I was watching this BBC documentary online and felt compelled to post a few clips from it (more can be found on YouTube.com). It aired a few years ago and is definitely an eye opener. I’d heard several rumors to this affect from my friends about the Bollywood film industry, and the film industry in general worldwide, but nothing substantial aside from gossip.
The description reads, “This BBC documentary uncovers the dark side of the Indian film industry. How producers and directors, all men, abuse their authority to get sexual favours from female actresses. 80% of the major female actresses have all had to prostitute themselves to get roles once or more. Surprised? It’s a dirty industry…”
Whether it’s Bollywood, Lollywood, or Hollywood, I’m sure this type of behavior runs rampant throughout. Honestly, it comes as no surprise to me that the rights of these women are being trampled on:
I’m real. 100% real. No ‘fronts’, no smokescreen, no facade. I’m always me. Does that bother people? Hell yes.
Now let me tell you dear reader, I am not discounting the infinite wisdom contained in tactful conversation, patience, and refrain. These things are of great value and intelligent people use them wisely and with good conscience. What I am simply advocating about myself is that I find no security in telling lies. What’s the point? If someone asks me a question, I’ll give them an answer. Period.
During my lifetime I’ve learned that our time on this Earth is too short for the faking of happiness, false friendship, or stroking of our own ego. What’s truly important is the security we find in the skin that we own. Our own flesh and blood. How secure are we? What is a secure individual?
A secure individual is one that treats others with respect, and acknowledges when they have made mistakes. A secure individual has nothing to hide, or a need to prove themselves to anyone. A secure individual is one that can find the happiness in almost anything, no matter how insignificant. A secure individual feels safe in the knowledge that they are telling the truth at all times. A secure individual knows that she is a beautiful, spiritual, and warm human being that can put a smile on the faces of the people she meets. A secure individual never stops learning from those around her.
I am a secure individual. And I am blessed, thanks to God.
Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in the cycle of life. Everything is the same and nothing ever changes. My creativity coming to a screeching halt before my very eyes.
Lately I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on these thoughts - to the point where I have spent hours upon hours simply writing my thoughts out on paper or playing my guitar to get through the day in semi-isolation. I’m drowning into my music to deal with a series of mixed emotions I’ve been feeling for months now about the direction of my existence, and what it all means. For example I don’t see myself as a consultant forever. I don’t see myself in a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids with 3 cats.
Where do I see myself? Making ripples with words and thought - making a positive change in the lives of the people I love through action - expressing my thoughts freely through art and poetry - staying up all night long talking to friends about the latest in news, music, and other peoples’ lives. I try to give everyone I touch a part of myself to take with them. I truly believe that everyone you meet shapes who you ultimately become - they each give you something that no one else can give you, and eventually you are formed into a unique being through all of the special emotions, circumstances, and ideas that you have shared.
I’m a FREE SPIRIT. I can walk up to anyone on the street and instantly relate to them in some way. I would have no problems parting with my money, my home, and my security to pursue my dreams and become the individual that I have always wanted to be. I love the idea of traveling around and meeting people all over the world - joining charitable causes and knowing that through my actions someone’s life has changed in a positive way.
I wish I could fill the gaps in everyone I have met throughout my 26 years - I wish I could erase the pain and sorrow I have given others through my own decisions - I wish I could tell each and every person that I have ever met that they meant something to me one way or another, and that I love them very much.
In the short span of this life, there is only fear and love and everything else between. There is a multi-dimensional passion that bleeds out of my heart with each day. Through every little thought and action, I give this passion to every single person I come in contact with.
And if I was to die tomorrow, I honestly wouldn’t regret being true to myself during my life.
Whatd you do last night?
We did umm, two whole cars
It was me, dez, and main three right?
And on the first car in small letters it said
all you see is.. and then you know
Big, big, you know some block silver letters
That said ..crime in the city right?
It just took up the whole car?
Yeah yeah, it was a whole car and shit…
[spanish speaking woman] escuchela.. la ciudad respirando
(translation of spanish: listen to it.. the city breathing)
* woman repeats 3x *
[spanish speaking woman] escuchela..
[mos def]
The new moon rode high in the crown of the metropolis
Shinin, like who on top of this?
People was tusslin, arguin and bustlin
Gangstaz of gotham hardcore hustlin
Im wrestlin with words and ideas
My ears is picky, seekin what will transmit
The scribes can apply to transcript, yo
This aint no time where the usual is suitable
Tonight alive, lets describe the inscrutable
The indisputable, we new york the narcotic
Strength in metal and fiber optics
Where mercenaries is paid to trade hot stock tips
For profits, thirsty criminals take pockets
Hard knuckles on the second hands of workin class watches
Skyscrapers is collosus, the cost of living
Is preposterous, stay alive, you play or die, no options
No batman and robin, cant tell between
The cops and the robbers, they both partners, they all heartless
With no conscience, back streets stay darkened
Where unbeliever hearts stay hardened
My eagle talons stay sharpened, like city lights stay throbbin
You either make a way or stay sobbin, the shiny apple
Is bruised but sweet and if you choose to eat
You could lose your teeth, many crews retreat
Nightly news repeat, who got shot down and locked down
Spotlight to savages, nasdaq averages
My narrative, rose to explain this existance
Amidst the harbor lights which remain in the distance
So much on my mind that I cant recline
Blastin holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Heard the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I cant take it yall, I can feel the city breathin
Chest heavin, against the flesh of the evening
Sigh before we die like the last train leaving
[talib kweli]
Breathin in deep city breaths, sittin on shitty steps
We stoop to new lows, hell froze the night the city slept
The beast crept through concrete jungles
Communicatin with one another
And ghetto birds where waters fall
From the hydrants to the gutters
The beast walk the beats, but the beats we be makin
You on the wrong side of the track, lookin visibly shaken
Taken them plungers, plungin to death thats painted by the numbers
With crime unapplied pressure, cats is playin god
But havin children by a lesser baby mother but fuck it
We played against each other like puppets, swearin you got pull
When the only pull you got is the wool over your eyes
Gettin knowledge in jail like a blessing in disguise
Look in the skies for god, what you see besides the smog
Is broken dreams flying away on the wings of the obscene
Thoughts that people put in the air
Places where you could get murdered over a glare
But everything is fair
Its a paradox we call reality
So keepin it real will make you casualty of abnormal normality
Killers born naturally like, mickey and mallory
Not knowing the waysll get you capped like an nba salary
Some cats be emceeing to illustrate what we be seeing
Hard to be a spiritual being when shit is shakin what you believe in
For trees to grow in brooklyn, seeds need to be planted
Im asking if yall feel me and the crowd left me stranded
My blood pressure boiled and rose, cause new york niggaz
Actin spoiled at shows, to the winners the spoils go
I take the l, transfer to the 2, head to the gates
New york life type trife the roman empire state
[mos def and crew]
So much on my mind I just cant recline
Blastin holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Yo dont the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I cant take it yall, I can feel the city breathin
Chest heavin, against the flesh of the evening
Sigh before we die like the last train leaving
[common]
Yo…on the amen, corner I stood lookin at my former hood
Felt the spirit in the wind, knew my friend was gone for good
Threw dirt on the casket, the hurt, I couldnt mask it
Mixin down emotions, struggle I hadnt mastered
I coreograph seven steps to heaven
And hell, waiting to exhale and make the bread leavened
Veteran of a cold war its chica-i-go for
What I know or, whats known
So some days I take the bus home, just to touch home
From the crib I spend months gone
Sat by the window with a clutched dome listenin to shorties cuss long
Young girls with weak minds, but they butt strong
Tried to call, or at least beep the lord, but didnt have a touch-tone
Its a dog-eat-dog world, you gotta mush on
Some of this land I must own
Outta the city, they want us gone
Tearin down the jects creatin plush homes
My circumstance is between cabrini and love jones
Surrounded by hate, yet I love home
Ask my God how he thought travellin the world sound
Found it hard to imagine he hadnt been past downtown
Its deep, I heard the city breathe in its sleep
Of reality I touch, but for me its hard to keep
Deep, I heard my man breathe in his sleep
Of reality I touch, but for me its hard to keep
[mos def and crew]
So much on my mind I just cant recline
Blastin holes in the night til she bled sunshine
Breathe in, inhale vapors from bright stars that shine
Breathe out, weed smoke retrace the skyline
Yo how the bass ride out like an ancient mating call
I cant take it yall, I can feel the city breathing
Chest heavin, against the flesh of the evening
Kiss the ides goodbye, Im on the last train leaving
Have you ever fucked yourself to a Leonard Cohen record
Given your shoulders some head on a sofa
Stood on the edge of reason and love with God watching
And dared to ask another necessary question
Even though you can never untangle why you live like this
The embrace of that holy soul on your throat
Grabs and shakes the mistakes of your naivety
Out of your brain and pulls them onto the stage
As you watch the tower of your mistakes crumble
Collapsing into the canyon of your soul
You laugh at your facade once again
And hold on to the hope of a clearer tomorrow
Hope Sandoval is one of the most underrated and beautiful singers of our generation. Her voice is truly haunting and soulful. She’s gotten me through so much in my life. Hope, I am eternally grateful:
Beautiful song, brilliant movie. Garden State to Frou Frou’s song Let Go:
Drink up baby down
Are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind
‘Cause it’s all going off without you
Excuse me too busy you’re writing your tragedy
These mishaps
You bubble-wrap
When you’ve no idea what you’re like
So, let go,let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It’s all right
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, l-let go
Just get in
Oh, it’s so amazing here
It’s all right
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
It gains the more it gives
And then it rises with the fall
So hand me that remote
Can’t you see that all that stuff’s a sideshow?
Such boundless pleasure
We’ve no time for later
Now you can’t await
your own arrival
you’ve twenty seconds to comply
So, let go, so let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It’s alright
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, yeah let go
Just get in
Oh, it’s so amazing here
It’s all right
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, so let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It’s alright
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, yeah let go
Just get in
Oh, it’s so amazing here
It’s all right
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
In the breakdown
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
The breakdown
So amazing here
‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
late one night when i was sad i walked down to a lonely place where i was safe drank a beer and thought i had to hold the world up in my hands so full of shame thinking back when i was bad the things i said to all my friends i shouldnt have and the moon was red and i cried then some one touched me on my back and i turned around to the most beautiful girl with black hair and curls brandy and pearls when i asked her her name she said look your star struck in love wake up my friend youve been dreaming again all at once it came to me id been a fool for all those years that follow me every hour of everyday i went to war to save my self from all those fears all was lost in late july i found my peace in marching home to heal my wounds and the moon was red and i cried then some one touched me on my back and i turned around to the most beautiful girl with black hair and curls brandy and pearls when i asked her her name she said look youre star struck in love wake up my friend youve been dreaming again
This entire web site came about because of my love of poetry and writing. I was doing some research on my great-great-grandfather Amir Ahmad Meenai, a famous Urdu poet of the 1800s. His poems shaped not only the poetry of a generation but the Urdu language itself. I was amazed to learn of this man’s origins and his history with the people of Pakistan. I definitely had to do some digging on Google to find anything since urdu poetry is obviously not on their top ten search terms. This is what I found:
Name: Amir Ahmad Meenai Period: 1826 - 1900 Biographical detail: One of the most prominent poets of Urdu
Amir Meenai’s diction is as immaculate as is characteristics of Lucknow poets to the extent that even Ghalib eulogised him. Now a new edition of Meenai’s first diwan titled ‘Miratul Ghaib’ has made it possible for the new generation of Urdu poetry readers to study Amir Meenai’s poetry.
In time Meenai emerged as a highly gifted poet of delicate sensibility. One of his poems ‘Kabutar Nama’ impressed Wajid Ali Shah. After the annexation of Oudh by East India Company, Amir Meenai had to move to Rampur amidst a large number of Lucknow poets over there.
It was during Meenai’s Rampur sojourn and subsequently his stay in Hyderabad Deccan that his poetry gained popularity – a phenomenon that saw the whole of the subcontinent’s poets appear as divided into Amir Meenai and Dagh Dehalvi camps of followers.
Amir Meenai is credited with 14 collections of poetry including ‘Diwan-e-Naatia Kalam’ and ‘Sanam Khana-e-Ishq’. Seven of his collections of different genres of poetry are still lying unpublished apart from volumes of ‘Amir-ul-Lughat’ a unique work of lexicography.
Being a Sufi poet – having ishq (love) as his central theme – his collection ‘Mahamid-e-Khatim-ul-Nabian’ has immortalised Meenai in his genre of poetry.
Amir Ahmad Meenai was born in Lucknow. He was drawn to poetry and became a disciple of Syed Muzaffar Ali Asir, who was private secretary of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and himself an eminent poet of his times.
Here is a book review from DAWN which details some more about his life:
Hazrat Amir Meenai (1826-1900) is one of the most prominent poets of Urdu. His diction is as immaculate as is characteristic of Lucknow poets. Even Ghalib eulogized Amir Meenai’s poetry. Now a new edition of Meenai’s first diwan titled Miratul Ghaib has made it possible for the new generation of Urdu poetry readers to study Amir Meenai’s poetry.
Meenai was born in Lucknow during the reign of King Naseeruddin Haider. He lost his father when he was only nine years old and was brought up by his elder brother. In his teenage years he was drawn to poetry and became a disciple of Syed Muzaffar Ali Asir, who was private secretary to Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and an eminent poet of his times. Meenai acquired the traditional corpus of Arabic, Persian and Sanskrit classics from many contemporary learned scholars. As was customary in those days, he became a disciple of a Sufi divine, Amir Shah of Rampur, who was a mystic of the Chishti Sabri order. And apart from these intellectual and spiritual endeavours he studied traditional medicine as well.
In time Meenai emerged as a highly gifted poet of delicate sensibility. One of his poems Kabutar Nama pleased Wajid Ali Shah so much that he appointed him to teach Prince Nadir Mirza.
After the annexation of Oudh by the East India Company, Amir Meenai had to move to Rampur. Amidst a large number of Lucknow poets in Rampur such as Asir, Jalal, Qalaq, Muneer, Zaki, Urooj, Tasleem, Sharaf and Jan Sahib, there was also Dagh Dehalvi who was influenced by the Lucknow poets to a great extent. It was during Meenai’s Rampur sojourn and subsequently his stay in Hyderabad Deccan that his poetry gained popularity — a phenomenon that saw the whole of the subcontinent’s poets appear as divided into the Amir Meenai and Dagh Dehalvi camps of followers. Even Maulana Abul Kalam Azad’s elder brother was Amir’s disciple and Maulana Azad is also reported to have sought Amir’s tutelage.
Amir Meenai is credited with 14 collections of poetry including Diwan-i-Naatia Kalam and another diwan of ghazal poetry entitled Sanam Khana-i-Ishq. Seven of his collections of different genres of poetry are still lying unpublished. As for his prose works there are 34 works, many of which are also unpublished. It will be a great service to Urdu literature if Aiwan-i-Amir Meenai or the Majlis-i-Taraqqui-i-Adab, Lahore, decides to publish all the unpublished works of Amir Meenai — including all volumes of Amir-ul-Lughat — a unique work of lexicography.
Meenai’s significance as an important pillar of Urdu literature has been acknowledged by Mirza Ghalib whose letter of commendation for Amir Meenai is included in the collection under review. One will also find eulogies by Dagh Dehalvi, Shad Azimabadi, Sajjad Haider Yaldrum, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, Allama Iqbal, Maulana Abdul Majid Daryabadi and Maulana Mahir ul Qadri. This galaxy of eminent writers has used “superlatives” in highlighting the multifaceted personality of Amir Meenai. It is strange that Amir Meenai is a typical ghazal poet of great merit along with being a pioneer of the Naat poetry in Urdu. His collection Mahamid-i-Khatim-ul-Nabian has immortalized him in this genre of poetry.
The diwan of Amir Meenai brings to us some of the best vignettes of ghazal poetry. He is truly a very important poet. Being a Sufi poet — having ishq (love) as his central theme. Amir Meenai had the knack of interpreting Ishq-i-Haqeeqi (Divine love) so masterfully that even his ghazals in respect of the Majazi beloved usually have mystical undertones. There is no doubt that some of Meenai’s couplets can never be confused with the divine tinge, as they are too earthly and fleshy to merit that tag. But it could be said with a bit of certainty that Meenai’s poetry represents the best vintage of the lover-beloved romance. One would find in Diwan-i-Amir some of the most representative couplets of Meenai’s sensuous imagination titillating our senses. One wonders what makes a puritan like Amir Meenai sound so sensuous — even amorous — as to threaten his popular image. Nevertheless, this is how it is. Meenai’s flight of imagination leading to fantastic images baffles the lovers of poetry.
It is not strange that Faiz Ahmed Faiz attached great importance to Amir, Asir and Jalal — three pillars of the Rampur school — so much so that he had devoted one chapter to the Rampur school in the synopsis for his proposed PhD thesis which couldn’t be taken up as a research programme in the Punjab University for some reason. Dr Ibadat Barelvi has published the document relating to Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s application for registration as a PhD candidate in which there is a whole chapter on the Rampur school. Perhaps Faiz’s love poetry — so easily taken as his yearnings for revolution — owes itself to the Rampur school. The Rampur school is known for operating on the spiritual and romantic levels simultaneously. Faiz’s poetry operates on the ideological and romantic levels and has hence a similarity of sorts.
This edition of Amir Meenai’s first diwan is valuable because it has some of our important writers’ assessment of Meenai’s contribution to Urdu poetry. All of them explain why his poetry is couched in immaculate language which is unique in many respects.
It is after a long time that we have come across such a beautifully produced diwan. Readers who want to study one of the best vintages of Urdu ghazal should go through Diwan-i-Amir.
AMIR Meenai (1826-1900), whose 102nd death anniversary falls this month, was a poet of rare attainments. Having ruled over the Mushaira culture, along with Dagh Dehalvi, for a considerable period of time - from the 1860s up to 1900, he was a typical scholar and Hakeem in the true sense of the word.
The list of his works makes an interesting reading. Be it Lughat, Amir-ul Lughat, counsels for the kings, Ghazal & Naat poetry, collection of choicest collection of Persian and Arabic poetry, works dealing with religious instruction, Urdu idioms and proverbs, Tazkirah-writing, Tazkira-i-Shura-i- Rampur, composing of Musaddas and Wasokht, a collection of poetry, titled Sanam Khana-i-Ishq (literally soaked in romantic fervour), and music, one could go on admiring his versatility and fertility.
A deeply religious man that Amir Meenai was, he was not insensitive to other arts; hence he accorded well with T. S. Eliot’s definition of an artist - with which one may or not agree - that it is only when a man of religion is also a man of culture that we come to have an usual cultural blend.
Both Dagh Dehalvi and Amir Meenai have been very popular with the people and rulers alike. There was a time when Ghalib stood almost eclipsed by these two poets. Everywhere in the sub-continent young poets aspired to be their pupils and their ‘tutelage’ was considered to be the ultimate achievement.
Allama Iqbal had celebrated with great pleasure Dagh’s Islah on his ghazal; and some scholars think that Maulana Abul Kalam Azad was so much impressed by Amir Meenai that Azad’s poetry is considered to have a distinct stamp of Amir Meenai. Azad’s elder brother also was a pupil of Amir Meenai. The question then arises what made Dagh and Amir thrive in an era when Sir Syed Ahmed Khan was busy in crusading against the ‘traditional’ literary taste, rampant among the Muslim aristocracy of northern India.
The scene which Maulana Abdur Razzaq Kanpuri (of Al Baramaka fame) has narrated about Sir Syed’s address to Oudh’s Zamindars in his remarkable book of reminiscences Yaad-i-Ayyam should fill a conscientious reader with shame. Most of them had come with the Kabaks of their pigeons and quails and only a handful of them was sympathetic towards Sir Syed when he chided them for not having enough members in their midst who could be nominated to the Imperial Legislative Council. He had told them what while the majority community had a problem on its hands in choosing from amongst a great number of capable aspirants, he (Sir Syed) saw before him a group that could not enter the portals of the Assembly.
No wonder, then, that Ghalib was a neglected person in this social milieu and the aristocrats who had no purpose left in their lifestyles could only be epicureans at their best. It was a dismal scenario and the importance of a poet like Amir Meenai lay in the fact that he only followed the mannerism, not the lifestyle of his age.
Dagh’s relationship with Allama Iqbal and Amir Meenai’s influence on Abul Kalam Azad’s family shows that these two poets enjoyed a fair degree of high esteem with the two great men of their time. Azad has written in one of his letters that the influence of Amir Meenai was so great that even mystical poetry could not be conceived without clothing it in the linguistic apparels of the courtesan culture.
A relevant point arises when we intend to discuss Amir Meenai in relation to Dagh. Who influenced whom? There are writers who would like to suggest that it was Dagh who influenced the poets who had assembled in Rampur following the annexation of Oudh by the British and the 1857 uprising. Some poets went to Hyderabad Deccan and some to Bhopal, Junagadh, Mangrol and Manavadar. The Nawab of Rampur wanted to convert his Darbar into a mini-Lucknow Darbar, and he would take pride in claiming that Rampur had become ‘the second Lucknow.’ So it was a bit natural that Rampur promoted a culture which accorded its poets a distinct Oudh style.
Dagh, after having joined the Rampur Court, had to give up all those colloquial and Delhi-specific words in his poetry and the pure, chaste and a highly standardized Urdu that Dagh so masterfully uses has the stamp of Rampur. There are scores of words which the Delhi school of poets were prone to regard as ‘proper,’ but the Lucknow and Rampur schools did not agree with this contention and held them to be contrary to good taste. Jalil Manikpuri in his well-known book Karnama-i-Amir Meenai and some contemporary researches on the peculiarities of the Delhi and Lucknow/Rampur schools seem to be concurring with this highly interesting consensus that it was Amir Meenai and his circle of poets who were chiefly responsible for Dagh’s abstinence from Delhi-specific pronunciation of some words, hence the noticeable difference in Dagh’s poetic language. Either we accept him to be a Nasikh of the Delhi school or we agree with some scholars that it was with a view to be compatible with the Amir school’s language that he condescended to try with success a language that makes Dagh an important poet of Urdu.
Urdu’s development as a language has an interesting record. We know about Delhi and Lucknow schools of Urdu Literature. Hyderabad, Azimabad and Lahore schools also staked their claims and so have done many centres such as Sargodha and Karachi.
Baba-i-Urdu encouraged all such claims thinking that it only proved that Urdu was a popular language. It also proves that it is truly a lingua franca along with spoken Hindi. The only difference which marks off one from the other is the script. Amir Meenai has put forward his own views on the origins of Urdu. He was of the view that Urdu is the product of the interaction between the languages of Muslim conquerors and those of the conquered.
It is against this background that some men of culture and literature appear to be like oases in the desert. They contribute a great deal to the diversity of cultural attainments along with other men of comparable stature.
There were some men of letters in the twilight era of our political and economic decay who kept the torch of our composite culture blazing bright. Amir Meenai was certainly one of them.
Ever since MacWorld 2007 many people have been salivating for a brand new sleek n’ sexy iPhone. I’ve also bought into the hype to some degree, though I definitely have my questions:
-Why is there no scroll wheel? Does this really mean I will have to slide my finger up and down my screen to scroll? That may get pretty annoying.
-Will it be available on any carrier besides Cingular in the near future? I have Verizon and definitely don’t want to switch back to Cingular. I would get better service in a prison cafeteria.
-What if any 3rd party software is on the iPhone?
-Since memory is definitely a disadvantage for mp3 storage (4GB or 8GB), is it better to stay with just an iPod and cell phone?
One thing that I don’t have doubts about is Apple’s ability to revolutionize the industry. They have done it so many times before and this is just going to be another example of that. Remember the hype before the iPod came out? This is very similar if not exactly the same. I wouldn’t be surprised if in about 5 years Microsoft came out with something call the “Phune” that will do terribly in comparison to the iPhone.
Regardless, the iPhone peaks my interest. Whether or not I choose to buy it remains to be seen.
On some level I find it funny that Brad Pitt is a die hard Jeff Buckley fan. In a recent TV documentary on Jeff’s life (Jeff Buckley: Everybody Here Wants You, 2002) Brad praises the singer:
Brad Pitt: [on becoming a Jeff Buckley fan] I found him because, it was actually my wife had him.
[pauses then corrects]
Brad Pitt: Had the *disc*.
[Jennifer Aniston snickers off-camera.]
Brad Pitt: “Had him” - she wishes! - Had the disc and it came on one night, and you hear that opening tune for “Mojo Pin,” that haunting thing off in the distance. And I remember asking, “What is that?” And she said, “That’s Jeff Buckley.” Where have I been? Do I know nothing? And since then it’s just… been a bit of an obsession.
Brad Pitt: There’s an undercurrent to his music, there’s something you can’t pinpoint. Like the best of films, or the best of art, there’s something going on underneath, and there’s a truth there. And I find his stuff absolutely haunting. It just… it’s under my skin.
—————————–
If anything the quotes above validate that Brad should never have left Jennifer. Ok, joking aside, I agree with Brad in the sense that most people really don’t know about Jeff, which is amazing considering his level of genius and dedication to his craft. I remember the first time I heard Last Goodbye it literally sent chills down my spine.
Though it was rumored for some time that Brad Pitt was set to play Jeff in his upcoming biopic movie, that’s all it turned out to be – a rumor. Frankly I believe that they should cast some fairly unknown or new actor to play Jeff so that the public does not overly commercialize the movie to the point where it becomes a media circus instead of an accurate account of Jeff’s life and work.
I realized a bit too late that my poetry and prose sections have been down for some time now. I felt like a complete idiot of course. They are up and running now just in case anyone missed them.
I received this e-mail from Cara Lane this morning:
MYSTERY WHITE BOY: THE MOVIE - UPDATE
by CARA LANE
As reported in the previous edition of JBIN [Vol. 07:07], a biopic about Jeff Buckley’s life is in the works. There have been recent erroneous reports in print media stating that the film will be released in 2008 and this is not accurate. No release date is scheduled as the script is not complete as of this date and there is no distribution deal being negotiated at this time.
Mary’s co-producer will be Michelle Sy (executive producer of “Finding Neverland), and, to many tabloid journalists’ dismay, will not be starring Brad Pitt. “Brad has never actually wanted to play Jeff, he found all those tabloid stories very funny,” says Buckley’s mother, Mary Guibert in a recent interview with NME Magazine. “All he wanted to do,” she continued, “was help produce a project that would have been close to his heart. Brad is still on a list of people we would love to have work with us.”
Brian Jun, a talented young filmmaker (“Steel City”), has been recruited to write the script. In the meantime, Jun has plunged into Mary Guibert’s archives in order to absorb all the information he needs to write a breathtaking script, as well as conducting interviews with Jeff’s family, friends, associates, and band mates in hopes of capturing the many sides of Jeff that his loved ones knew. Jun intends to consult David Browne (author of Dream Brother: the Lives & Music of Jeff & Tim Buckley) in his research while writing the script. Ms. Guibert has said that she places full and total confidence in Jun, stating she knows that he has the “courage and the skill to do this the way it should be done.” However, in the midst of this hectic, decision-making stage of the film, one thing is for sure; no production studios or actors have been selected. Speculations from fans and tabloids will surely come about, but until a final draft of the script is finished, no such decisions will be made.
It has also been reported that the movie could possibly include previously unheard recordings of Jeff’s music. “Sony does have studio material that hasn’t been released yet,” says Ms. Guibert, “We will try to use as much stuff as we can that people haven’t heard before.”* She also added, “Anyone who knew Jeff knows that he had music in his head 24/7 so there’s going to be lots of music in the film.”* This leaves hope for a plethora of undoubtedly amazing material to be released in addition to a movie that will likely be as satisfying. Stay tuned to JBIN and www.jeffbuckley.com for the most accurate and up to date information.
Open diary, clothe me in your false comfort. Remove the seasons on my wounded soul. Heal this wrinkled face in your smooth line of reasoning. You are a mirror of my voice in the flesh of your pages. When I am dead you will remain as an echo for translation and contemplation. You are the thoughts I carry but never share.
There are only words now
The music is helping me to breathe my mind
Like a current frustration suspended in relief
It takes hold of a single reason to believe
Why I write it down it does not know
Why I play these songs it does not understand
The formulations of my mental c-section
With fingers cutting deep into my heart
Replacing anxiety with a sense of self
As I sit beside you sleeping next to me
And you listen closely
To my battered brain
On a stage full of colors in a beautiful dream
It’s been months since I’ve posted on this web site. First of all, I want to say Ramadan Mubarak to everyone, and may Allah make your fasts easy and bless you during this holy month.
It’s been a wonderful year for me (alhamdulillah). A lot of changes, reconnecting with old friends, and making new ones. I’ve also been writing a lot (mainly for leisure, nothing serious), and keeping those thoughts for a rainy day to post on mug-mug. I’ve been listening to a lot of amazing music which has kept me company on many long drives throughout the DC metro area - The Flaming Lips, The Mars Volta, Damien Jurado, The Fray, M83.. the list goes on.
The move to DC has been great. This city is so alive. I absolutely love it here. There’s so many wonderful places to go, my two favorites being Dupont Circle and Chinatown.
I hope everyone who visits this site is doing well. I’m amazed that many of you still read my posts. Thanks for caring
I’ve always had this web site RSS enabled, but never put it to any good use until today. I’ve started feeding mug-mug onto Facebook, so stay tuned for more entries. Happy September
I met this morning with my sleepy eyes
Removing the focus from a vision of life
The cold air of reason hung low on my bed
As the logical scenery invaded my veins
How I try to escape to the curves of the world
When my life is a box with the sharpest of edges
As I open the lid
And climb deep inside
Now to bury myself in what cannot be changed
There is no reflection
Only silence and peace
As I let go of stories
And laugh at the circumstances
It is only me
It is only me
I am only one
And the world is my mind.
Lately? Spring cleaning, family, rendevous with the nightlights of DC, watching movies, trying out Lean Cuisine, house hunting, planning a vacation sometime soon, playing with my baby nieces/nephew, going to the gym, hanging with hubby, learning the fine art of balancing life and work, listening to Jeff Buckley, driving my Altima and of course… appreciating life to the fullest (alhamdulillah).
“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.” – Sylvia Plath
Time takes its crazy toll
and how does your mirror grow
you better watch yourself when you jump into it
‘cause the mirror’s gonna steal your soul
I wonder how it came to be my friend
that someone just like you has come again
you’ll never, never know how close you came
until you fall in love with the diamond rain
throw all his trash away
look out he’s here to stay
your mirror’s gonna crack when he breaks into it
and you’ll never never be the same
look into his eyes and you can see
why all the little kids are dressed in dreams
I wonder how he’s gonna make it back
when he sees that you just know it’s make-belief
blood crystalized as sand
and now I hope you’ll understand
you reflected into his looking glass soul
and now the mirror is your only friend
look into his eyes and you will see
that men are not alone on the diamond sea
sail into the heart of the lonely storm
and tell her that you’ll love her eternally
time takes its crazy toll
mirror fallin’ off the wall
you better look out for the looking glass girl
‘cause she’s gonna take you for a fall
look into his eyes and you shall see
why everything is quiet and nothing’s free
I wonder how he’s gonna make her smile
when love is running wild on the diamond sea
I know you’re rich in
Good clothes and little things
Your mind is fancy
(and your car is bitchin’)
Is she weird
Is she weird, is she white
Is she promised to the night
And her head has no room
And her head has no room
Your heart is ripshit
Your mouth is everywhere
I’m lyin’ in it
Is she weird
Is she over me
Like the stars and the sun
Like the stars and the sun
Is she weird
Is she weird, is she white
Is she promised to the night
And her head has no room!
No more of this girl cryin’
I’m here, your big man
You’re mine
Is she weird, is she white
Is she promised to the night
And her head has no room
James Blunt is the kind of guy you can take home to mom and dad. He’s an ex-army captain with a lot of class, a good sense of humor, and a subtle innocence that you pick up with his live performances. But of course, there’s nothing innocent about his life experiences. Witnessing first hand the war torn areas of Kosovo, one can’t even imagine how deeply innocence can be shattered. These experiences are evident in his lyrics (No Bravery):
There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
Tears drying on their face.
He has been here.
Brothers lie in shallow graves.
Fathers lost without a trace.
A nation blind to their disgrace,
Since he’s been here.
And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.
Seeing him live this past week was definitely a worthwhile experience. Though he has the looks of an international pop star, there is a deep dimension-driven aspect to his music that goes beyond definition. He has a talent for lyrics, and hitting the nerve of the pop music scene - catchy tunes and an extremely engaging performer. He thanked the audience of Washington, DC several times during his set for having him.. this was his first concert on his US tour. At one point he even took a picture of the audience, which was very cute. He jumped around the stage, belted out almost every song, and even came back for an encore covering The Pixies “Where is my mind?".. Overall it was very well done, and I never got bored with what he had to offer. A genuine human being with a humility that welcomes the audience into his message.
Listen to his words darling
Detached on your back to the world
Rolling over a scream on the floor
No sound for miles
But he will listen
Remember those nights when you wept in his eyes
Shaking the vision of rape on your soul
Inviting him in to your shadow of errors
Freeing yourself
Fleeing yourself
Being yourself to another man
Hold on to his hand
Don’t ever let go
Revive all the lies and realize demise
Is only relative to your state of mind
Surrender
Know that you are a beautiful being
Delicious and fragile and every known desire – on fire
But now that I’m older,
my heart’s colder,
and I can see that it’s a lie.
Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.
If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We’re just a million little god’s causin rain storms turnin’ every good thing to
rust.
I guess we’ll just have to adjust.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’ to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am go-goin’
I remember the smoke rising on the silouhette of your eyes. You were standing outside with your back turned to the door. Alone in the stillness of the moon’s lonely gaze, you traced your free speeches on deaf ears. My attention was focused on the hum of a song, elevator winds creeping in through the hinges. There were twenty fingers grabbing your hand, though I hadn’t moved an inch from where you were standing. You never turned around.
Husband and wife Jenny and Lee Waters come together to form Work Clothes. They have created some of the most atmospheric and emotionally packed pop I have ever heard. There are many dimensions to their universe of acoustic guitars, which envelopes you into a snapshot of their lives. Below are posted the lyrics to a love song by Lee to Jenny. Just click on them to have a listen:
Trapped in the mirror of my image tonight
Your faltering voice flowing backwards to me
Looping the curtains and tragedy scenes
Tracing my echoes across endless streams
We hold our hands in the whisper of love
Shaping its pieces
Breaking its hold on the infinite
So seamless we stand through a single reflection
A waiting that ends at the tip of our tongue
Radio mug-mug has gone through so many failed attempts at going live. It started as a streaming shoutcast channel, then died. Then lived again as a shoutcast channel, then died. This kept going for a few months until eventually I decided it wasn’t worth the time or effort anymore.
Then I started listening to some really great music. I mean.. this stuff is inspiring. It pumps energy into my art, and gives me a reason to put together a band one day (we’ll see where that dream goes..) So, of course, I needed to share it with the masses. I decided to opt for the not-so-annoying method of radio blog. I’ll keep modifying this playlist as time goes on, so stay tuned. It’s easy as 1-2-3.
Just click the “radio mug-mug” link above to listen.
It’s been ages since I’ve last posted..what’s new..hmm. Married life is a blessing, and a beautiful experience (alhamdulillah). I’m learning more about myself with each day, thanking God for all the wonderful things in life that make it whole. I feel older, granted, but not to the point where I’m contemplating my retirement fund. Time has passed and so much has changed within the last 10 years. It’s amazing to look back and reflect on everything that has shaped me into the woman I am today. There are so many ties that have binded together to form my world.
I’ve been inspired to start writing again on so many levels. We recently caught American Analog Set with Tom Brokaw at the Black Cat, what an amazing show. It was a big contrast from the Killers who I saw earlier last year. Both shows were amazing, but what I love about folk singers is their ability to speak to the audience in the most candid way. There was a point in the set where Tom Brokaw said, “So what are you guys doing about the war in Iraq?” He was visiting DC from Boston. He was good musician with a great sense of humor. I really enjoyed his show. Anyways, where am I going with this.. well I’ve picked up the guitar to start writing again. It’s a long process.. sometimes it takes weeks, years even. But it’s a part of me that has always been underneath everything I do in life. I’m also working on some more poetry, which I’ll be posting soon. I thought about redesigning this site, but in the end it just wasn’t worth the effort. I love this design. So.. I’m going to keep it. I might just apply a new template to certain areas of the site.. but we’ll see. Wordpress is getting on my nerves lately.
In the back of my mind there is a beauty unrealized. It breathes in the ebb of a flowing emotion, the sharpest edge of reason that ties me into the possibility of something more than I am.
I’ve risen to something more than the ravaged bone of a woman I was - torn at the flesh with no meat on my bones. I’ve fallen asleep listening to Damien Jurado’s shakespearian view of a small town existence, curled up in the warmth and safety of my husband’s arms. Eternal Sunshine of A Spotless mind brought tears to my eyes once when I felt very alone, but now it’s one of our favorite movies to watch together.
Everything changes with time. Everything. Nothing in life ever stays the same. It is possibly the most beautiful reality of our existence. Yes, I feel beautiful now. I am beautiful
I was looking at my links section and it hasn’t been updated in years. I really have to get on that fast. In other news I’m currently in the process of writing a prose piece for this site. Serial fiction has crossed my mind once again, but we’ll see where that goes. That auto-biography-non-fiction-ish piece is still stewing somewhere in my brain. Hopefully one day that will turn into a book. We’ll see where my thoughts lead me later today.
I’ve been reading Jinnz’s sheesha chronicles lately. It’s interesting and entertaining at times. What I took away? Drugs are good for you: smoking the equivalent of 19 cigarettes.. even better. Seriously dude, lay off the sheesh
When I lay in bed this morning gazing into the still of darkness, all I could feel was the warmth of my grandmother’s arms. Laying next to her I remember the scent of classic perfume washing around my baby smile. The years worn onto her face from a time forgotten always made me feel at home. It is this extraordinary lady, frozen in time, that wrapped the warm blanket for many generations of my family seeking comfort and wisdom.
There is nothing that compares to this feeling.
Her stories are burned into my conciousness and nature. I draw a foundation from the roots of her strength and also my mother’s. Deeply, I respect them both with more love than I can describe. I can say the same for my father, and his mother. Growing up around these elders during my childhood served as the most fruitful experience of my soul. It connected me with God, tradition, family, and values.
Family is everything. It is all we have.
It is these people whose prayers carry us today, with a guidance that calls to seize the day and live it to the fullest.
I wrote this piece back in March and posted it on a message board, here it is:
Untitled
Beautiful like paper moons
You capture me cutout and pasted
Into your visions of diamond seas
Floating in your passionate tapestry
Of visual music and colorful scenes
I’ll trace you out behind the person
Put you deep inside so I can breathe
And I will kill the lonliness gone
For you are the lining of the cloud in my dreams.
Over the past two years I’ve written several pieces of short fiction (many of which are posted on this site) in hopes to one day consolidate them into a novel. I came close during September of last year when I self-published my first book of poetry/prose (titled mug-mug..what a surprise) and handed it out at the Small Press Expo. It was a valuable experience, and the feedback I received was mainly positive. It’s humbling to realize that individuals who gave me compliments back then were some of the most well known underground comic artists of today. The few words that I managed to type onto paper somehow had an impact on these peoples’ lives:
Naveen,
Hello, you gave me a copy of your poetry and prose collection at SPX. To be
honest this sort of thing doesn’t usually appeal to me. But I thought I’d
give it a try and I ended up reading the entire book. You have a lot to say
and it was very refreshing and insightful. I especially enjoyed the opening
essay (?) called ideas. I hope you will continue to write, your work really
spoke to me.
Thanks for giving me a copy.
Jim Rugg
www.streetangelcomics.com
——————-
Hi, Naveen.
Sharing your left-handed view of art and comics and words and the world, it is a pleasure to run across your site. Your foray into doing your own comics is a great move. I also read a couple of your poetry entries. Have you combined any of those with your drawing panels? That would be an interesting take. I’m an old drawer (age 66) for whom comics have been a life long inspiration. I am not a comic artist as such (my main format is sketch/journals - both on paper and on the computer) but comics inspired as a kid and as an old coot comics inspire still. Anyway…good for you.
Ralph Ivy
http://notches.blogspot.com
——————-
salams Veen,
I have to say, I just stumbled upon your site and checked out some of the
poetry. Very original, like it spoke to me (without sounding cliche lol).
Whatdya know…there is hope for the independed intellectumalist muslim
chicks out there.
here’s my blog: you’re probably the first person i’m sharing it with; feel
very special.
-Sumera
So looking back on these experiences I’ve realized it’s been six to seven months since I’ve written anything substantial. It’s time to get my brain pumping again and get some more work out there. After all, this site’s original purpose was to share my work with the world. I’m going to put it to some use now. I’m picking up the pen again.
So yes, it is coming down to the wire. Only a few more days insh’Allah and I will be a ‘Mrs.’ More importantly, I feel that I am coming full circle beginning this new chapter in my life.
It’s been a steady and at often times difficult journey making peace with the past and moving forward with each day. These last six months have been a brilliant transformation in my outlook on life, love, and the understanding of the human spirit. I know more about myself now than I ever did before. Truly, it is a blessing to embrace and fully comprehend such things in ourselves. Alhamdulillah, I know God’s Plan is part of everything I have experienced.
So what’s going through my head right now? Well there are the minor wedding details that need to be wrapped up prior to the ceremony, little things here and there that I’m checking off on my list one at a time. Then there’s the opening of a new chapter in my life. One of a new family, responsibilities, duties as a wife, understanding my own goals as well as those of my husband. All in all, I feel a peace that I haven’t felt in a very long time. Truly, it’s something that I can’t describe. Just a positive energy that fills me with happiness.
On a much sadder note, a young girl died in our community this past weekend. She was loved by everyone that knew her, and her death saddened me a great deal personally. Truly, she was a beautiful human being. At a time like this I feel we are shaken into the reality of our being, and the existence of God’s Plan in our lives. Inna Lillahe Wa Inna Ilaihe Rajeon. My prayers go out to her family during this difficult time.
I’m so excited!! Only a short time left until the big day insh’Allah. It’s been really busy these past few months planning the wedding and working non-stop. I’ve been pushing 10-13 hour work days on average during the months of June/July due to deadlines. That means little sleep – the only relief being that I can work on wedding planning in my off time and see the people I love.
A new chapter in my life is beginning now, and Alhamdulillah I feel truly blessed to be sharing it with someone so special. It’s been a beautiful and moving experience being engaged these last few months and I couldn’t be happier.
I’m also a firm believer that God never puts anything in our path that we aren’t meant to experience and understand. It’s been a long journey up to this point, and I’ve definitely grown as a person. It’s beautiful to have the love and support of my friends, family, and fiance throughout this journey.
I’m going to go back to writing soon so that I can catalogue all of these thoughts and express them. Maybe even do some painting. Stay tuned for more.
Listening to drums the sound captures my brain cells beaming along for the ride of a lifetime i’m happy inside the skin that has raised me shaped my viewpoint adolescence non existent when they see me naked with my clothes on a night where the light beams evolution to the bloodstream making midnight dance on the clock wild everyday for the rest of my life owe you forever something easily traced to my need for belonging who can care when the stereotypes are made by the people that shatter their standards with hammers and guns for babies without mommies and all they can staple to our hands is a lifeline that rips our arms off i don’t need peace i need practice so that understanding makes the desensitized heal their sensitive eyes or so you tell them when you want to televise their lives become meaningless when music can create feelings through the air that we breathe into ears making silence when the moments are long.
The light in me has reached into the spaces of your mind. Transparent, beautiful, damaging the recesses inside your broken love. As time collapses into life what lived beneath our blood has changed – I have released the cords of memory that tied me to your pain. Let go, in peace, of pieces of a place. The scenery has changed. I am no longer that which you believe. Please understand, and let me be. You are no longer the one inside my heart.
If you tune into radio mug-mug starting tomorrow morning you will hear the following:
1 - The Kills “No Wow”
2 - Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti “Jules Lost His Jewels”
3 - Headphones “Pink and Brown”
4 - Youth Group “Skeleton Jar”
5 - Morningwood “NY Girls”
6 - Mando Diao “God Knows”
7 - of Montreal “So Begins Our Alabee”
8 - Pitty Sing “CTWYL”
9 - The Static Age “Ghosts”
10 - Feathers “My Apple Has Four Legs”
12 - Mary Timony “Friend to J.C.”
13 - Crystal Skulls “No Room for Change”
14 - Quasimoto “Greenery”
15 - The Soundtrack of Our Lives (T.S.O.O.L.) “Bigtime”
16 - M83 “Don’t Save Us From the Flames”
17 - Pure Reason Revolution “Nimos & Tambos”
18 - The Valley Arena “Into the Lion’s Mouth”
19 - Le Tigre “TKO”
20 - The Rapture “Echoes”
21 - Aspera Da Astra “Godspeed”
22 - Letter E “Good Bye”
23 - Very Secretary “Highlight Lowlie”
24 - Ida “Honey Slide”
25 - Har Mar Superstar “I’m Your New Babydaddy”
26 - Bright Eyes “No Title”
27 - Chris Leo/Dalek/The Oktopus “Infinite Paths”
28 - Tristeza “Pink Elephants”
29 - John Vanderslice “Time Travel Is Lonely (with Spoon)”
30 - The Faint “Worked Up So Sexual-Death Cab Mix”
31 - Vue “People on the Stairs”
32 - Camera Obscura “Something About a Nightmare Curtain 1″
33 - Kind of Like Spitting “Prarie Lullaby”
34 - Soul-Junk “Graveyard Style”
35 - F*ck “Diapers”
36 - Son Ambulance “Like Billy Budd or Gyrano de Bergerac”
37 - The Shyness Clinic “I Am Light Circling Back To Its Source (Keep Passing The Open Windows)”
Enjoy my fellow indie lovers. I hope to fill your ears with joy, peace, and happiness…
Sweetness, let me speak to you. Let me tell you what you have given me. With reason alive, I choose to drown heavy into your heart. I’m mind connected, puzzle pieces fitted through my tree, sad soft tender eyes I see you when I’m looking.
Shake me.
Watching sheltered leaves rain down to the ground, as they blanket your skin inside corridor embraces. You broke free of this hand when we were conceived, beauty, you are my innocence realized in dreams.
I’ve waited my whole life to taste the fruit of these words. How deep can I go? Let’s see. Further then the rib cage through which your spirit breathes. When I place my ear to listen I can hear him beating free. Baby You Complete My Sentences.
To hell with physical boundaries of love, supressing mortal aspirations of paradise. To live and die is to be in your space. Heaven lays in the written word, and you are the book I am reading as I fall asleep.
No one can really understand what you mean to me. In you my love, the truth in me is realized.
I’m raping the moon with a solitary smile. One two three footsteps walking around Adams Morgan grabbing hold of two stairs. My man on the arm with a wicked cigarette, brushing aside a mocha latte to breathe in perfection, moving his tongue inside of two grins. It is so fucking gorgeous. People traveling tables cozy up inside chairs, diving into little rooms to hang loose around brief styles of word.
Every corner of this city is a blanket of lamplight – camps of the wandering souls in disguise – you want to stay connected to the scenery changes. You want to be the essence of a lavish free religion. You want to sleep it off inside a never-ending mind fuck. Make carpeted dreams grow old with your intentions.
I felt the urge to record a cover of Jeff Buckley’s “Forget Her” when I came home tonight, and that’s exactly what I did. Give it a listen and let me know what you think (turn up the volume):
You took my hand into the moonlight of love. We traveled along its dusty path, well worn of woes and tragic experience. Together, spending our nights walking and talking, disappearing into the distant regions of our soul. I swam deep into your thoughts to grow a muse inside the tender blood of your veins. Even now, I remember the words that you gave me, the beautiful scenery you inspired.. you baby, became the frame around the picture of my desire.
Chapped lips and dry skin..cold Fall days that were sheltered by the warmth of your jacket; my cold hands resting inside the safety of its hollow pockets. I curled in your embrace for hours, leaning on strong shoulders as I fell asleep watching the sunrise from my living room window. And while the town lay sleeping we eased the ache of lonliness. Tonight vanished into the universe of time until we found diaries kept in secret to write of our love. Along the horizon a sunrise appeared while we fell into each other, gazing, watching it grow into an infinite light. Deep in the forest surrounding us a deer’s breathing sounded in the silence of our golden dawn.
Then you said something.. something I have never forgetten.. something so very important. Those words carried your sketches in my mind.. music broke free from the cage of my lips.. a tapestry of sweet perfection as I flipped through the pages of your drawings to see my face.
And blinded in both eyes we drew the lines between us. Years passed stapled by heartache and deception. All of my love sweetheart, it faded into nothing.. all of my love vanished.. though it was beautiful for a time. I understand that there is no perfection in life, only lessons I do not want to learn.
And I did love you once.. but not anymore.
The door is closed and the house has burned down. These ashes I now scatter across the raging river of my experience with tears. It flows in me now.. its current rich and deep.. stretching as far as the eye can see..
I was browsing through my old demos and landed on a rough cut of a song I was in the process of writing. It’s an extremely rough cut (my voice goes a little nuts, and you hear my AIM instant messenger in the background lol.. ) but nevertheless I thought I should post more of my original work. Make of it what you will, enjoy:
Also, a special treat for my fellow indie addicts.. here is my cover of PJ Harvey’s “Dress” that I recorded this morning (3/17/2005) with the flu… that’s right.. the flu.. I must have gargled 3 glasses of salt water to get my throat past a series of squeeks.. give it a listen and see if you can even tell if I’m sick:
As I step deep along the trail of my soul, transcending space and time, hugging veins around this shimmering light, penetrating tapestries of desire and motion, all senses lost into the cave of my mind.. I dream a vision of what my life will become. Is it lost in the sea of my inner anguish? Drowned too deep into the passion that beats through the flood of thoughts behind my eyes? Everyday I ask myself; as I greet the longing inside of me to be more than I am.
It’s the fuel that drives me to introspection and reflection, creating art so I am able to understand the vast array of ripples that resonate from my being. There is no moment unnoticed in my tree. I give and give and give and give. I want to grow. I nurture my roots with love.
There was a time when my heart bled so badly I was void of life. Open wounds drove me to sickness and regret. There was no truth but my own because I lay deceived, fallen captive to lies disguised as truths. I was buried in disgust with humanity and the ability to manipulate the human spirit. The lessons I learned were more painful than swallowing jagged glass.
But to experience and understand is the greatest reward of pain. Those lessons last a lifetime and color your every action and word. I have been blessed with the opportunity to realize this over time and embrace it with open arms. My words echo the light inside of me:
I love you.
I want to help you.
I have so much to say.
Hold my hand so we will grow together in time.
As promised, here are some MP3’s I created as demos with my guitar a few years back using my computer, a cheap microphone, and some handy audio editing software. The first song is a cover of a Jeff Buckley classic, and the next is an original song that I wrote and recorded. (Note: You will have to turn up the volume when listening to these songs, because the recording quality isn’t the best…):
At night I am alone. His Grace guides me closely. As the light falls from a dim lamp on my left, tiny shadows hug the innocence of my weary pen. The purity of a gentle ink spills itself from the recesses of my mind onto this page. Many thoughts escape the reach of my speech, but in the cage of these letters they take shape once again.
What is it to be free? Truly, completely, eternally… what does it mean?
I rest my head on the back of a chair letting this question marinate in my consciousness. Freedom.. peace within yourself, peace with life, peace in Allah. Peace. Taking the good with the bad, never turning away but confronting. Letting go…giving completely. Living in the present. Knowing no limits to your potential.
I want to write this down. Who is going to remember my words though? What does it matter? If death came tomorrow where would I be? Inna Lillahe Wa Inna Ilehe Rajayun. Inna Lillahe Wa Inna Ilehe Rajayun. I’m speaking to You Allah. Please listen..
Thank you for all of this. My sight, my hearing, my hands. What is it that makes me so worthy of all of these things? Many people are dead or dying, many of them have withered to nothing trying to change their tiny world. Everyone is so easily affected by everyone else.. by people they don’t even know. All of it is ripples in a pond.. everything touches everything else. What is my purpose here? Inna Lillahe Wa Inna Ilehe Rajayun.
When I open my eyes I see sunlight filter through the window pane. It dances across my feet and calls me to prayer. I sink my toes into the carpet as I get up to do wudu. Alhamdulillah, another day has come.
When I am lost I say: Allahu Akbar.
When I am found I say: Allahu Akbar.
Ripping the ocean in half,
I find a symmetry in its wretched vein.
Finding peace and holding the pieces,
Tracing chaos inside a shifting sea.
Each half composed of maniacal visions,
Dreamed up in my delusions of grandeur,
Elemental breezes passing through my tree
Fallen leaves resting, caught and floating on the salty water.
David Gray “Babylon” looping through the background..
During college I would do sets in the dorm lounge at 3AM for my friends.. stupid stuff I’d made up on my guitar on the fly for a mini-audience of honest critics, and a lot of the feedback I received was surprisingly positive. Every now and then someone would be strolling past, come inside and have a listen. I got offers to do coffee houses but kindly declined because of the ridiculous amount of work college classes forced upon me, MSA event organization & volunteering, and about a million other extraneous projects I was diving into during my four years at UMBC. I fell asleep in the Engineering & Computer Science building studying on occasion, fell asleep in the Fine Arts building with a notebook full of words on my lap, fell asleep in the prayer room at the campus commons once or twice (waking up at 3AM.. realizing I needed to walk back to my apartment lol). I had interesting conversations with friends about religion, politics, art, crappy dining hall food, and the occasional stroll in 10 below weather to clear my head.
That is what inspired me for 4 years. The sheer possibilities of life and where I was going in this universe. And now, my semi-acoustic Martin Sigma sits in its case - I haven’t picked it up for a good 6 months now.
Tonight, I’m going to pick it up again. I’m going to start writing again. I don’t have to, but I need to. There are some things you just can’t say without composing your thoughts on six strings.
I’ll be posting some mp3s on my web site in the near future - stay tuned. I feel inspired.
I push the rolling stone of ecstacy into my veins, unleashing a tapestry of delusional possibility inside the warm lines of a paper face. Dreaming in difficulty when this world breathes each day in the realized terror of humanity’s sickness. On the planet there are children I don’t know dying, somewhere I’ve never been, somewhere I don’t want to go. My sisters, daily, being raped, tortured, shitting knee-deep in the vomit of society’s filth. Idle men wear costumes to hide their faces shooting guns for someone they’ve never met - throwing bullets at people they’ve never known.
In this life, there are children living with the dream to die. Small hands barely able to hold the weight of their decisions throw tiny souls into mass graves.
The helpless are the blindfolded… but there is something more.
I want my children to be free in this world. I want them to live. I want them to make the right decisions. I want them to dream of a future and realize it with every ounce of their passion. Every soul deserves this powerful grace.
You smashed me in fists and drew me in tight. What a fool - I tried swimming deeper and deeper into your shallow pool. All weaknesses realized, mistakes covering mistakes. All lies thrown on my ears numbering two more than your mouth.
And I found shelter inside my guitar. Inside my words. Inside of God.
Every oblivious factor of your face. Every damaged recess of your brain I replaced. I lifted free and flew so that you wouldn’t break me. I stretched my arms and shook the dust off my feet.
I pushed myself off the ground and walked away. For the last time.
Last couple of weeks have been pretty rough. I’m doing good now (alhamdulillah), nothing I can’t handle. I’m a strong chica. Signed up for a naseeb account after leaving it a few years back - I know, what a shocker lol. I also have a lot of work this week, so I won’t be blogging much on this web site during the next few days.
Also to all of my friends and family, I love you very much. May Allah (swt) give all of you happiness and reward
During the last few weeks I’ve dried up like a raisin - physically and mentally of course. My brain juices aren’t flowing at all, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to go into some type of rehab as a result.
Chicago was fantastic, I really didn’t want to come back so soon - but alas, so goes the life of a working woman. I can only hope that future vacations will be all expenses paid *closing eyes to dream* with lots of food and tons of interesting people to meet. I’m already ‘planning’ my next vacation to.. well.. I guess I have to narrow down the list
Since it’s almost the new year I should probably say something about how much I learned, what a great experience 2004 was, bla bla bla. To be honest I could care less that another bloody year has gone by. It wasn’t even here long enough for me to get used to it. Not like 1993 or 1999. Yeah, those were the days. I’m actually looking forward to 2005, it’s always good to have a ‘fresh start’. As for resolutions: get into shape, marry the man of my dreams, buy some new digs, go on vacation, and say ‘thank you’ to the people I love more.
Busy busy busy busy. This weekend I am flying to Chicago on business for 2 weeks. Sadly, this is the closest to a vacation I have been during the last 3 years. I still have to put together an entry for Z’s literature contest stop procrastinating and finish packing. I can’t believe how fast the year flew by. It’s already December, yet it doesn’t feel like it at all (thank you global warming). Regardless, I am more than ready for New Year’s after a long and relaxing Thanksgiving break. How was Thanksgiving for everyone? I made turkey for the first time and my extended family. To my surprise I received nothing but praises for my cooking abilities (yay!!). Therefore I am immediately changing my name to Naveen ‘Emeril’ Bokhari. Or Naveen ‘The Naked Chef’ Bokhari. Or.. well.. no.
Argh. I thought I was going to get this NaNoWriMo thing rolling but I haven’t had any.. and I mean any time to dedicate to it. There are a million things going on this month that require my attention that unfortunately leave me little time to write anything down. I am however going to push to complete my entry for the literature prize.
Like Kerry, I have conceded defeat early. I think it’s better to address this now rather than realize it later on. However… that doesn’t mean that a novel is not in my future. I’m going to start piecing it together and putting excerpts up on this site for people during Thanksgiving. Though my rate of production will be slower, it will give me plenty of time to put together my thoughts and produce something halfway decent.
I’ve been a bad girl. In addition to not getting a head start on NaNoWrimo, I’ve lost too much sleep during the last few days due to personal issues. My great-uncle passed away last Friday losing his battle with prostate cancer. Please keep him in your prayers, I know he is in a better place now.
Things seem to be looking up today so I am going to hit the grindstone for NaNoWrimo. I don’t care if I am 9 days behind, I will not declare defeat just yet. If anything I am going to use my troubles to fuel the pen. I’m also submitting to the Andalusia Prize for Literature (thank you Zeshan for recommending this).
On a final note, much love and power to all of my fellow writers. Keep on trucking.
On Chiq’s advice I’ve decided to participate in this year’s NaNoWriMo novel writing challenge. The challenge is to write a 50,000 word (175 pg.) novel in 30 days. The contest begins November 1st, so I’ve been brainstorming about my novel plot line during the last few days. In some ways this contest is more about quantity over quality - but I’m determined to put something worthwhile together and have some fun with it. People have been participating in the challenge for years and being a newbie makes it all the more exciting. If you want a crash course in novel writing I highly recommend taking up this challenge. It should prove to be lots of fun in a psycho kamikaze kind of way.
On an unrelated note, I’ve implemented a mailing list for this web site. When enough people have signed up I will begin sending out updates on mug-mug (and any other relevant news) as I continue to add more content.
Oh yes.. and last but definitely not least - Happy 25th anniversary Mom and Dad, and Happy Birthday Z! ^_^
I took a crack at painting today after 12 years or so. The last time I played with watercolors was in the third grade. I enjoyed painting these pieces so much that I’m going to continue painting at least one piece a day (click thumbnails to enlarge):
I’ve never done comics before. I have no training whatsoever.
I sat down and sketched the following comics a few days ago. The first comic is DESERT STORIES – it focuses on my experiences living overseas in the Middle East during my childhood. I grew up in an American town built by the oil companies for their employees. Even though the town was filled with a diverse population - everything from Irish to Sudanese, I couldn’t ignore the Arabian culture and desert environment that surrounded me. Here is the first page of DESERT STORIES.
The second comic is PEG, and it began as a joke really. I can’t draw as well as Asif so I decided to simplify the comic form. I don’t know what you can possibly get out of reading this other than a laugh Nevertheless, here is PEG #1 for your enjoyment.
I’ve also posted another sketch I drew a few days ago.
The first collection of my poetry and prose from this web site is now available in a free e-book that you can easily view in PDF format by clicking on the link below. I’ve published it under a Creative Commons License which means it cannot be used for commercial purposes, or altered, etc. without my permission. For those of you that didn’t get a chance to pick up a free copy at SPX, or want to give a copy to your friends, this is for you. If you like the book send your buddies this link or e-mail it to friends. Also, I will greatly appreciate any feedback you could give me on my writing. Enjoy:
Here are some sketches people drew for me at SPX.. The first one is from Craig Thompson who sketched an amazing picture in my copy of BLANKETS (and he did it in 2 minutes!!), the second is from Bryan O’ Malley who shared a table with Asif and I at this year’s SPX (if you haven’t read LOST AT SEA or SCOTT PILGRIM you really should), and the last one is an autographed watercolor painting I got from Scott Morse (incredible talent) :
This past weekend I distributed my work at SPX. I shared a table with Brian (of Lost at Sea fame) and Hope, a sweet couple that came all the way down from Canada to attend. (They rock because they gave me Canadian candy.. Canadian Smarties rock!!!) If you would like to read the book I was handing out at SPX, here it is in .PDF format Here are some pictures I took at the expo:
I am also in the process of wrapping up the re-design of this web site. It’s not so much a redesign as a shift from crappy open source code to much more efficient open source code. I’m a web usability nerd and I’m hoping the site speaks for itself *crossing fingers after 8 hours of coding in front of this machine*.. I’m also getting comfortable with PHP after giving myself a crash course during the last couple of days. This has also forced me to crash into my bed for days at a time. Well, not really, but you get the point: I’d definitely appreciate any feedback you can give me about the web site design.
On a final note, I’ll be starting up a web comic this month. Look out for PEG and 5401 coming your way in a week or so.
The images, content, and design of this web site are copyrighted so
please do not reproduce them or link
back to this site without my permission.
Thanx. -- Naveen
