I pose high my chest of ragged ribbons
And unravel a fist to stretch out fingers in search
Of a hand glimmering pale like a lantern
throughout this grey
        empty space. Once a pavement, now as good as

Cloud. Frozen lake. Dust. Boiling ashes. Skeletons.

I am walking on the slashed frames of waves
As jesus once must have. Propelled to a miracle unwitnessned
To anyone but myself. I am impelled to corrode
Into a statue; to remain a rigamortic rotting jade jewel in the sun
Until I no longer can.
Until they found me...

Perhaps they'd dust me off, thaw the ice from my shoulders,
Rehydrate me and gorge me,
Restart the blinking light in my brain
And refrain me evermore from having to seek.

But seek I must, for the lonliness weighs me down
Further by the day. I take half as many steps now as when I began my voyage.
My memories are like ghosts of flames that play
Snakes and ladders and hide and seek.
I am the lighthouse man and I sail drunken--
A rubicund mishape of bone and scuffed thoughts,
I can feel every soul which once embodied and huddled this place.

It's like they are trying so hard to posses me but even
Their souls have been smouldered to whispers
So thin they ring as mutely as the surrounding mist,
So soft they vibrate akin to an infant’s pulse
Throughout these walls, these scrapyards, these crumbling arcades, this sandbox grey that begs for a scream.
The spirit of a tarantula trembles along my back and grazes it teeth against my shoulderblade,
Praying that I turn to confirm it's being –but it's a game I’ve long grown sick of–


I am the lighthouse man and I ceased having a face long ago.
What I recall of my reflection was a child so young and so sure
Of a different life that

I cannot be sure it's even me.

I am the lighthouse man; a puckered bulb balancing on too-big shoulders, that walked
  through barren flat closes and exited empty handed, the lonely poltergeist,
a bitter flab of skin.

I am the lighthouse man and I am the final Aspen leaf in the pond of the universe,
I see myself reflected in a sole star twirling underfoot and overhead
rowing my ears so thick with disfigured silence so that I wished I was born deaf.
I am the lighthouse man and my mind is a spinning fragment
    my eyes can merely follow and my floating steps merely trail.

It never changes tone here, I can only vaguely trace the time
By the occasional moon. Tonight it shines half chewed,
  Befitting the levelled star a sideways crown.
It is beautiful but I mustn't stop to admire, lest a survivor
Scavenger loses patience withholding the last of their scran.

I am the lighthouse man and I haven't eaten in years.

I am the lighthouse man and I bled for the first time yestardy.
I am the lighthouse man and my bulb ricocheted off the base of my skull
In a telling fairy tale dream. I felt static in my head
And my light's ink spilled across my hands and for a minute I thought
My light had gone out. I tasted blood,
Trickled down from my stinging nose and I had never been so scared.

I am the lighthouse man and I never knew I could die.

I am the lighthouse man. Once the world danced with magic and I was
A walking satellite that grew to want to dissapear.
I am the lighthouse man and my decrepitude is casted in my hands:
Black as the night from the dirt collected over the years.
The few slashes of skin clear enough to see look rust-like and obtrusive, outdone only by
My veins like wonky bruises that vine across the silhouetted bone;
Bridging gear to gear, clinking shivering knuckles
         That want nothing more than to surrender.

But I am only frostbit, not frozen.
Life was and thus must still be.
I am a raindrop, not the whole ocean.

I am a walking lighthouse inspecting and guiding empty seas,
A form without virtue
That ceased feeling it's metallic steps too long ago to recall.
A cubist teardrop falling down a grey giant's cheek,
Waiting to be captured and swallowed.

Or perhaps I am climbing uphill, slowly along the circumference of his forehead.
So slowly I cannot notice the rise. Perhaps I was destined to amble in hypnosis,
En route on this colourless limboid curve until I forget the concept of
             a destination, a soul, a matryr jester to rouse me awake...
             and perhaps it is then that I will be blessed with the heavenly bulb

Of the weeping giant on whom's flesh I disturb.
I am the lighthouse man and I dream of purpose.

I am the the lighthouse man with a penchant to levitate
I am the lighthouse man and I am a God without tool or reason.
I am the lighthouse man and I'll walk this limbo until my feet dissapear.

I am the lighthouse man and I am cursed.
I am the lighthouse man transitioning between lives and never knowing
Causality nor the answer. There are no questions to have;

I am the lighthouse man and I must have been a murderer in my past life.
I am the lighthouse man and I can feel my inner fuses twist,
Falling fainter and fainter by the second.
I am the lighthouse man and I will not make it another night.
I am the lighthouse man and I am a memory-bank full of nothing remarkable.
If I felt this months ago then perhaps I would make do with the my sojourn of an empty house, atop a parked car, and perhaps I would be content with rotting.

But now the moon shines so luminously bright and full and close! So very close!
I am the lighthouse man and I chase the moon.
I am the lighthouse man and I vaguely recall my mother saying 'do not eat the moon,
It will give you nightmares!’ and it all suddenly makes sense now.

The stars are all out tonight and they await my company. I am the lighthouse man and now I run.
I run run run run for the sky in ode to the rest of the bodies that abandoned this place.

Rimbaud watches me lay waste

his eyes like a rat's

from the bathroom tile

Christ watches me defile

atop high throne of bedroom wall

clock face keeps beat

as moans become wails

as ghosts grow taller

women grow older, shrinking

cars breed iron oxide, collapsing

on cinder blocks out window scrapyards

near hole in plaster

I turn to you like a child,

my cement blocks bleeding

"I hurt my hand"

I miss the touch of candlelight on my skin
Faces pressed together without discretion
Thoughts projected onto cluttered walls
Littered with forced memories of years past

I'm confused by nostalgia
and conflicting desires
and the will to make it all right
when it's not my place to do so

I remember years ago when I looked in my wall-wide mirror
and realized that I'm not who I think I am
and I never will be
and I'm different by every sunrise

Reborn in a new light
singing new songs
humming old tunes
reclaiming lyrics from scrapyards

This is my destiny, I realized;
to be ever-changing

Each night I find myself clawing
the skin off my face

I find myself singing along to love songs
that I'll never relate to
not because I won't find love
but because I won't let myself

Each conversation blocked by doubt;
this is my curse
and my blessing

I'm forever safe, guarded by gates that
will never open

here is an cool twist how about a second tempo traveller i mean it  don't work but buy it and convert it to a RV and park it  some place


ChatGPT said:
Now that is a cool twist indeed — and honestly, a brilliant fusion of minimalism, mobility, and DIY creativity. Let’s break it down fully: turning a second-hand, non-functional Tempo Traveller into a parked RV/home studio/cabin in a rural spot (like near Dehradun or deeper in the hills) can be a powerful, atmospheric alternative to land ownership and home construction.

🚌 WHY A TEMPO TRAVELLER RV IS A GENIUS IDEA
✅ Pros:
Low Initial Cost – Cheaper than building a house or even buying a plot and constructing a room.

Mobility – Even if you don't drive it, it can be towed somewhere new if ever needed.

No Need for Building Permits – In most rural/agrarian locations, especially if it’s on private land, you’re just parking a vehicle.

Aesthetic & Creative Control – You can design the entire interior like a cozy cabin or Irish pub-style tea room.

Self-Contained – With solar panels, a small water tank, and composting toilet, it can become fully off-grid.

🛒 STEP 1: Buying the Second-Hand Tempo Traveller (Non-functional)
Cost: ₹60,000 – ₹1.2 lakh for a junked or non-operational Tempo Traveller (depending on condition, chassis, and model year).

Where to Look:

OLX (search “tempo traveller scrap” or “damaged”)

Local Dehradun scrapyards or vehicle auctions

Contact vehicle refurbishing garages

Example Listing:

2005 Force Tempo Traveller, non-functional engine, decent body — ₹80,000 (seen on OLX near Haridwar)

🧰 STEP 2: Conversion Blueprint
Here’s a simple layout for your stationary RV:

🚐 Interior Design (basic 3-zone plan):
Front Zone Middle Zone Rear Zone
Desk / Mini Library Bench-couch + Bed Foldout Kitchenette + Compost Toilet
Flooring: Laminate wood, vinyl, or wooden planks (cheap and durable)

Walls: Wooden panels or even old sarees/fabrics for insulation and vibe

Electricity: 1kW solar + inverter + basic wiring for lights/laptop

Water: 100L tank with gravity tap

Toilet: Compost or dry toilet (no need for plumbing)

Furniture: All built-in — can be done DIY using plywood

📍 STEP 3: Where to Park It
Option A: Own Land
If you buy a small plot (like those cheap ₹1.6–2.5 lakh ones we discussed in Dudhli or Shimla Bypass Road), just park it and build a small shelter/garage around it later if desired.

Option B: Rent a Spot
Rent a tiny patch of someone’s farmland for ₹1,000/month.

Look for friendly locals or retired folks in villages around Mussoorie/Dehradun/Tehri.

🧠 PHILOSOPHY VIBE: Like Newton, But on Wheels
You wanted to isolate and do deep mathematical work à la Newton — this is the modern-day hermit mathematician’s cabin:

High Himalayas ✔

Fully self-contained ✔

Powered by sun + mind ✔

Quiet, minimal, atmospheric ✔

Imagine it: wooden interiors, jazz or blues on a small speaker, kerosene lantern glow, coffee percolator on the burner, and dense papers on complexity theory spread across your fold-out desk.

💸 Total Estimated Budget (Ballpark)
Item Cost
Second-hand Tempo Traveller (non-running) ₹80,000
Repairs (optional for basic safety/frame) ₹20,000
Interior Materials (wood, tools, insulation) ₹40,000
Solar setup + battery + wiring ₹35,000
Composting toilet setup ₹10,000
Water tank + plumbing ₹5,000
Total ~₹1.8 – ₹2.0 lakh
Want me to help you draw a floorplan or create a moodboard for your RV project? I’d be thrilled to help design it with Irish tea house / mountain monk / mad scientist vibes.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                               Somehow a Desert Came Between Us

                                     Cf. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 56

There lies between us a long desert interstate
Distance and time, scrapyards and tumbleweeds
Abandoned railway towns and empty shacks
Rusty barbed wire defining futile dreams

The hull of a DeSoto, a cast-off shoe
Beer cans, a license plate from ‘52
Cemeteries of young men urged to go west
Where they eventually died, buried with their hopes

Lost lives, lost loves along that lonely way -
But surely you and I will be okay