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Withdrawal symptoms

Ctrl-tab
Ctrl-tab...
Scroll Scroll Scoll..
Alt-tab
Alt-tab...
Catch yourself slipping away.

Deep  breath. 

Close the browser. silence the mobile and turn it away.

Open an offline-real-paper diary. Stop your thighs from lolling impatiently. Stay still. 

Pick up a pen awkwardly. ahh, the fingers are stiff. It will take a  while for them to get used to holding a pen. Quick finger exercise - open the palm, stretch finger outwards, close into a fist, dig the fingers in. Repeat.
Ok now.. about to pick up the pen again, but eyes dart towards the screen. Tempted to check email.

Shut up. The last consequential email came two months ago. Nothing of consequence is online.
 
Pick up the pen. Don't fetishize the object now. Get on with it. Put it on paper, write a word and start it already. If I get to a sentence, perhaps I will get into a flow and won't have to look up from the paper at all. 

One sentence later.

Ahh. That was good. I am feeling good about myself. The sentence makes sense. It sets the tone for the book to come from it. I have the pen in my hand and ideas in my head. Moving, swirling, solidifying into reality - I feel secure in the solidity of idea. Yes, the idea is solid, the world needs it, I need it. I have thought it through (I think). I won't lose it now. I will make something big of it. 
Do a mental run-through of the argument. But still not sure of putting the draft on paper yet.
Paper feels solid, final. I like the easy backspace/ delete/ addition that is possible on word processors and online word docs.  I look at the laptop again.

I am afraid, I will get lost in useless articles, dystopian news cycles, outrageous debates again. I look at paper in front. Damn, I better get used to writing and re-writing - physically. I write the second sentence and the third and the fourth. I feel I am onto something. It feels great. Finally, the idea that has inhabited my brain for the last decade, that I never got around to articulate is flowing out onto paper. I am happy. I am ecstatic. I am doing something that is meaningful for me, for a change. This calls for a celebration.

Yes, I deserve it... The guards are down.
Before I know in,
alt-tab...
Ctrl-tab...
scroll scroll scroll...
Ctrl-tab..
scroll scroll scroll...

FUCK.
Wish I could burn this fucking internet.
I slam my laptop shut.
I pile it away in the cupboard. Lock it. Throw the key indiscriminately towards the bed somewhere. Clink.. perhaps it fell to the floor somewhere around the edges of bed. Hope I will find it later. Don't look at it now though.

Anyways...
Back to the dining table/ writing table. I sit solid in my chair. I promise myself, I won't move until I fucking complete 5 pages at least. I know I have the material in my head. Just got-damn get it out.
But the prospect for writing for that long makes me hungry.

So I excuse myself - just a small break for a healthy cause. I go to kitchen to put some farsan, some laddoo on a plate. Or should I get a tea. There is no bad time for a tea, now is there? But then i will hog on biscuits - fucking maida. what good is that? i eat a ton of maida every month. garbage in, garbage out. fuck that, lets eat some fruits. open the fridge to find the spilled Raita on one of the shelves in the fridge. Damn. I must clean this shit. Can't stand it.
Ten minutes later...
 The thermostat is not working. Let me check online to see how to make it work. I take my phone.

An hour later..
I am sitting at my table, with phone in my hand, have gone through whatsapp, fb, twitter a dozen times.
FUCK.
I put the fruit out and forgot to eat.
FUCK.
Two hours gone and not a single paragraph complete yet.

Chewing at the fruit furiously while intently re-reading what I have written so far.
Damn, that spelling is wrong. I always forget to capitalise the first word of the sentence. Should I really be starting from this point? What could be a better starting point? This will not develop strong enough. Scrap. 

Start over.... gahh.
Maybe I should read some good literature to give me inspiration. 
SHUT UP. You have already read three books instead of writing your own, in the last three weeks.

OK.
I need that data-point. It would be awesome to start with that data-point. But that means looking it up online. Ok, just this one search.

An hour later...
Oh fascinating...
FUCK. 

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