The Insipidity of Order

About 20 beer, 6 vodka, 4 whisky and 2 rum bottles(empty, of course) and 10 cold drink/soda bottles(half empty, this time) + a heap of unwashed clothes that might actually qualify very well for use as a mop + a medieval cassette player along with a speaker set which creaks if u try to shift them by a millimeter - for a centimeter, the left one goes dead + 16 butts - of cigarettes, of course + 2 pairs of shoes & socks- with the shoes lying over socks, also a dried up liquid shoe polisher, with the 'dried up' tag signifying its last use date + a horde of CDs & DVDs which contain the same songs or videos redundantly ripped + a little electronica which includes a 64 Kbps line feed, a modem and my laptop power chord = my room's floor. As my eyeballs surge upwards with a mystic smirk, I scan my almirah(a walled one) which contains, in ascending order of height(dont read importance) - CAT memorabilia + an equally large horde of discs as the one lying on the floor, a screwdriver set(I got that so that I could open up and try to repair a pair of headphones gone horribly wrong - and actually because of a childhood fantasy of having the power to unscrew any damned nut!!) + a neatly folded set of clothes which is so because I NEVER wear anything out of it - covered, of course, by dust, plastic, ties and important papers + the penultimate(in ascending order, remember?) shelf playing the role of a 'safe' - chiefly because it can be easily accessed only by a six footer like me and partly because its only me who knows how to navigate safely to reach the base of the almirah after avoiding all the obstacles beneath, and thus housing some documents that may be needed for future reference, unexplainable coils of wire, medicines like crocin tablets and balms and basically anything that is needed urgently whenever needed. The almirah is topped by a moth & dirt-ridden compartment which, thankfully, is about 6 feet(diagonally) from my bed and this distance thus aids me heaps & bounds in sustaining my life. Continuing with the smirk, my vision takes a right turn and I start scanning my walls - well nothing really spectacular here too, except, of course, the occasional blemishes and golden duct tapes torn off whisky bottles' tops (for no apparent/logical reason whatsoever), apart from the usual cobweb decor adorning the corners. There are also the cloth hanging hooks, which, naturally, are used quite extensively as is the case in this room with any form of cloth holding which discourages neat foldings and encourages quick, efficient disposal of clothes once they are off your body - the other example being that heap lying on the floor. Apart from these bare necessities, there are also a couple of indulgences like a bed, a table & a chair, the last one being because its very uncomfortable to do stuff on the table while standing. The table, of course, is littered by the presence of a wine flask, more bottles, discs, an opener, a persian glass(well, a 'Made In India' Persian stemware, actually), 5 empty cigarette packets, and the laptop. Its surface is actually a miniature, but a similar version of the floor, with both scoring equally in entropy. The bed's mattress is ably assisted by a sheet of apparels lying just above it in providing comfort while relaxing and also in serving as a blanket in times of absence of the same. The smirk has now turned into a full fledged grin - the grin of a crusader taking pride in his achievements, as my visual sweep comes to an end. I think most of you, by now, must be lamenting my existence, trying to imagine yourself in my place and ending up shaking your heads in disgust; some probably even trying to sympathize with a person(read 'me') suffering from acute bouts of filthophilia. But there is absolutely no dilly dallying in my thoughts as mind ponders for a stand on the issue - I stand firmly by the interior decor of the room, and this is not because of any Bheeshma Pitamahesque patriotic devotion towards my room, but because it is I who is the proud designer of the same and the whole.....ummmm...situation.....is a product of careful & extensive self restraint & experimentation in pursuit of a higher ideal - Uncertainty. The quantum model was rejected decades ago, and I seriously dont understand why is it still advocated for use in our daily lives?? That what is employed in my room's design is an ultimate ode to a certain Mr. Heisenberg! If there isn't an object in the world whose position can be accurately determined, what is the use of futiling away a whole lifetime in pursuit of order - which is nothing but a structured & physical arrangement of tangible objects like those found in my room? Order can actually be proved to be irrelevant. Suppose, I become an orderly person and I keep placing my watch at a certain designated place, like a drawer. One fine day, I cant locate it. What options do I have - my being an 'orderly' mind, I'll keep coming back to the drawer, without having the capacity to think beyond, or rather, as they call it - the closed box approach, while, if being in a similar situation in my room, you have the whole damned room at your disposal - dig it, swoop it, do whatever you can - there exists a probability of it being present in this very room! Order extinguishes the flame of hope, disorder reiterates it. The 'pleasant surprise' element, which is a rarity these days, is also a distinguishing factor of disorder, and one comes to know about the pleasure of the same only when one stumbles upon that watch 3 weeks later in the same heap. Order is insipid, disorder is exciting!(See, even the exclamation mark is on disorder's side!(and again)). These are not the times of meticulous planning, gelled back hair, suave appearances or disc records; these are the times of impromptu action, jazzy hair & i-pods! And that is why I remain a hardcore disorder loyalist!
So what if I'm left with only 1.5 sq meters of floor area, spread over as a map of Africa - at least I have some zebras to chase!