Tuesday, December 29, 2009

when dreams are strange but unforgettable

she was explaining to him how he just needed to listen to her. everything would be alright.

her clitoris took the shape of a perfectly smooth, glittering emerald. i don't know how, that's just how things were back then. the emerald was the center of an otherwise gold and pearl necklace and he watched in silence as she played with the green stone.

she was riding a horse, then. she was lady godiva. but there was no audience this time. just the difficult terrain of a tropical mountainforest. the horse guided itself and she was usually busy playing with her hair. they were trudging along a mountain, steep to the side and brown and green in color. that is when she came upon him. the horse paused, as did the hair-playing and she stared at his scruffy self. he was a dead pirate, but he was also hiding, and he told her how gorgeous she was. when she didn't understand, he showed her. lay her down on the grass near the eagle's nest and entered her. he covered her whole body with her golden hair, so she didn't show shame if she felt it. she kept playing with her hair and looking at him quizzically as he fulfilled his physical needs. quietly. he apologized with almost every thrust, telling her how he needed it to regain his strength and that he hoped she'd understand.

the eagle's nest was empty and the horse almost fell off the cliff.
the end.

Saturday, December 26, 2009


i have a song waiting for you till you make me feel that way.

Friday, December 25, 2009

da dadadadada

*click click* delete. *type type type* backspace, delete. *tap. taptaptaptap. tap* delete.

i am alone on this Christmas. alone with a cup of hot liquid and my thoughts. everyone else is out and about, watching other people act in loud voices and dance to remixed music.
it has been an unpleasant and uneventful year, with too many stories that make me think i'm living a tilted existence.

this song makes me want a lover with a smooth back.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

sweeping insensitivity

they're totally fucking.
but who cares? i don't. i don't care that you don't think i'm all that anymore. i don't care that she's so much prettier than i am. i don't care that i don't care, you hear?
my friend made me listen to this song once, on repeat, and i couldn't sleep all night. but it wasn't my house so i didn't dare shut it off.
you once told me, something about yourself. i loved it. you were so plain and simple, and i was in control. now you've gone and grown up, and i was already grown, so i was left to wilt and wither. i hope you're happy with what you've done, i hope you're able to live with yourself after what you put me through. i wish you happiness, i wish you ill, i wish and i wish and i wish. i wish i had never met you, i wish i had been smart, i wish i could see right through you, i wish i could punch your brains out.

i'll have you know one thing- no one messes with me, and gets away with it. no one.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows.

Friday, December 18, 2009

the winter of my discontent

She stared with her bony neck out the window at the snow falling like rain. In thick, separate drops. She wanted it to be covered, all of it, everything, so no one could see what she had done, even she would forget. The winter wonderland would cover all their mistakes, and spring would bring a different ending to an old story, a new stirring in the bellies of discontent lovers. The piano would take over the as the instrument of choice, leaving the once-glorified guitar to gently weep. She watches as the wind takes absolutely no direction at all. 'Then why should I trust nature?' Wishing on stray stars and dandelions and believing, believing, believing, that's all she did. It was all optimism, and little else. Time was running. Her fingernails clawed her face so she could direct pain elsewhere. The angel inside her was begging to come out.

11:11pm, I wished for everything to be ok. Is it, then?

Monday, December 14, 2009

for hub III/ digging

guess what I found?
our very first conversation. on paper. from four years ago.
I believe we were sitting way in the back of a too-small classroom. according to the paper, we talked about salinger, poe, wilde, beckett, stoppard and rimbaud. oh, and I beat you at tic tac toe.

home is-

-where i get to be in pjs for as long as 4 days without a care in the world.
-why i don't have to answer my cell phone/tend to my laptop, because i have the best excuse in the world.
-the smell of parathas and achaar and lots of gosht. and the opening and closing of dhakanns because i just refilled canisters with kachi daals.
-watching winter change from solid to liquid to fog and back again.
-where my health food cravings are fulfilled.
-where i actually don't have any friends.
-the number of times mother will talk about a single thing in the span of 24 hours- 72.
-where i am spoiled and then brought back down to Earth in a single minute.
-about who gets to claim the comfy leather sofa complete with cushions and blankets that is in perfect view of the television.
-about television and lots of it. (i'm addicted to Law and Order).
-trying to fix bent relationships with family our age through lots of drinking and gallivanting.
-wanting to exercise but failing miserably cuz dinner's in 3 hours and i need to pre-game for chappli kababs.
-where my fear of basements began and still prevails.
-hanging out with the only sibling till he kicks me out of his room. then writing things on his door.
-the cheesiness that is nova radio.
-where my clementines are already peeled for me.

home is where the heart belongs, even if it doesn't want to.

Saturday, December 12, 2009


you know what, I'm just going to quit. I'm typing like I'm mad at my laptop, but I'm not, really. I'm going to quit because if there's anything I hate, it's dealing with an old problem that wasn't even mine to begin with.
fix things, and then talk to me.
and I know you're not talking because you don't know how to fix.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

for hub II/ yellowcake

I had a dream that I hung myself, like Bonnie in The Virgin Suicides. I have the shoes she was wearing, you know...the exact same ones. It was all obviously very strange. I also had dreams about cars with names of people I know as their number plates. That sentence didn't make sense, but nothing does nowadays. The migraines won't stop, and the guilt pangs won't stop. I blame it on pms most of the time, and it usually works because no one really gives a rat's ass. I remember why I couldn't swallow the pill. The water was too cold. I used that as an excuse, can you believe it? The water was too cold. How silly. If I had taken it, we'd all be better by now.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009


'Look at this stuff,
Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you say my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you say I'm the girl,
The girl who has...everything?'

Monday, November 30, 2009

it bothers me that it doesn't bother you

I am thankful that I even have the option of leaving everything behind. Him, her and him. I understand that life won't change drastically, but it'll change enough so I'm familiar with a different country's transportation system.

When his bed smelled like sex, I sunk in. The mattress drowned me in its wave-like bedsheets, and I died with pleasure. I watch as the roof falls on me, I watch in wonderment. He sighs happily, one strong forearm almost strangling my neck. I kiss his temple (my favorite place to kiss, ever) and outside somewhere, a cloud breaks its silence.

We used to swim in the rain, we swam to each other everywhere. Then I kissed his eyelid.

He unknowingly yet lovingly played with her earrings that were in fact a present from another man. He was unaware of the things she collected, probably because she herself was quite unaware of the sentiment that should entail with such an act. There was none because she had none. When once in a blue moon a thought occurred to her, she frantically called a bunch of numbers, either reclaiming but mostly returning leftover things. Sometimes it got to the point that her apartment didn't smell like hers anymore. That's when she would clean ferociously. Bedsheets, blankets, sweatshirts, underwear were all thrown in the washing machine. The vacuum cleaner came out. The dishes were lemon-scrubbed, the carpet-less floors were mopped. The bathroom was sanitized and the curtains went behind their hooks to let the sun in.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

i'm a satellite heart

My breath makes spherical shapes in the cold, love. I'm moistening my lips, readying myself as I walk, no float, towards you. The stars are crisp and I float briskly. My heart is twice its size. I know you'll have the Casorzo ready, and a fire burning so I can dry my hat and scarf and boots that the snow has made wet. I'll sit with my legs folded, my braided pigtails shining in the orange light. You can watch my eyes catch glimpses of different things in the room, and the plush rug where my socked feet rest will change its colors as we converse through the starry night. The wood will die, but we'll be long gone by then, asleep and away, adjusted to each other's fetal shapes. I'll hold your hand, maybe, perhaps, when I'm too unconscious to tell the difference between right and wrong.
These thoughts fill me up with warmth as I float towards you.

Thursday, November 26, 2009


'Just say I want you, just exactly like I used to,
Cuz baby this is only bringing me down.'


Tuesday, November 24, 2009

for hub

it's ok. i'm a strong, brilliant, funny woman who broke a boy's heart, who in turn broke mine too. It's ok, i can get through this. it's not like i don't need him, he is charismatic, sincere and very intelligent. i just don't know what i'd do with myself around him, so i let him go. he had to go. he had to go, right? i can get through this, right? right. i'm a strong, brilliant, funny woman, who is now going to go make some pancakes for her baby brother.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

all systems are go

You just ain't receiving
Your phone is off the hook
Your doors are all shut

I think my body is ready to get out of here. My mind left ages ago.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

someone has a lot to say

you know how there's always one place for certain things? wristwatch on the bedside table. cell phone on the dresser. chapstick in the abyss of your purse. And then one day you think 'maybe i should be more careful with my things' and you decide to put it in a 'safer' place only for it to get lost (because you couldn't have put it anywhere but the bedside table/dresser/sink top) and then it's gone. Lost forever. Hearts are something like that. we're all scrounging about looking for a safer place, bad judgment clouds our vision. our hearts are lost and our souls are empty.

coffee is cold

We drove late that night, later than usual and farther than we normally go. Snow Patrol was oozing the usual sappiness and we were following the car ahead of us, deeper into downtown than we thought. I was having conversations with myself, half-asleep, half-sad. The wet grass woke me up as the eleven of us walked towards the Hill overlooking the city. The view was a mix of emotions, smoke billowing from factories at 3am, orange lights turning night into day, war hero statues dancing in the dark. We had to go elsewhere for the stars. A place where even the moon didn't shine because the forest was so thick. Some of us dared to take a leap into the darkness, others complained about the need to piss real bad. The clouds descended slowly, we were unaware of them encircling us because we were so excited. Lines shot through the stratus ones, lines that indicated that we may be too late. 'At least when I said 'I love you', I slept peacefully. Even if I didn't mean it'. No one responded because no one heard me. We fought the urge to sleep even on the way back, singing along to bad rap and pathetic pop because it was so uncomfortable to doze off. 'Still looking? We're back in the city now, it's useless,' someone said to my gloomy self. I merely sighed in response. I looked till my last stair had been climbed. Nothing. 'Oh well. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't see anything. I wouldn't have known who to wish for to say fake 'I love yous' to anyway'.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

all's fair in love and moodiness

winter clogs my window. i can't open it when the sun finally shines after 4 days of utter gloom.

He is irate and callous tonight, dinner was a quiet affair. she doesn't have the energy to dig him out from under him and frankly speaking, her ego would rather do other things. The chicken was too dry when she took it out of the oven. He didn't complain, even though she did. One of them is always complaining. He reassures her of her beauty, her blackest eyes, her brown, brown skin. He is fascinated with her anatomy, night after day, day after night.
But he gets to himself, his skin turns inside out, and it is most uncomfortable to be him and around him. 'I hate it when you don't talk to me,' she said, arms folded, eyes averted. 'My heart beats, my chest rises and falls, my thoughts race, I'm ready to scream at you, but I don't. I never do. I let you be. I'm just a gypsy with wandering eyes, and all I can give you is all of my love.' It was probably nothing, she now thought, this slinking in and out of conversations and reality.
He would slink in and out of her conversations with herself. It was probably nothing, this worrying and fidgeting she did. He stood in little pieces, talking to her picture. Thoughts left his mind as he walked on calm water. In and out of past, present, he couldn't stop touching her. He laughed at her once, when the eyelash she was trying to wish on wouldn't blow away. 'Someday, you'll believe,' she had said. And now they slept with their backs to each other and he believed. He'd whisper in her ear after she was fast asleep, he'd have entire conversations with her. She'd wake up and look over at him, thinking why they couldn't have normalcy when they were both awake.

When they first met, she was with another man. Dancing like she didn't know how to, her skirt in a careless mood. Their eyes had met and she looked adoringly everywhere, so he knew he wasn't the only special one in the room. It was the frivolity that did it for him, he had never met a scattered adult quite like her. The way her hair had to be tamed when she was laughing too hard and how she hummed in broken French with such surety. He'd have difficulty keeping up sometimes, the constant running around as if one was on a perpetual high, but he did it anyway. Too much solemnity in his life had closed him up. They'd switch poles, he'd listen to her cry and watch her sulk in corners, she'd sleep to his guitar sounds and rise to his making breakfast. Interchangeable personalities are always dangerous when they're around each other. And they were around each other all the time. Sometimes danger doesn't need a reason to happen, then.

Monday, November 09, 2009

now here's the sun/moon, it's alright

Come on, hide your lovers
Underneath the covers
Come on, hide your lovers
Underneath the covers

Sunday, November 08, 2009

post self-destruction.

She wakes up, still very tired, on a sunny mid-afternoon fall. The bed feels lumpy and smells unfamiliar, the bedsheets are a deep blue. Squinting, she hits her head on the low roof as she gets up suddenly. Someone is breathing next to her, she feels a heartbeat reverberate through the mattress. A face, slightly hidden under the sheets, it is her best friend. 'I slept with my best friend?' her shock is too bewildered to voice itself. She closes her eyes and opens them again, and it is someone else, not her best friend. She is sad and relieved at the same time. 'Did I want to sleep with him? Did I want to wake up next to him? Maybe I was dreaming'. She dreamt of Gene Wilder for sure though, pretending she was Charlie and the chocolate factory was hers. She kept saying the lines in her head for the rest of the day:
'And so shines a good deed in a weary world.'
'Where is fancy bred? In the heart or in the head.'
'We are the music makers...and we are the dreamers of dreams.'

She stomps acorns as she smokes, a child and an adult at the same time.

Friday, November 06, 2009

if it wasn't for your maturity, none of this would've happened. if you weren't so wise beyond your years i would've been able to control myself.

Monday, November 02, 2009

'Run until your lungs are sore
Until you cannot feel it anymore'-

isn't this so sad?

As always
I'll assure you
It's the last time
That I'll leave you
Until next week
If not sooner
I'll at least wait
Till after dinner

answer: yes, it is.

we were sparkling.

There used to be a tree where we took our pretty things. We'd hook them by a thread, golden egg lipstick and feathers, pieces of glass, chandelier baubles, and empty bottles of wine and watch the light shine through.

I'm afraid to forget you.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

you want me?
fuckin' come on and break the door down.
i'm ready.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

convince yourself to be happy


and well, he's here throughout the week too

like he spends every other night, and then they go somewhere every weekend

i should just have a random fling for fun


....can i be there to witness it please?



my boss recommended it yesterday even

matlab keh, hadd hai




she was like, try it hira, life is so much better with sex in it

i promise you!


ugh, so not true.


hahhaa haw

why not?


sex unnecessarily complicates things.

it's like bono said: with or without you

once you have sex you're like 'shit i want this stuff ALL THE TIME'


so are you recommending global celibacy?

oh hahaha

well then


kind of like having chocolate, but you don't want just a hershey's bar for the rest of your life

so you look around for different kinds, types, flavors, concoctions.

that's where the heartbreak starts.

so then you're like 'fuck man, life was so much better without chocolate'


... now thats an analogy


ek second, copyright karne do.





Sunday, October 18, 2009

To Whom It May Concern

could you show me dear,
something I've not seen?
something infinitely interesting.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

i wanna be adored

i feel the shape of his very full lips kiss me on the forehead goodnight. I am asleep and alone, but my mind thinks about forgotten tree graffiti and empty bottles thrown in the ocean for other lovers to find and keep.
i have to put a lock on my brain sometimes because the Thought of you gets pretty wild.

Monday, October 12, 2009

he said

'you don't do grays well, do you? it's either black or white, or nothing'.
she nodded in earnest agreement.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

saturday lazy

you know how you lie in your room with your feet crossed on the bed and your body lying on the floor staring at the ceiling? that's how i spent the daylight part of my saturday, listening to this song on repeat. my heart was beating fast, partly because of spontaneous running in the drizzle and partly because i was thinking about you. and how this song was just an awakening in my mind, like a tiny light that grows and grows till it blinds you. it was telling me to be excited. to smile.
because there are many adventures waiting quietly for our arrival.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

this is how friends talk.

nothing....just.....i've been thinking about you...a lot...
and my tragic flaw?haha
what flaw?
i've been thinking about your skin, and your flesh...and your hair and its smell...
and your lips, and your breath....and your hips, and your legs...
even though i almost never want to kiss you?
it might upset me, but that doesn't mean I don't love you or desire you...
why do you never want to kiss me?
i said almost never =)

I'd be crazy not to follow where you lead...
so now we're all here, standing in the quicksand staring at each other, while the seasons and the leaves change, but our hearts remain the same.
so he likes you, huh?
i...i think so..
i think so too, by the way he talks.
where have you seen him talking to me?
i don't know whether to love technology or hate it.
pick one, and make that a start. and you'll eventually find where you belong on the spectrum
*shrug*. somewhere in the middle, then. oscillating according to circumstances.

....so how much do you like him again
why the shrug.
I..don't really want to talk about it...
why not?
because it's you? duh.
I have to face the prospect of you leaving me for him.I think I have a right to know how you feel about him.
I don't...it's complicated, i suppose.obviously.
yeah, it obviously is.
long distance has fucked both of us up so we don't talk about it. but yes, i like him. i liked him even before i knew anything.
heh. i'm expendable then.
what do you mean?
if you CAN get him, you WILL leave me.
you asked me a question, and i answered you.

do you remember what was on my list of 5?
open discussion was last.
open communication, yes.
do you understand what I meant by open communication?
not really. you never explained it to me.
it means not hiding yourself away from the people who matter to you.that everything is there, laid out in the open. That there is no chance for deception, misunderstanding, betrayal, hurt. it helps avoid a lot of negativities.
well then.there you have it.now you know every.single.thing about me.
do you love me or not?
i do.

but i like him.
i really. really. like him.
now what.
you say you love me.and I believe you.but I know it.you're going to leave me for him.you're the one who said it...in the end, you might come back to me...but I AM going to lose you.you're going to make me lose you.
how can you love me when you KNOW that's what i'm going to do?
because I have always loved you.I have always loved you, and now, it's all I know how to do.
it wears me out..
we're no longer kids, love. Please is not a magic word that just makes things happen.

i'll stay with you.forever.
don't mock me.you know, you actually NEVER take me seriously.
i'm not fucking mocking you.
"fine, i'll stay with you forever?"
i'm giving you what you've always wanted.
to hell with what I want.like i said.my self-respect is nothing compared to the love i feel for you.
and I will stay because I respect you.
then you stay for nothing at all.
you don't stay for the happiness. you don't stay for the care and the concern, you don't stay for the affection, you don't stay for all the times I won't talk to you on the phone, but I'll dial in, you don't stay for interlocked legs, you don't stay for weekend sleep-ins, you stay....for nothing.
those things will come when the self-destruction subsides.

i see you loving him. and you love him so much.and he's the perfect man for you.he loves you too.he knows how to hold you.how to talk to you.how to not pull at your hair.how to walk away when you need space. he will know better than I ever hoped I would.
and all of this WILL be waste.
i wonder who's the pessimist now.
you know, people always told me relationships were about climbing. you're with someone, until you find someone better, and then you move on. I always said they were wrong. I guess the jokes are on me now.
I'm not being a pessimist.He seems more sensitive than I. More intelligent. He plays the guitar just like I do. He has a grace with words I cannot even shake my fist at. What do I have, but my devotion? And even that, he'll most probably surpass, if the other girl can be taken as an example. not that he'll need to. You won't do to him what you did to me. You'll be much more careful with him, because you'll both be fragile, in your own ways.
and all of this WILL be waste.
bed time.
disregard everything I said, huh?
no.take it to heart and cry to sleep.

You seem to not be happy with me. You seem to feel like there's something lacking. You aren't sufficiently satisfied with this relationship, it would seem. And ALL I want to do is make you happy. I want to feel loved, and nothing else. I do EVERYTHING I possibly can that I think makes you happy....and yet, i'm not meeting the criteria.so please. Figure out what it is, and let me know.
what is it about them that isn't about me?
there's obviously something about you that you've stuck for so long too, love.
there's something about me. but there's something that isn't.

trying to decide what to wear
wear something smart?dress like me.
i'm wearing the grey and black striped sweater vest, my red skirt, my black suit coat and black booties.
sounds smart.

no i want to wear a dress
because my butt's big
fail. your butt is awesome. and please. are you going to the talk to show your butt to people?
the blue retro one with grey shrug and grey heels.
no. you're going to listen, and hopefully speak your mind.
umm, if my butt looks good, they're going to take me seriously.
umm, if your butt looks good, they're NOT going to take you seriously.they'll be more inclined to take you seriously if you look seriously serious.
no,no, they'll think 'wow, she knows what she's talking about AND she has a nice butt'

Monday, October 05, 2009

post-pms musings.

i'm losing control.
with people, with myself, i'm drowning deep in the folds of peril. i keep listening to sad music, keep watching my life happen and not living it. I want to give you anything you've ever wanted. I want to be there to squeeze your nose when you can't breathe. I want to be your breath.
When you die, I want to come home alone and put out the fire. I'll sit in crowded places like airport waiting areas around Christmas and candy stores around Valentine's, I'll pretend I'm waiting for you, like I'm waiting right now. My fingers will frequently misplace keys and memories and I will get used to apologizing to strangers. I will sit with old friends and let them do the talking. There will lots of wordless music.

He makes her cry then says 'Buss bhi kar do rona'.

Saturday, October 03, 2009

crazy on you.

If they ever cared to look up past the tree, they'd see her, naked in the flesh. She clutches onto her bed sheet as she stares into the purple night laced with silver clouds. Naked everywhere except for her eyes. Her eyes are fully clothed.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

i like warm beds and contaminated love

the night is windy and people won't shut up.
I hold your orb filled with illuminated love, till I 'accidentally' drop it and all the silvery liquid pours out and seeps into the earth.
I can't sleep, I am smoking and singing instead.

Monday, September 28, 2009

little girl, don't be sad.

she writes to him furiously, even though he is dead.

'The bedsheets refuse to smoothen the creases you've left in them. I sleep in the hollow of your wake. I'll try my best to not wash the sheets until your smell is stale and rotting and I just can't take it anymore, ok? I understand, you know. I get your weird hair and the fact that you have to bend down to listen to me speak. What I don't understand though, is the different ways in which we hold each others' hearts. I hold yours like a grenade, my soul is ready to throw it as far away from me as possible. And you hold mine, like one holds a newborn baby's head.
It's really stupid, you know. I've been making your shape out of the infinite pillows we have and sometimes I roll over to kiss you mid-dream, but all I end up with is feathers in my mouth and nose. Funny, right? I knew you'd find it funny. I don't know why I keep bringing up all this bed talk. I mean, really, it's silly. Mostly because you always wanted one, but then you left, and now I don't need one but I get up sometimes (mid-dream of course) and think about how right you were. This bed is too small for me alone.
You remember that one day you were pointing your finger at me? (Playfully of course). And you said you could never understand how quickly my facial expressions changed, how if someone didn't understand my words, they would understand the contorts of my face. Well, darling, now that you're gone, I'll tell you exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking 'well here's a good man who irons his own clothes and feeds the kittens and kisses my shoulder blades (mid-dream), and I've done nothing but hurt him. It made me sad for a day like this. When you'd be gone and I've have a plethora of honesty bundled up inside like knots and I'd write letters addressed to nowhere hoping they'd reach you. I waited for this day, darling, and here it is. Here I am, there you are, where are we?
I love you'

she writes to him furiously, even though he is dead.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

saturday nights

it is 2:51 am pouring rain outside, and i just don't know what the fuck i'm doing in life.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

in the morning and amazing

We take our crying eyeballs and let them afloat in the lily-ridden pond. The golden fish pick at them, their colors fiery in the bright moonlight. Now that we've lost our sight, maybe we can be happier people.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

no one ever said it would be this hard.

it is easy to fall asleep with him, it is easy to do almost anything with him.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

pleurosis/blue roses

She skips up the steps, her body is lithe. Her voice is that of someone who once understood love, and now understands its consequences. Like hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. She is ardently graceful and willing to learn your language. She speaks of you; with a calm, unwaveringly hushed tone. She speaks of you as if she has solved life's greatest trivia, like how deep is the ocean really, or how high does the sycamore grow. She cares for this careful behavior, you see. Her body language is controlled and practiced, but it's in the eyes that tell the tale of her journey. It is there where you understand why love fills in strange gaps like those between our toes, and those between oceans.

'I want your flowers
like babies want God's love'

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

i've done wrong-

i've been a bad, bad girl.
i've been careless with a delicate man.
and it's a sad, sad world.
when a girl will break a boy,
just because she can.

Monday, September 14, 2009

for lovers and jerks alike.

i am becoming what your silences and your words fail to say. semi-prose, dancing to comic relief background music, there are also things i will never say. i will fold into individual coils, pack myself in purple cellophane and sit on a shelf till some poor unfortunate soul picks me up to admire my manufactured beauty. my face contorts, my muscles pull themselves in pain, we listen to each other's melodies in different time zones. there is no way out of the messes we make, no matter how many escape routes you(yes, you) plan for yourself even before you walk in. if only the rubble and broken glass could keep nature from growing. with every new spring come a fresh wave of tears and remorse.
i want rainbows to sprout from our feet when we walk hand in hand through graveyards on rainy western winter days.
but alas.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

be still, my beating heart.

Tomorrow I will leave you alone. Promise.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

'say goodbye'

we share hearts and beds like kids share popsicles.
sans inhibitions.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

i stole this because it's true.

How do you explain to someone you think you love that they're just not enough?

Yeah, you don't. You say you’re sorry, instead. You hope that makes up for something, and you hope you two are strong enough to survive. But deep down, you know better. You know that once something’s broken, it doesn’t matter how much you try to fix it, how much you want to fix it, you can’t. Nothing is forever, and nothing changes. Either you live with what you’ve got, or you chase shadows.

i will stare at you till you pass out.

Between white cherry blossom trees and dead ones, we're careful acquaintances. Knee-deep emotionally attached. ( Your tiny hands, your crazy kitten smile).

Amber dexterity. 

We open up buttons that contain and restrict our passions. They make our blood-shot eyes explode. (Artists high on color. No fumar en esta area). We do not make eye contact with the lonely even though we're all afflicted with the same disease. (He has the answer. What was the question?). Blood bleeds out of cracks in sidewalks. She runs through the fields, her dress as green as June grass.

Friday, September 04, 2009


'It's not the same, love. Bending may be better than breaking, but it still fucking hurts. Let me tell you something, you there, with your penis dangling sadly in front of you. You are one of many. There are many who dream and imagine and hope that this is it, their chase has ended, I am what they think they want for the rest of their lives. They look forward to waking up every morning so they can stare at my bare ass and praise the Lord as to how 'lucky' they think they are. They conjure healthy households with intelligent conversations and late nights with lots of fucking. They think this is it, because they've been programmed to think this is it. They're ready to yell at balconies to the pretty maiden occupying it, they're ready to cross the distance of 2 hours or a plane flight of 8, because everyone is so used to getting what they want. Their penis is so used to getting what it wants. Their heart is trapped inside that little one-eyed snake's head, and mine is strapped onto my sleeve, outside my body, bleeding but it never stops beating, the sonofabitch. You know, love, if the heart wasn't involved, for me at least, things would have been different. Maybe. Who knows. One can never preach or talk about things they don't know. I'm just really tired of this constant cuddling with insignificant strangers. In the end, it's pretty much all about how much I hate sleeping alone, and how much I love dancing, and how much I want to stop looking at myself from a third person's perspective and just accept the fact that I deserve to be happy. Hell, everyone deserves to be happy, even those penis-clad assholes. Contrary to popular belief, I'd just like to open my eyes one day and not spend 15 minutes of my life wondering... why.'

Tuesday, September 01, 2009


years from now, we will sit down together
and i'll tell you exactly how much i've loved you
and we'll join heads and cry-
in ode to memories we forgot to make.


She opened one eye to look at him in the dewy morning sun. He was staring at the ceiling.
'You make me happy from a distance'
He looked over to glance at her.
' We can be each others' temporary distractions till we find permanent ones'
He blinked.
' I know what you're thinking, and who about. And I'm ok with that'
He went back to staring at the ceiling, and she to sleep.

Friday, August 28, 2009

See In You

She wiped the leftover rain from the glass with longing in her eyes, and watched him watch her through the haze. The subdued colors of their souls are barred by this glass window. He fogged it up as much as his hot breath would allow, and drew a heart. She shook her head very slowly, then tilted her head. He went away, came back with a wet leaf. It had a lady bug on it. 'Luck,' she thought. He almost grabbed the pretty pretty bug (she thought), but it escaped, like most people and thoughts do. He looked at her through the glass again, his olive green coat trembling in the wind. She turned around, wondering what Klimt piece she wanted to show him. 'Water Serpents II,' she said to herself. She tore off the piece from her wall and held it up against the window. He leaned in, touched the color seeping through the rain drops. He looked up at her, her eyes glinted because of Klimt, he knew that. He had always known that.

He moved his hand away quickly though, for fear that the colors would bleed to death in this merciless weather they were having. His fingers were white, he had forgotten his gloves on a train somewhere. He looked back and Klimt was gone. Took her with him.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

U.S Gov Clusterfuck.

I wonder if he's actually insecure. I wonder how hard he stares at the door, waiting for her to open it, somehow, maybe, perhaps. I wonder if he ever sees me beyond my pictures and my words, if he has any idea that there's a fleck on my otherwise porcelain skin. There was much speculation, earlier, about having to own up to your actions. Many bad dreams ensued, a deformed Romeo and autumn that would always stay. I suppose he observes her angular bed movements, his blood getting warmer and warmer under his very thick skin. He glances at her sideways, never head-on, he is careful and scared of what these angular moments mean. (Politics of emotions is an intelligent game he plays). I also suppose he makes her shape out of thin air and chases the dust she leaves behind. I feel sorry for himher (more him than her, really).

Then The End Happens.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

i don't mean to close the door but,
for the record,
my heart is sore.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

give me the keys to your hiding place

she lay there, quite spent, the thought of him too much to contain all at once. If it was not for the very toothy grin, the sometimes sideways glance and the loneliness she felt in the rain, her colorful curtain would never have to struggle as much as it did when the wind blew. She let things go, now, for long stretches at a time, temporarily immersed in a world that didn't exist in this one. There were tenses and dirty dishes rotting in the sink, the world whizzed past in sights and sounds. Smoke rings and waves formed a halo around the mustard bed as her thoughts wandered upwards over the mountain. It was all making sense, now, this growing up. It meant being someone who you feared you'd become your whole life, and living with it. It meant cutting out neat shapes of the people you loved and hanging them in your room, never to touch them again. It meant buying hoards and hoards of books, because humans just did not suffice. It meant all those things you saw in cinemas and heard in stories, all of it combined, wrapped neatly in cellophane paper.

(flick your cigarette, baby, kiss me)

Thursday, August 20, 2009

you wanted a blog post? here you go.


Friday, August 14, 2009

someone retorted another someone about Radiohead.

'I assume he gave this interview while in the fetal position, twitching gently back and forth on the floor in the middle of his darkened bedroom.'

What, turn out the lights? They find you in the dark.

( brilliant)

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

theme song of the day.

One day I may disappear
Don't be too surprised
'Cause I get tired of
Noisy alarms
and phone bills

And I don't think we're meant to stay here very long
I don't dream of bringing heaven down not like this
I'd rather move on

One day I may go for the longest walk
Don't be too shocked
'Cause I get tired of
Sneaky societies
and combat boots

And I don't think we're meant to stay here very long
I don't dream of bringing heaven down not like this
I'd rather move on
unfortunately, it is very easy for me to forget about you. about everyone.

Monday, August 10, 2009

I lay on the itchy grass, sweat and all, but there were no clouds to watch. I'm giggling out loud now.

you have not been paying attention

Arachnids know perfect geometry.

Friday, August 07, 2009


him: He never quite knew what to do with her fingers.
They were tapping, now, on the edge of the table, as she picked out a meal.
He just sat there, transfixed, both by their delicate rhythm, and the silence. Always the silence. It had grown harder, recently; the pauses between their syllables more marked, the barbs at the ends of their sentences more pointed.
And he wondered why it was that they traveled in such tightly contracting circles, as if love collapsed, like graceless, lifeless equations, simplified to a single point.
'No distress'" she said. 'Not this time.'
So he put his fingers away, and stared at the coffee.
her: Some day.
When no one is watching
I'm going to steal you, and put you away.
So I can be the only possessor of your stories.
him: That's kind of you.
her: I will put my ear to your mind, and let the transmission begin.
And only stop when rocks turn to glass.

Monday, August 03, 2009

yes, ok, and, alright.

There is a pause between love-making, a pause just after foreplay and right before the final stage. A surprise bite here, an ominous lick there. Where you hold the others head in your hands and you gaze far too deep into their eyes. You see everything, want, need, must-have, should-not. You see love and desperation, but nothing as to who the person really is. This pause seems like eternity, you see. Sometimes I feel it lasts in your memory longer than the love-making itself. Even though it is pitch dark and all you have to go by is your own hyperventilated breath. Even though it may be the moment you lose or gain something you thought you never had. Even though it is not included in what they tell you when explaining adulthood.

Even so, there is a pause.
Find me that.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

suits and ties and suicides

The universe is emotionless. On one such emotionless night, the sky was in a particularly playful mood. Clouds gathered like thick, cramped puffs of silver smoke in a sky-shaped blanket, and they decided to move in a horizontal fashion to fuck with the minds of mortals that like to gaze up from time to time. One such mortal, a distinctly dreamy, holes-in-her-soul type, gazed up like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, was caught in the silver linings. She threw down her rope and fruit on the concrete and rushed to the nearest grass patch she could find. She lay there, watching the little puffs pass by, the moon peeping through them from time to time. ' Its like heaven decided to swim today', she mused at her friend. ' Oyeeee you're not supposed to lie under the open night sky like that!', her friend exclaimed. ' What? Why?', she asked. ' Souls of dead people are wandering around at this time. Its better if we don't invade their privacy by staring so intently', her friend informed. She looked at her with utter disbelief. ' Preposterous', she mumbled and let the moon shine its borrowed light on her dull skin. ' It's getting late, we have to be home now anyway', said the friend. She had already gathered the girl's rope and fruit and waited for her to get up. The girl let out a big sigh of frustration and begrudgingly followed her friend home.

Many years later, too many years later, the same sky returned. The girl, with even bigger holes in her soul than before, didn't care to glance back even once.

Monday, July 27, 2009

lights out

'Sometimes when your father gets upset, he likes to go out for a walk', she said to the wide-eyed, nodding children. They watched her warm body move like spun silk in the kitchen. Her bangles tingling as she moved inanimate objects around. Their identical heads of jet black hair turned and ran as she told them to go pick out a book for her to read. In the meantime, she was busy perfecting the tea she was making for him. Honey-flavored green, with sprinkles of cinnamon. The cup protested delicately when she stirred the wet leaves too fast. She calmed down and pulled her shawl closer, glancing nervously at the clock. She could hear the children bickering playfully and laughing. The night wind howled at her pristine glass windows. The sound made her deathly afraid, although she'd never admit it, as she went to draw the curtains. The children did not dare to ask any questions as she silently tucked them in later. They searched their mother's eyes before the dream chariot approached to take them away. She cleverly avoided inquisitive innocence. Lights out, door closed, and that was that.

He came home when the wind stopped howling. The tea had long been cold by then, particles settled at the bottom. He looked around at the unwavering, empty house and slowly made his way up the stairs. She slept there, in his bed, at the far end of one corner. 'I hate you', he said, but she was already fast asleep.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

you are the flower to my cactus.

I will be edgier and blockier. We can keep playing these games and you can keep chasing me till the barb wire net tears through my soul and pins me down. You can pick me up by my broken wings and lay me on a branch to pass away in silence, like we do with the butterflies we tamper with. I will make you do things you thought could never be done, stir your passions in the wake of silence.
Someone told me you had oceans in your eyes.
I take my shell cup and drink till my lips bleed.

Monday, July 20, 2009

no service

You bite through the big wall
The big wall bites back
You sit there and sulk
Sit there and bawl
You are so pretty
When you're on your knees
Disinfected, eager to please


It's bad that I don't really pay attention to peoples' names around here. I just conveyed a message to a guy who's name I think is Jeff, but I can't be sure. I took my chances however, and it turned out to be right! yay!
But then I forgot who the message was from, so back to square one I guess.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Videotape in reverse


red lipstick afterparty

So the first ever happy hour went quite well, thankyouverymuch. Subtle coworkers spread their wings when they shed their silk ties and slip out of heels. We stood in the aqua green alley talking about Jews and Gujjus and models and stealing each others' fries. It was fun, and really nothing to blog about, but why not at the same time.
I found a bottle of Casorzo. That's in italics because people know how long I've been looking for it. Cost me $13 but its going to be goodgoodgood. refer here .
What else? Peech is back from the beach thank GOD. He is currently air-drumming to Mashuga right on my head. He is shirtless, very very dark and explaining the connection between math rock and metal.
This weekend will be good for unwinding and thinking.

Current mood : Orange was the color of her dress, then silk blues- Charles Mingus

Friday, July 17, 2009

i did some quick calculations, and even though my heart sinks as i say this, its weird to admit that it is friday. already. this week has been one very long day, i don't know how and when i get up and out, change or eat.
I walk really close to walls in hallways, and I smile inside at childhood memories.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Don Ramon Red Wine

makes for Mad Men and Happy Times.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

buttered popcorn

Hart is caged behind a thick wall of bamboo sticks. Talk to me, please. Before I peel away the sides of my eyes and my lashes fall like autumn leaves to the ground.

She dreams she has become very little, and walks around wearing a white tent, housing people who don't have one.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

does 11:11am count?

Wait for it. Everything is going to spill forth momentarily. I concentrate on words such as 'Print Screen' and 'Dr.Guerny'. I am jaded, fixated. Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon. Everything is that much more relate-able right now. I feel every pore open and close, the heat generated in my face and my fingertips from the green tea I made. Looking, but not seeing anything. I am so, goddamn scared for my life. I honestly don't think I'm going to survive for very long. Does it matter, then, whether my casket is royal blue velvet, or whether I know how to ride a horse or not, whether I pick at the lint on my shirt or just leave it there? My existence is cubical. We've got heads on sticks. I'm not sure if I want to be the one doing the ordering around, then later be responsible for consequences. Turn out like Madoff, Palin, Cobain, Bhutto.
2:46 minutes into 'All I Need' makes my blood run faster in my body, and my hands clasp firmly together in prayer.

Thursday, July 02, 2009


while you are away
my heart comes undone
slowly unravels
in a ball of yarn
the devil collects it
with a grin
our love
in a ball of yarn

he'll never return it

so when you come back
we'll have to make new love

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

standing inthe shadows

Kid A is a spaceship landing and humans emerging as aliens, exploring Newfoundland. They touch everything, they stare at each other from the corners of their eyes. And they talk in a mystical, computerized language. They find a crying baby. They look at each other. They throw it in the air, the baby cries. They hold it upside down, the baby cries. They jump, gravity-less, the baby cries. They hide in a cave to get away from the noise. They find underground water, it is aqua green. They dive in, helmets and all. Its a beautiful sight. Everything is illuminated here, and they wonder why the baby cries. They swim, touching, giggling. They emerge, wet and slimy, and follow the light of the sun out of the cave. It leads them to a cliff, and the crying is echoing in the valley. The helmets cannot keep them safe any longer. They finally board the spaceship, and blast off. The baby giggles at the disappearing fumes.

a day in the life

Nobody realizes how difficult rolling is for an on and off smoker. But by GOD cigarettes taste delish with Red Bull. I tried explaining to Majid that I quit smoking right after I started and the pack I bought 2 months ago is still pretty full. Oh fuuuuuuck I just burned the plastic off of something. See what I mean? Definitely on and off. So yeah. And I don't approve of it for lots of other reasons too; emphysema, yellow teeth, my lover doesn't want me to. But then I get this weird paranoia where I'm just me watching me and then I have to constantly keep my fingers busy doing something or I'll die. Like just, die. For example, went fucking ocd on my room, its spotless.
I swear this is so weird.
Could this be a divine revelation from god? Cuz I swear there's an angel standing watching me roll. I gulp my red bull nervously. Yum. Caffeine, cocaine. I took the recycling out though, good girl.

Ponder ponder ponder, I just want to write one-liners, put them in a top hat and pick them out at random to form stories. Or rows of houses that bear down on me. I opened the window and it closed on me. It always does that.

The burnt plastic made a string out of itself and its whisking away in the wind.

Unfortunately; interaction in necessary.
I'm pretty sure I'm not going through a massive heartbreak or any mental diseases, I'm just unbelievably jittery and I'm not sure I want to be here right now. I actually miss home a whole fucking lot. And I just realized, father's day is Sunday AND I'M SO EXCITED TO GO HOME. Even though my father's a pretty big...ok I'm going to refrain from going into personal life because...thats nobody's business but mine. Next question.

Omg right now I'm just thinking the train I took from London to Lincoln and how magniificent magnificent magnificent this tiny world is. I'm so so thirsty, what the hell.

I picked a magnolia flower (I've decided on a magnolia tree in my future abode) and I've been meaning to take pictures with it, but I just haven't gotten around to taking pictures period. So it wilted, for obvious reasons, and died.

Monday, June 15, 2009


Its amazing how much clarity chaos can deliver. The only thing missing is some good pot. Otherwise this would be totally awesome. I'm just lying straight-legged in bed listening to music in the dark. Did I mention I'm in the dark? Every note, every sound is that much more vivid. I can't believe how still I am. Ugh, weed would make invisible colors burst in the dark. Blast this straight-edginess.

i can't promise everything's going to be ok

'I've become a fantastic liar and a master at avoiding confrontations. I wonder if there's a God above, and whether He's laughing or crying..'

Sunday, June 14, 2009

people cry for their lost childhood in the dark.
tonight we drink to youth.

Friday, June 12, 2009

lay where you're laying.

Ignoring her mother's yells and screams, she ran towards the storm clouds. The gray/black encompasses the sky beyond her outstretched hands, and she yells happily at the powers above. The field explodes into a blaze of fresh green color.There is no repair here. There is no remorse, no lonely men with cigarette butts to talk to. There is a fantastical being present, ominous, bright and full of peace. She hugs herself as she twirls around, waiting for the baptistical rain to fall on her shining face, windmills far into the east turning faster and faster as the storm approaches. Her torn summer dress fades as the colors of nature take over.

Then she hears the rumble of the worn red truck, and her brain pops itself. The sparkle is gone, the twirling stops. She quickly looks back, no summer clouds, no windmills, no nothing. Just the average summer evening on a farm. Her father is home, and before he discovers her standing carelessly, she runs as fast as she can through the (first non-existent) corn field. She hears him yelling for her in the broken windowed house, and she keeps on running. She runs where the field connects to the forest and climbs the nearest tree. Then she quickly jumps out and hides into a bush. She recalls him having found her in a tree once, and how he had tied her to his bed with his belt and held her down with one arm while he did what he always did. Her eyes were blindfolded that time, but it didn't matter. Its not like she wanted to see what was happening anyway. Its times like these when she thought of her mother. How she would much rather prefer that yelling than this yelling.
'Come home', she whispers into the bush leaves. 'Or take me with you'.

happy cycling

its really good to break away from something you really want/need/deserve for the happiness of others.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

2 t

come on if you think you can take us on.
you and whose army?

Monday, June 08, 2009

technical difficulties. please try again in 10,9,8,7 seconds.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

i think i could understand

i don't know what else i can do to try and keep this family together. i don't know what i can do to stop my mother from crying, to ebb my father's flowing rage, to try and work past my brother's aloofness. it is so so so so hard to try helping a helpless situation. all i can do is come back and clean the neglected...home...talk my mother out of her depression temporarily, be the little girl i was to my dad to try and make him feel better and pick my brother up from work. i don't know who he is anymore and it scares,maddens, depresses me. i know its been worse, and it can be worse, but when it hits you... that's when it feels like the absolute worst. this has never happened before. I don't know what else i can say to him, how else i can approach him to make him understand how fucking obnoxiously selfish he is. i treat him like a child, he doesn't want that, i treat him like an adult, he can't handle that. i don't know what happened, when and why he became like this and when is this all going to just stop. i don't want to hate coming home, but right now i just wish i was under the ground instead of above it.

Thursday, June 04, 2009

impulsion bites to kill our yawns

I am here, this is me, eyes half-closed staring at the monochromatic door in front of me. I am caged in. The air is hot and heavy, but the light has never shined brighter or clearer than in this tiny, monochromatic cubicle. I see everything that was and everything that may or may not be.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009


I'm reading over and over and over and over again so I become immune to any feeling that thinks it can make its way into my heavy heart.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

your sex is on fire

I have a friend who has a friend who is deeply in love with his friend. Complications arise just because they are merely human and I'm not sure how to react when I sit and listen to him pour his liquid heart out.
There are things meant to be said like streaks of black smeared across one's cheek. I swim like a fish who's forgotten everything. My dreams take me to waterfalls and jungles where all the snakes are dead. Maybe it is time to be that different light that people can't deny seeing, to lurk in cracks of wooden floorboards, to twist my body in angular positions to let the flowers inside grow.
I am late on everything. To realize the importance of people and feelings, I'm just going with the flow. There's no concrete decision that I plan on planning on.
High on a fever.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

day and night

the sky bursts into hues of rusty orange and I cling to my lonely shawl for support.

Friday, May 15, 2009

for better or for worse

another goodbye.
I stood on my porch watching summer fall down in beautiful white cotton puffs. I was awake in my mind while you watched me sleep. I feel you watching me you know. I'm good at pretending a lot of things, but I feel you even when you are so far away. I woke up really sad today actually. I didn't expect to be this weary, this hollow, cuz its not that big of a deal, right? I mean whatever, its life, people grow up, move on, start over. I don't even know what I'm writing about anymore, I started out with a semi-sentimental thought.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

silent dementia.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

i need to stop.

horrific, horrific, horrific images i've been seeing lately. in the span of 3 hours, i had 4 interconnected dreams. number one. the year is 2012.
i am looking for someone, and i am at the beach, along with almost everyone i know. scene change and we're walking on a bridge, me tenchee and divine. its one of those bridges that you can walk on and drive on at the same time, quite awesome, but its very very big and very long, and all of a sudden..it collapses. right where we're walking. there is a very big mess of concrete on concrete, cars spewed out of control, the sea below us roaring in delight, waiting to feast on yet another human. we are the only 3 pedestrians that are wounded, we are taken care of and then we move down to the beach. the sand is gray instead of...sand-colored, and the weather is smoggy. but for some reason its still nice. i am walking aimlessly and all of a sudden i see tenchee running towards me. 'AMMI JAAN RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, THEY'RE COMING', and i start running. i look ahead at our destination,and its the dark gray/blue ocean.i look behind us and very burly- looking men are at it, full speed. i don't know how or why i've gotten caught up in this mess, but it looks serios so i keep on running. 'TENCHEE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM'
' JUST FOLLOW ME I KNOW WHAT TO DO'. we run into the murky waves and start swimming towards a buoy which is also a lifeguard's hut. we get there before the really tall and brutally ugly man, and the lifeguard sees our panic and calls for a helicopter. the copter comes, throws down anchors to us, but by then the man is there and he grabs on to one of the anchors. meanwhile the raucous of the broken bridge can still be seen from here. The man grabs onto tenchee's hair and she screams out loud, i try to kick him but he grabs my leg. we somehow manage to escape, with him falling into the ocean. i'm still not sure why i was being chased, and even though we'd gotten away, the chase didn't seem to be off.
second and third dream : the year is god knows what, but the city is a mess, just like our lives. i am back from somewhere years later, and much has changed. i go around and meet some people, and i know that my brother lives in this city, but he has not returned any of my phone calls. i realize it has been very long, and he must have forgotten me. i instead go to some aunty's place, where she is going on and on about this magnificent adaptation of 'Chicago' that some young people have been doing and that i should really go watch it. even moreso because the lead actress- Summer, was/would be perfect for my brother, that they had a history and hopefully she lives long enough to see it through. my eyes well up for no apparent reason, and that very second, my brother calls and tells me to come over whenever i am free. i am now standing outside his....house..if you want to call it that. he lives more or less in the slums, a broken column is his staircase. his apartment complex is dark, with orange walls and bulb lights hanging by a single wire. he is smoking as usual, but he is taller now. His collared shirt have been folded up around his forearms and his hair is longer than i remember. we don't embrace or anything, it seems like a very formal, must-do meeting. i enter his place and the walls are orange here too, with high ceilings and more bulbs. there is a red carpet and a bunch of pillows lying on it (for furniture purposes i suppose). a woman sits, she has fiery orange hair and a round face. she is on the plumpish side and she is reading an art magazine. her big green eyes survey me and i look back at her with dullness. my brother sits on the other end of the carpet and smokes some more, and i start talking to him and talking and talking, i don't remember what about, but i know its all in Urdu so this lovely lady doesn't understand a word. she interrupts briefly by saying 'what a nice picture, no?' i glance over at her, and she seizes the moment to introduce herself ' hi, i'm summer. what's your name?'. 'i'm zahra, farooq's sister'. 'oh goodness! i didn't know he had any family left, so nice to meet you!' i look back at my brother in utter disgust and all i want to do is beat the shit out of him, i feel so hurt and betrayed by this orange-haired bimbo. but we are at the age in life and at that point where we just helplessly curve inwards. 'i came to tell you mom's dead'. he stays quiet for a minute, puffing away. ............'oh'.thats when i leave his place forever.
fourth: i am yet again being chased, this time by an old man, i feel like i knew him once. He is small and thin, he wears a traditional hat. But he has a glass eye and he runs very fast, and he tells me it doesn't matter what he wants me for, just the chase is enough.


Definitely in a weird mood right now. Staring at the black ink eyes on my desktop, and playing spinning plates (live please) in my head round and around and around. My insides are turned inside out at the thought of staring at the writhing tree with Thom's voice saying 'crumble' in the background. In limbo is such a great song and I liked the stillness of the station wagon and the chill of the night. I can smell Old Spice everywhere, and I'm not trying to be this...vulnerable. I don't know what I'm thinking, I don't know what I've thought, but its all coming down upon like a devilworshipper's dream come true and I don't know how to stop it.

I had a dream that I was surrounded by pins and needles, and I could not save my mother or myself.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

happiness is a warm gun/ soul mates never die.

what is this constant need for need?
this constant want for something, someone to be present, so I can rest my head on their chest,
making plans to change the world, while the world is changing us. The heart sinks at the anticipation of nothing. Of finding you nowhere. These clouds we're seeing, they're explosions in the sky. Turn up the volume, turn it, turn it, turn it up, drown, drown, drown out excess noise. I'm tangled up in happy sounds with sad meanings.
I've decided, I don't really deserve to be happy. Good people deserve to be happy. GOOD people. And I don't fulfill those standards by any means. Who set those standards is not in question right now. I may keep you entertained, amused, excited. But that's it. Before you decide to refute this argument, just stop to think for a second. Everyone has demons in their closets, stuff they've done that they can never ever forgive themselves for. It might be one's triviality, but its another person's nightmare. I've stopped thinking, stopped wanting to achieve a happy medium. They don't exist. I can only hope to stay suspended in this carbon monoxide air, face upwards, waiting for years and people to pass by without a second glance. I am here for a purpose, so to speak.
I really do miss playing the piano.
I can hear stuff in my head and being able to hear it out loud was something very powerful to experience.

Monday, April 27, 2009

sad eyes

We fell asleep floating sideways on a white foam cloud. Sigur Ros turned feelings into sound. Nothing existed outside the wooden door except us. I don't like the things you don't say, and I love the things that you do. My shape contorts into things you want me to be, or maybe I have always been what you wanted? Your body is warm and taut against my shriveling frame, I huddle to share the blanket.

We don't know what will happen, when and why, if at all, but know that around you, I have completely immersed my soul in love.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

you'll speak when you're spoken to.

Friday, April 24, 2009


1. jhanda and sitara
2. urban warfare
3. radiohead bear
4. some kalma in arabic.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

He lost to her ego
Me go, she go.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

you could say the king is dead

I have a Radiohead poster in my room. All five men are standing in a dark room full of damp cardboard boxes, and their eyes are closed. I don't know what exactly they are trying to say but I extend my imagination into thinking 'Well, now. What a good way to shut out the world'.

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by the colliding thoughts in my head that I can do nothing but cry. And sometimes it makes me glad to know that crying is associated with sadness. There is nothing I can do, to change anything.
So I just sway to my music.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Infinite silence
flowing right in with the dawn
This is wrong, this is wrong
And I cannot sleep without the radio on

i hate rainy days.

I stand on my tiptoes, in open-back slippers, peering into my pantry. I'm standing on the freshly- cleaned counter top, but I don't really care. Right now, my throat feels like it has pins and needles stuck into it, and I am in dire need of a substitute for mother's TLC. There is a debate going on in my head about which soup my stomach desires, is it Minestrone or Rich and Hearty Chicken Pot Pie? Minestrone has a week's worth (ok that's an exaggeration) of veggies and Chicken Pot Pie has...well...chicken. I would want orange juice with Minestrone, and potato bread with CPP, quick calculations lead me to think 'well oj might not be the best idea right now' and 'cpp has diced potatoes in it'. Which one do I choose?
The answer is obvious.
Of course then my mind starts thinking in tangents and it makes me sad how much our lives depend on plasticity and perfectly shaped food products in neat packages with pretty handwriting. The most basic of necessities has been taking over by patriarchal corporate organizations. At the same time I'm thinking 'well if I just let my foot casually slip, I'll fall onto the ground, land on my head, maybe my skull will crack open, and no one will notice cuz my cell phone's upstairs and my roommates aren't home'
Instead I angrily load the dishwasher, stare at the orange going bad and look around to see why I never get flowers sent to me anymore.

Monday, April 13, 2009

she is sure

My lips are the same color as my skin and my hair feels like dry twigs. I feel like if I write down my moodiness in small letters, I could feel more connected to it. Plus I haven't written in a very long time.
Today was a bright gray day. I don't understand how I feel about this fluctuating weather and how its affecting my perception of things and situations around me. All I know is that its mid-April and the sun is not shining in its normal consistency. Also, I think if I tried really hard, I still could not be too monotone all the time. I would have to throw on a splash of red from time to time, I love too much, what exactly, I know not.But I never go around looking for comforts of home. What is home, but a building where certain people live who you are obligated to love.
I have this recurring dream where I have a dress made out of the sea. It is blue and cold and silky, with big holes for arms. It helps me fold you into an embrace and I thank invisible gods for sending you to me. It is poignant and terrible all at once, but at least you're with me.
My final destination.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

its on.

Every time she moves a muscle in her sleep, he kisses any certain part of her body.
Like she is being rewarded for being her beautiful, sleeping self. Rewarded for dreaming, for stealing the blanket, for ...
And so goes this game. night after night after night after night after night.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

She stood holding the door shut long after he was gone. Long after his footsteps faded on the gravel and the engine revved into gear and sped away.
There was room for no more. He couldn't get in.
'I'm sorry' she said to the silent night that was her only witness.

Friday, March 20, 2009

interstellar gender warrior

Right now, at this very moment, everything seems slightly more bearable. It could be because its the first day of Spring, or the fact that I will never stop loving Radiohead, or how my house will always be full of encyclopedias for my kids, or just that I know everything will be ok in the end. Even though its the end, and we don't know when or how it will come, we hope against all hope that it will bring a new beginning. So maybe we're all not struggling for the perfect finish, but for a chance at a perfect start.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

boys will be boys

Zh* says:
oh my god so many of my friends think you're gorgeous
Zh* says:
i mean, i know i think so, didn't know sooo many people shared my opinion
mr bum fun. says:
awesomeeee when can i hook up with them?
Zh* says:
Zh* says:
whenever you come down, jaan meri
mr bum fun. says:
Zh* says:
and i showed one your photography and she was like 'man, if only i wasn't dating jesse...'
mr bum fun. says:
wait do you even have any hot friends?
Zh* says:
...fuck you
Zh* says:
i have friends with personalities acha
Zh* says:
you can stop being shallow now, you're still the class 8 ka nerd.
mr bum fun. says:
yeah but i cant put my wee wee in their personalities now can i
Zh* says:
Zh* says:
omg i love you so much
mr bum fun. says:
aw <3

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

some day in March 09

What do you do when you think its too late to mend your ways? To be forgiven for your mistakes? Modern day Kitty closes the frosted glass door, with failed force. Almost a hundred years later, and we're stuck in the same rut.
My greatest fear my love, is losing you. A man of complacent virtue, a truer man I have not see. But since when has a woman ever loved a man for his virtue? We coexist in parallel universes, my love. I fear I have walked too far ahead of anything that maybe was. I feel your outstretched hand through my leathered glove, and it all seems perfect. Is it? Am I enough? Is this really all you want? When I cry, my dear, it is not for the mistakes we've made, or that the movie hit too close to home, or that you really might not love me as much as I think you do. I cry because I feel you love me far too much, and that in the end I won't be able to stand upright the day they're burying you in the ground.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

quantum dots

Shiny shoes and funky buttons won't really get you anywhere in life, mister. She fans her disease-ridden face, a master at one-liners. The bracelet that is meant to ward off the evil eye had a pretty static effect. Her gaze is fixated on the dry gum some idiot very idiotically stuck on the side of her table. In, then out of focus. Textured, then blurry pink. 'Fudgesicles' she says to no one in particular. Sound waves carry words only she can hear. Spring time sprouts to bring folksy melodies and husky voices that make way too much sense to her confounded senses.
Forget those distances
Those helpless nights
For I am here now.

current mood: Venn Diagram- Lisa Hannigan

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Imaginary Friend

She stretches lithely on her bed as he watches on, nervous fingers twitching in doubt. She allows him enough leeway to witness from afar, but that's about it. She watches him squirm in his chair, as cigarette smoke bellows out of her mouth in flowery prose. She is your average psychotic, secret-keeping artist. Enough laughter to close in a cookie jar and enough tears to feed a town. Later she squints in the mirror. Her boobs beg to pop out of her bra but her face remains slim and fresh. She likes to walk around in her underwear. It makes her feel skimpy and free, and no one's really watching anyway. Her eyes are surrounded by premature wrinkles that will tell magnificent tales later on in life, and her hair plays it cool in the winter. Bold purple letters cover some parts of the walls, spelling out important things because purple is her favorite color.
'Gnarly Barley', she says out loud and giggles.
The music changes, the mood shifts, she's running out of dull colors to describe misery with.

Monday, March 02, 2009


bohot bullshit ho gayi hai.
i don't want to write anymore.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009


phass gayi
its so weird. whenever things get better, they simultaneously get worse.
i know a bunch of this isn't my fault, and here i will directly paraphrase a quote from a movie:
'Its just..when you're with someone so...good......*pause*...it..it makes you feel..'
'It makes you feel like shit. I understand'.

Monday, February 09, 2009

radiohead high

i'm not here
this isn't happening..

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

iiiiiiiii am soooooooooooo tireddddddddddd

definitely in need of more consistency.
one constant : the mother, and thank GOD for that.
so i'm stressing out too much and because of that, breaking out too much, and not really getting much done, it may SEEM like i'm smart? but i'm not really. most of the times i know what i'm on about, but most of the times its a lot of made-up, eavesdropped stuff.
this whole double major thing seemed like an amazing idea, but now the confidence and the ambition is waning so now i'm kinda like...eh..BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH. its unbelieveable!
i love being swamped and being poor and not having time to eat and carrying 17.5 lbs on my back and having so much to do and still finding the time in between to hang out with people i find mildly interesting/influencing or people who just smell nice and then going out and buying princess-shaped spaghetti o's.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

private parking for lonely cities

a city is a city is a city is a city is a city.
no matter how many people you know (according to Sam, I know more than I need to), or how many things you have lined up to do for the day, you will always be alone at times when you'd rather not be.
I've decided I love puddle-reflection picture-taking.
And I have also decided that it does not matter to me how badly you have failed as a human being. As a mother, as a brother and as a father. I sit here right now knowing full well that I am loved, and cared for. The reason I am so blunt, and confident (sometimes) and evasive and colorful, is you. At this moment in time, I would not trade any part of my life (except maybe my thunder thighs) with anything more or less better. I'm obnoxiously proud of having a fucked up family, and loving every little bit of them. I'm now used to making up for people's mistakes, shortcomings, wrong decisions, and down right stubbornness. I will quietly work towards gluing us back together, (if we ever were apart at all), and making the best out of what God has given us. Who knows where our next bread and bed is written? This may be the last time I see you, the last time I eat at this table, the last time I sleep in this house.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

final scene

I am not your Coke-shaped whore.
I am a person with mad feelings. I pour my heart and soul into thoughts and dreams and friendships and intimacy. Like honey into milk. This concept of finality has never been alien to me, yet the closer I get to it, the harder it becomes to accept. I have difficulty relaxing in a room full of bubbles that stare back at me in all their rainbow-colored gloryness. I have unappetizingly clean hands with legible writing. My religion stops at my neck and seafood makes me sick. My only saving grace is that I have something to believe in. But like the moon, this too wanes. My dependency on people is slowly fading and its going to take me a while to actually come to terms with it. Maybe I love you, but I'm not in love with you? Maybe this is all I can say to keep myself from facing the truth: We can't always get what we want. How far can one go for love? When I talked about swimming across oceans and catching stars to sew onto your satchel, how much of that was true? Maybe I don't know it yet (or maybe I do) that it is very difficult to be in a relationship. To truly know the other person and accept them with all their flaws and baggage. To know that this is it, that there is no going back or going forward, this. Is it.

But it all boils down to this. Every time I feel my nose preparing itself for a sneeze, you are my first and last thought. Every time I see another pimple sprout, I think 'well, he will love me anyway'. Every time I am alone (which is a lot of the time, surprisingly), my callous hands take solace in your invisible touch. Winter brings out the cruelty of some, and the hope of many. I have wronged so much, so many times that I don't even think about it anymore. I pretend it never happened, I pretend it wasn't even me who did those things. Because I know deep down inside, whoever you are, wherever you are, you have been mine. Even though we've fucked up, even though we will continue to do so. Even though, this all may very well not happen, the whole...being together forever into infinity and beyond bit..there is nothing I'd rather love to do then swim across oceans and catch stars to sew onto your satchel.

Friday, January 09, 2009

for saph

she collects the hair that falls off his jacket as he takes it off.all she ever wanted was to be released in his locked love.
the time between now and then is forever...and forever was ours ages ago.
she will slip into something sublime, as he slips away into misery, and they'll eventually live happily ever after. like stepped-on rose petals.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009


As she wonders on, he stands in the doorway waiting for her to finish so he can take her home. She exits past him, her flaming red hair in tangles and blood stains on her tutu. He starts to present his monologue, as if ending a well-written story.
' Although she will always deny being the center of his every living breath..she cannot deny that he is the center of hers'.