There are worse things in life

The Very First Last Word

"...It's like raising the Dead"

Without proof, you said, you could not believe.
Without faith, you tucked tail and fled from the man who'd convinced me to leap.
This is madness without glamour.
A silent obliteration without the drama.
This is abandonment, leaving no pride nor dignity in it's wake.
I stand before you, a 12 year-old again.
I stand before you, who could very well be my father -call the perpetrator by any other name.
I stand though I've lost:
Me;
You;
Any hope of an alternative universe.
And yet, I've come to this final meeting with a hapless naivety. Perhaps just to show you how still your fingers can tame my tempests to a hush.
How a broken heart can beat steady though clumsily, like the pathetic hobble of a lame man.
How the colourblind is dazzled by a brief instance of dreamy haze.
How the dead-inside raises her head to accept again, and so willingly, one more killer-blow.
From you I part with a farewell gift: here is your proof that miracles can happen, and oh with what profound cruelty.
Goodnight, Anata.

Good morning, and rise Lazarus.
Rise and speak, but not of love or courage.
I've been promised the end of the world. Speak. Let it be (,) what we live for now.

A Historic Injustice

This is Sűleyman the Magnificent. Pray, see what a dashing you blade he was. Gaze awefully upon his striking features, his piercing eyes and that epic, Alexander-esque nose. Lo and behold the dignity with which his moustache sits atop his upper lip. How he carries the weight of his immense turban, with grace, bearing and modesty on such a slender neck...just as he carries the weight of the empire upon his youthful shoulders.

And this is the ugly woman who stole his heart and ruined his life. WTF?

Goodbye

For an instant you had me.

You had my heart beating to the pace of yours.

You had my breath catching, my mind racing like a teenager’s.

You had me dreaming and believing that men could be heroes,

And heroes could be enough.

Thank you,

For making your mark in the dust of poetic memory.

Coquette PV

The musician, Manual Seth just got signed by Skint records. Video is by (my Little-sis * does spazzy dance* Ahem), Rahel.

Seth: Coquette (Official Music Video) from Rahel on Vimeo.

A Strongly Worded Complaint Letter to Etihad

Dear Etihad Senior Management/Trustee/Top-Man,

As I begin writing this letter, I try to imagine you. Not because I’m a pervert. Admittedly, as with everyone, I too have my pet-perversions (albeit, they be the mostly culinary or literary kind) but I can assure you there is nothing devious about my attempts to imagine you. I merely feel it would be easier to project my feelings, and for us to understand one another, if I had some idea of the kind of person you are.

Unfortunately, in this venture I do not get very far. The only detail I am able to glean is that you are more than likely, fat. This for me is enough to begin.

The first time I flew with your airline was in late 2007, on a trip to Malaysia. I was thoroughly impressed by your prices (tastefully costly, not extortionately so), the service, the staff, and the very swish, very comfortable aircraft that carried us. Since then, however, I have noticed a gradual but sure decline in all of the above mentioned factors. Furthermore, my last trip (London to Abu Dhabi) has topped the sundae with a glace cherry. I hate glace cherries. Let me elaborate.

The first disappointment reared its ugly head when I was informed (after being kept listening to very bad Muzak on hold for 20 minutes) that I could not take my cat with me on this trip. She would have to travel as manifested cargo, apparently, on a different craft from mine, and more than likely on a different day. I was mortified further by the cost this would incur –I was quoted a starting price of £400. Is this, to you, logical? This is what I paid for my own ticket, and we are talking about a small, creature that weighs £4.5 Kg and doesn’t speak human language. The last time I checked, Babies still travel for free.

In any case, this information led me to conclude two things: that your airline is shamelessly ripping off pet owners; and, in this politically-correct day and age, it is also harbouring cat-ist bigots. Why is it falcons can travel in the cabin, but cats are discriminated against in this way? Ha? What have they ever done wrong? And my cat? She too, like you, is fat (I include this detail in the hopes of inciting some sympathy through your ability to relate to her maybe. I also flirt with the idea of including a photo of her with this letter.) She’s never harmed anyone.

But wait, we are going off topic. In conclusion, the ‘Pets and Sport Equipment’ section on your website is severely lacking in the information necessary for a customer & cat to make an informed decision about whether or not to fly with you. In fact, I dare say it’s grossly misleading. You make the process sound oh so simple, whereas really it is not, is it? You deceive your pet owning customers. And to add insult to indignity, I spoke to over 4 representatives about this, all of whom gave me mixed, often conflicting, messages about the process and requirements. Your staff are as ill-informed as your website is ill-informing. This does not reflect well.

The second disappointment emerged when I tried to change my flight date in order to make the necessary arrangements to pack my cat off before I travelled, seeing as this would not be possible if I went ahead first. Right? However, I was informed that changing my dates would incur a fee of £130. Naturally, like any sane person, I asked to speak to a manager. The representative put me on hold for another 20 minutes then came back to tell me that the decision was final and the manager could make no allowances. I insisted once again to speak to the manager personally, especially since this representative was a tad stupid and having difficulty understanding English. She put me on hold for a further 20 minutes, ugly Muzak ensued once again, and then she returned with, “You can’t speak to the manager.”

Me: ‘Why the hell not?”

Stupid Etihad Representative: “Because.”

Me: “Are you saying he’s refusing to speak to me? I have a right to speak to the manager if I want to. I’m a customer and I know my rights.”

Stupid Etihad Representative: “He...he is in a meeting.”

Me: “You’re kidding.”

Stupid Etihad Representative: “No”

Me: “But you just spoke to him.”

Stupid Etihad Representative: “He is in a meeting.”

Me: “I want to speak to another senior member off staff then.”

Stupid Etihad Representative: “They are all in a meeting.”

Dear Etihad Senior Management/Trustee/Top-Man, I was not born yesterday. I could see clearly that this girl was not only stupid, she thought I was too, and I found this incredibly offensive. So I hung up and did not call back in an hour as I threatened to. Sometimes I can be all talk, you see. My stature is a tad challenged and I am also fashionably lethargic.

You’ve probably already guessed by now that in the end I had to travel without my cat. But the nightmare didn’t end there. At the Etihad check in desk on the morning of the 11^th of September, I encountered more disappointment. My luggage, it appeared, was overweight. Fare enough. I did pack a few books (it’s the literary perversion) but I didn’t expect this to cost me £80. Since when did you guys become so pedantic? It’s disgraceful for the UAE’s official airline to act like a two-bit, budget airline. While you’re at it why don’t you start charging people to take a piss too?

Faced with this thievery at 8 am in the morning, I could say only this to the check-in assistant, “Can you not take into account that I myself am severely underweight?” –I feel this is fair considering my body mass is probably one third of that which constitutes your average passenger’s. It was worth a try. But do you know what the check-in Assistant’s response was? A cold stare followed by a curt ‘no,’ eyes all squinty like she was observing the underside of a garden-tile. Obviously your staff also lack a sense of humour.

So I paid up. Checked in. And eventually boarded the plane. Little aware that it would only get better (note the tone of sarcasm here.)

Let me save myself time by saying simply that your stewardesses are rude, nay bullying, and also stupid. I’ll forgo the broken headphone incident because it pales in comparison to the gluten-free meal requirement one.

Do not mock the afflicted, I am a gluten-intolerant. Therefore I requested a gluten-free meal. What I got instead was a half-assed-gluten-free meal. The chicken nuggets you served were clearly covered in bread-crumbs. My better judgement advised me to abstain, but encouraged by the clearly labelled ‘gluten free roll,’ I was also provided (and my excruciating hunger pangs), I gave you the benefit of the doubt and assumed it would be gluten free bread-crumbs. I am suffering still for my trust in mankind. And though I’m kind enough to omit the grizzly details of my trips to the bathroom, I’d like you to know that I have been there a grand total of 6 times today, and my tummy is still rumbling like the motor of a 1967 Sunbeam Rapier which hasn’t been serviced in over a decade. I could sue you for your carelessness, and who knows, I still might on a day on which I’m feeling particularly hormonal. But today is not that day.

Eventually when the desert trolley came round (by this point I was not feeling well) I asked the stewardess if it suited my meal requirements. She informed me that it had no nuts, therefore validating my earlier observation about the people who work for you. I tried to clarify to her that I had no beef (excuse the ghetto slang) with nuts. This one (who I will henceforth refer to as stewardess 1, for convenience sake) was stupid sure enough, but at least she was nice, and willing to admit her ignorance on the subject. The colleague she called over (who is stewardess 2 by default), however, was not. She was stupid amplified and mean to boot. Her first reaction was to snap at both myself and stewardess 1 in a most condescending fashion.

Stewardess 2: “Of course it is. This is sugar. Can’t you see?”

Me: “It is what?”

Stewardess 2: “It is just desert.” Obviously she didn’t understand what the topic of discussion was and was trying to compensate for this by being brash.

Me: “Yes but some deserts have gluten in them!”

Stewardess 2: “This doesn’t have gluten. It’s just normal.”

Me: “You don’t understand. I need to see the ingredients. I have an allergy.”

Stewardess 2: “But we don’t have gluten for you. This is normal.”

Me: “I don’t want gluten. I can’t eat gluten. I’m allergic to it!”

Stewardess 2: “You’re allergic to gluten?” –the penny drops.

Me: “Yes! Does this or does this not have gluten in it?”

Stewardess 2: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Fine then, I won’t have it. Thank you.”

At this point Stewardess 2 took the offending desert from my hand, and also the opportunity to quip at stewardess 1 again with, “Can’t you see? It’s gluten!” before stomping off. There was so much venom in the substandard-little cow’s words, she might as well have called the poor girl an imbecile in front of all the passengers. No customer should have to be daunted by the power struggle that is brewing among staff at 30,000 ft in the air. And particularly not over the brewing of tummy pains.

I’m afraid I’m not an expert at running Airline companies. I have no tips for you, or suggestions for improvement. I am a writer, and we see situations in the light of Tragedy, Comedy, Horror, Romance...and then an endless list of subgenres like, Farce, Satire, Burlesque, comedy of manners. I can go on, but won’t. Might I be so bold, instead, to venture that Etihad is in the grip of a tragicomedy with undertones of deadpan humour. Simply, you are going down the drain and it can appear funny to someone with a cultured sense of humour.

Have I lost you? My apologies. Let me conclude in a language you might understand better: you have just lost a loyal customer to Emirates. And furthermore, I will be making this complaint letter as public as the World Wide Web allows, in order to deter others from suffering my fate.

With Regards,

Elest Ali.

Don't you wish it were that simple?

Monomyth -plagerised off Wiki

Campbell's term monomyth, also referred to as the hero's journey, refers to a basic pattern found in many narratives from around the world. This widely distributed pattern was first fully described in The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1949).^[19] An enthusiast of novelist James Joyce,^[20] Campbell borrowed the term from Joyce's Finnegans Wake.^[21]

As a strong believer in the unity of human consciousness and its poetic expression through mythology, through the monomyth concept, Campbell expressed the idea that the whole of the human race could be seen as reciting a single story of great spiritual importance and in the preface to The Hero with a Thousand Faces he indicated it was his goal to demonstrate similarities between Eastern and Western religions.

As time evolves, this story gets broken down into local forms, taking on different guises (masks) depending on the necessities and social structure of the culture that interprets it. Its ultimate meaning relates to humanity's search for the same basic, unknown force from which everything came, within which everything currently exists, and into which everything will return and is considered to be “unknowable” because it existed before words and knowledge.

The Story's form however has a known structure, which can be classified into the various stages of a hero's adventures like the Call to Adventure, Receiving Supernatural Aid, Meet with the Goddess/Atonement with the Father and Return. As the ultimate truth cannot be expressed in plain words, spiritual rituals and stories refer to it through the use of "metaphors", a term Campbell used heavily and insisted on its proper meaning: In contrast with comparisons which use the word like, metaphors pretend to a literal interpretation of what they are referring to, as in the sentence "Jesus is the Son of God" rather than "the relationship of man to God is like that of a son to a father".^[22]

According to Campbell, the Genesis myth from the Bible, ought not be taken as a literal description of historical events happening in our current understanding of time and space, but as a metaphor for the rise of man's cognitive consciousness as it evolved from a prior animal state.^[23]

Memory Loss

Memory loss; oughtn't be something necessarily attributed to old age or a blow to the head.
Memory loss is often the mind's only defence against every terrible or wonderful experience that has the potential to make our lives unbearable.
You asked me once if I was able to forget my ex; My first heart break.
My answer, to your disbelief, was simply 'yes.'
Under the dust cover of the basement-relegated thrives those memories my mind has chosen to demobilize. And very successfully so. If I dig and rummage deep, I could surface with some tasteless nuggets, but my initial encounter in this attempt will be with a blank. White noise. Static. It takes a great deal of energy to overcome, and energy is what I lack. So heeding the deterrent, I tuck tail and retreat. I pull the plug. I choose euthanasia.
I forget.
I have forgotten.
I'm forgetting still.
It's a small death. One memory. One tender feeling at a time.
But it's a vital death. For how else can I keep living when you too have died in me?