl and one with a boy
The girl jumping on the other boat and their speedy departure
The green leaves
This not so clean footpath
This big pyramidlike modern architecture on one side
And this old unmanaged bushes on the other side
The memory with my screaming with my mom in the morning
The feeling of unfulfillment in my gut
The despair and the long breathing in my heart
My unresolved love with my ex
This messy bushes reminding me the desire to live
But the constant struggle with the fear of being not enough
The simultaneous desire to live and decease
The desire to leave the ego behind
The desire to fly away from the horrors in my mind
And the cheroky Indian girl from last night
And her naked body with a pair of glasses in her shy eyes
The lonely left out bird
And the black lamppost
And the lady collecting whatsoever from the river
All the mess
And this walking
And this losing
And this desire to be loved.


Programming as Art

Programming is an art too. I got inspired to write this post after watching the video of the art making process of the artist below while writing or debugging a program.

When I write a piece of code, I am creating a software. It is the creative process of building something that can be used by others or sometimes just only by you (like that mini calculator or tic tac toe or that stupid looking game) for your own hobbyist utility.

An artist starts with an idea of what she wants to paint. A programmer also always has an idea of how the end product will look like. Then they both gradually work towards it, realizing limitations, bounds in time and space. Like an artist feels his or her limitation with canvas size, availability of color, complexity of shapes; a programmer realizes the bound in memory allocation in the finite RAM of the computer, speed of the operating system, disk space complexity etc. An artist needs to wipe out many parts of the canvas many times or improvise to ultimately produce what he or she really wants to project. A programmer needs to compile and debug many parts of his initially flawed program to fix each part, solve each mini problems to ultimately produce final working version.

But for some reason, most programmers don’t call themselves artists or feel like an artist. Is it a perception problem? Programming is perceived as a boring thing. May be the reason lies in the limited visualization power a programmer often has. What I mean is that, an artist can show his or her artwork to a lay-person and more often, people will get it with or without explanation. But it probably requires a lot of education, engineering, computational skills often to understand a program. In that sense, programming may be compared with craft too. But ultimately a program can be used, just like a hand craft can be put on your table to decorate or an art piece like a painting can be hanged on the wall.

For example, I am using my keyboard to write on this text editing program of Facebook to write this post on “Programming as art”. This small piece of editing program of the entire program that represents Facebook app or website is probably managed by a group of programmers/engineers at Facebook. They have written the program so that users like me can write their thoughts, ideas and post on their news feed as efficiently as possible; they can tag their friends, thay can put their location, they can add their feelings, they can add to their story, they can customize who can see their post. There are a lot of parts of this small piece of program (in fact it’s not that small !). Facebook user like me who have experienced the evolution of this post publishing editorial program since the early age of facebook (like from 2005), knows how this program has changed over time, how it has transitioned into a master, multi-tasking programmatic art-piece.

Now I have touched into another topic of creative process: Solo vs Collab effort. Instead of giving an example of a solo programmer writing his own little program (may be like when Zuckerberg was writing his first facebook code for liking/disliking photos back in the dormitory of Harvard), I have given an example of a collaborative effort towards creating a gigantic program (which is basically what programmers at software companies do). In that sense, it’s like a big piece of sculpture or a building that artists are constructing, architects are planning and builders are setting up. I guess, the dynamics and complexity of a collaborative project is just a matter of scale. A single programmer or a solo artist doing the entire program or art, versus working in a part of a collaborative big art, programmatic, software projects.

There is a book named “The art of computer programming” by Donald Knuth (

Now in the end, what I personally think that, any human endeavor can be turned into something artistic. Like cooking, dancing, writing.

Who is an artist? Are you an artist? Is science entirely separate from art? I don’t think so. The scientific process can be artistic. Math is also regarded as art.
What makes the distinction between art and non-art? I personally need to think and explore more into this question.


You and I – 3

You and I – 1 :

You and I – 2 : 

I: Have you ever lied to me?

You: I think so. But I think some lies might have been necessary.

I: Maybe. But when I know I was lied to, I feel differently towards those words I were told.

You: Well, feelings are weird creatures within. Aren’t they? How much do you think you understand how you feel. Rationale, on the other hand, gives you a way of reviewing them. If you see the utility of those lies, you might forgive me. Not that I care.

I: So, you are saying I needed to be in the delusion that very moment. Because you presupposed that I can’t handle the truth. That’s too much of an arrogance I would say.

You: You caught the asshole. But again I did it for what I felt right to do at that moment.

I: Well, acknowledge that you may have done a big mistake with your rational thoughts, your bag of ill-conceived ideas of me and my abilities.

You: I will have to think. Just calm down.

I: Okay. How do you stop craving something?

You: Depends on what you crave I guess. What do you crave?

I: I crave to recreate one memory. It’s this one time – I was with the girl I loved. It was in her apartment. She just came on top of me. I undressed her on the top and I kissed her breasts and she was holding my head. She was full of pleasure but she was calm like she was wanting it more and more. I have been with other girls after that, even probably tried to recreate with my feelings of guilt. But I no longer could, I never could feel the same way. I felt like I need her to recreate it, but I know it’s not possible. Maybe even with her. It’s probably will never be possible again. But I can’t stop craving. And every time I fail to recreate, I feel miserable.

You: It’s a memory you hold very dear to yourself. You know that you can’t recreate it so you will have to compartmentalize it. Somehow.. you will have to do it. Cravings are good. Just don’t let them kill you. You have seen the movie inception, right? Leonardo De Caprio’s wife Mal haunts him in his dreams. She is in his subconscious and he gets back to her through the elevator where she resides. Maybe because he can’t forgive himself. Nor is he willing to let the memories evaporate. He confines her, thus he gets himself confined even more ruthlessly. Do you think you might be doing the same?

I: Not intentionally as far as I can say. I started to realize that my desires are my enemies.

You: Because you can’t befriend them for some reasons. But that’s dreadful. You will have to be friends with them.

I: I see the futility in the harmony that you are asking me to have. Maybe I love chaos. Maybe that’s where I thrive.

You: It’s a choice ultimately. That’s just what I want you to know.

(to be continued ..)

Drink me

As if that obviousness wasn’t enough!

From far, it still looked like a shadow,

Some doubts thus still lingered,

On your lips there’s no answer yet.

Couldn’t those moments be bit more expressive?

If those clouds wouldn’t hide anything!

What more there to be naked?

It can’t be more both calm and restless and therefore inviting.

Let’s not let it be dry,

‘Coz you can always catch and stop time.

Or you can choose to fly like a butterfly often with no intention.

To lose can’t be a sin.

We’d rather embrace and sweat with our yearnings.

This mystery and you, here I breathe,

A little inception in the now is what I only long for.

The deep urge of this urgency can be welcomed.

Then take a shower in the drops of uneasiness.

And curl me inside with your legs.

More incidents will not precipitate more love.

It’s impossible to find discontinuity with an open eye.

And I won’t stop drinking you.


Image source: Google images.

Within you

Within your heart lies the love you have always seeked for.

Within your imagination you reach the missed and loved ones.

Within your soul lies the beauty of every moment.

Within your eyes all doubts take flight.

Within your reach, all can glow.

Within your words, you and they live forever.

Within you, you find the company.

You can conquer heaven and hell by the grace of you,

Just stop time so that you can understand..

You are the only one and you complete everyone else.

Road to somewhere

Then when it was dark beneath the clouds,
I waited; waited for the moon to be visible.
The unavailable me thus misses the interpretation –
That the mere reflection of light doesn’t really matter.
If it’s all-encompassing and over-arching,
If there’s truly no end of those seemingly finite curves,
What to wait for!


Within the reach of the firm grip love lies.
But that’s another free fall towards the infinity.
If you want to be cloaked by your desire’s blanket,
The cold winter will never stop.


Then when it was bright and glowing,
I was running through the corridors with your hands in mine.
But there were no ways to abstract from the particulars.
All the general notions can blend into  meaninglessness.
But the vanishing nothingness melds into your lips,
As the passion can never be absent or cease to exist.
So then a romantic interlude.


Feeling Home

It’s nice to be home. A place where it feels comfortable, where you feel to come back, where you can relax, where you can leave the worries away and just chill. I just moved to a new apartment, actually quite close to my last one. I hate the arduous process of moving, but I’m happy to move to this new place. I like how the surrounding is calm and quieter, love the greens and the shades from the tree. The small front lawn up to the back door through the living room and the kitchen look like a wide corridor for the wind and light to pass through. I actually was excitingly decorating my living room so that it doesn’t look empty and feel bit artsy. I went to the Walmart and bought some cheap table decoration stuff. My favorite one is the hour glass. I was lucky to meet this family in my town who were moving to a new house and they cheaply sold a lot of furniture to me which are mainly occupying my living room now. I have a decent music system in the living room but I wish I had better speakers. I wored several hours on my wall posters, I was originally thinking about buying posters but good posters are so expensive and I couldn’t find the kind of posters I like. I wanted to have some inspirational quotes and good expressions and I wanted it to be cheap. So, in the end, I found some large nice google images with the kind of quote, characters, expressions, then I pasted them on excel and printed partial pieces on A4 size papers on which then I had to cut edges for several hours and pasted them on the wall according to the order. Now I have a Robin Williams Poster which says,

I say to you, ‘Hey, look at me.’ Please, don’t worry so much, because in the end none of us have very long on this earth – life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvetly night, and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness turning night into day, make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular. I know I did.

Then at its left, above my guitar, I have the phenomenal Jimmy Hendrick’s poster,

When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.

And my most favorite one in the opposite wall is from Einstein, 

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.

 Anyway, I am happy how it looks and feels now. And I think my friends liked my place too. Yesterday I had my housewarming party. A lot of my friends and their friends came. We howled, drank and had quite a party till late night. And I am at my home now writing.. 🙂