Friday, December 14, 2007


It hurt so much talking to M.I don't think its going to hit me till...oh,I don't know...another couple of years.When people stop gossiping about 'he said,she said'.But its sad when bad things happen to good people.Its even sadder when you know those good people,when they're closer to you than blood.When they have curly hair and chinese eyes and gold lumps for hearts.

Its going to be an interesting winter.Full of gladiolas and white chocolate,tuberoses and parties and many,many people.I don't know how to fit in my fiercely independant,go/do-whatever-wherever-whenever self into peoples' lives.I'm not sure how they'll react,and I've been told its bad manners to not care of what they think.Believe you me,I'm all for bad manners,but its the pristine side of me (from my mother) that creates this unruly paradox in my being.Bad manners,good,okay,Good manners,even better.So even though my suitcases are packed with mangy clothes and delicate underwear,I will know when to act nice,how and where.My mother likes to think otherwise,she knows I'd rather let my hair down and run butt naked to promote 'freedom',but its not true.Sure,I believe in all that 1960's hippie-peace-bong crap,but I'm a fairly okay actress.I can go all *fluorescent-smiley* to my aunt and be all like 'pass the booze' to F.I'd like to be really drama-queenish and call it Multiple Personality Disorder,but I won't.

This isn't a post about trying to find out who I am,everyone's on that mission 24/7/365,so don't even start the bullshit about 'ohhh poo cliche' cuz its not.Its fact.Very much like guys need porn.

It would be nice to explain to my daughter why I named her Aurora.'Something to do with magnetic fields and both of the Earth's poles,darling.He would gladly explain it better to you if I knew where he was.Probably on a yacht in the Mediterranean with those blonde bimbos of his'.

You think you know,but you have noooo idea*
current mood:firefly-alpha

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

send my love to the dancefloor.

Nothing could touch her on this night that promised sparkle and intensity. A fusion of bygones as she swept past people,swimming in the artificial light.Outside,the sky looked like El Greco’s ‘Laocoön’ as she felt the red bleeding from her lips. Her hair,nearly down to her waist,almost choked her as she convinced the on-lookers of her sweeping passion.The empty floor was her home,a stage to play on and be someone else.Its ok if they cat-called or whistled,they wouldn’t recognize her walking the streets in the morning anyway.

Sometimes her boots would hurt and her costume would snag as someone tried to pull it off.Sometimes she didn’t feel the whiteness of her teeth flow through her entire body.Did it ever occur to anyone that she could possibly like books?Or a nice walk in Central Park?Or how relieving it would feel to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge to break the delicate murkiness of the Hudson River.

But it was fine,you know.In actuality,she might grow up and out of this,and fall for someone who thought he knew it all,and why it all couldn’t be as simple as they said it was.Maybe she’d buy a dog or give extra money to her dead mother’s estranged sister.Maybe she’ll look back and think ‘I really don’t have to look back anymore’.

But for now,for this cloudly,starless night that promises confusion,the show must go on.

Friday, November 30, 2007

three hundredth

Sitting in Autumn doing Christian-y stuff involving sheeps,cinammon sticks and red candles.Looking out the window at hammocks and fallen leaves.Women heaving and panting their lives away.Sunset being forgotten in the background.Empty bottles of sparkling burgundy don't match the kitchen tops.

He knows too much.
But I'm glad I still have the ability to write in a manner that is almost indecipherable.Makes me feel Da Vince-like.

And if I'm not careful,things will totally fuck themselves come December.I'm not going to mention names or situations,but I have a list under my bag of (hidden) candy of several possibilities.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

marmalade fires

I was there
when shining ducks
and pink midgets
were thrown into the sea

I was there when your voice
said to me
'I like to watch the rise
and fall of your back,darling,
as you sleep on your stomach
with a towel on your head'

I was there
when the luxury of the gods
was handed down to man
who sold it off
to corporate.

I was there
when your beanie fell
as you sang a muddy hymn
into the beggar's ear.

I was there
when it became too hard
and too easy
for you to handle

I was there during it all.
I was there,I was there.

Friday, November 23, 2007

I cant decide what I love about fall the most.
watching leaves dance as they fall to the ground,finally free.
the way my skin grows twice its size.
or how we're drifting feathers in water going their seperate ways.


Monday, November 12, 2007

i listen to celtic music and imagine my father is the only kind of sound that equates to that kind of feeling.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

a little bit,sometimes.

i like the look of 'i want but can't have'.i actually love those looks.they remind me of songs,smiles,things that could have been said,what people could have become,and stories that could have unravelled.

it could be potentially dangerous.lead you to do silly things that you should do anyway to get some kind of closure.
i have that look right now.
for you.
you know who you are.

Saturday, October 27, 2007


  • 9 Crimes
  • Teardrop
  • I bet you look good on the dancefloor
  • In the air
  • Gold Lion
  • Dig
  • Go with the flow
  • Lion's mane

Hopefully,this will be us.soon.

Friday, October 26, 2007

i know i'm a mess that he don't wanna clean up'
fiona apple-

makes so much sense,that line does)

Friday, October 05, 2007


Its the little things in life that make us do terribly maigcal deeds.No matter who you are,you never forget who you were.This is not about turning a new leaf every time you hear a song that moves you,its about life reminding you to keep the old one somewhere so it can't hide.I threw my bag down and glared at him,and he glared back,his eyes as big as his head.And then the shouting began and all of a sudden I was 10 again,being shoved into a corner trying to escape this newly evolved monster.No matter what happens,where I will be,what will happen to us,he will always manage to make me cry.Always.I cry because I don't understand the unfairness of it all.How far will I be able to stretch myself till I become inelastic and deformed?How many times will my own flesh and blood storm away from me?

So this is what dying feels like.Unable to breathe,your bones popping out,you retch but nothing messy happens.Your handwriting becomes squiggly and jaggedy and you don't recognize the person in the mirror.

I wonder how I always manage to jinx myself.The second I say 'life is good',something I can't grasp with my fingertips happens.Life will always remind you that the old leaf is still right where you left it to go frolick in the plagirised version of heaven.

Monday, October 01, 2007

the shepherd's dog

Sitting listening to Sam Beam as I simultaneously look at the concert pictures.I am so fucking glad in a kind of unbelievable way that he's flesh and blood and not just a figment of my imagination.I actually reached out and looked into those very humane blue eyes.Ashley's like 'ooh crush' and I'm like 'ARE YOU KIDDING?'.I would rather gladly babysit all 4 of his children if he wanted to go on a honeymoon with his wife.The level of respect I have for that man has quadrupled since the other night.My legs hurt,my feet ache and I'm spinning,but there are no words to describe how my mind feels.Physically or emotionally.Every song etched in my mind,my brain twisting to become a new shape that defines the music I adore and the people who make it.Sam,Devendra,Sigur Roz,MAW,YYYs.So many others.They will change constantly,but thats ok.

Memories are here to stay.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

the abdomen.

i'll be waiting,singing.

Monday, September 10, 2007

we love and hurt and love again.we play bad notes that sound perfect to our hearts.
and yet,we be.


Tuesday, September 04, 2007


I miss the spaces you leave behind.
There are holes where you once were and my house looks like its been gnawed at.I walk through them and wave my fingers in their shadows.Not entirely sure what I feel about it though.A sense of loss,I suppose,but a good kind of loss.Like a piece of jewellery that misplaced itself,thus ruining your favorite bracelet.You keep that little piece,the one that caused all the trouble,and even though it did,you smile everytime you look at it.
We're all about the "I's" and the "we's" and the must-haves and should-nots.Never occurs to us how reflective we are,that there will one day be an end to the manner in which stories are told.That one day,we will stand in front of a complete stranger and see ourselves.That one day,everyone will have the same story,so there'll be nothing to say.And we would live in perfect,mindless silence.Walking in curved heels,carrying thin suitcases,eating raw apples.A place where people would connect through the ridges on their fingertips, and the angle they turned their heads at.Or through the number of sound waves in the air caused by a disturbing earthquake in Siberia.

He touches her collar bone,jutting out disproportionately at him.She responds by sucking in her breath.He studies the neat veins throbbing in her left hand,as she looks at his unpolished shoes.There is too much disbelief in the air,anticipation as to whats about to happen.Its quick,and no one says anything.The clock doesn't even chime 12.He breathes in her ear as she stares at the maroon and gold cieling.If she could just get her hands to find piano keys...

Friday, August 17, 2007


There are things I really wish I could do.Sing,draw and have the power to persuade people are some.I would hope to persuade them through singing or drawing.The best I can do is highlight what I've already written,or hum a ponderous line of a song.In the end,what matters is the end.The part where people reconcile after the turkey dinner fight,the father comes home safe despite the thunderstorm,the girl who manages to not miss her flight and the girl bestfriend makes the boy bestfriend the best lasagne ever.An end people spend their whole lives preparing for.So that when their last breath is leaving their body,they feel like they found something,something worth living for.That one something that made the ending worth ending.Like after the rain,or when lovers talk.

Friday, August 10, 2007

he prays for me.
and i don't even know it.

but sometimes i do.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

you pierce my skin
like a mosquito enranged
and suck on my soul
till your blood is satiated.

Monday, July 16, 2007

In a perfect world,they will acknowledge my existence.

whoever you are.

I make a mannequin every night,small enough to fit the both of us on my twin-sized bed,big enough to be you.Encrypt little key-words or gestures here and there to constantly remind me that I am not alone.Kiss the invisible hand lying on top of mine just as I'm being pulled into the land of dreams.Write names in corners on white-washed walls where the only things accessible are my fingertips.As callous and indifferent I have become to things,know that I am always there.I will always be sitting somewhere innocuously,reading or writing,and maybe even dancing.Watching you,ready to pile up matresses to ease your fall.I will always know what it feels like to have you around,although I may resist showing it on many occassions on end.It is like a picnic on the beach,where you've had so much fun that you're tired.A good,happy,God-can-kill-me-right-now-and-I-won't-even-feel-a-thing tired.Know that I will change,moreso than even I can imagine,and moments like these will become rarer and rarer.But most of importantly,know that I love you,and its truths like these that you will have to extract out of me from time to time.Unknowingly,like you have now.

Tere ishq mein,tanhaayian,behlaayian.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

I'm excited.When the rocks dig into my feet and I ignore the pain as I run towards the water.When odd people single me out in a crowd because of my atrocious gazes.Or when I talk to a certain someone under a tree for as long as it takes to not come to a conclusion about anything.And then I'm excited about ohw accurate the music is at these meaningless high points in my life.In an instant,I could be a bluebird,or an Icelandic dialect,or even a long forgotten traditional song that reminds me I have everything I could ever have wished for,so I have no reason to complain.Love,friendship,nature,music.
And then I don't.
Thats when I'm most excited.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Sandy Point

'Silver clouds aren't rainbow clouds,they're rain clouds!'Right,Zahra Khala?'

'I don't know.Maybe you should ask God'.

'God?Who's God?'

'You don't know who God is?'



Monday, July 02, 2007

I love how formal we are.
its insanely unreal.

thank you.
good luck.
its been nice.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

among ourselves.

Closeness is a relatively less-used word when you're trying to figure out other things.What is it that draws you in?The lines on the face?The way the eyes look when the light is just right?Or the dream catcher in the window silently observing the memories being made,that were once probably dreams,or may now become them.

I'll see you soon.

Monday, June 25, 2007

is that alright,yeah?

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Skin turning more and more brown even though the sun is well-hidden behind ivory clouds.Fluffy,disconnected ivory clouds.I wonder why you can sit outside here in June and not there.The guitar in this song strums rather ordinarily,I can imagine any Tom,Dick or Harry playing it.Yet the little man has done it again.The little man who may or may not have made it with the long-haired girl.I can't wait to get out of school though.It'd feel so good to run in this wind.I got silver disco shoes/heels.The ones my father says will make my posterior bigger than it already is.He forbade them so I wore silver flip-flops instead.With matching earrings and eyeshadow.Time is contagious,and everybody's getting old.I feel like jumping up and down to this song (*points down*).

Must it make you smell like
Fruity nuts and good grains

*jumps up and down*

Friday, June 22, 2007

svo hljott

I think there's a lot of mud being thrown around,for no particular reason.Because of Mani,there's been a lot of calm and peace in my life.So much so that I don't remember how to deal when shit hits the fan.Which is kind of problematic at this point in my life.From what I gather,I've been proud of how steady me and my brother have become as people.How level-headed we are when it comes to things,after all we've been through.Most of the times I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't there to keep a check on me.Such is brotherly love.
I fully realize who he is and how much potential he has at becoming something or the other.I respect him,his ideas and his morals.The scars that decorate his skin run deeper into his blood than they do mine,and him being his amazing self constantly reminds me that he is most of the time stronger than I could ever be.
And then there are times when we're both stuck as to what we should do.We sit and brood in stunned silence and bite our lips and shake our heads and sigh at helplessness.I hate seeing him upset,I can't even begin to explain how much.He's a good kid who's been fucked with which is why he fucks up in general.And still keeps his head.Sometime I feel time is running too quickly for us to catch up.Days and weeks like moments and minutes pass.Then it slows down to a complete halt.Like winter afternoons,when you don't know when the sun came up,when its going down,or where the hell it is anyway.Its all a blur.

I pat my brother's foot as his eyes unfocus from a thought.I can't even say 'It's going to be ok' cuz I know it won't.Sometimes when things go horribly wrong,'ok' just doesn't cut it.We both dream of separate lives,where we'll have no one but each other to worry about,we know it'll be the best that way.It always has been.Away from the parents and societies and concentric circles that never seem to let us out.I wish for everything and everyone to be calm like water.I want her to be understanding and unbiased and him not to be two-faced and stubborn.For them to realize that sometimes you just have to let go.Or else we'll be gone one day and they'll have nothing to grasp but the stale air we've left behind.

can't take my eyes off of you.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

high control

When you have many secrets to tell,you hide under covers so no one finds out.It could be a dumb thing,but no matter.Its still a secret.I think if I ever told anyone what thoughts sometimes enter my mind,they'd be shocked.Simply because of who I am.Naive and goody-goody.But I feel like I'm about to burst with intimate details of lake talks and insomnia.

'Why have a dual goal?You'll just end up having to deal with duality in every aspect of your life'

He was so right.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Normally when I get pissed off,its pretty simple.Just stay the fuck away,and no one gets hurt.But maybe because I'm having the most weirdest week is why I guess I'm the one who should stay away from everyone.I am developing a very unique ability to hit only raw nerves,just for fun.Its not getting me anywhere,and its definitely not nice to tell people off when you're the one who should be told off.I am doing the one thing I absolutely despise other people for doing.Complaining.

But why it works is cuz I have absolutely nothing else to talk about.Kya ghar se kaam,kaam se ghar,school,paisay ki kami,pizza.That's the truth of my current state of social life.I don't know what to say when people ask 'what's up?'.I mean,wtf am I supposed to say to tha?I got stuck in 29 traffic cuz a dumb fuck hit a deer?My only friends are probably the pictures of random people on my wall.And Lacey,cuz she doesn't really care and we watch old VHS's at her place.But other than that,koi bhi nahin hai.Moe,Chuggi,Beebs,Manno,Mani,Rasti,Saba,Complan.Sab ko naraaz kar diya hai.

When Mom gets pissed off,there's a certain stench in the air.I've always been the defensive/emotional one when it comes to fights.I tell people theu don't understand,which is mostly true cuz it makes perfect sense in my head and I'm in no mood to explain.Fooki says I don't have a big enough heart to take comments.I looked at him weirdly cuz that was possibly the only comeback I had.I blame my gene when it comes to taking criticism,which is probably why I shouldn't even think about being a celebrity.Imagine how many hours I'd spend in the bathroom crying if someone commented on my extremely volumized hair.

Yes,that is exactly how shallow I am.

Friday, June 15, 2007

The stars in the sky just don't compare to the stars on the ground.
I love you,Lahore.
I guess we girls have a thing with pouting.
Its a lovely little narcisstic feeling.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Victory Rose

I wish they knew what they were doing to me.
Right at this time.
Right at this very moment.
Where if I close my eyes just the right way,I can see the sun setting in the horizon.
How I have no fear in falling off the cliff I'm standing on.Because the horizon is the last thing I'd have seen,their music the last thing I'd have heard,the earth the last thing I'd had touched.Nothing could be more sacred than this..nothing.The sky above me,the water beneath me and the universe inside me.I want every moment in my life to be defined by the vision I just had.A view so absolutely peacful that it would make me crack helplessly inside.Make me feel like I am nothing compared to what I'm seeing.Just imagining how beautiful it would breath-taking.They feature nature in their videos,nature,my favorite thing in the whole whole world.Even more favorite than chocolate.More than writing,more than being.Nature.Something you can grasp and nurture and blend in with and it will do the same to you.Grey skies,green fields,sharp rocks and the wind.Oh,the wind.Standing there,I will be the wind.And again,every happiness that may come my way,I can only hope it brings me this feeling of absolute contentment,the way this music has.
Thank you,for having a falsetto and for bringing our dreams to us.

Monday, June 04, 2007

Everyone grows up singing.To nursery rhymes,cartoons,television advertisements,then finally,to songs.I always used to overlap words,roll them up in my tongue,basically hear them wrong so they would take the form of a new,mythilogical and exotic meaning that you could interpret at your own will.It was wonderful.It was the world where lyrics couldn't be found on the internet, more precisely I didn't know what the internet was.A world where two-minute previews summed up a version of the entire song in my head and I would sway all along the house singing lyrics I thought would possibly fit.It was wonderful.And so goddamn depressing when I found out what it actually was.'Oh';would be my reaction.Now everyone in the world knew what it was and what it meant and what it should mean and what words do fit.I wouldn't say I was crushed,more...down if anything.But then of course came the feeling (with older years) that wow,maybe someone in the world is singing the exact same line from this very song and possibly feeling the same rush and emotion the music pounding in my ears is giving me.


Wednesday, May 30, 2007

coral pink

It has to be completely silent in order to write effectively.The pepsi must be kept in the shade,the squirrels must be perched on their branches and the sunlight must make the bark of the huge tree its canvas.Shadows must be hazy and inaccurate on the mulch-ridden ground,cigarette butts and broken branches scattered artistically among the green grass.

It is too late to go anywhere now,the slow-setting sun is playing with her golden brown hair.Smooth,plain,with no dire consequences.She has nothing to do but to hunch over and look at the weary trail as he flashes aluminum foil in her eyes,making her squint.She sings quietly;
'My baby is red bird
flyin across the sky
My baby is a bluebird
learnin how to ful-ly'

He throws a rock in a puddel,dirty at that.The wind slowly drives the fleas away.He pauses, studying every line God put on her skin.
'You're a child of the soul'
'You have wheat in your hair'
She stared,feeling shivers down her spine.It wasn't fair.
His hat flew off,hiding somewhere in the messy field.The beat got faster and her foot started tapping.By the time he got his hat back,she was gone.Her hair ribbon stayed though.

Some things know when not to leave.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Sometimes,if I'm sitting alone and thinking about what to do the very next minute,I can actually feel the dirtiness of my feet.Like when you don't put on shoes while going to the bathroom,or when the stairs need vacuuming,or when you're lying on new bedsheets.The feeling of being impure yet humane is something I will probably never understand.

He enters the elevator,smelling nice,red hair pushed back and shoelaces tied.He knows he must get through this,for the sake of his friend,and it really doesn't matter anyway.For once,he was neither high nor sleepy.Best make the best of the free time he had before he crawled back into his lair,back into his world of elephants and drawings that meant nothing to no one.

You know,I always wondered what you might've looked like when you were a child'
He didn't even realize there was someone else in the elevator.She giggled.
Beg your pardon?'
'Its your eyes.They're big.And big eyes tend to stick,you know.'
'Never mind'

Silence,as the floor turns from 13 to 15.
He clears his throat just to feel the air vibrating.

I'm not going to go into how happy I am to meet you or how wonderful your music is or how amazing you might be in person because here you are standing with me and that makes you more human than I am.Plus you're shorter than I expected you to be.'
He breathes silently.Sometimes..well,many times,he didn't know how to interact with people.Especially when they didn't mention his music.

15 to 17.

You're going to lose a die-hard fan if you don't say something quick.Not that it matters to you but I'd really like to know if you ever come out of that little box of yours'
He swallows hard.Maybe he should've been high.
Are you going to the roof party?'
'Heh.Look at me honey.I'm a tall girl alone in an elevator with my favorite singer in the whole world.If I'm being a total bitch to him,do you think I believe in roof parties?Negative.'
'Some party you're going to if you're dressed like that.'

19.And the elevator stops.

Have fun.And if you're lucky,I'll remember this lovely conversation till I can't remember anything else'

The elevator door closes as he watches her saunter off down the hallway.
6 more floors to go.

Years later he wrote 'Lovely Conversation' for the world and she knew.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Someday,I'm going to make movies.


So it is the evening of the 25th of May and I am frantically getting ready,obviously wanting to look my best,and Lacey is raising her eyebrow at me in the background.I know its going to be a classy affair,the cello and acoustic-ness just shout it out.I dress up and Lacey dresses down to balance me out and we're walking out on the streets of D.C.She knows her way around,so I follow.We stop at Coci to eat,which by that time I'm freaking out and muttering under my breath 'we're late,we're late,we're late,we're late'.So she gives in to my whining and we start our 'long and perilous journey' to 6 blocks down the road.I'm walking fast to keep up with her long legs as she leads the way and motorcyclists make their way noisily past us.We stop at 17th Street to wait for the light to green for pedestrians when madam decides she wants a smoke.So we're still standing and waiting and I'm absolutely exasperated because its five minutes to 7 and I know there's going to be a line and I have made a mental note to forgive her if we're late.I look to my left while thinking all these thoughts,and watch the people on bicycles creating a sort of breeze for me on that hot evening.I look at the most amiable one of the lot,and my stomach does a funny flip flop.It's Damien Rice.

I look at him strangely,causing him to wink,smile and wave at the same time.I am astonished at how well I recognize him despite the fact that he's completely dressed as a tourist.Obviously,my mind is unable to form any sort of word combination till after he leaves,after which all I can say is '*pant pant pant pant* it's HIM *pant pant* I SWEAR',and Lacey being Lacey doesn't give a rat's ass and the Indian woman standing with us at the light gives her that 'you-do-realize-that-your-friend-belongs-in-a-mental-instituition-and-not-on-the-streets-of-D.C' look.So basically I'm skipping my way towards the venue and Lacey's smoking in my face to calm me the fuck down.

It is exactly the kind of classy I thought it'd be.Seated hall,lots of wine,and dressed-up couples.The stage is dimly lit with (electronic) candles and I'm sitting alone with a bunch of couples.He comes on stage wearing the same shirt he was bicycling in and it causes me to grin,cause I obviously know something no one else does.I don't think I need to go deep into detail as to how completely amazing the entire experience was,people shouting random stuff from the crowd 'My boyfriend is in love with you!' to 'I'll have your babies!' to 'Your initials make you a doctor!'.It was a much more entertaining show then I expected it to be,minus couples making out and the fact that Lisa Hannigan and Vyvienne Long weren't there.Yet it doesn't change the fact that he's still Damien Rice.He was funny,energetic,angry,comfortable,and breath-taking in all his glory.I hope he climbs further than he intends to.

And she may cry like a baby
And she may drive me crazy
'Cause I am lately, lonely..

Thursday, May 24, 2007

the joy and misery-

Ruin your freckled face
by standing in the sun too long
Sing with your golden lips
that coffee-smelling melody you do
Jam pebbles between
cracks in the concrete
Watch the ripples expand
from the disturbance you created
Fix your tilted head
to avert those dull eyes from me
Carefully stack the spring
in your already full closet

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

the music isn't real unless you don't believe in it.


Sunday, May 20, 2007

I have figured it out. You don't always need to 'get' people. Because if you slightly even try to, you're either surprised or disappointed,or both.
This is especially in the case of the goth who listens to techno and the brother who doesn't turn on the flood lights like I do.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

the father

Me and my father have a very love/hate relationship.I got everything,from his stubborness to his generosity to his stupidity to his poor use of words.But I have the fiery personality of my mother,which is obviously why we clash.However,I do retain that I am the only person in the house and probably even in the world,who gets along with him at a most amazing level.I'm a very showy person when it comes to feelings,I have no regard for anyone when I want to point out a mistake or something I don't approve of.Same goes for showing love.I still occasionally like to sit on my dad's lap,and I have a way of getting things done my way.But its only very very rare that I say thank you.I think people throw out their thank-yous without thinking of the deepness of it.So I retain mine for only very special moments.Here is an example of one such rare moment,and how my father is as nonchalant and aloof about the world as I am.

'So that was a really nice talk.Thank you,daddy' =)
'Man, I'm hungry.This sucks.'

(oh well)

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

His face was too big for her hands. She couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.Not like it mattered;they'd still be the people who would make everyone wonder in awe.They'd still be the cloud of purple smoke that surrounded mysteries.She would continue to love him for all the wrong reasons and he would too;even moreso.The pictures that made the others cringe,or compete,would all be framed and hung in a little personal library of bizzare memories.


Tuesday, May 01, 2007

find me a darcy.
and an english country side.


Saturday, April 28, 2007

So I'm sitting in my comfortable little abode most people call a bed and listening to Six Organs of Admittance,(whatever the hell that means).They're just playing around with a single tune,and its just making me wonder how they can't get bored within the three minutes,thirty second time limit of theirs.But no doubt,its wonderful,they're wonderful,very soothing music,get it ASAP.

Actually,I'm no one to be giving music advice/suggestions nowadays,I'm listening to psychedelic folk,a new-age hippie music of some sort,and all of the artists are scary looking.Very Jesus-y,bearded (in the case of men),most probably don't shower and girls wear frocks their grandmothers probably wore when they went to school in the gallows.They all like to drink red wine and wear capes while they sing,have tons of natural light around them and as quietly as they possible can.Touring in places like Poland and fucking...Russia.But of course,the world is constantly discovering new things and wanting to want to know about things no one knows about yet,and nowadays its psychedelic folk.I don't know what I'm trying to say,but I'm making sense to myself and really,that's all that matters.Anyhoo,so these people are like,nomads in the Great Americas,moving from place to place,giving interviews in wife beaters and bandannas and all of a sudden,people from the Rolling Stone,Elle and Jimmy Kimmel want them.I don't know why I'm talking about music.Maybe because Devendra is staring at me from my wall and thinking 'what the FUCK am I doing here'.I swear I placed him in the most awkward position on my wall so he's the first thing I look at when I wake up in the morning or come up the stairs (cuz my room's right in front),and since he's all tan and dark-haired,he scares the fucking bejesus out of me.I mean,its possibly his sexiest pose ever (apart from the tree climbing one),but yeah.He does kind of look like a child molester,and the funny part is I think he's cool with that.Then there's this Lily Allen look-alike who's all dolled up in neon pink,yellow and blue and she's winking at me,and it just makes me wonder what the FUCK is up with my wall collage.

Gloss is a must have,light pinkish/nude shades.Shopping is not only an art,its an outlet.I am much more of an outdoor person than I ever thought I was.Maybe its cuz I have that environment now.I would be happy living in the woods or by the ocean or in a cave minus the bats.Nature is so fucking awesome.Smells right and makes for an excellent background.

Hmm what else.Met Stephanie today.She hugged me so tight,and she's so awesome I kind of hate her being with Sherif.But whatever,none of my business.Ooh and the amount of drama here is almost,if not the same,as anywhere.Like we were talking about Judi and I felt so proud of how Z just brushed it off and was all like 'Well..if she breaks up with him and needs a shoulder to cry on,I'll be there'.And Salima with her very nonchalant air of going about things.Lacey with her pink mane.Me among it all.

I desperately want to learn the piano.I think pianos are absolutely amazing and the way the music comes out is simply mesmerizing.Plus I want my fingers to feel a tad bit more useful.All they seem to do nowadays is type and punch in numbers on calculators.

I don't know how to deal with goray larkay.Maybe I'm just uncomfortable as to how they're so open about everything.I mean,Ali is too,but he's just always been that way.When Matt hugs me for too long,or Kevin offers concert tickets and coffee and Wheely Boy calls all the time,it totally pisses me off.I guess since I'm not going back I might as well get used to it.

I can't decide whether or not Snape will betray.
Anyone is capable of anything,you know.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

He scares me.In an unnatural and unnerving way.I guess i'm just not used to people ignoring me so ferociously.But like the taste of ginger ale,I'll get used to it.Then,again like ginger ale,I'll drink gallons and gallons and become numb to the taste and just notice what it does to my stomach.

Hokie Hope day makes me wish we had more compassion for the world.Like that Facebook group says 'What happened at Virginia Tech happens everyday in Palestine'.So I stopped feeling sad and stopped having nightmares,I had become so insensitive to what was going on elsewhere.

I've started listening to a lot of unconventional,new-age hippie stuff.Flowery prose,quivering vocals,acoustic intstruments;the works.Dad thinks I will soon want to get very high and dance around in circles with hair till my knees.As if I don't dance in circles already.

I'm forcing myself to write,so I can start again.I don't have anything to say anymore,all words fail me.Everything I want to say is reflected in things around me,the grass,the sunsets,people.I feel like if I even so much as hint conversation,it will disturb the general order of the ongoing world.So I've resorted to the silent listener who cleverly eavesdrops,the watcher who pretends to be uninterested in the passer-by troupe,the joker who smiles at tiny things.Just to be lost in a place full of people.In an airport or a university or in a concert.When nobody knows you and you don't have to know anyone.No strings attached.Just sway with the general flow of things,and there will be nothing particularly unique about you.

I often imagine bumping into someone famous,or remotely famous,and ponder as to what my reaction would be.I would probably chew gum,my ego as big as the oak tree,and walk around till they ask me for an autograph and a picture.

Monday, April 23, 2007

Sometimes I look at him walking, and his feet are disproportionate with his hands. I don’t know quite how to describe it, its like they’re curved outwards. Or inwards. Depends on the angle. And then I think, what am I doing? I really don’t need to go into such detail. Detail is unnecessary. Detail is where we all fuck up in the end.

Friday, April 13, 2007

you're the chocolate,i'm the peanut.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Well I held you like a lover:
Happy hands
And your elbow in the appropriate place.

Friday, March 23, 2007


.so much love-shove.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Talk of yesterday and
She will show her
Brothers photographed
In callous clothes.
Say tommorow and
She'll say come find me
On a beach, and there will no moon.
But say today, and she will kiss your face
And maybe forget.

Talk of yesterday like bargain shoe strings
She will kick the car and find her friends.
Say tommorow and then
She'll describe some old communion cups
And someone's coat.
But say today and she may look your way
And lead you home.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

borrowed pencils

You feel divided when cars pile up at the mayhem of rush hour.When you go shopping yet end up with nothing but a freakin hat and a striped shirt you probably won't even fit in to.Or when you're driving with two fat friends talking about molestation while Stephen Lynch sings about 'superheroes' in the background.

Breakfast at 10pm has suddenly brought about a new meaning in my life.Scrambled eggs,sugar-coated french toast,crispy hash browns,buttery biscuits,fluffly pancakes.Asians who can't pronounce 'dessert'.Bald waiter who stands randomly.There is no purpose to some things.Kind of like borrowed pencils.You know you're never going to return them,what's the point?When do we really start convincing ourselves that this is it?No reruns,no second chances.A memory is made and thus we are to live with it,wishing,hoping,praying, that things weren't the way they were.If only I was 18 instead of 5.If only Bush wasn't elected again.If only..if only...And just like that,you're sitting on your front porch one fine summer day.Your cat in your lap,icy lemonade melting quickly,watching the pretty neighbour take her kids for a round of soccer practice.Them making their memories as you sit and rot with yours.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

A day in the life of-

So I've been thinking,and some ten odd years down the line,this is what has come to mind regarding me and my two oldest best friends.(This blog is particularly intended for those who are scrutinizing my blog as we speak,a bit too closely than I would have expected.Enjoy,you)

Occupation:Housewife of flana flana dude ( I don't quite know who he is yet),with two kids.Rich,bored,socializes with other weird rich people.Has a poodle named Fifi.Fifi is stuffed.
Nature:Good-humoured woman,who has managed to retain her overt innocence,her beautiful beady eyes and one hot body.(Yes,I'm gay for her,go figure).She is boundless and big-hearted,laughs easily but still is a tad proper.Has the innate ability to love unconditionally,yet still doesn't know how to hug.
Hobbies:Enjoys applying lip gloss in her free time and shopping for fashion accessories such as gold belts and flip-flops that make her feet look heinous.
Wardrobe:Anything ranging from ABCD to Karma to road-side random darzi.As long as they make her look good and know which lace should go where.Ooh Levi's too please,she's very Levi's.
Food:Carrots and samosay.
Music:Omer Inayat,Black Eyed Peas,Sean Paul,Udit Narayan.
Noticeable Trait:Walks with a hunched back.
'Yaar suno..woh na..'(so on and so forth)

Occupation:A lawyer for a huge jewellery company (read Bailey Banks and Briddle),also has two kids with a husband she either doesn't talk to much,or is as busy as she is.(We dont know yet,this is a hypothetical future=p)
Nature:Demure,polite,enthusiastic to succeed.A bit too enthusiastic perhaps.Rarely talks to anyone outside of family (of course that changes when me and manno are around).She loves with a passion she is smart enough to tame into hibernation for at least a several million years.Strictly follows her principles and ethics that even Jesus over-looked.
Hobbies:Enjoys reading,walking,being in control of her life.Fooling with her hair,dieting.
Wardrobe:Calvin Klein shoes,Nine West purse,Coach wallet,Micheal Kors pants,Ann Taylor cashmere blouse,Prada glasses,Quartz watch.Always looks like she's just stepped out of 'Office Weekly'.
Food:Coffee,dry stale stuff.(She must stay skinny).(Chocolate hidden deep inside her freezer).
Music:Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan,Lifehouse,U2,lotus music...(you know,music that makes you float).
Noticeable Trait:Smiles without knowing it.
Quotes:'I don't meet without appointments'
'Where's my copy of 'Crime and Punishment'?'

Occupation:Biological scientist by day,actress/director/free-lance writer by night.Married or dating (still not sure,remember this is hypothetical.Manno may not even be hot anymore).Either lives in a big white house resembling a mental instituition or a cardboard box on the street.Loud,spontaneous,clumsy.Goes with the flow most of the time.Pokes strangers,has no inhibitions whatsoever.
Hobbies:Writing,reading,people-watching,make up,designer clothes and jewellery.
Wardrobe:Ranges from sleek and elegant to casual bathroom-cleaning day.Balenciaga,H & M,Chanel,Bebe.Marc Jacobs.
(Except Chinese,Thai and Japanese)
(Except heavy/death metal)
Noticeable Trait:Bursts randomly into song.Out of key.
Quotes:'Warning:Blonde Thinking'

Ten years down the line,no matter how funny, sad,or busy they may be,they will always be the trio that was.And stay that way.I mean,in all seriousness,I've known you guys way too longer than I should have=p.Thank you though,for omg NEVER changing.Accepting me as my crazy,random self and recognizing that I AM the black sheep of the group and that I need to be sheltered and loved and made fun of like only you guys can do.Ok,this is sounding more and more like a public apology straight out of the Hollywood Hills.kbye.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

promise what you will

Love is waiting for a better day.Maybe it won't thrive in frozen ponds and picnic fields where the grass is too long to place the checkered blanket on.Maybe it will be too still next to the broken pearl necklace on the mahogany table.Too restricted alone in the room with the mismatched furniture.Confused when it can't find its way back to the mountains.It needs to jump over picket fences,run into hedges and pick grapes ripe enough for Merlot.Smile into the deep gorge holding a bunch of flowers from the sidewalk.Lights flashing,catching every curve perfectly.The crooked smile,brown spirited eyes.The stuffed animal in the background.So it becomes a picture you can hug.A chorus you can sing.A rug that complements the emptiness of the room.A memory you stash in your already full drawer.A secret ingredient you add as a finishing touch.A wrong road that leads you home.

'we'll meet again'.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007


I am all talk,and no play.This is possibly a confessional post,so what I might say now I might deeply regret later,but no matter.Its about time I regretted something.What to do when you don't know whats important in life anymore?When you think you love,but suddenly realize you have no clue how to.When you look up from your notebook,blank at the person asking you a question you thought you knew.When you wake up from the dirtiest dream you probably ever saw and think about how the hell did that get into your mind anyway,cuz it doesn't make sense,and if it does,is it supposed to mean something?Am I crazy?Is it a possibility?When all you want to do smile and capture moments weaved into nature like only you could.When the celestial music playing in the back of your mind 24/7 makes you think of wonderful things and wonderful people.There is much history when you think about it,carefully,silently,while doing your speech homework.Thinking about little boys with gorgeous smiles who you want to have just to decorate your wall.Sudoku.Calories.Other little,meaningless important things.You don't know where your best man friend is,both of them,and suddenly don't know who to really talk to about absolutely nothing.Cuz its something so complicated.Like hot chocolate topped off with marshmallows,so it covers the open cup like whipped cream on starbucks frappucinos.I consider all the mistakes we make juvenile delinquincy.We cannot and should not be condemned for them.My hero has a beard.My other hero just shaved to show me how he looked.My third hero proved everyone wrong.My destination has water everywhere,and I don't understand religion.The piano is sacred and Jesus is a mexican boy.
The man sleeping in the grass has many stories to tell.
Fear of the Lord drives everyone in circles.
Tiny dresses swish in the 20º C weather.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

dancing hearts

I have the perfect image of the girl in the denim dress reading the Bible by the fire at night.Her brown hair tied in a strict braid,her socks till her knees.Older sister buying jewellery to wear to Church on Sunday,probably cuz she's in the choir.Mother the kind that bakes cornbread with corn that grows in their backyard we like to call a farm.Younger brothers all little replicas of their father,belts,boots,collared shirts and all.Helping him lay out the hay,only to roll in it later.All of them,their cheeks burning with content as they say Grace before a big,steaming turkey.All is well called-for,here in the country-side.Nothing to do but walk the fields,climb the slopes and poke a stick in the rivers and streams.Nothing to feel,but nature at its best,all day,every day.The truck that Grandpa used to drive,torn and worn but working so well.Everyone slipping into white sleeping gowns before they kneel beside their beds and thank the Lord.Indeed,all is well called-for,here in the country-side.

Monday, January 22, 2007

boston marley

He looked sideways and caught her.He stared menacingly,hating how she made him feel,just by flashing those big brown eyes.No words were ever exchanged,nothing.Just odd gazes and accidental run-ins.He wanted to cut his messy hair and and shave his beard just to see those big brown eyes go bigger in delight.But he didn't;wondering if she would ever notice how bad he wanted to.How it would effect the way she looked at him,making him freeze in his place.He stared at her now,hand on his lover's back,convincing himself that this is where he wanted to be.What boggled him,was that he would always come back.Despite the fact that he was already in love with someone else..or that he hated her..or it was snowing outside.He felt guilty when she looked at him and smirked like she knew something.Guilty when he made love to his dark beauty,and it was her face that he saw.Guilty.Guilty.But he would be back again.Tomorrow.The next day.Day after that.Just to revel in the magic of those big brown eyes.

Monday, January 15, 2007

penniless shoes

Indeed she walked,wrapping lilac towels around her,smelling like bougainvillea blooms.She stood for hours on end,facing the dying sun and withering grass,thinking..about nothing even.For surely you only think when there is something bothering you.And not to say stuff didn't bother her.Just not as much as it used to.Or as much it bothered other people.She started doing odd things. Sitting on edges of stools and sofas,just to see how long she could balance herself.Going down the stairs with fat books on her head,then bending to pick up something she had purposefully dropped.Walking with a glint in her eye that no one could tell what it was about.Knowingly making wrong turns on roads so she could see country houses and the smoke from their chimneys..You know,mundane 'other-people-must-do-it-all-the-time' stuff.I suppose she was testing her confidence,her serenity.The reason why she never fell apart anymore.And she knew,that there was no need for pennies in shoes to get the kind of luck she luckily had.This kind of luck,is heaven-sent only,in little sardine cans=).

Friday, January 12, 2007

Sonnet 69

Maybe nothingness is to be without your presence,
without you moving,slicing the noon
like a blue lfower,without you walking
later throug the fog and the cobbles

without the light you carry in your hand,
golden,which maybe others will not see,
which maybe no one knew was growing
like the red beginnings of a rose.

In short,without your presence:without your coming
suddenly,incitingly,to know my life,
gust of a rosebush,wheat of wind:

since then I am because you are,
since then you are,I am,we are,
and through love I will be,you will be,we'll be.

Pablo Neruda

Wednesday, January 10, 2007


Life is a school for angels.Love is the teacher,so do your homework without fear.Death is merely graduation.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

speeding cars

The car pulled up to Tania's flat and Martin was already opening the door,a mug of tea in his head.Tania threw some notes at the driver and walked slowly towards the rectangle of light,feeling more exhausted with each step.She stepped into Martin's open arms and leaned her head on his chest,sniffing his familiar scent of toast,fags and soap,simple pleasures,Martin's smell.

'Hey,' he said gently,juggling tea and a free arm.'Plum tuckered out,are you?'
Tania nodded.
'Hot bath and a stiff Vodka?'
Tania shook her head,not knowing why she felt tearful.
'How about a good seeing to from a blond Adonis who's been slaving over a hot computer for hours and only produced some jokes that Jim Davidson would call unsubtle?'
Tania didn't move her head at all.
'Hey,' Martin said again,'What's up?'
Tania didn't know what to tell him.What was up was that she wished he would call her jaan.