Wednesday, January 2, 2008

A tale of sacrifice—a heap of crap

I’ve always had an idiosyncratic sense of humour: more often mourning or exuding sadness of other people bring about fits of laughter in me. Interestingly, though I attribute such appeal to mockery and sarcasm to my own indefatigable hubris, I find narcissism and delusions of grandeur (mostly in sadness and in pain) of other people extremely comical.

Reading a tale of shattered love is always fun ( a device which according to my analysis remains by far the most popular modus operandi in blogging world, winning the race with closeted atheists and homosexuals), but recently I’ve read a piece which made me laugh even after days of reading—a classic example of rationality raped.

Our protagonist is heart-broken of course. And yes he has been mourning the lost love for ages. Of course, what is a life without a sense of loss and heartache, even if that’s an imagined one? But now in his search for grandeur, his delusions have taken a new turn. Not only he has a broken heart, an agonizing pathetic history of whining, he has assumed a new role--the most forgiving dumped lover with imagined omnipotence over the life of his unrequited love, as according to him in his fit of love or hatred, he can destroy all she has: D Now it’s actually the lowest level of stupidity, though masquerading as maturity in an impressive narrative, that I’ve come across in a while.

I don’t understand how come a act of utter desperation, not much different from a 5 year old girl who breaks her favourite doll to keep it to herself, rather than to give it to her 4 year old sister, be deemed glorious by the author, much less by a reader? And this utter animalistic desperation and selfishness is called either love or hatred, and then followed by a gigantic leap in megalomania by an assertion that not doing so is a sacrifice in love :D

Third rate affairs pretty much end in the same way, the jealous former lover exposing the old love letters, again an act which is idiotic as well as pathetic, how come not being a cry-baby for once translates into sacrifice in the name of ‘love’ is beyond me. The funny part is that the author actually is so deluded that he believes in his own crap and has added one memorabilia in his trophy closet. With Pain, Sadness, Lost love, there now rests Sacrifice, a collection of themes for his epic life, which to me appears only a pile of delusion that smells funny.
Can’t help laughing.

It’s been a conscious effort on my part to conceal the identity of said author, but in case anyone finds out (including that author), this post wasn’t meant to be a disgrace. Just that, it was becoming too hard to laugh silently. I do admire his narrative, it is just his delusions and subject that I find funny.


sarah said...

i actually love his writing and his obsession even though i constantly have to fight my urge to shout 'get over it already'. i think that's what i like about him, in a strange way...his refusal to get over it even though he really should (something which i am sure even he knows, in his moments of clarity).

and unfortunately, i don't think he's as deluded as you think he is about his "gift" to her. most paki girls pretend to be untouched virgins so if this girls husband finds out that his angel isn't the pure thing he presumed she was, he might actually break it up. i have firsthand experience with such psychos: my sister's husband couldn't even touch her after learning that she had liked someone else in college and the marriage dissolved within 6 weeks!

i DO think that it's mad (read: creepy) for the thought to even cross his mind (to use letters or anything else that he has to destroy someone else's life that way) but given where he is (alone, unable to get over her, extremely bitter) it's also kinda expected.

Barooq said...

We are different people.
Sadness and addiction to it, Obsessions for a lost love, glorified as they maybe, always make me laugh.
Maybe I've seen too much of it, or maybe its just my cynical ( Cant find a better word at the moment) view of humanity in general and emotions in particular, I seldom find anything spontaneous at all. And yet everyone makes believe in their own facade.
If you take it for granted, Sarah,
that all emotions are contrived, its the degree of unspontaneity which decides my impressions.
And you have to agree, He is EMOTIONAL.:D

Barooq said...

Its not the consequence of a revealing email I doubt ( thats not where I think he is deluded), its the whole "sacrifice" mumbojumbo that is beyond me.

sarah said...

you know, essentially, i agree with you. obsessions for lost love, in real life, are tiresome. on blogs, i guess it depends on the writing and i happen to like his.

i find your comment on all emotions being contrived extremely intriguing. do you think none of our reactions are visceral then? none of our feelings valid?

consequently, i'm also surprised that you've been reading my blog (my-soliloquy) because i am SUCH an emotional person who is always flying off the handle and writing in anger, sadness or happiness...i guess the spontaneity of my emotions saves me, then?

i'd love it if you expand on that cause it's a pretty interesting viewpoint.

sarah said...

oh my god, i just remembered who you are!! you changed your blog template, right? anyway, i went back to this guys blog and went through some of the old comments cause i remember there being this couple who always used to diss his writing and i couldn't understand why they read it. i can't believe you're still reading his blog and STILL dissing him. and you think HE is obsessed :)!

moving on, i don't think i agree about language dictating emotions. does it really matter whether we call what we feel for our partner love or lust or longing? i think any self-aware, intelligent person would be able to differentiate between what they actually feel and what they think they are supposed to feel or associate with the first feeling (fuck, that confused the shit out of me, so i have no idea if you're gonna get it...obviously i shouldn't be talking about language or words when my own grasp over it is so awful!). basically, while love supposedly comes in a happy package with jealousy, lust, desire, longing, possessiveness, insecurity etc etc, many may not experience half of those.

like i said earlier though, it is definitely an intriguing thought and may be you're right. may be i just find it insulting that language controls emotions instead of it being the other way around.

and no, i can't write unless i am feeling something really strongly, whether it is pain or confusion or happiness or anger. mostly anger.