purely systems

a word is like a net thrown into the ocean. some fish caught, some water drained. language wraps around its objects with a desperate grasp. this is actually exactly why all brahmin scholarship fails. for all it's devout grammarians, most of them are afraid to get their hands dirty. they can't touch that which pollutes their supposed ‘purity’. brahmin imagination abstracts the uncomfortable away, weaponising their dissociation after cast(e)ing out what disgusts them.

my definition of brahmin are the fools that always side with power, appeasing the aryans or the mughals or the white men or multinational capitalism or whoever has the biggest dick that season and in that room.

i know people who think all the secrets of the universe can be gleaned sitting in one place have a strange faith in the capacity of sanskrit to cast a long enough net to anything, to represent everyone, to theorise to the atom.

but language is just a collection of phonetic rituals, specific to a locality. in participating and practicing the rituals, we infuse the air with the songs of our dialect. our words can't describe what we sense, and they won't prescribe what to do. they are the action themselves. moving with the motions, changing with the times, bringing us together, pushing us away, and building the shape of our lives, grinding us to sludge.

so if you're not living in the messy, impure, disgusting sludge, and regularly using the words to navigate it, you don't really know words, you know a system of symbols, until you turn yourself into a symbol, valuated on someone else's metric, your grades, your salary, your chad score man, idk. all this counting and no accountability. all this valuation and no values. & here, paralysed, if you look around, all you'll find is sludge. like the way i write.

& in sludge, purity & pollution is one, as you sift for the safe experiences, i wonder if you know why you're scared? were you always scared? when did that change? who changed that? did they mean to? does that matter? why not?

systems, in fractions, clicking like clockwork, teasing theory, begging for more, becoming stories, splitting hopes from fears, deconstructing dreams, there's a million ways this has gone and a million ways this can go. and somehow, we make choices. to purify, to pollute, to organise, to take a bath, to clean my room, to wake up and do it all again.

so thank you for trying to throw me out, i’ve been trying to run away forever too, but this is the only world, like lomelda said, and i’m wondering where in the world are you?