Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Self involved, self inspired and self motivated; Salman Rushdie is litirary mastrubation. I may be a snob, but the man is overrated and far from exceptional enough to warrant a knighthood. Ordinarly I couldn't care less. A knighhood means nothing to me, nor anyone who matters...not when the likes of Elton John can qualify for one. In that light then, one questions the motives of her imperialness and all the puppeteers who prop up the royal Miss Havisham.

Sereously though, has the Queen actually ever read anything by this guuy? Can I imagine her snuggling up on her throne with a copy? No. I can, however, imagine her as that (racist, prejudice, homophobic) old woman in the Little Britain sketch, who spews out a fountain of vomit when she finds out the book she's been reading is by 'That Indian fellow with the fatwa.' Now that's a more probable scenario.

So Britain gives the all mighty up yours to Muslims, and some angry Pakistani's have gone for a walk together. This morning across the Metro front cover is a burning Union flag above which the culprits appear to be more blissfully overjoyed than remotely angry. To top it off, they hold up tasteless pictures of a sinister bearded man with glasses. In one of them he points his index finger like he's telling someone off.
He thinks: this pose will boost my charisma.
We think: who is this man, and what has he to do with Salaman Rushdie or the Queen?
Perhaps in Pakistan, flag-burning occaisions are a great opportunity for advertising and spreading political propoganda otherwise irrelevant to the subject matter. Imagine...amdist an angerred crowd of fist shaking, flag burning and head bobbing one man raises a sign that reads 'Rajput Honey Mangoes: Vorld Class!'...immortalised on the cover of the Times. Classic.

With all the joking aside, a conclusuion is due, and here it is.

Salman Rushdie is an eccentric who pissed off the wrong people with his desire to pull off something meaninglessly contravertial for the publicity stunt of his carreer. He is also a spineless, ireverant Bastard.

The Queen is a dirty, old un-dying witch, for awarding a knighthood to a man who caused a number of deaths, a great deal of chaos including political strife between the UK and Iran, offence to the extremist and un-extremist alike, and shamelessly direspected the sanctity of one of the largest religions in the world and the memory of a man who was human perfection, all to no apparent end. The world has learnt nothing from Satanic Verses but ugliness in all of its forms.

And finally, to the enraged mob of layabouts who get together at the prospect of some flag-burning activity everytime the opportunity rears its head, our sentiment is this:
By inciting violence and acting like a pack of animals, you are not only affirming the Media's portrayal of Islam being synonymous with terror, but you are also doing the greatest wrong against a man who came as a blessing to mankind. Congragulations, in your attempts to look big as Muslims, you've succeeded in establishing a new low in the art of irony; You've corrupted Mohammad's (saw) message of peace by professing to defend it with your violence.

Monday, June 18, 2007

I am People. Says HR

Apparently writing to Tony Blair about one's life, and then asking him if he'd be interrested in spending a day with you is very theraputic.
Hinna's done it.
Verdict: I laugh till my sides hurt and then decide that I too shall write Tony Blair a letter, detailing all the major and minor goings on in my life, past, prestnt and future. I will also tell him I'm glad he's no longer prime minister and that his wife has a posterior of generous proportions.

There is nothing delicate about Indonesian buffalo skin chips. Why they call it a delicacy is beyond me. The dodgy smell and aftertaste combined with all the gros things Sarah told me previously about how said chips are made, almost made me gag. The office bedlam which ensued was rather amusing though.
Verdict: Never offer Munia buffalo skin chips without telling her what they are.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

We speak the same language but have different words for everything. Baffled, yet strangely accepting, because this gradual estrangement is so effortless.
At the beginning, the master articulator falls silent. When no words come, the frustration brews like something in the belly of the mountains, and only the tears speak, in sudden, torential spells, like summer rain.
I could not move you in any way.
And you? You complain that you could not help me, yet you tell me I should never have been waiting to be saved. You tell me I should learn, I should become complete in myself. You tell me I should mend, change, grow into something harder.
But you cannot will away a void, the depths of which have hollowed deeper over a period of 24 years, in spite of all your convictions about how it...how I aught to be.

Know that I never needed you to save me. I only wanted to be yours, just as I was.

I have no more illusions about my place in your life now.
So I give up trying
to make you smile
to engage your interest
to catch your eye
to communicate
to share

I give up
Believing you are mine
This evening last week.
I give up
thos feelings which turn something nostalgic

that your smell still awakens in me.
I give up

wanting to touch you
and become naturally drawn to the superficial warmth of complete strangers.
I give up
the heart ache

and give vent to hard, genuine laughter.

And momentarily, there is no meaning.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Rasty Nats at Bar Stucks,
I haven't got much to do.
Rasty Nats at Bar Stucks
I have a tummy ache too.

Tis 17:33 and as always I'm sitting here trying to will the digital clock numbers to change faster. I wonder if work will ever really become stimulating in the least...as opposed to just the general spells of buissiness amongst dry days we've been experiencing.
If this is gonna be the rest of my summer I think I might turn senile. By the looks of things though, even if I could have afforded to go OFF (OFF I SAY!) abroad before, i sure as hell can't anymore. Not with the amount of rent and home utility I'm going to have to start paying.
And yet, life continues. Like an insensitive, heartless bastard. And I've had my fare share of those.
I used to wonder if being subjected to that kind of atitude could eventually start turning me heartless too. Far from it, seems to have had the opposite effect.
But how much can a person tollerate, especially after realising what's begun to happen between the silent exchange of human characters?
So Now I'm wonderring if being subjected to that kind of atitde for much longer can eventually drive me away for good. I think so, but we're yet to find out

Any way, now I'm having a pop arguement with A.J about Jessica Alba (gag reflex) and the double standards of men. Just called him a hypocrite, so why the hell is he laughing?
Oh I see.
I should have learnt a lesson or 2 from the likes of him and Tas. The messes that being naive has gotten me into.
Any way, now he's gonna have a complete piss-take out of me over Miyavi. Ah yes, and here is the pop in response to the Miyavi link.
A.J: May Allah have mercy on you.

Amin.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

When you go would you have the guts to say
"I don't love you l
ike I loved you Yesterday"

-My Chemical Romance

Monday, June 11, 2007

Nothing is real with millstones on your mind. And yet, one may argue that these are the effects of Raz's miracle allergey tablet. To our dismay, it is drowsiness, not a near-death overdose experience I'm experiencing.
Meanwhile in the field of our toils:
a) I think 'The Mohammedan Bean' is the perfect name for the Muslim Aid coffee shop, and I don't care what anyone thinks. That or 'QahWah' --It's time with gve the Coffee back to the Arabs, where it came from.
b) Executive Committee meetings are a waste of paper.
c) Two Algerians and a Bangladeshi were arguing over how much a coffee shop can make in a day. Sounds like a joke. A bit like Two Muslims and a Monk...but that one's true too. I promise. They were walking down the street with lots to carry.

Cry. Cry because after you've cried and there are no more tears left, life will carry on.
Today begins the beginning of the end, and I will finally do my time for my sins. I feel like the guy in The Mechanist, my first good night's sleep in an entire year awaits.


Death is the road to awe.
-The Fountain

Friday, June 08, 2007

On the corner of main street
Just tryin' to keep it in line
You say you wanna move on and
You say I'm falling behind

Can you read my mind?

I never really gave up on
Breakin' out of this two-star town
I got the green light
I got a little fight
I'm gonna turn this thing around

Can you read my mind?

The good old days, the honest man
The restless heart, the Promised Land
A subtle kiss that no one sees
A broken wrist and a big trapeze

Oh well I don't mind, if you don't mind
'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you go, can you read my mind?

It’s funny how you just break down
Waiting on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soaking my spine

Can you read my mind?

The teenage queen, the loaded gun
The drop dead dream, the Chosen One
A southern drawl, the world unseen
A city wall and a trampoline

Oh well I don't mind if you don't mind
'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you jump,Tell me what you find..When you read my mind

Slipping in my faith until I fall
You never returned that call
Woman, open the door, don't let it sting
I wanna breathe that fire again

She said I don't mind if you don't mind
'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Put your back on me
Put your back on me
Put your back on me

The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds, cut out of the sun
Can you read my mind

-The Killers
'In Allah there is a successor for everyone who perishes and a compensation for everything that passes away. Indeed, the one afflicted is he who is denied the reward.'

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Dying is a bit like giving birth.
Once you're pregnant you don't really have a choice about giving birth any more because there is only one way that baby can come out. Iit is painful and since it's also inevitable, you might as well face it.
Similarly, once you're brought into this world, there is only one way you're getting out of it, and staying is not an option.

Our souls are imprisoned by the organic fibers of our boddies and the laws of nature. Our immortal spiritual selves are dragged in through one reality and out another. We will undergo death as we undergo life as we have undergone birth as we have undergone exisiting in the womb. We will undergo death as we undergo it every instant of our lives without realising...Like a staircase down the eventual inevitable.

I'm going to die.