Daanish

All I'm saying.

2012-01-15T04:41:00.000-05:00

It's not the fact that I'm not accustomed to living by myself for very long.
Nor the fact that I'm temperamental and don't seem to get along very well with anyone else ever.

It's not that I'm just not good with people in general, so it seems pretty awesome when I am.
Nor the fact that it sucks that I'm apparently not entertaining enough for an eternity, or whatever the fancy duration is, kids' these days use in metaphors.

It's not like there don't seem to be a lot of people around that'll bother to listen to what happened all day.
Nor the fact that exciting things only seem to happen when you have someone to tell.

It's just that it fucking sucks, you know?
All the emotional and insecure bullshit aside. Or maybe it is just that? I don't fucking know.

All I know is, I'm a little fucking batshit crazy. Or so I like to be sometimes.
It's not the worst fucking thing in the world, you know? There are way worse things happening everywhere all the time.

It's part of the reason I feel batshit crazy sometimes.

And when I say batshit crazy, I just mean angry and shit.

It's not just that it's not good for you.
It's just the fact that, shit, come on. This is a pretty horrible spot to fucking be in right now.

That's all I'm saying.

Something funny and/or witty goes here.

2012-01-13T01:22:00.000-05:00

I just don't want to do it anymore. I can't get myself to do it.

You know, pretend to be something? Just, something-else? Anything else?

I feel like writers are douches. I feel like every time you write something, you're pretending to be someone or something you're not. You're trying your best to be presentable. To seem witty, and smart. To have something extremely profound to say. To have something to say that hasn't been said before.

"We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars, but we won't. We're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."

Feeding into our narcissism. The want to be heard. The irresistible desire to be desired. The dire need for attention. What is the point?

It's what social networking revolves around. Our narcissism is the sacrificial lamb, the scapegoat. All we ever do all day is whine and brag and pretend to be someone or something else. Everywhere. All the time. On everything.

And every single time I write something like this out, I end up deleting it or it ends up in draft hell.

For the sole reason that I don't want to come off as a hypocrite, because I'm doing it myself. Right here. Right now. Writing. It's like a viscous cycle, then, isn't it?

What I was going to write about, however, was childhood. I constantly find myself dozing off and remembering bits and pieces from "back in the day."

Like I remember not so long ago, summers in Riyadh. With absolutely nothing to do, and being so tired of being indoors all day that you don't even realize it, I would lay on the floor all day. And listen to things like How Soon is Now by The Smiths. Or Golden Brown by The Stranglers. My hair would be a complete mess, because I started rejecting the idea of a haircut for a few months. The red t-shirt that I wore for weeks at no end even had a hole in the bottom right. And I just walked around the house, looking like that. Not necessarily going anywhere. Not really don't anything. Just... you know, lurking.

I would go to the store every now and then. Just for the kick of it. And I remember getting stares from the shop owner guy. It was kinda creepy. He looked creeped out himself, if I remember correctly. Then I'd just go back home and repeat the process.

I learned about FServing around that time, if I remember correctly. You know, MIRC. That cool chat thing that all the cool kids use. It's so old, and it's still used by a good amount of people. There are societies that live on MIRC chatrooms to this day. It's crazy.

I also took out 8 hours of my very apathetic life, (over the course of 2 nights,) to create a 200 frame animation in MS Paint. I made an individual .gif in MS Paint... no, I made 200... and it was an animated short about a super awesome guy surfing a plane and then parachuting to the ground. I thought it was pretty cool, for such an original idea.

Then he breaks into some high-tech place and has a Matrix style bullet dodging scene. Which, arguably, might not be so original, but whatever.

Aah, yeah. Those were the good ol' days.

Jar of Pennies.

2012-01-05T03:10:00.002-05:00

I have this jar of pennies in my closet. Technically speaking, it's not even a jar, per se. It's more like, a lot of pennies in a sandwich bag.

Every time I manage to safely put all the pennies I come across into that jar at the end of the night, I feel like I'm doing something right. I also think to myself, hey, at least I'm doing something right. I mean, I'm still alive, so I guess that's another thing that I seem to be doing right, too, but this, in a sense, is much more real. It's right in front of me, and what not. It's tangible and what not, even if I'm going to go into some mushy metaphorical bullshit in just a little.

See, every penny can signify something, you know?

No. Fuck that, I can't do it. I know I could've continued writing that and people would've been all fucking mystified by it and the amounts of fake skewed up philosophy I managed to stuff into it.

It's just a jar of pennies, all right. And for some insane reason it makes me feel just a little more grounded. You know? I also enjoy it because - hey, it's money. And eventually, one day, I'll take it over to a bank and get it converted to bills. It's probably around 10 dollars right now.

10 Dollars. That sounds like such little money, it's ... just horrible. Because that was my first thought: "Gosh, that's not a lot of money..." Then immediately after that, I felt guilty and completed it with: "... that's horrible though! There are starving kids and stuff all around the world, and people have made it with way less money!"

I don't even know where I was trying to go with this.

But uh... yeah. Jar of pennies... and stuff.

2011-12-20T00:05:00.001-05:00

I wonder how it would've been to live in the days of text-only computing. You know, terminal based web browsing, and text-only web pages... nowadays it seems like people refuse to read text unless it's on a vintage-effect picture that looks like grandma's arsehole took it. Why are we doing that, anyway? I thought we moved on to the digital age and wouldn't have to worry about film grain and shit. Instead, people are using DSL-fucking-Rs' to take pictures that look worse than they did 20 years ago. What's the fucking point then?

Dream, within a dr- Oh, shut the fuck up.

2011-08-25T04:55:00.003-04:00

I've been meaning to do this for a really long time.

Inception. I'm going to tear it a new one.

To put it in short, Inception is like a jugsaw puzzle that tries really hard to come off as a rubik's cube. A puzzle that is confusing and so hard to understand, that solving it makes you a part of an elite society. It's the same effect that buying a cup of coffee at Starbucks induces in people. You think to yourself, oh, this is such a fine puzzle, that me understanding it can only mean I belong to a heirarchy that involves people that understand this shit. Surely not a common man. It's only one of the many ways that money makers have found of pulling people into the loop, by feeding their egos. Because the modern day mammal loves nothing more than his or her ego being fed, a.k.a. living the dream.

The plot, the concept of Inception is so shallow, that it can be explained in very simple terms in about 5 minutes. The film makers aren't stupid, I'm not saying that. On the contrary, the film makers are smart people that know this, and could've accomplished that very task - save for the fact that they would never want to. Because that's the secret, the cash cow. They managed to take a concept so simple, and structure it, and present it in a way so tangled up (to orchestral music in the background, of course,) that the common man of today comes out of it feeling like a rocket scientist. And that is the magic of "Inception."

Also to mention, Inception's shallow plot line is not helped by how the movie has no boundaries or set rules to it. No matter what amount of imagination the film makers require the audience to bring in to the movie, I feel the experience is incomplete if there aren't any set of rules developed pre-game. Imagine playing a game of chess without any rules? It just wouldn't be a game of chess then.

Similarly, in Inception it seems that the film makers did whatever the hell they wanted to, from the beginning till the end. Oh, we can go inside dreams, hunky dory. Midway through it all, oh, we can go inside the second layer of the dream too, did ja know? No, I didn't know, because what the fuck, you just made that up.

Filmaker: You know what, how about we just flip the whole surface of the planet in this one scene.

My question here is; Why?? What did that one scene have ANYTHING to do, at fuck all, with the plot? The story line? The concept? Or should I say, the lack of all those things?

It didn't. It was just a cheap trick. One of the many cheap tricks, in fact, Hollywood deploys in the present, so movie goers can just gawk in awe without wasting any brain cells.

Also see: Michael Bay, and Transformers.

It's just pleasant things to look it. Just like Paranormal Activity. There's no plot, there's no sub plot, there's nothing going on. All that it offers, is cheap thrills. Shock imagery. Scary shit happening back to back.

Back in the days, it used to be - they would actually sit down and ponder over how to make the movie more intriguing by adding story telling elements to it. By adding msytery, by adding suspense. By developing character back stories, and somehow unfolding a character's mentality to the person on the other side of the screen.

Take John Carpenter's "The Thing," created all the way back in 1982. The movie had zero to none Computer Generated Imagery. And we can all imagine what the special effects were like back then ourselves. But what John Carpenter did have - was talent, and a way with story telling. The following is a spoiler because I want to make the whole thing about "The Thing" quick and short, because I'm not writing review for it:

[SPOILER ALERT - because I can't talk about the sheer genius, without spoiling a key plot element.] - You see this random dog being hunted by a bunch of Norweignans at the beginning, that fail, and the dog just takes a liking for the people that save it. For the next couple of scenes, you just see this poor shaken up dog look at them from behind windows, and slumping under a table. You look it, and you say "Awww, what an adorable puppy!" The next thing you know, the dog is the mother flipping alien that ultimately ends up killing everyone. Now who would've fucking thought? [Spoilers Ended]

Now, if you haven't seen The Thing, I suggest you watch it as soon as you can, because it's not only a great movie. But it can also be used as a lesson, and something you can compare recent movies to. It has you second guessing everything, even yourself, until the very end. Strong character development, check. Eerie atmosphere, double check. Cheap thrills? Maybe a few. But it doesn't not end up serving you cheap thrills on any expenses, and delivers on all counts.

Let's go back to Inception, shall we?

It has pretty things to look at, and that's about it, in a nutshell. It has a very simple concept/story, and it makes up for that by presenting that concept/story in a very confusing fashion.

I'm not saying anything about the actors, because Leonardo Dicaprio has done some very good things. Not Titanic, no. I'm talking about things like Martin Scorcese's The Departed.

Also pardon me if this seems like a rant - but I literally couldn't sleep at night thinking about how people make Inception up to be some sort of art. Like it's so philosophical and deep, as if Socrates himself wrote it. No, Socrates would've laughed at the lack of all logic. Now excuse me while I go catch up on some much needed sleep.

It's an ugly fucking world.

2011-08-14T13:35:00.003-04:00

This acne medication said "Giving you the power to face the world!"

Because that's just what a teenager with acne needs to read. Confirmation that the world is just a huge sack of shit where the only thing that fucking matters is aesthetics. Because if God forbid, he created you not looking like a 'real' human, and you have some sort of disfigured appearance - how are you going to face the world? Also, he created each and every one of us to be such aesthetic praising mother fuckers, that we rarely ever think of anything else.

Because our idiotic little brains retain information by making data points of every life experience, using whatever little information is provided to us, we don't necessarily take the time out to follow through on minor things like Logic and Reasoning. And what better thing to reign over all this information, than fucking aesthetics. A good looking person vs someone with a horrible looking face, it's no fucking choice who you're going to trust on a rainy day! That job promotion needs to go to someone? Fuck Ellen in accounting, her eyes aren't the same fucking size. Johnathon, however. Who wouldn't want to fuck him. Promote the bastard!

And how do we judge or calculate what is more aesthetically pleasing? Here's the real fucking joke - we don't! For some reason or another, all this has already been fed to us before we could even stop ourselves from shitting our own pants, leaving us on the mercy of our hopeless mothers! Oh, Golly Jee, isn't the world such a happy fucking place where everyone is created equal and receives equal rights?! Jumping jupiters, yes sirry! No wonder people are born with all kinds of genetic mutations and things like congenital ptosis! Fuck yeah, equality!

And then the audacity of human kind to portray hypocrisy on such a grand scale, denying judging books by their covers, not realizing it's just human fucking nature - something we can't really fight. We're flawed, which is why all our systems are flawed. But hell no, good sir! That ain't fucking me! Why, I give everyone an equal chance! So what if I start walking faster at night if an ugly mother fucker is coming down the other side of the street? Especially if they're not the same skin color as me! And by God, if they have acne, fuck this shit - I'm booking it!

So, come on teenagers of the world already tired of being on this planet for a measly 15 - 18 years! Pay up all these big wig corporations to take away the flaws given to you by God himself! If he didn't give them to you, how else do you explain them then?? Must be your own fucking fault then, you ugly mother fucker! Now cough up the dough, children in third world countries aren't going to starve themselves.

Even more ramblings of a mad man.

2011-07-08T11:55:00.002-04:00

How about a fake blog post by the fakest of them all? Even fakest isn't a real word, but I never let grammar and spelling get in the way of setting things right. Cue laughter.

I fail to see why any of us bothers, or even gets out of bed in the morning. Or late afternoon, or in my case - even when the sun sets. Nocturnal and insomniac bastard that I am. But I can't be blamed, it's questions like these that drive me to insanity and lack of sleep.

There is no originality, it died long before you and I came into the picture. We're just products, or bi-products by this time, of the standards and "socially acceptable-ness" that was set long before we were ... products, or bi-products...

We're brainwashed, programmed, and spoon fed with all the bullshit and political correctness that the world around us thinks is stomach-able. No less, no more.

We fake appearances, emotions, feelings. We're our own heroes, and life is our hero's journey. Each and every one of us. Whose the antagonists in our case scenarios, then? The same cliche' antagonists as always, of course.

Authority. The Man. Our own personal dilemmas. Whatever we can build up in time to be miserable and depressed, all the while - faking our way through personal relationships and "life." The selfish pricks that you and I are. There is no altruism, there never can be. The game has always been about the survival of the fittest, and don't let any asshole tell you otherwise. Save yourself and all the optimistic, drugged up on stupid shit, life teachers - all the effort.

You are born, you struggle to survive and put food on the table, and then you die. I don't see what the big fucking mystery is.

So "what masks does Daanish Arif wear?," an opportunist would ask at this time.

Fuck you, that's what mask. See what I did there? I'm the forever rebelling, sticking it to the man while sticking one up his wife's ass - not taking shit for answers, and making my own rules - motherfucker.

It's much easier to claim you don't like the game itself, to save yourself from having to put any effort into playing it.

Fuck all the rules, because I didn't make any of them - and neither did you. Then why participate?

Such a pacifist, aren't I? And so easy to get along with, as long as you don't put any rules on the table.

We're so full of hope, and so full of shit. (Thank you Marilyn Manson.) We will forever lust after results, and we're all fucking superstars according to our own rites. Right... rite, right... Whatever.

Why do I love self destruction so much, an opportunist would probably ask. Well, we all beg to feel something or the other every now and then, don't we?

We all have to play with the cards we're dealt, of course. And what cards was I dealt that hadn't ever been dealt to anyone before?

It's all been done before, it's all happened before. We're not living any special stories, we stopped a long time ago. As soon as the nth number of person born took the same exact route someone else did. Probably long before your great grandfather was even born.

The only thing that surpasses our hopelessness is our insignificance. Yet we strive to correct people on their beliefs, on the color of their skin. We continue to stigmatize the poor moron that had no choice where he was born, or under what religion. We continue to kill in the name of pissing all over the place and marking our territory.

The only thing that surpasses our insignificance, is how primitive we are. Except, we don't climb trees and throw feces at each other any more. We climb social heirarchys' and use bombs.

We're like a speck of dust in a universe so huge - our minds can't even contemplate it. It would make our idiotic heads spin, and one look at how it all works is enough to drive the sanest minds insane.

"If life is going to exist in a universe of this size, then the one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion."

What's the point to anything at all then, you speck of dust?

Us, the non contributing zeroes of the universe, just trying to contemplate it all and making our own realities. Anything to belong. Anything to help us sleep at night. To save us from the boogeyman, any shoulder to keep us warm and comfortable.

Fuck, that.

"Cynical Realism is the intelligent man's best excuse for doing nothing in an intolerable situation." - Aldous Huxley.

Musings from a plane again.

2011-06-12T16:18:00.000-04:00

You can't smoke on airplanes, and my flights back and forth between Riyadh and New York are usually 12 hours. Nicotine withdrawal makes me a very angry person. I sometimes laugh at my anger, and write down mean things, especially on planes.

It's because I have all the time in the world to sit there and converse with myself. Observe:

My keen spirit is chafed by involuntary inaction.

There's a kid walking down the fucking plane corridors wearing shoes that light up while he walks, while people are trying to sleep. He's lucky air pressure prevents these doors to open, or I would brighten up the Atlantic ocean sky for a quick few seconds.

How fucking retarded do you have to be - not only to buy your kids this horrible fucking bastard child of disco club and shoe, but also let the little fucker run around on a plane in them?? Seriously, parents. Pay more attention to your kids, before they prove Darwin's theory of natural selection... actually, never mind...

Maybe I'll extend my foot down this dark lane the next time the little jackrabbit Christmas tree decides to come running down. Redefine 'flying colors.'

More ramblings of a mad man.

2011-06-07T13:08:00.000-04:00

In my nightmares, I'm mostly in Riyadh. The backdrop and lighting is almost always dark red or maroon. I wake up depressed, and as if I've witnessed or experienced something deeply disturbing. I feel sick to the stomach, and very sad.

The nightmares come and go, though. Every now and then, sometimes multiple ones in a night. Sometimes they're just dreams and not that overwhelming even - but it surprises me each time when that happens and I wake up feeling just as depressed as I would if it weren't just a simple dream.

I'll wake up humming an old tune, something I heard when I was growing up. So I'll put my headphones on and revisit it for a few minutes. Sometimes I wake up humming to something I've already revisited a day or two ago. Sometimes I wake up and hum something I haven't thought about in a while, and then I revisit it. It's very weird. I'm kinda confused.

Every book I read gives me an analogy, or reference that I can't get over for a few days. That's why I like good works of art and the sort - they leave imprints on your brain for a while. At least for me they always have. I find it hard to let go of grasping subjects and details from any story. Even if it's fictitious, but not only if.

I read Farenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury a few days ago. I can compare myself to Guy Montag in this situation then - just because of the confusion.

I might just be homesick. Not so much that I'm sick of not being home, but that the thoughts of going back home are making me sick. I don't know.

I'm anxious and nervous to going back to my previous lifestyle for various reasons. Mostly alienation.

I remember the last couple of times I went back home, and things were completely different for some reason.

I hate the fact that I can't just write whatever I want here. I also hate not being able to say what I want, when I want to. This has got me into trouble in the past, and I'm afraid of it getting me in trouble again, especially when I go back home.

A question that sometimes drives me hazy,
Am I, or are the others crazy?

Redefining awesome since 1989.

2011-05-31T19:03:00.002-04:00

I just honestly don't have anything to say.

It's kind of scary, to be honest with you. I've never experienced a writer's block of such sorts. In fact, it might have actually evolved beyond the point of being just a writer's block - into a lack of things to say. That is the scary part, and I'm not even trying to be funny (or sarcastic.)

I turned 22 a day (or two,) ago. It's funny, I got wishes from the most unexpected people and places.

My girlfriend made me a lot of cheese cake, which was pretty awesome. I might actually have just about enough cheese cake, for once in my life. My love of desserts worries me sometimes. But then I eat cake to feel better, and it always works. I think it's the reason I love cakes to begin with, it's one of those remarkable viscous cycles.

22 years old and I write about cheese cake. This would not be a problem of course, if I wasn't a man (or attracted to women,) of course - now would it? But alas, I can't resist cake.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I think I just can't do the stupid public service announcement birthday blog post any more.

I thought it was cool that Nobia remembered - I have no idea how she does it, but she did. It's a little scary.

Sheeni remembered too, even though I have long felt that she has a birthday calender on a wall in every room of her house. I don't think her (or her mom,) has ever forgotten a single birthday. Ever.

Sam remembered too! It was ridiculous, he called from Saudi Arabia. It was awesome. I really wasn't expecting from hearing from anyone back home.

And can you blame me? I think my parents forgot too, this year. It was kind of funny, but I can't blame them. I would forget too, if I had 4 kids. I barely remembered my own birthday this year, and I don't even have one!

Lala remembered too, which was pretty awesome.

I don't have any profound or introspective thoughts to offer.

Being 22 isn't anything special. Everything is the same as I it was when I wasn't 22. I don't know what I was expecting would be different. Maybe I hoped I would be wiser by now. Or have more answers to the great mysteries of life.

On the contrary, however, I find myself even more lost than ever before. This is what purgatory must feel like, in fact.

Whoops. I just gave out an introspective thought. But still, I didn't lie though, it wasn't much profound.

Or maybe it was. That'll give you something to think about while I go back to exploring things.

The love of silly games.

2011-03-29T18:50:00.003-04:00

She slammed the door behind her, as she entered the apartment with a bucket full of fresh clothes that smelled like a valley filled with green somewhere that was fake. It slammed shut extra loud, a little louder than she hoped it would, but the doors in this building had a way of doing that. And gravity didn’t help a lot either, especially considering that the house wasn’t built on a straight piece of land. Either that, or the construction workers all had vertigo.

“I’m putting your laundry down here next to the couch. Are you ready yet?” She said in a semi-loud voice, so he could hear him in the next room.

He, was tieing his shoelaces before standing up from the bed and walking to her. “Yeah. I suppose so…” his sentence ended abruptly as he remembered to comb his hair one last time, “… almost done.” He looked up at her and she immediately knew it. She made a quick mental note to get ready for a series of questions, and then another one to remind her to stop making mental notes. She had already known this was going to happen, and she didn’t need any mental notes.

“Who were you talking to in the hallway?” he asked.

“Oh, you heard?” She pretended to be oblivious to common sense. It was either a defense mechanism, or just something she did for shits and giggles. This while, continued to comb his hair and pretend nothing was out of order or out of the ordinary. “Yeah. It was pretty loud.”

“Oh. No one,” she started, while looking around to see if she was forgetting anything of her own. But mainly just to avoid eye contact. “it was just your neighbor. The one that plays guitar?”

He smirked a little and said, “of course it was the one that plays guitar.”

She stopped in her tracks just a few multiseconds before he could even finish his sentence, because she was expecting this just as well. Although perhaps she herself didn’t realize this, in keeping up with the silly games all couples probably play. Involuntarily. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she enquired for herself.

“Nothing. What were you guys talking about anyway?” he continued.

“Oh, just this and that. He was asking if I live here by myself, so I told him about you,” she said, before quickly adding, “and us! And I told him where we go to school, and that he plays guitar well.”

He stopped combing his hair, and just stood there for what seemed like a quick second. This was another thing that was sort of expected and unexpected at the same time. Like you know it’s coming, but you’re never too sure, so you sort of push the envelope to find out. Sort of like those things, you know?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he enquired.

“What? What do you mean? I think he plays the guitar well.” she retorted.

“And how exactly do you know that?”

This made her think for a while, but a very short while. If she had stopped to think longer it would blow her whole spot, and she was losing credibility by the second. “What do you mean? We hear him through the walls all the time…”

“Through the walls, all the time!” he repeated, trying to make a point. “And how do you judge someone’s musical talents while listening to the distorted sounds that you only hear through a damn wall??”

“Wow, are you serious?” she said, with great disbelief. Much greater than it actually was, of course, she didn’t want to lose any more credibility.

“Yes?? How do you figure someone’s good at something without even seeing it for your own eyes. For all you know, it could be a recording of some really distorted guitar player.”

“Wow, that’s one of the most retarded things I’ve ever heard.”

“Really, you’ve never heard of Scientology?

“Wow,” she repeated, still feigning disbelief, and without much else to add. “…wow.”

“That’s it? Wow?”

“I don’t know what else to say to you, that’s one of the most unbelievable things I’ve ever heard.”

“…”

“…”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“That’s dumb.”

“No, what you said was dumb.”

“wow, forget it.”

“I already have.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

With this they both finally decided they were ready to go out, without talking to each other of course. Talking to each other would mean one of them was weaker than the other somehow, wouldn’t it? Of course.

They walked quietly together for a while, her with her pouted lips, and him with a cigarette in his mouth. They decided to stand at the corner of the street and wait for the rest of the group of people that was joining them for dinner.

“I can’t believe we argued over something so stupid,” she finally said.

“We’ve argued over dumber things… and what do you mean stupid, anyway? I was making sense.” he retorted.

“Making sense? No you weren’t.”

“Yes, I damn right was. You’re probably the only person that doesn’t see any sense in it.”

With this, they saw the people they were waiting for walk towards them and her first response was to hush him up before he could continue what she considered to be “the most ridiculous thing shes’ ever heard.”

“No, no one will see the sense in that because there isn’t any. Now if you can be quiet, we can go to dinner with these poor folks.” she pleaded.

Small talk ensued as expected, hand shakes, hugs, the usual social obligations.

“So where do you guys want to go eat?” asked Jim, or Joe, or Jane, it doesn’t matter who.

He quickly made way into the conversation without even considering the question, and said:

“Ok, here’s a hypothetical question… you hear someone playing an instrument through the walls of your apartment, right?”

She just rolled her eyes.

Tumblr-ing along.

2011-02-23T16:08:00.001-05:00

Click on this link: ----> Linkage. It will take you to [daanish.tumblr.com/linkage]

Click on "Tumblr." It will take you here: [daanish.tumblr.com]

I blog there more often. It's a place for every tiny little thought that I have or want to put up on display in a sort of online notebook. Or a bookshelf filled with really tiny books. Enjoy it, will you?

They're just words.

2011-02-20T16:04:00.002-05:00

Remember I talked about feeling like I’m leading two lives?

I’m in bed, and my very American girlfriend makes me coffee. She’s bringing it to me in bed, and I mumble:

“Udhr rakh do na…”

She gives me one of the most confused looks I’ve ever seen before I finally realize what I just did.

“Um, I meant - put it on the table there. Sorry.”

An honest drugged-up-by-sleep mistake, of course. It’s a bit difficult to be balancing two vocabularies at once, though, I’m not going to lie.

Especially if you take pride in the fact that you’ve managed to learn more words than the average person. In both languages.

Humans: 'Social Networking' Whores.

2011-02-02T13:29:00.006-05:00

Aah, what us foolish sheep will do to get into a fucking social group that's somehow significant or special, in that it doesn't let just about anybody in.
We cry all the time against racism, and insist we're all just one. How hypocritical, when in actuality, we try so hard to find a group to join that's somehow exclusive.

Our cliques, our social groups in colleges and universities, even the fucking clubs you can or do join.

Blackberry Messaging Service is just one of those many services/social groups/clique/club.
This is the whole foundation, or philosophical concept, of the multi-million internet company - Facebook.

But not just. It's also what powers any 'social networking' website.

Our desire or irresistible need to 'break from tradition, flow against the current, not follow the norm.' Having some chance of standing out in a fucking room when you're with a group of people.

The Blackberry Messenger Service crowd. Once you're part of this group, some things that are automatically assumed or 'enabled' are:

You are a "professional." Period.
You have enough money to own a blackberry, and of course - have service.
You don't own just any other phone. It's a blackberry. Also see: ipods.
Only the cool people have the service. You're not missing out on the action if you have a bbpin. Because even if you know what Sally is bitching about Thomas on Facebook, she might be bitching about someone else on the Blackberry Messenger Service. You need to have this information, and now you can get it

I type this with a Blackberry in my pocket, and the thought of writing this came to me when I was contemplating whether I should get Blackberry Messaging enabled on mine.

Why did I get a Blackberry? I don't think I would see everything I just wrote about, as clearly - or in whatever way I see it now, if I didn't.

To know how sweet or sour the apple is, I wanted to take a bite out of it instead of listen to the Apple seller. Funny that I used an Apple for this analogy.

Curry.

2011-02-02T13:28:00.004-05:00

I was recently asked on a quiz in Sociology class what my race and ethnicity were. Or what I considered them to be anyway.

I've always considered myself to be free from such social obligations and never really considered the question before. Association with a group of people that you were fortunate/unfortunate enough to be born into due to sheer chance and fate doesn't make much sense to me. Admittance into this 'club,' isn't really difficult, is it now? All I had to do was ... well, nothing really, it was my mum and dad and the doctor who pulled me out - that did all the real work. I probably just cried a lot and wet everything I got within peeing range of. I didn't make the choice here, do you see what I'm trying to get it? It just happened.

And so I can consider myself 'Indian.' Because Pakistan and India were pretty much just one country, not to forget Bangladesh. And I don't care what anybody says, Kashmir should just be left alone and given their independence. Territorial bullshit about a piece of dirt that we walk on (aka 'land',) just doesn't make any sense to me.

Besides, don't India and Pakistan pretty much speak the same language? We have the same old traditions and prejudices, the only differences have mere face value and just seem so on the different on the surface. We also hold the same old fashioned prejudices and notations about how the rest of the world works.

UPDATE: This, however, does not mean I want to be considered 'indian.' I don't want to be associated or considered a part of anything that happened any time before i was born. I deserve to have a life that starts with a clean slate, and to not be judged by what happened before I even started.

I'm deviating from the main purpose of this blog post, however, which is: CURRY.
I love that shit. Whatever 'Asian' restaurant you take me to, as soon as I see Curry on the menu, the decision has already been made.

So, Belal and Frank are having a completely irrelevant conversation about Curry, when one of them (presumably Belal) starts adding 'Curry' to movie names.
We came up with quite a few, actually:

The Bourne Curry
Curry Hard
The Da Vinci Curry
Lock, Stock, and Two Smokin Curries
Curry with a Vengeance
Curry Hour
Curry Movie 1, 2, 3 and 4.
I know what Curry you ate last summer.
The Curious Case of Panang Curry
Curry Club (of which, Rule No 1 is, you do not talk about Curry. Rule No 5 is, if it's your first time at Curry Club, you must have some Curry.)
127Curries
The Day After Curry
Curry is Forever
Curry, Actually
Deep Blue Curry
Curries of the Caribbean

Musings from the sky II.

2011-01-18T16:13:00.003-05:00

Instead of saying bio-degradable, the package to this sandwich says it will "disappear even if you bury it in your garden." How stupid do these bastards think we are?

And I realize flights can be as long as 22 hours, but i don't think that's enough time to grow a garden. Where the fuck am I going to bury this?!

Musings from the sky.

2010-12-26T20:15:00.003-05:00

I wrote the following while I was on the plane to Qatar. I was reading "The Restaurant at the end of the Galaxy" by Douglas Adams, so all the quotes that follow are from the book.

"In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move."

Douglas Adams wrote about me!

Hmmm, the lack of taste of these sesame crackers almost make up for the foulness that is this cheddar cheese.

"If life is going to exist in a universe of this size, then the one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion."

This flight attendant has the cutest British accent ever. And she keeps calling me "hun," or "lovie." I could get used to this.

"The function of art is to hold the mirror up to nature, and there simply isn't a mirror big enough."

This guy sitting next to me is watching Prison Break season 3. He's either very late to the party, or a time traveler. Hmmm.

No fun at all.

2010-12-23T04:58:00.000-05:00

I'm scheduled to go back home on the 24th of December. That's Christmas Eve.

I'm taking a flight all the way to Qatar, from New York. Even though my destination is Riyadh in Saudi Arabia, which I'll be flying over to get to Qatar for a 4 hour transit stay at the airport. After that, I'll fly back in the opposite direction from which I came, and reach where I originally wanted to be.

Yay. So the 12 hour flights back home that I hated with a passion not only got longer, but now there's a 4 hour stay in Qatar.

Isn't that great? It's absolutely fantastic. I can't believe my good fortune.

I could've picked a much more comfortable route for much more cheaper, and have transit at a country like France or even England. But much thanks to my Pakistani passport, and ''my fellow country-men's'' willingness to cause violence - not a lot of countries around the world like us.

And not a lot of countries like me. Just because of my passport, that is correct. Note that I don't blame them. I'm just commenting on my good fortune.

I'm also a little cynical and whiny because I'm depressed about going back home. Does that sound a little odd? I'm sure it does.

I'm actually looking forward to seeing my family. I actually miss them, and don't really get to talk to them while I'm here. I hate conversations on the phone, and I made a point not to spend too much time on the internet... which didn't help of course.

It's leaving behind life here which is depressing me. You've probably heard me say this before, but I hate this feeling of leading two lives that I've had to deal with for the past 2 years... It's like I don't really have a home anymore. I don't really know much about what's going on back home in the middle east, and my parent's don't really know much about here. Other than the fact that I'm going to college and what not, but isn't that about 20% of your life?

I don't know any of my sibling's interests anymore, for instance. They've always grown so fast that I'm surprised and shocked every time I go back home, every 6 months. I don't know what they're ''into'' or what they've been doing in the not so distant past.

In short, I don't really communicate a lot with people 'back home.' Unfortunately... but can I be blamed for trying to pay more attention to life in the country I am currently residing in?

I can either live life and indulge in it's abstractness that can't be verbalized. Or I can pass by it, jotting notes down, trying to keep track and narrate it to an audience that doesn't really exist?

Besides, audiences are like the Gods we create and place on high chairs. Then they fall one day, and we're just like, "aww man." Bummer.

I'm depressed because... I like it here. And I wish my family could come to me so they could see what I've fallen in love with, instead of me having to go there and trying to verbalize it.

It's depressing... I think I've already mentioned that. Maybe I just felt like it needed more emphasis.

It's no fun being depressed, is what I think I'm trying to say here...

No fun at all.

How to be famous and liked.

2010-12-20T02:05:00.002-05:00

Consider this theory:

Someone narcissistic is truly, on the deep-down inside, a really insecure person.

To some this might just click as a faux wisdom, something that will click just because of the irony.

To others this might sound preposterous.

Narcissists usually love themselves and nothing else as much as they love themselves.

And to add to the fun of going against the grain, I'm going to take being insecure up a notch and say truly Narcissistic people hate themselves.

In short, the more someone displays Narcissistic behavior and traits, the more insecure they are and the more they hate themselves for it.

The kick here is, they just can't tell. It's a part of being the program and just playing on to ''who we really are,'' ... this, of course, isn't who we are at all. It's just the program, running us. And we're running on an even bigger program - planet Earth's program, so we're programs ourselves.

Operating System >> program >> script.
The World >> us (you and I) >> tunnel vision and the world we see due to it.

We wouldn't go on and talk about ourselves until we felt there was something that needed to be changed there. Or a change needed to be expressed.
No one lifts a finger unless they feel something needs to be done about something or the other. D'uh, right?

It doesn't matter if anyone cares or not, to the Narcissists' tunnel vision - all he sees is himself. And he talks about it and discusses it all day because he doesn't like what he sees. The root of all critique, or criticism.

Then again, aren't we all a little insecure?

Then again, doesn't this society, or the script, harbor insecurity to begin with? Because it's turned everyone into a borderline Narcissist - to say the least?

The way to go, man, is to not give a fuck about what anyone else says. Believe in yourself, son, everyone will keep hating no matter what. What matters is what YOU think of yourself. And nobody else.

Now go out there, you little Narcissist and show the world what you can do! Let's tear each other apart with our insecurities.

Hiss like a Python!

2010-12-20T01:44:00.000-05:00

I've started my own linux blog here; Fuck Yeah, Ubuntu!

I've started to learn how to program! It's been crazy fun, progressing doesn't seem like work at all, it's more like a game. I started with Python, and plan on studying Java, Javascript, and PHP next.

I don't know what to blog about. I'm just going to be honest and say that.

I feel like I just can't do it anymore. I don't remember how I used to... I don't remember what I used to write about, or even why... maybe that proves that it was just useless ramblings like I thought?

I also blog here ; daanish.tumblr.com

Or tumbl... actually... heh. Go check it out?

My list of top 5 Ubuntu applications.

2010-12-12T20:42:00.002-05:00

Ubuntu has been really good to me lately, and so I thought I'd talk about the applications I frequently use in Ubuntu to get things done!

The beauty of using Ubuntu, in my opinion, is the fact that almost everything seems to work out of the box. I actually prefer looking for native applications that I can use, rather than 3rd party applications. They look better, they're simple and minimalistic (keeping with the Ubuntu way,) and they just plain and simply work!

I do, however, have a few 3rd party applications I use to get some added functionality. Just don't think of this as a guide to what applications you should get as alternatives for the native installed programs.

This is my list of the applications I run the most frequently in Ubuntu, and find to work for me. Think of it as a list of suggestions. =]

"5 Applications in Ubuntu that everyone should try at least once."

Google Chrome
I was a strong advocate for Firefox when it first came out. But that was before Google Chrome was released, and I got a chance to take it for a spin. Ever since I tried Chrome for the first time, I've never looked back. I was ecstatic when I learned Chrome was officially released for Linux! I had been running Chromium (an unofficial, open source browser based on Chrome.) It's fast, and it's minimalistic and doesn't hog up system resources.

Tomboy Notes
A native application found in Ubuntu. I am in love with Tomboy Notes! The ability to create 'notebooks' and manage your notes using them is just amazing. I used to create endless text files on desktop to archive all the useful information I run into on the Internet. Tomboy Notes is a much cleaner and simpler way of doing so, and it also has the ability to link your notes together! Every time you type the name of an existing note in a note, Tomboy will automatically create a link to that note. It's amazing!

Ex: You have a note file called "Cheesecake recipe." Every time you type ''cheesecake recipe" in any other note file using tomboy notes,
it will automatically turn into a link to the Cheesecake recipe file.

XChat
Do a lot of IRC? Or maybe since you're running Ubuntu, you need constant help finding and fixing things? The #Ubuntu channel at irc.ubuntu.com is home to fellow Ubuntu users just waiting to help!

You can use the native Empathy IM client in Ubuntu to connect to IRC servers and such, but I find it easier if IRC is run using a seperate client than the one managing all your other IM services.

Runner ups: IRSSI - IRC chat in terminal windows.

Twhirl
A lightweight adobe air based twitter client. There are many, many, many air based twitter clients out there today. I don't know why I particularly picked Twhirl, but it does what it says and isn't very complicated. Plus, I think the color theme just changes automatically based on the current ubuntu theme, which I think is pretty neat.

You could use the native application for twitter called Gwibber, but it's just plain ugly.

You could also use Tweetdeck, but I never found myself that dedicated to Twitter.

Destroy Twitter is another application that is very similar to Twhirl, in that it is also adobe air based.

Runner ups: Tweetdeck, destroy twitter

Liferea
RSS feed reader that automatically becomes a part of the Ubuntu messaging panel in recent Ubuntu releases. Does what it says and just joins the gtk look, which is why I love it! Simple and easy to use, as well as lightweight.

That's it for now. Look forward to similar lists and application reviews in the future!

"Operation Failed," in Ubuntu while using the Software Center.

2010-12-10T22:14:00.000-05:00

Just fixed my very first ubuntu solution for someone else! And on Reddit/r/Ubuntu [Link], too, at that. I'm pretty proud of myself. =]

Give Reddit a look if you don't already know what it is.

"Maybe some of you Ubuntu veterans can help me out with some problems that are keeping Ubuntu from being my main OS.

I've got ubuntu on an HP dv4 laptop.

Here are my issues: -Skype sound doesn't work -Can't stream Netflix online -Whenever I install something I get an error that says "Operation Failed," but it doesn't actually fail (this is just an annoyance).

Maybe you guys can help me out?"

The Solution:

"The operation fail thing - my girlfriend was getting that on her laptop too, but it got fixed fairly easily.

The problem was, her cache was out of date, all she had to do was update it. ("sudo apt-get update" in terminal without the quotations.)

If this didn't work (didn't for her either at first,) you need to change the server you're getting your updates from. Go to Update Manager in System>>Administration from the panel, and click on Settings.

Go to the Ubuntu Software tab and click on "Download From:"

From the drop down menu, select "Other" and click on "Select Best Server."

This will download dummy files from every server until it figures out which one is closest/the best server for you.

After you're done with this, it should automatically search for updates, and update your cache too. If it doesn't, just use the command earlier mentioned (in terminal,) or use the update manager.

Hope this fixes that problem. =]"

And it did! Here's a link to the Reddit thread: [Link]

So if you're having similar problems in either 10.04 or 10.10 (because it seems to be common,) give that a shot and maybe you'll be good to go.

Terminal based Web Browsing and Instant Messaging in Ubuntu 10.10

2010-12-08T02:18:00.000-05:00

I've been having a hell of a time learning how to use Terminals in Ubuntu. Some fun things I've picked up in the past day or two are using command line based instant messaging and web browsing!

Two programs easily available on Ubuntu that let you do this are:

Finch - terminal based IM client and W3M - terminal based web browser!

They're both extremely lightweight since they run in a terminal window and don't hog up any system resources! Here's what you have to do to get them:

W3M:

W3M is already included in Ubuntu 10.10 (Maverick) and if you're running it right now than you probably already have the packages! I'm not certain, but previous releases probably also carry it, at least 10.04 would I'm pretty sure.

If not, in terminal:

sudo apt-get install w3m

After w3m installs, all you have to do to browse the internet from a terminal window is:

w3m http://www.daanish.tumblr.com

Whereas you would replace this blog's address with the website you'd like to browse (d'uh!)

Finch:

Terminal based IM client that runs using the same technology as the popular IM client found in older versions of Ubuntu - Pidgin!

To install Finch, in Terminal:

sudo apt-get install finch

After it installs, type ''finch'' in terminal to get it up and running. Here are some useful shortcuts:

Switch between windows: ALT + N (next window) ALT + P (previous window)
Resize selected window: ALT + R (use arrow signs on keyboard)
Move selected window across the screen: ALT + M (use arrow signs on keyboard
Quit: ALT + Q

Here's a screenshot of me having some fun with Finch in Ubuntu 10.10:

'Rawring Pandas' Social Experiment

2010-12-07T00:51:00.002-05:00

Introducing the Rawring Pandas social experiment.

'Rawring Pandas' because that was the name of a previous side project with a friend that never took off.

Social Experiment because it sounds cool.

I realized there hadn't been any documentation or proper instructions or even a statement describing what I'm trying to do here.

In a nutshell: think of it as a Twitter account that's co-owned by a bunch of people.
I'm looking for that bunch of people.

Do you think you can be one of those people? No list of criteria or specifics that I'm looking for. If you own a twitter/facebook/blog, you can apply.

Invitations only at the moment! If you have someone you can refer, someone you know that would be interested - that works too.

All invites go to either @daanisharif (twitter) or danish989@gmail.com

Ha Ha Ha ...

2010-12-06T23:07:00.001-05:00

Download your facebook.

2010-12-06T02:46:00.002-05:00

From the download page itself:

Download Your Information
Get a copy of the data you've put on Facebook.

This tool lets you download a copy of your information, including your photos and videos, posts on your wall, all of your messages, your friend list and other content you have shared on your profile. Within this zip file you will have access to your data in a simple, browseable manner. Learn More about downloading a copy of your information.
Security
This is a copy of all of the personal information you've shared on Facebook. In order to protect your information, we will ask for authentication to verify your identity.
WARNING: This file contains sensitive information. Because this download contains your profile information, you should keep it secure and take precautions when storing, sending or uploading it to any other services.

Here's how to do it:

Sign on to Your Facebook Account

Click on Account >> Account Settings >> Download your information (click on learn more)

That's it. =]

Rawring Pandas!

2010-12-06T01:16:00.002-05:00

Here's an ubuntu screenshot for you to enjoy. It's what I've been doing over the weekend:
http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs781.snc4/66120_10150346125595441_689045440_16177916_3691774_n.jpg

Here's a side project for all of you to look into. Instructions are at the link. Maybe you can be a part of it. Leave a comment if you're interested.

[Rawring Pandas]

Down with the sickness.

2010-12-02T03:43:00.001-05:00

I've been sick for the past 3+ days. I fell sick on Sunday, and I haven't quite recovered yet. Damned chronic tonsillitis. When I was about 15 or so, a doctor checked on my tonsils and told me I had a case of 'chronic tonsillitis.' What that meant was, apparently, that my tonsils had grown to such a point, and the inflammation (the pain, in simpler terms) had gotten so bad, that I juts couldn't feel it anymore.

Of course, apart from the fact that - that sounds extremely fucking badass, specially when you're 15, a doctor telling you something like that always sticks in your head.

So, I don't know if I really do have chronic tonsillitis or if the doctor liked making 15 year olds feeling like badasses.

Whatever the case, I'm pretty certain I have a throat infection. Evidently so, by the fact that my left ear popped closed last night. It's back to functionality now, but that shit was pretty freaky. Specially when I couldn't hear all the special notes on all my favorite rap songs. Bang, bang, skeet, skeet.

Oh, baby, you give me fever. Specially when you have the flu and we're making out. That shit always gets me sick.

So I tried making myself tea. Not being able to figure out why the tea was never strong enough, I emptied out two tea bags for 1 cup of tea. That's a lot of tea bags. I later found out I was trying to make tea like my momma used to, using Lipton iced fucking tea.

Iced tea is for jackasses that wear loafers and white shorts on beaches. That drink Bacardi with older women while they listen to slow sex music in the white sand.

Jackasses.

And if you know me by now, you're probably aware of the fact that I'm not a jackass. See, contrary to popular belief, it does not take one to know one. At least not all the time.

You could be as straight as a stripper's pole and know Parez Hilton is as gay as all living rainbow colored hell. Couldn't you?

Unless you live in a world where heterosexual men love to poke their noses in other people (none other than celebrities') affairs. And even write about them.

Oh, wait. Dammit.

Everybody, calm the f*ck down.

2010-11-08T12:36:00.002-05:00

Chuck Klosterman wrote of Kurt Cobain in "Eating The Dinosaur," (and this is all paraphrased,) :-

You're a writer, and you write for yourself. Then you get an audience, and you're writing for them, all the while still writing for yourself. No matter what you do, you're still writing for yourself, while still trying to please an audience.

It's inevitable, the guilt.

Then imagine receiving emails from women claiming your words make them cry, changed their views, changed their life, how they look at things - and gave them optimism.

Imagine these messages coming in right when you've given up on most things in life.

It's like being made into a God when all you wanted to do was sit it out. It can make people do ridiculous things. It made Kurt Cobain kill himself.

Well, either that, or he was just plain crazy. To which Chuck Klosterman also has something to say:

"Not all crazy people are brilliant, but almost all brilliant people are crazy."

It's almost been 6 months since I last wrote anything on this blog, and I didn't really contemplate how long it's been before this minute.

To be honest, everyone that said; "You'll come back to writing," or, "you're going to write again, watch," only pissed me off even more. Here's for the records: Fuck you.

Nothing is more agitating, when you're trying to step back and genuinely take a look at your life, and someone says, "you're just being a poser." Fuck you.

This blog turned into something much more than just a channel for my passive aggressiveness, and it scared me. Gained followers, gained people that actually started commenting constantly, and then I started receiving the emails. It can be really scary.

I'm no Jesus Christ, please don't turn me into one. It's the last thing I ever wanted. It's scary.

I may be living a life that's poetic on paper, or maybe I just have a way of sensationalizing everything I say. I'm only human. I want to remain just human. Everyone makes mistakes. Please stop poiting and calling me a; Poser, Savior/Messiah.

Once you turn someone into a god, you start expecting a little too much. Think about it, just how much can you expect from another human? Shouldn't you be expecting the same you expect from yourself? Shouldn't that be about it?

Fuck you. I still hate humanity, even though I'm trying really hard not to.

I've come a long way from the last 6 months, to be honest, it seems like an eternity. Traveled time, space, and the depths of insanity. Not trying to claim I did anything special, or have achieved enlightenment, god forbid. I just needed a little time to myself. That's all.

I could've tried to explain it in nicer terms, and unfortunately, anger is an expensive luxury. Given the circumstances however, I don't regret anything. What happened, happened, perhaps for the best.

I'm still learning. More about me, more about you. The problem perhaps was, that I had stopped focusing on the me, and only focused on the you.

I'm hungry now, and my heads starting to hurt... maybe I'll write more soon, maybe I won't.

Stop turning me into a poser, a messiah, a savior, and stop expecting things, no matter what they are.

I'm not obliged to provide anyone with anything, never was, never will be. Perhaps, never want to be. Unless it's involuntarily, and just happens.

"I am human and I want to be loved,
just like everybody else does."
- 'How soon is now?' The Smiths.

update: I don't really hate humanity... at least I'm telling myself now that I don't and that I shouldn't... it's just sad what we've become... can't we please try not to be so retarded? Surely we have more IQ than a glass of water? (Much love to my babe for that metaphor.)

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2010-05-11T04:05:00.002-04:00

More like I've moved, actually.

Moved on in life, to other things.

My life is just moving too fast for me to be sitting around a computer and writing it all down for an audience that may or may not be there.

My opinion doesn't matter because ignorance will always be bliss to all of you people.

This has never been worth my time.
Pleasing your humane pettiness is not worth my time.

I’ve realized, that the only reason I was so addicted to this stupid concept is because from a very early age I’ve realized people have always been too stupid to see what is clearly right in front of us.

Growing up I realized how machines, computers specifically, are so much more superior in comprehending and working with logic when compared to humans.

That is where this connection began, all those years ago. My opinions and thoughts, that were directed at a computer – that listened without offering a bullshit opinion that was blinded by the inability to think individually, soon turned into a fucking social event. A fucking social event that highlighted the angst and depression of an insane teenager, that only wanted people to open their bloody eyes.

I refuse to partake in this foolish and petty waste of my precious time, that I will no longer throw away, by writing to an audience that is clearly not willing or ready or even able to comprehend a reality that is different from the illusion that is letting everyone sleep comfortably.

Fuck this. Stay asleep. I don’t care anymore.

We are only restricted by our own stupidity.

And you refuse to accept that and break away from restrictions.

Maybe I can’t blame you, it’s only your fear.

I’m sorry, I can’t help but laugh at how afraid all of you are though.

All the laughing I’ve ever been doing has always been alone, and that’s something I’ve accepted now.

And since you refuse to break free and accept reality, you might as well sleep with your ignorance.

Without me gently rapping, tapping on your chamber door.

Nevermore.

The Top Ten Marilyn Manson Quotes.

2010-05-02T20:07:00.001-04:00

I was just reading up on the man, and came up to a few things he has said in his lifetime. So I’m putting them up here.

Bear in mind, Marilyn Manson is a very smart man. Evident by the articles he’s written and interviews he’s given.

He’s just crazy, is all. But then again, and I will testify, thinking for yourself is prone to do that to you.

I’m not even a big fan of his music. But I can’t argue with success, and logic, so here goes.

“I'm tired of people calling me a devil worshipper. It's kind of pointless you know. Because if the Devil did exist, he'd be worshipping me, because I'm more successful than he is.”

“Anybody intelligent enough to realize what America is, is not going to sit around and do nothing about it. They're going to be the same way that I am. They're going to be the same way our fans are. They're going to be pissed.”

“I fear being like everyone I hate, I fear failure, I fear losing control. I love balancing between chaos and control with everything I do. I always have a fear of going one way or another, getting lost in something, or losing everything to get lost in. And I fear being a completely acceptable sheep in society.”

“In the end we're all Jerry Springer Show guests, really, we just haven't been on the show.”

“Is adult entertainment killing our children? Or is killing our children entertaining our adults?”

“Music critics get their records for free so their opinions usually don't matter.”

“Society has traditionally always tried to find scapegoats for its problems. Well, here I am.”

“We live in a society of victimization, where people are much more comfortable being victimized than actually standing up for themselves.”

“What happens someday if more people own my record than the bible? That will make me god because a lot more people believe in me than him? Because it's just about popularity. There are plenty of people in the world who have never heard of Jesus, while America takes him for granted.”

“You should have to pass an IQ test before you breed. You have to take a driving test to operate vehicles and an SAT test to get into college. So why don't you have to take some sort of test before you give birth to children? When I am President, that's the first rule I will institute.”

- Marilyn Manson

A letter to you, sweetheart…

2010-04-25T02:23:00.001-04:00

It’s funny how I let you take control over me, as so.

It’s beautiful, love.

How you torture me so, with these games you play.

This agony you put me through, playing with my darkest, deepest rooted fears and insecurities.

Treading on my dreams.

You don’t even realize it.

You don’t know what this side of the garden looks like, dear.

You never have, you never will.

What being insane feels like… what seeing life as poetry in motion feels like. And bear in mind please, that poetry isn’t what you – or everyone else thinks it is.

Hallmark cards don’t have anything to do with poetry, love.

I can try to take my time and teach you all of this. Teach you how the world works. Maybe you could’ve seen how my head works. My mind, that probably shouldn’t do so much work.

But I guess you don’t really want any of this, darling.

You never did, you never will.

I’ll just weep to this letter then, sugar.

A simple prop to occupy your time – is what I feel like I’ve always been.

But you don’t see that, babe. You never did, you never will.

Forgive me for all those times I never called, or wrote back. Something always came up.

I told you about my condition, right? So many times, I keep forgetting. But I’m sure to mention it to everyone, every time I meet them.

Rest assured, love.

All the scars on my wrists, only prove I’ll try again, love.

Ever since I became dude.

I still remember. I always will.

Don’t ask me why my hands are so cold, love.

Or why I crave to die so much, all the time.

Or why I crave to kill myself so much, all the time.

All the dying is spiritual, mental. It takes place several times a day, love.

All courtesy of you too, love.

You’re a part of my world, love. As joyous as that sounds.

My world is like a blurry picture, of a picture, of a picture, love.

And he keeps assuring me he’s only playing. But I keep telling him I still smell you on him, love.

Why would you do such a thing though? It’s all I’ve ever wanted to know.

Why. Why, much more than how. How is … subjective, as you so innocently put it, babe.

You mean the world to me. I thought I should let you know somewhere in between here. Always and forever.

Only you, love.

But I can’t get myself to forget to ask why… and I can’t forgive myself for it either…

So, won’t you be my sugar plum and write back to me please? Please tell me why, love.

Just once?

I’ll just sit and wallow with myself until then. You can watch if you want… you have a habit of doing just that, love…

I won’t beg to have your fingers run through my mane again.

Just let me float in nothingness forever, please?

I don’t see why you didn’t just let it happen to begin with.

I mean, why poke the pond for no reason? I was just laying there, calm, with no cares in the world.

Except for the worry of myself. The worry I’ve carried for so long. So long, love.

So long, and goodbye.

I’m sorry for most of it, I suppose. Isn’t that what you’ve been expecting for so long, love?

It’s not like you ever really wanted anything more.

I’ve kneeled. I hope you’re happy now, love.

Played my part, I guess.

I didn’t ever feel bad tossing cigarette buds to the ground after I was done with them.

Why should you?

Don’t sweat it, babe. I’ll be perfectly fine, cut up and a mess.

Served cold.

As cold as this winter, love. Or the winter we had together. Where I couldn’t have withstood being out in the cold, if it wasn’t you I was out for.

Or that time you put me to sleep, and I couldn’t believe my sheer luck. It got me regretting not believing in luck.

Poetic justice, love.

It all is. It always has been, it always will be.

I’m going to stop talking now, love. I just wish I could do it while you were in front of me.

But you wouldn’t want any of this, anyway…

I hope you still did, but you don’t…

I mean… at least I got to see you smile from so close…

An attempt at audacity.

2010-04-20T03:10:00.001-04:00

2010-04-19T23:44:00.001-04:00

Public Service Announcement.

2010-04-19T22:19:00.001-04:00

Deactivated my facebook today.

Hopefully/probably for a good while.

I realized, I wasn’t really gaining anything from it. All it was doing was help the cause of the stupid. All it did was piss me off. A lot.

All it did was help the world use me against me.

So, I’m good without it. Hiatus.

Thank God for like, Skype, and Tumblr and Blogger and stuff. And MSN and Aim.

Hit me up wherever instead of facebook. I mean, if it’s really important, you’ll know where to find me, right?

Right.

Some things I risk.

2010-04-19T01:22:00.001-04:00

I think I might be undergoing a life crisis, or something of the sort. I mean, let’s slow down things for just a little while.

I’m still couch surfing. Even if the term doesn’t technically apply, it’s still more couch surfing than anything else. So.

Also, I have 25 dollars left in the account, again. I’m broke again, yup. Twice in a month. Hidden bank fees and gluttony combined with a little old fashioned and traditional Danish carelessness is how I got here.

Last but not not the least; college is going to be the end of me.

With all this and much more happening all at the same time, I’m having a very hard time recollecting everything. Comprehension is as far as I’m willing to go at the moment.

Why risk being just another opinion on the internet anyway?

Wait… Never mind.

One giant leap for insanity.

2010-04-16T00:11:00.001-04:00

I may just be paranoid, but to be honest, I am panicking.

And it’s not cool.

It’s actually pretty depressing. Just so bound by being human, it’s not nice anymore.

Just because no one will ever get it. It’s too hard to explain to people. Takes too much time and effort. There will never ever be anyone like that. I’m not being pessimistic, just stating facts.

It’s so hard already, to live with the burden of being labeled a label. Just to really think about it, even. It’s such a disgrace. One you and I created and decided to play along with for all these years. Not knowing what it was really doing. But what can you do, really, you’re just so bound by being human. By the time you develop any real cognitive abilities, it feels like it’s too late.

Blue on blue, heartache on heartache.

An eye for an eye. It’s a viscous cycle, but even that name isn’t as demeaning as it should be. It’s something so hard to describe. It’s our system. It’s you and I.

You are so bound by it. Just by being you. It’s sometimes the knowing that’ll drive you up a wall. I know this because it’s what got me here.

Being one step ahead, sure. But what does that put you closer to? I would want to make sure I’m not trying to keep running, just for the sake of being ahead.

If it’s not that, then it’s the never ending quest to figure out what it is. Just the drive to the park. The destination doesn’t stay as important anymore, the journey takes it’s place. Because that’s what life ultimately becomes.

At least that’s what I’ve seen on the walls of this pit I fell into. I’ve been constantly tumbling at the same speed, downward spiral and all. And I get to see the craziest shit on my way down, it’s sad – but in a hilarious way.

The source of all this insanity, if you may. There is obviously something wrong with this head, for it to function so dysfunctional. I probably am just a sociopath.

Why can’t you just realize that and give me a break?

Calm before the storm.

2010-04-13T01:44:00.001-04:00

Twisted Nerves

2010-04-10T12:26:00.001-04:00

I thought I knew who I was when I fell asleep. I must have changed multiple times until then. Then I woke up, and now I don't know who I am.

I would try to explain to you how it feels, but I can't. It's not that I'm at a loss of words. I just don't know where or how to start. Or where it ends.

Maybe I'm just in no position to be steering any ships.

If I stand still, I'll feel the crumbles fall to my feet. Make sure I'm falling apart, and it's not just in my head.

And it's so cold, that the wind just cuts through skin, like a blade. It's so hard to tell if there are any clouds or not, I'm missing all details with my gaze being so out of focus.

"A movie so crass, and awkwardly cast, even I can be the star."

I died a long, long time ago.

Oh no, not me, I never lost control.

You're face to face, with

The man who the world sold.

This is perhaps just an episode.

This is perhaps just a phase.

Perhaps, it's just a rut. That I'll walk out soon, and everything will be fine.

Maybe I won't ever, and things will just continue to come crashing down, like they always do.

Fall apart. Break into pieces. Crumble.

But where does it end, if it ever does? If it ever will.

It can't be my fault. I've been designed to be this way. If our experiences shape us, I've only had very fucked up experiences. I'd be willing to blame God for it, but what's the point?

Fearless leader.

Just a nice guy.

Nice on the deep down inside.

So deep down inside, there's a doubt any such thing even exists.

So I press my palms down hard against my forehead, hoping for the anxiety to stop. The will to self destruct to go away. The want to stop living to vanish.

The storm might not pass until my twisted nerves untangle.

Couch surfing.

2010-04-08T23:56:00.001-04:00

According to UrbanDictionary.com:

A cheap form of lodging used mainly by college-students or recent college-grads, where one stays on acquaintance's couches rather than a hotel.

And that’s what I’m doing right now. And going to this park alot, that’s like the most wonderful place on earth for a lot of reasons.

I like life at the moment. It’s not bad at all. =]

Things are like, almost perfect. Still house searching and crap, but moving ahead. It’s just a slow pace, but progress is being made.

A lot else has been happening too, I just don’t know how to put it all to words. So I’m just going to stop trying for now.

Poetry, yeah.

2010-04-04T04:33:00.001-04:00

I love how the wind feels so peaceful on a sunny day, when there's nothing to worry about.

I love the feeling of being completely free, and being blessed with freedom.

I love how your fingers are tall and slender, and just how I like them. Shaped like nature spent extra time to shape them maybe.

I love how your smile is a curve similar to a sun while it's setting or rising. It's just as beautiful too. Makes me warm too at the same time, isn't that funny?

And I love how everything makes me feel like a poet. Like I could write a book. Make your heart melt, maybe, make you imagine all my words in your head.

I love how you can pretend to be angry, and do such a good job at keeping it up. It's like you should be in the movies.

I love how you have these childish mood swings. Maybe it's because you are like a child after all. It's such an animal-like behavior, it's cute.

I hate how losing games is so harsh to both of us. It's like too much pride for both our shoulders to carry, but the game is so cruel. It must be played. I love how realizing it is relieving. I now feel certain that it's me flying this plane we're on. I'm the pilot, in charge. Just how I like it. And deep down inside how you like it too. How you've always liked it. It's a shame, but it's poetic justice that it's all so visible to me. You should just bask in the fact that you get to kick your feet up, and enjoy the ride.

It's funny, that my mind and my heart is a train wreck. My head refuses to ponder, or to play any silly games anymore. It's had enough it seems, and so has my other popular organ. Yes, that'd be my heart, I can use it in context, as an entity, when I feel like being poetic and maybe a little frivolous.

A poet.

Right?

I hold in my hands, all the lights, all the suns, all the flowers, all the trees, all the grass, and all the leaves. All the colors, all the stars, all the fairies, and all the ink.

To write history.

The 36th Chamber.

2010-03-31T23:40:00.001-04:00

This is going to be a run of the mill blog, because this absolutely needs to be done.

Today needs to be written down, just because of how epic it was. I finally have something genuine to write about.

One major reason is, because I ran into the fucking RZA today. In the flesh.

If you don’t know who the RZA is, I have no words for you.

The RZA is an American Grammy winning music producer, author, rapper, and occasional actor, director, and screenwriter. A prominent figure in hip hop music, he is the de facto leader of the Wu-Tang Clan. He has produced almost all of Wu-Tang Clan's albums as well as many Wu-Tang solo and affiliate projects. He subsequently gained attention for his work scoring and acting in films.

The Wu-Tang Clan (pronounced /ˈwuːˌtæŋ/) are a New York City-based hip-hop group, which consists of: RZA, GZA, Method Man,Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck, U-God, Masta Killa, and the late Ol' Dirty Bastard. [www.wikipedia.com]

He also produced one of the best beats I’ve ever heard. Ever. C.r.e.a.m.

It was amazing too, I was already pretty high and was walking down the street, when a friend of a friend [wearing the ‘Beats by Dr. Dre’ headphones,] who was walking towards us – told us that the RZA was actually standing at the street corner.

That’s when I started walking aimlessly down the street hoping to see the legend. And I did, too.

I don’t even know if what happened next can even be considered me meeting the guy, so you figure it out. My jaw fell to the floor, my mouth was shaped like an ‘O’ [literally,] and I didn’t know what to do. So, the RZA, who is on the phone and looks very tired, extends his hand and we all shake it.

And then we just walked away. I could not believe what had just happened. I had shook hands with the RZA.

And even though something so epic happened, we were mad at ourselves, me and my friends, by the fact that we didn’t ask the RZA to toke with us. Hopefully I’ll run into him again someday, and it’ll end up happening.

But nonetheless, I feel like I can die a happy man now. I have actually met the RZA, and have shaken his hand. I feel blessed.

Other than that, all I did all day was hang out with Mary Jane, and read Prometheus Rising by Robert A. Wilson while under the influence.

All at Rittenhouse Square – the place I am officially dubbing ‘heaven.’ I met the RZA in front of it, for one. And it’s where I hung out all day in the beautiful weather, with lots of very awesome people. A scene of the M. Night Shyamalan movie “The Happening” was also shot there. I’m going to take lots of pictures of the place soon. ^___^

So all in all, today was a pretty epic day. I’m just going to end it at that. I still can’t believe most of it. Yeah.

Aren't I a little crazy?

2010-03-27T01:10:00.002-04:00

I read The Hacker’s Manifesto (blogged about below) for my speech in public speaking. I got the review forms and stuff back.

Scored a 92 out of a 100. I’m pretty proud of myself.

I’ve been having an okay week.

I don’t know what else to write about. I feel like I’ve found isolating myself from things like society and everything is just so much more fun.

I can’t help it… otherwise, I feel like Im being strangled by everything. All at once. It’s not even funny.

It’s a demon that needs to constantly be awakened.

So when there is angst and depression, the best companion is the lack of companionship.

It’s like poking the demon with a stick on fire, just to wake it up.

And then it wakes up, the lump in your throat becomes heavier, and it feels like it’s about to rain.

And get very dark. And the walls and everything are just going to close in.

It’s like claustrophobia. Don’t you think?

The thought of being lonely. Or just loneliness in itself.

But it’s a demon that constantly wakes up.

And then it nibbles and shreds apart all the delicate fabrics of a comprehensive reality.

So that there is no more vision of the common truth.

It’s more likely a transformation, or enlightenment. Or maybe more like de-enlightenment.

And to think it all starts with depression and loneliness.

But it’s like a headache that won’t ever go away.

Because the demon isn’t just something that you can put back in the bottle. And you get to make no wishes at all.

Because nothing is listening to them, really. So it’s pretty much pointless.

When you realize this, you can rest assured that the threads of reality have been worn out. And the knot is loose, and the petals are all falling to the floor.

Bloodshot red, on the white grainy pavement.

Why do we tend to create Gods to begin with? Only to place them on a pedestal so high, that they’re prone to fall off one day, sooner or later. And everyone does, because everyone is human. Everyone will one day fall of the metaphorical pedestals they are resting on, in someone else’s head. Imagination. Vision of reality. The common comprehensive reality.

But it’s just a dream to me, anyway. Because that’s a reality that’s much more understandable to me at this point. Every other reality has fallen to the ground to be shattered into a million pieces of confusion. And so, this makes just as much sense as everything else has to this point in life.

It’s funny, but is this what you would describe living?

A constant tumble.

A question mark.

An unexamined life is not worth living.

Deep too, I remember I had a heart somewhere in there before the incident.

And now it’s just a black organ that pumps slug throughout my body. It’s like a void, actually, more like. A black hole. Yeah, pretty fucked up shit.

Can you start to see how fucked up things are?

Just some innocent victimless ramblings of an extra ordinarily depressed and angst-filled writer.

Don’t take things too seriously. There is no point.

The Hacker Manifesto

2010-03-22T00:36:00.001-04:00

The Hacker Manifesto
by
+++The Mentor+++
Written January 8, 1986

Another one got caught today, it’s all over the papers. “Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal”, “Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering”…

Damn kids. They’re all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950’s technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?
I am a hacker, enter my world…
Mine is a world that begins with school… I’m smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me…

Damn underachiever. They’re all alike.

I’m in junior high or high school. I’ve listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. “No, Ms. Smith, I didn’t show my work. I did it in my head…”
Damn kid. Probably copied it. They’re all alike.
I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it’s because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn’t like me… Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I’m a smart ass.. Or doesn’t like teaching and shouldn’t be here…

Damn kid. All he does is play games. They’re all alike.

And then it happened… a door opened to a world… rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict’s veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought… a board is found. “This is it… this is where I belong…” I know everyone here… even if I’ve never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again… I know you all…

Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They’re all alike…

You bet your ass we’re all alike… we’ve been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak… the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We’ve been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now… the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn’t run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore… and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge… and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias… and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it’s for our own good, yet we’re the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can’t stop us all… after all, we’re all alike.

Situation Report

2010-03-14T01:25:00.001-05:00

I’ve been missing in action, I know. I don’t know how or why – I think it’s just the fact that I’ve been too busy, doing too many insane things in the past few months, that I can’t pay blogging any attention.

And it’s sad, specially because I have even more things running together at the same time now. It’s specially hard, because my attention span is so short. But I can’t help it!

I need to work on refining all the previous pieces of writing I have compiled. Will do that as soon as I stop being lazy, and maybe get time to do it.

Spring Break is going to end soon. If it hasn’t already. There was Saturday today, that I spent lazily doing nothing productive. Thanks to a stoner buddy that tends to go crazy every now and then. Not complaining.

Tomorrow is Sunday. I doubt I’m going to do anything tomorrow, but I plan on going to take a look at the new place I hope to move in to, tomorrow. It’s something that just doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I semi lost hope, but m’eh. Maybe it’ll finally go through. It’s also something I’ve been meaning to take care of for almost a year now. Also to be done tomorrow, is the laundry. I wish myself luck.

After I’m off the break and college officially starts again, I know exactly how things are going to be. I’ll be struggling with class timings and project/homework due dates, like always.

–sigh- I don’t like college very much. To be very honest. I don’t think anyone does, though. And people that say they do are either crazy, or lying. And I’m not talking about the partying or socializing aspect of college, no, I’ve got that right under control. Can’t get enough of it. I think half of Philadelphia might know me by now. It’s the other part of college that has got me frustrated. The debatable concept that college is a system that can educate and is a process - necessary, or un-doubtfully fruitful. I don’t like it, no. But I’m trying, I really am.

I’m thinking of doing much more than I am right now. Maybe, somehow, hopefully. Managing and running a successful Youtube channel, is something I’ve been contemplating. For a while, too, actually.

Will take a lot more pictures as soon as the weather turns back to how I like it. Sunny, of course. It was just like that a few days ago, but it’s raining again. And it doesn’t seem like it wants to stop either. Soon!

Need to start podcasting again. I just need to be motivated, is what the problem is. No lies.

I really like this, writing down my thoughts. I don’t know why I haven’t been doing this as much as possible. Maybe I’ll start writing a lot again, like back in the days. Remember? I wonder if I still have the same amount of readers that I did a while ago. A number that I liked. Probably not, only one way to find out.

Publish!

Ps: Did you go take a look at my dA?

A few of the best Rap and Hip Hop Beats/Instrumentals.

2010-02-26T04:03:00.002-05:00

Yes, I’m taking this approach to blogging. Why? Because I can. It’s a part of my universe that isn’t highlighted as often as I’d like to. The part that revolves around music. It’s most of my world, in that context. Funny I don’t write about it as often. But I should start. And so I am.

Even if a person doesn’t listen to rap and hip hop, you can rest assured they realize that rap and hip hop is close to, if not already dead. With outlandish things like auto-tune and Lil Wayne, I should probably think twice before I call it rap and hip hop music anymore.

But there used to be a time, where music wasn’t completely pointless and not about having sex with ‘bitches’ and having a large bank account. Not that I’m going to talk about rap music in great detail, but only a few very good songs with very good music in the background. And the lyrics will be meaningful too every now and then. In no particular order, this list, so don’t think I’m evaluating anything.

High Til’ I Die – Tupac Shakur
Apart from singing about killing people and living a tough life – Tupac also wrote songs about drugs. And this one is probably my favorite. Off of the Sunset Park OST – high til’ I die is a good song to be blazing to. Or just sitting back and listening to. Tupac’s lyrics are top notch, and the music does more than compliment them. It’s also the life of the song.

C.R.E.A.M. (cash rules everything around me) – Wu Tang Clan
Anyone that knew me, also probably knew after reading the title of this post, that this song was going to be making the list. I love this beat so much, I can actually play it on a piano and guitar both.

One of the best beats I’ve ever heard, The RZA borrows this from “As Long As I’ve Got You” by The Charmels. The Charmels couldn’t have

predicted that the piano intro to their song would go on to spawn a rap song, but it did. In fact, the type of music in both songs is so different, it’s hard to imagine either contributing to create the other.

Also worth listening to is the instrumental to the Wu Tang song, by El Michels Affair.

The Wu Tang Clan ain’t nuttin ta fuck wit. I couldn’t resist, sorry.

Flashing Lights – Kanye West
It’s not an old song, Kanye West is probably not the best rapper, and the genre’ is debatable too. But one thing is for certain – the fact that the beat Kanye managed to come up with is both very catchy, and very beautiful. Off of his album ‘Graduation’ – his lyrics and music both seemed to have evolved, which is a very good thing indeed. This song also provides us with something to miss, after 808 and Heartbreak.

We Got More – Shock G. ft. Luniz

I’m not quite sure what this song is about, but I am fairly certain it involves smoking marijuana. And therefore, I will listen to it. Another thing that helps a great deal is the beat. I’m sure if you’re an appreciator of good music and blazing, you will come to love this song as much as I do.

The Breakdown – People Under The Stairs
I couldn’t find a youtube video with The Breakdown by People Under The Stairs, so I’m putting up just the audio. And I underwent all the extra effort, because this list would definitely be incomplete if I didn’t put this song in here. One of the best beats I’ve ever heard, this is a very underrated song that has actually helped me go to sleep a lot of times. A must hear, if you’re a fan of good music.

Whenimondamic - Lootpack
Mellow, soothing to the ears, and beautiful, is what this song is. They don’t make rap like this anymore, and you

should appreciate getting to hear this song. As with the Shock G song above, I’m certainly lost most of the time – when it comes to the lyrics. Some of it just plain and simply doesn’t make much sense – but it doesn’t matter. With a beat so well developed, I couldn’t care less. Although, I more than certainly get what the following line means:
“But if wild child dies, before wild child wakes, I pray to God to step down and take down all them fake MCs. Pretty please.”

Why You Wanna – T.I. / Favorite Drug – Styles P

This song has been my ringtone for the longest time now, and has a whopping 101 plays on my iTunes. That’s much more than any other song I have. A sample of a slowed down keyboard chord from Crystal Water’s “Gypsy Woman”, it was used not only by T.I. for this song – but also rapper Styles P for “Favorite Drug.” Each rapper has tweaked the beat to their own

liking, and I can’t decide which one is better. Even though I probably prefer T.I.s’ version, it’s undeniable that the song is all about … having sex with a particular female and getting her to break up with her current boyfriend(?)

T.I. is one of the best rappers I’ve heard, and is definitely good with lyrics. It’s the fact that he raps about things like … having sex with females and getting them to break up with their boyfriend … that leaves the mind to ask for more meaningful things. But I’m not complaining with a beat so good.

Still Dre – Dr. Dre ft. Snoop Dogg

The first time I paid attention to this song was while being really high. It played on a friend’s phone, and I recognized the beat, but it was the first time I actually listened to it and paid attention. I was hooked right away, and first thing I did when I got home was to get the song.

This list would be incomplete if this song wasn’t mentioned, and you’ve probably heard it too. A classic, and a very good song to blaze to.

Game Over (Go Big Or Go Home Boy) – Doomtree
I recently ventured and looked around for good independent and non-mainstream rap songs, only because of how much better they are, due to the fact that artists creating these wonders are not aiming to get on the radio. Or even if they are, they’re not aiming for the sheeple that listen to the crap the radio plays today. And it’s a very good thing. One listen to Doomtree’s ‘Game Over’ and you’ll agree.

All Eyez On Me – Tupac / Street Dreams – Nas
Another instrumental that was used by two rappers, and that too, two of the

most well known rappers in the business. Need I say more?

One of Tupac’s best songs, in my opinion anyway. Tupac and Nas both made apparent changes to the beat, and it’s arguable which one I like better. They’re both really good, and that’s why they’re both here.

Hero – Nas ft. Keri Hilson
It’s ridiculous how good this beat is. So good that I learned how to play it on the piano, and also how to recreate it using Fruity Loops.

Also note how subtle Keri Hilson’s role in the song is, yet it would be missed if it wasn’t there.

A very underrated 2008 song, you shouldn’t not listen to this if you like rap music.

Superman, The Real Slim Shady, White America, Guilty Conscience – Eminem
I’m putting Eminem in this list, just for the sake of having Eminem on this list. Truth. It would be too hard on my conscience if I made a list concerning rap and hip hop and didn’t somehow squeeze Eminem in. Not that he doesn’t have any bad beats, in fact – each song I listed above, and many more, are very well written and produced. Eminem is a lyrical genius, Dr. Dre is a beast when it comes to music production, and the two work so brilliantly well, that whatever Eminem has to spit – Dre can masterfully weave music around it. Take his songs about hating on his promiscuous exs’ and then a song about murdering people and holding up a convenience store for proof.

I could go on with a lot more songs, and I’m probably missing/forgetting a few. These ten/twelve tracks should be sufficient to keep you going for now, though. Look forward to more lists, reviews, and what nots’ in the future. =]

Censorship and Art.

2010-02-20T23:41:00.002-05:00

"Let's agree to disagree."

Censorship in Art was the topic of discussion in my Art 101 (also known as Visual Communications) class, on Wednesday and Friday.

First, let me tell you what I think of the class. A bunch of people that have no clue what they're talking about - with the opportunity to sound like stuck up pretentious yuppies - that can put two and two together, when they look at a painting. Or 'work of art' as my teacher likes to call it.

But similar to other things, I have an issue with that too. First of all, how in God's name do we know that the painter, photographer, or simply 'artist', whose 'work of art' we are shredding to pieces really did pour down his or her emotions/feelings, rather than just splatter paint on the canvas. Really.

Second of all, we're supposed to be learning how to interpret the stuff. Issue a) that I mentioned above comes into play again. Issue b) is, we can get close, but can we really 'interpret' what the 'artist' was trying to portray? Probably not, because half of the 'artists' we talk about are dead.

Anyway. Censorship is retarded. That's what I think about censorship. Why, you ask?

First, if it's political censorship - then that's just it. That's the reason. The truth deserves ... no, it needs to be out there, even if it's not political censorship. And if it is, then yeah, everyone needs to know what's really going on.

Second, if it's censorship due to a racial or religious issue - which it usually is - then seriously. What is censorship going to do?

There is a picture called "Piss Christ," and "Yo Momma's Last Supper" - both of which were censored. But the respective artists still gained notoriety and fame. Do you know why? Probably just because, they were censored, because really - the 'work of art' weren't, actually. Works of art, I mean.

You say to someone; "Did you see that new controversial painting?! No one should ever see it! It's disgusting!"

And the someone you are talking to, first thing they do is - go home and google it.

Do you see what I'm talking about? The only way racism, and other things that offend people, will completely go away - is if people stop making such a fucking deal out of them, and just completely let it go. Try not to get riled up about things. And even if you do, just stop paying attention and move on. That's the only way things that really offend you will go away. And I said that in class, too. To which most people tried to disagree and share their feelings and thoughts. Then I made a come back with logic, and somehow they got what I was saying - and decided to shut up.

Then - there was the other thing that pissed me off.

The pictures "Piss Christ" and "Yo Momma's Last Supper" pissed people off, and they thought that the censorship of those pictures was appropriate. Then they were shown the bombing of this huge Buddha sand statue in Afghanistan. The Taliban in Afghanistan thought it was a part of western culture, that they didn't want in their country anymore and so they blew it up.

And after seeing that in class, people muttered things like, "Oh, that's just stupid," and "why would they do that?"

Because they fucking could, that's why, geniuses.

But here's what's grinding my gears about that. Why was that not ok, if the censorship of 'Piss Christ' was? No matter what the reason for censorship, it's still censorship at the end of the day, right? How can people not get that? If you like to believe and claim that everyone has their rights, then how can you take that away from them by censoring their work? You fucking can't and shouldn't.

But as always, people are too stupid to figure that out. It's sad, but true. And that's why we're all always offended and crying.

It's not much a matter of growing up, as it is just getting a little smarter. Wait, maybe those things are actually just one.

See what I did there? Yup.

Superman

2010-02-16T18:09:00.003-05:00

I don't wanna flip when I see you with guys,
Too much pride,
Between you and I,
Not a jealous man, but females lie,
But I guess that's just what sluts do,
How could it ever be just us two?
Never loved you enough to trust you,
We just met and I just fucked you.
But I do know one thing though,
Bitches they come they go,
Saturday through Sunday, Monday,
Monday through Sunday, yo'.

Nevermore.

2010-02-16T02:23:00.001-05:00

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

- The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe.

How about you,

2010-02-15T17:35:00.003-05:00

Talk to the hand, 'cuz the face ain't listening.

Thank you, come again.

2010-02-15T02:01:00.004-05:00

How does it feel? =]

Knowing that I held you in the palm of my hands, while you thought it was the other way around?

Or that, I could make your world come crashing down as so. Play God with your life.

I bet it sucks. I heard you cried your eyes out and everything.

But why didn't you expect it? Can't you see that you deserved it?

I'm a man that does what I feel is right, and only God can judge me.

It's just a pity for you, that I have the power to fuck shit up for you - when you want to do what you want to do.

But hey, it was only because I wasn't too happy.

And you wouldn't like me when I'm not happy. I don't turn into a big green monster, but even the Hulk couldn't have fucked as much shit up as I probably have, don't you agree?

Aah, I love myself. And my uncanny ability to be so brilliantly deceptive. So sly, so guile. Change colors, be two-faced, all that. Because sometimes? You just have to be. I bet you agree.

It's just a pity for you, that I'm much better at what you thought you were doing.

But hey. You should've expected it. Because I'm not like everyone else out there. I thought you realized that.

And if you didn't, well, you definitely do now. =]

Hope your valentine's day was wonderful, because mine was spectacular.

I made shit hit the fan. Stirred things a little.

And you know how you kept saying "fuck my life," and I kept asking you not to, because you don't have a reason to? Now you do. You can say fuck my life all you want now, isn't that great?

It's good to be constantly throwing my middle finger up in the air.

I would like to dedicate this song to you too. Juttni by Billy X.

Is you happy?

2010-02-14T15:38:00.001-05:00

I woke up with my head still groggy, and heavy. It took me a while to recollect last night, and not even all of it – just tid bits that I think were important.

I covered up my eyes from the vile sunshine pouring in through the windows, that burnt in my eye, causing adrenalin to be produced when my body clearly didn’t want it. It only gave me more of a headache.

I tried getting out of bed, and spotted my pack of cigarettes – so I lit one. And then sat down to think about last night again.

I faintly remember going around and telling everyone how awesome they are. And also how short life is. And how they shouldn’t be sad, no matter what. Even random strangers I met later, when I stepped outside to smoke. And everyone seemed to agree. It was weird how everyone was so much more nicer.

Tylenol, I hear, helps during times like these. Maybe I’ll give it a shot. –groan- .. I don’t even want to hear the word shot, for another week.

It can’t rain forever.

2010-02-10T23:37:00.002-05:00

Try not to get depressed by the following, I’m not. I’ve accepted things for what they are, and am just trying to make sense.

I don’t see the point anymore.

In anything.

In living, in relationships, in life as a whole.

I think I’m about ready for it to just end. Sooner than later preferably. Maybe a zombie apocalypse, or just 2012.

I think I’m too tired to go on, I really am. With people, their judgment. With everything. With people being too stupid. With life being too much of a drama for no reason.

With everything.

I really wish it would all just end. Nothingness.

Maybe that’s why I’m so numb. I’m halfway there. Halfway dead already. I’m just waiting for my soul to completely leave my body. Go nowhere, just disappear.

Seriously.

I’m tired of this migraine headache being constantly there, in the corner of my head. Tired of being so pissed off at everyone and everything all the time. Tired of wanting to hurt people. Tired of doing it.

Tired of trying to punish as many people as I can. Tired of wanting to make people suffer.

Tired of suffering. Feeling the pain.

It doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m completely numb, anyway. I don’t feel human emotions or feelings. It’s wonderful, but sad.

It’s so sad, it’s funny. Laugh with me.

…

2010-02-10T01:38:00.001-05:00

slowly but surely the drapery will fall

and we'll all be trapped under it until we suffocate and die

lol .. im probably not in the best mood to be bloggin right now, but here's to

everything I predicted already .. the ending up dying alone? it's going to happen one day

like with van gogh .. kurt cobain .. you know what im talking about.

but it seems like im going insane

because i feel no guilt, or remorse .. its like i have no feelings or emotions .. it's insane ..

it's like being so numb that I can't feel anything .. I think I'm really going crazy ..

as in turning into a lunatic .. the veil of sanity is slipping off faster than you'd think it could ..

lol., it's amazing I can still sound poetic being like this

but it's true .. i need serious help . . maybe this is my cry out to the world

or myself when im back on my feet .. that i need some serious being saved you know?

yeah .. before i go completely insane .. you know?

Build your cages, burn your bridges.

2010-02-09T03:53:00.001-05:00

You’ve made me hate everything, and everyone in sight. Made me see what people are really like. On the deep down inside. How we want to just use people and end up doing it too, voluntarily – but mostly involuntarily. How mankind is doomed, and how everything you think is real isn’t. How people don’t really care about you – and how you should step over people before they step over you.

How a lot of things we assume exist or want to believe in, really don’t. Like a neverland, and a heaven or hell. Any of those things …

You’ve made me what I am today. The narcissistic, sadistic, egotistic, sexist – cynically depressed agnostic. You’ve played a very large role in creating me. You’re the person that probably could be held accountable for who and what I am today.

You’re the reason I ever really knew depression. Angst. Hate. Pain. Fear. Agony.

And the reason I still know what it feels like. And can still feel it, even though it was so long ago.

And we can burn down all old bridges, to create new ones.

But can we really?

How does it feel to be talked about so much in The Catcher in the Rye?

2010-02-07T02:29:00.003-05:00

How can you be so stupid? How can you have your eyes shut so tight?

Why can’t you wake up and see the world for what it really is? Why do you have to believe that ignorance is bliss?

Why do you think everything is just as it seems? Why can’t your brain comprehend other possibilities?

Why can’t your thoughts wander? Why are you so afraid of question and standing against the current for a change?

Of breaking away, and developing a school of thought that is different, maybe? And unlike the thought process of the rest of the sheeple?

Why must you indulge in drama and emotions created and developed over time due to our lack of intelligence or knowledge?

There are so many other things to worry about. So much more.

The truth you’ve decided to just nod your head in unison with, your truth, has fallen apart. It’s collapsed in a heap of bullshit that it consisted of, and is scattered all over the floor. Everywhere. Like 12 inches of shit that just fell from the skies, it’s covering everything your eyes can see.

And so you believe it, because you either –
~ Are too afraid to think for yourself/any other way.
~ Are too stupid to think for yourself/any other way.

But it’s ok, really. Congratulations, in fact, because you’re just like everyone else.

With your literal interpretations of Shakespeare, and your false theories and faux wisdom concerning life, art, and everything else.

Worrying about things that do not matter at all. Because you want to worry. Fighting your wars for nothing at all, because you want to have wars.

Take a minute right now. Think about all the things you’ve worried about or wasted brain cells on in the near past.
Does any of that matter? Does any of that really matter? Is it something you really want, or is it just an illusion that makes you think that you do?

Your sheep like behavior. The waking up, going to work/school, coming back home, getting good grades, keeping people happy. Do you really want to do it, or are you just being forced to?

Would you rather speak your mind and not do the same shit over and over every day, or be what you are right now?

A cog in the fucking system, just churning and keeping it all up and running.

With your constant need to be surrounded with drama and things going wrong. With your constant will to survive, but not knowing how to. With your constant need to be comforted by flesh and bone, and the need to have a finger to hold while you walk around aimlessly. Little did you know, that finger you’re holding on to is just as lost as you are. Or is leading you down a very dark tunnel, and not for your benefit either.

Sleeping awake, like you are right now. Ignorance is bliss, so you’re glad and you’re happy.

Congratulations world. You are a phony. And you don’t even know it.

All I’d do all day is be the Catcher in the Rye.

2010-02-02T02:46:00.001-05:00

The world is so full of phonies.

Everyone. Each and every one of these people I’m sitting in class with.

Talking about Art. That’s what this class is about. It’s called Vocal Communications, but the professor just told us it’s about “Talking about and understanding art.”

But isn’t art subjective?

There’s a toilet seat, sitting in the Philadelphia Art Museum.

And it’s pretty much a big fuck You to modern art. The artist who came up with the idea is sheer genius.

Such phonies. Making comments on the damn picture.

The artist who drew this isn’t in the fucking room with us. How the fuck do we know what he was trying to portray?

Martyrdom, says the professor. But isn’t the only difference between suicide and martyrdom the press coverage?

All I want to do right now is walk out of this room and walk away.

From all of these phonies, from all these stupid interpretations.

All of this that doesn’t matter. Such a miniscule detail in this world so fucked.

Aeden doesn’t like it.

Aeden is trying, but Aeden can’t be a fake.

Can’t be phony.

All I want to do is be the Catcher in The Rye.

La seule chose que je veux etre, c’est L’attrape Coeur.

That’s all I’d do all day, be the Catcher in The Rye.

To every Holden Caulfield around the world.

And to never being phony.

(RIP J.D. Salinger. January 1, 1919 – January 27, 2010)

Houdini

2010-01-31T14:37:00.001-05:00

I think people have started to wonder where I’ve disappeared off to.

But why wouldn’t I? My tales of melancholy, and depression aren’t entertaining enough anymore. I’ve lost comments and followers faster than I lose other things. And I lose things really fast. Sometimes I think I’m working on losing them. But that’s not the point.

I have nothing else to write about, really. I can’t publish fiction after fiction, just to please the masses. There’s this thin faded line in my life, that separates the fiction from the non-fiction, and sometimes I can’t tell the difference either.

And I can’t just write about being happiness. Not when I see no ultimate point in anything at all. Anything at all. Life, college, socializing, and public relations. Anything…

And it’s not my fault, really. I just don’t care anymore. About anything at all, really. I mean, I’m trying to, I really am … it’s not that I’ve just given up … but I don’t know what else to do.

But here’s how you can help; stop expecting shit. Seriously. From me. I’m as far from perfect as the sky is from the ground. I can’t please and entertain all the time. I know my life could be chronicled as a trilogy of books that would outsell Twilight, but seriously.

Something crazy must always happen. Shit must always hit the fan. Well, I’ve done that for a very long time, and I want to keep on the low for just a little while. It’s not that things have slowed down – it’s just that I’m not writing about it anymore. Because apparently it’s getting too dull. Not for me though, I still have my hands full.

It’s also that I can’t write about everything on the internet. Just won’t be a good idea. For me, of course. All of you would just love all of it. I’m pretty sure. Because it’s nothing short of a soap opera, my life, really.

But as the world turns I learned life is hell
Living in the world no different from a cell

Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess
I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed
But I'm still depressed, and I ask “what's it worth?”
Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth
Who explained working hard may help you maintain
to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain…

- C.R.E.A.M. (Cash Rules Everything Around Me)
Inspector Deck, Wu Tang Clan

But it just doesn’t work that way. I wish it did, but as I said earlier – the knowing is driving me insane. and I don’t have the advantage of stupidity.

But I guess you don’t want to read about that anymore, because I’ve already said it so many times – over and over. And over.

So, just wait for a miracle to take place, then. Maybe I’ll witness enlightenment and find joy in life or something. Yeah. Then I can write about rainbows and sunlight and other happy things.

Yeah.

Myself to think about.

2010-01-18T01:38:00.001-05:00

What is this obsession I have with loneliness?

It's the only thing I seem to attract the most.

All the fake faces. Acquaintances. Friends. And with nothing to show or feel comfortable next to at the end of the day. Except the cold hard exterior of myself, with an internal void so deep ... a thought process so shallow ...

At the end of the day, with nothing or no one to turn to.

I must do this to myself. There is no other explanation.

And then I get labeled lucky. Do you see why I have a problem with that term? Luck?

The grass is always greener on the other side to you fucking sheeple. Always.

You are forced to label things, it's just how our petty minds work. Right? To make things convenient for ourselves, it's just another step we have to take. Absolutely have to.

Does it ever really occur to you, why things are how they are?

Do you ever try thinking about it? Or thinking at all, for that matter?

About what or how other people feel, maybe. What goes on in their mind?

Maybe, if you weren't so fucking busy crying over your own story.

Well, guess what. Everyone's got a story to tell, and I'm tired of lending my ears and shoulders.

Think of the mistakes of others as your own for a change, and you'll realize how fucking terrible you all really are.

As far as I'm concerned - you can go fuck yourself.

And THEN I'll be lucky. When I really, REALLY, have just myself to worry about.

Aeden Durante’s Inferno

2010-01-17T21:28:00.002-05:00

[La Commedia di Aiden]

"My name is Aiden. That’s all the personal information I’m going to share. Even if the rest of my story seems even more personal then my name, you won’t know for certain who I am. Or how my mind works. You can try, though. I know I have, it just never seems to work. Figure myself out, I mean. I can’t do it. Maybe you can.

Let me tell you a bit more about myself. Make things just a little more easier for you.

I realized at a very young age, how stupid everyone can be. And even though I realize stupidity and intelligence are subjective to judge or classify people by, I still hold the deep thought, that everyone could’ve been smarter. Maybe it’s just the fact, that everyone has their eyes so tightly closed. That they can’t see things for what or how they really are.

I’m void of most human emotions. I don’t necessarily feel sorry for people. Don’t most of the time, in fact. I try to, but it never seems to work. I’m narcissistic. I love myself. I have a huge ego. I don’t care much about what other people think, or about other people at all, really. I don’t care about much, in general, in fact.

I don’t think there are innocent people. I don’t think there are guilty people. I just think there are people that do things people like, and then things people don’t like. And if you’re caught with the bad end of the stick, then it probably is your fault somehow. If you really have to blame someone, I believe it should be divided equally at the middle, for everyone.

I don’t think I have it in me to love people. Or fall in love. I don’t generally believe in the whole idea or concept, really. I believe people are stupid for believing the text book definition of love. It’s things like shakespeare plays which make fools out of us.

I truly believe that the only thing that really makes me happy, is a lot of money. And spending a lot of money. Not just on myself, though. Just in general. Spending money on other people makes me happy too. Not as much as spending it on myself does, but you get the idea, right? I’m not very stingy with money. I don’t mind passing it along, if I have enough to keep myself happy.

But sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have enough to keep me happy. See, human beings don’t like being happy it seems. I solely believe that too. I believe we want wars, and to be depressed and sad. It makes much more sense.

I see people’s weaknesses clearly as soon as I meet them. I can read people inside out. Know how they feel about things. Deduce their habits, their way of thinking. Figure out what I can do to offend them. Figure out what I can do to be on their best side. Figure out what I can do, to manipulate them. It’s very easy, really. Minutes after meeting you, I’ll know exactly what it is you’re looking for in the world. And then I can pretend to give it to you … so you can give me what I want.

I believe no matter how much a person has, there is always something missing. And you give someone that, and you’re basically holding them in the palm of your hand. No matter who the person is. Everyone wants something.

But the problem is , I don’t know what I want. I’ve tried figuring it out. But I really can’t tell. Because I don’t think it’s ever possible for anyone to be completely happy or content. So maybe I’ve given up on trying.

All I know is.. I’ve consumed a lot of pain and suffering for things that were both my fault, and weren’t my fault. And now I feel it ok to pass it on. Share the hurt. Inflict the pain so you can see it too.

For what doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger.

And I think you should appreciate me trying to make you stronger."

How far from the past.

2010-01-10T23:40:00.001-05:00

I asked my mom where all my old books were, and she told me. So I decided to go take a look after all this while … after too long, really …

All my books from my childhood … most of them belonged to my dad. And most of them, probably too inappropriate for a child to be reading. But them being the only books I could get my hands on at that age, I didn’t let that stop me.

All the books I furiously went through during my growing up … as if I was looking for something specific, but keeping everything I was coming across with me, just in case. And it’s all stuck, even if you can’t see it. But it’s all I consist of.

Books whose pages will fall apart in a few more years. But I really hope they don’t. They smell like … they smell like years and years of knowledge. Information. Tales of human suffering, love, triumph, revenge, happiness … and my childhood, of course. All of it.

The pages have turned several shades of brown, and the dust sticks to your fingertips. I sat there, smiling. And I don’t know why I was smiling, but I was. I just sat there staring at them for a while. Then running my fingers through all of them … and as many pages as I could. And then flipping through the pages, and sniffing the insides. –sigh-

I remember reading this detective novel about a murder. The Screaming Virgin, it was called, I think. Because it started with a naked female standing on a rooftop, screaming. I think I was 13 or 14 when I read it. Yeah.

All my old encyclopedias. Colorful books, with drawings I did inside. Ruined them, pretty much. But read them while ruining them, so it kinda worked out. Cooking books I used to stare inside as a child. I used to stare into any book you hand me. For hours and hours. Because they were the only things I really owned when I was little.

I would lay on the floor and stare inside a book, every other day. Sometimes the same one, over and over again.

Now my mind is occupied with things that don’t matter as much. A part of growing up to nothingness I guess. We all do it, don’t we?

I’m diagnosed with ADHD by the way. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. In case you don’t already know. You probably do.

Add that to the list.

I’m going to go insane, I can see it now. I just hope it takes some time.

I have started tumbling. I guess, that’s what it should be called? Here’s my Tumblr.

Sitting down with all my old books in my hands, I felt like the Danish I seem to have lost somewhere down the road.

You know, the optimist that thought the world was a happy place. Where you should be all right as long as you treat everyone all right.

Yeah, the Danish who had his eyes closed just like all the sheeple of the world. Like what I did there? I’m going to do it more often, just a heads up. Sheep, People, Sheeple.

Life was comfortable, with my eyes closed. I didn’t fear going insane. I didn’t have this burden in my hand. I didn’t have much to think about.

The knowing is driving me insane. Holding me down, being my burden. Making me lose sleep, all the thinking.

I saw American Psycho a few hours ago. Patrick Bateman reminded me of myself so much. You should see the movie, if you haven’t already.

I’m deviating. Going to blame it on ADHD. And, uh, have nothing else to say, really. I wanted to blog so bad but I just couldn’t get myself to. Then it just happened. This just happened. I’m glad.

I’m glad you’re reading this, too. Thank you. You’re pretty much one of the reason I do all this. The other reason is me, myself. For the sake of sanity. Or maintaining whatever I have left of it.

~ Much love. Danish Arif.

Why the fuck can’t we smoke in the bar?

2010-01-07T23:50:00.001-05:00

xt says, today I found out my friend Ali is gay. And that Danish is the biggest jerkoff in the world. While Saad and Sarmad are also gay, they like staying in the closet until the right moment comes.

Ali says, I’m so proud to be mentioned in Danish’s blog. And xt’s blog sucks big time… http://saad.tblog.com

Sarmad says, Danish is the biggest hypocrite I’ve met. I’m playing Call of Duty. (xt adds for sam – and these guys are drilling my ass.)

Saad says, I have nothing to say.

Danish says, disregard everything everyone said.

Cloths of Heaven

2010-01-06T01:44:00.000-05:00

Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

- William Butler Yeats

This is why I don't ever get sleep.

2010-01-04T01:17:00.006-05:00

Most of the time, when I say something and people decide to argue or raise a question - the sole reason I never reply or answer back is because, the answer is so ridiculously easy to figure out, and the whole argument therefore is so idiotic, that I don't feel like wasting any time even contemplating and then writing down an answer. So I just stop thinking about it in the next second or two. Literally.

But, as I toss and turn in bed, I suddenly started thinking about Luck again, and a few questions ArfawLuv decided to raise. And so, I'm going to answer them. Yawn.

Arfa Said:

If you're not lucky, explain how you got all that you do?

The luxuries of life, latest gadgets and whatnot, how would you say you have them?

Easy.

As pie.

The luxuries of life, latest gadgets and 'what not', how would I say I have them? See my dad, right, worked his ass off most of his life to make money. That money in return, buys me the luxuries of life, the latest gadgets, and what not. Everything else that you see? Me studying in Philadelphia? Yes, my dad funds it, but you can't just get into a college sitting on your ass, and a lot of money in your bank account. In fact, I didn't have any of that a year or two ago. See, to get into college, you actually have to pull off a few feats yourself. And even bigger feats than that, to get an american visa.

Now, you might argue - that it was my dad that worked the most for all the things I have today. But if you look closely enough, you'll realize, my dad wouldn't do all that for me if I wasn't doing what he wanted me to do either. It's a two way road, and I keep my parents happy so that my parents keep me happy.

As materialistic, and cold hearted as that might sound, trust me - it's not, it's just how human kind basically works.

I know a lot of rich ass parents that treat their kids like crap. But it's ok, because their kids treat them like crap too.

And how I will be treated by my kids (if I ever choose to have them - the chances are bleak though) depends on how I treat my parents.

My parents are happy. I'm happy. End of discussion.

Why must we insist on creating false, imaginary, intangible forces and completely ignore the ones that exist? Even if it's involuntary, I'm not forgiving, even if it's due to stupidity.

All stupidity maybe naive stupidity, but you're not off the hook for being naive.

Seriously.

Mankind, stop creating things just so life becomes convenient. Plz. Kthx. You have your iPhones. And weather forecast. You can order pizza from the couch. Is that not convenient enough? Do we really have to create things like Luck?

Oh, so if it happens your way, you did it on your own. But if it doesn't, then it just wasn't meant to be, right? You got unlucky, yeah, of course.

Everyone needs to see the movie Idiocracy. Or maybe just Wall-E if that's easier to understand. And convenient to get a hold of.

You see those fat humans connected to pods and what not? Yes, that is us. The near future. Except, there won't really be any robots or advancement in technology. No. That's the only part that won't come true.

Karma.

And a little of what I forgot to mention in my comment earlier: The law of attraction. As cliche' as that sounds, your world is how you create it in your head.

Life is like a balancing act. I have everything because I'm managing not to fall off.

Which brings me to another thing I was thinking of. The point of life, of course.

But I'm not going to put it up because of something my Dad said.

Something about people being stupid.

Oh, wait, did I? Yes, I just did. Why, Pardon me.

Nothing much at all.

2010-01-03T22:29:00.001-05:00

dibelleva 5:52 am
what've you been up to?
Dquicksilvera 5:52 am
just ... yeah ... apart from thinking a lot, nothing much at all

It’s so easy. Life here. I love it, I really do.

With nothing to worry about. The other day, I was stressing about my laptop being unresponsive. And I realized how I’ve stopped worrying about such minor things … and that, if I am thinking about them now – it could only mean I don’t have bigger things to worry about.

But soon after, all that went out the window, and I had one of the most messed up days ever.

How messed up? Nicotine deprivation and a lot of anger. I remember gritting my teeth so hard, it gave me a headache.

I just saw Idiocracy though. It’s basically, about these two people that ‘hibernate’ in 2005, and wake up in 2055 to find that people have turned idiotic.

So yeah, it’s pretty much what I see the future as. Which is why I loved it.

I have a few more days left in Riyadh, it’s back to the shit hole then. –sigh- … I wouldn’t be lying if I said I don’t feel like going back, life is too easy here … too comfortable … you can’t blame me for enjoying it.

I didn’t know the new Sherlock Holmes movie was directed by Guy Ritchie. Which means I can’t miss it. Guy Ritchie is effing genius.

In the near future, I’m going to try and see the following movies:

Waking Life, Collateral, Vanilla Sky, The Machinist, eXistenZ, The Game, Cypher and Being John Malkovich.

On a side note, you know life isn’t perfect when – you starve yourself, just so you don’t crave cigarettes like you usually do after you eat.

Definitely not perfect.

Apathy, The Knowing, and Confusion.

I leave you with the rest of the conversation.

Dquicksilvera 6:23 am
I don't know how I've survived in philly for a year
being as cynical as I am, and not giving much of a crap about anything
being self destructive and what not
I don't think it's a good idea to be that way anymore ..
dibelleva 6:25 am
imo, neither do i
Dquicksilvera 6:25 am
but I can't help it
I need to find a motive to be alive soon
dibelleva 6:26 am
to spread ur evilness
Dquicksilvera 6:26 am
too many people already doing that
dibelleva 6:26 am
billions of people have lived, you may have to give up on originality lol
Dquicksilvera 6:27 am
See, that's so unoriginal too
dibelleva 6:27 am
just to prove my point
lol
Dquicksilvera 6:28 am
>_>

The (m)asses.

2010-01-02T12:15:00.001-05:00

I need a few more miracles, to make myself believe that I can make it happen again.

Just like I did before.

But I seem to be running out of it, and I have this feeling that things are going to come crashing down.

Maybe it’s just me, though.

I’ve brushed past things a lot worse. And survived.

But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to do it all over again. No I wouldn’t.

No, I don’t want to.

Yes, I get bored easily. But I hate running around like I do.

I think it’s hilarious, how you would think I’ve had things handed to me, and that it’s all been a joy ride.

One of the reason I get ticked off when people talk about ‘luck’, or call me ‘lucky.’

I don’t believe in things mankind’s thought up to make life convenient. And luck is one of those things.

So please. Keep your shit to yourself. If you like thinking, that I have what I have today due to luck – just so you can feel better about yourself, do it in your head. Don’t talk to me about it.

Luck, fate, destiny. I think people are stupid for believing in things that don’t exist.

Basically, let me break it down.

Fuck you, for thinking things come easily to me and that I’m ‘’lucky.’’

And fuck you, for judging me too.

And fuck you, for being so fucking stupid, yet thinking – that what you, or the masses (the asses) think is correct, IS correct.

Guess what? If you think like the masses? You’re most probably one of the asses.

An ass of the dumb variety, perhaps.

Have you seen me?

2009-12-30T21:49:00.001-05:00

It’s kinda sad how I always turn to blogger or twitter when I’m stressed out or depressed.

Something about people always missing at the right time.

Always.

withdrawal

2009-12-30T11:25:00.001-05:00

I wish I knew any better. I wish I thought about the consequences. I wish I carried out actions after thinking about the outcomes.

But I don’t. Fortunately, or unfortunately.

But you drive me up the wall, so well. It can’t be helped.

So, pissed, off. It’s, insane.

Maybe it’s the withdrawal. Maybe it’s just me.

Changes

2009-12-29T23:20:00.006-05:00

Why send out subtle hints, and subliminal messages? And encode everything you really want to say, in between other words. And go around in circle. And waste time.

And not go all out. With everything.

Why do you insist on playing mind games? Not that I mind. But it's getting tiring. And I'm tired of running around in circles, I really am.

Because that's all I've been doing for so long, and I could use some slowing down, or walking without getting lost. That's all walking around in circles has done for me.

I get lost, but I try finding my way. It never works, because you insist we do this. Each and every time - it happens too often.

Just meant to be isn't it. Because everything happens for a reason, right? And only good things always happen.

But they don't. And if they do, explain what good is. Because if this is good, I'd much rather accept bad. Because it's all a riddle, good and bad.

-sigh- ... Life used to be much easier. With tall green fields of grass, and windmills complimenting the blowing wind. Dandelions, and puffy white clouds, against a light blue sky. With things making sense, with people being what I wanted them to be in my head.

Everything has changed. Absolutely nothing's changed.

All pleasure, no business.

2009-12-28T23:46:00.000-05:00

It's all pleasure, no business. If that will calm most people's nerves.

I don't really even give a wooden nickel about the issue at hand, most of the times. It's just for the sake of a petty argument between humans. The thought just tempts me so much, I love poking a few people - and then stepping back to watch them go. It's hilarious.

The more controversial it is, the more it acts like a catalyst for the whole thing to blow up sky high. Ya'll should try it some day. Works like a charm, each and every time.

It’s a different high.

2009-12-28T02:32:00.001-05:00

Nicotine Withdrawal.

I shit you not.

So jaded – my idea of what I want and how I shouldn’t want it. Only because I’ll end up getting it. So, instead of feeling guilty after getting it, I feel guilty for even wanting it. Because wanting for me – is ultimately getting.

Not that it’s ok, or a good thing – just saying.

Bite my nails because of how crazy it’s all gotten.

I’m liking not having things to run to.

Being back home, it’s all so peaceful, so calm, so easy …

I had almost forgotten how nice this all was. The comforts of home, and what not.

I wish it could stay this way.

Mine to keep.

2009-12-23T18:22:00.001-05:00

The next time you’re pissed off, ask yourself. Who are you pissed off at?

I could’ve asked you the same, but I didn’t. I could’ve told you what I thought of You, too, but I didn’t. Because you proved yourself a hypocrite trying to prove me one. And it was a wonderful and joyous sight.

But I can’t blame you, now, can I. It wasn’t your fault.

Of course not. All the fault, and the blame – all mine to keep.

Figments of my imagination.

2009-12-22T15:12:00.001-05:00

“I like that quote,” she said, pointing to a James Dean poster.

And I told her how I love, that people love such cliche’ things. And that mankind is pretty much doomed, if people need posters that say such cliche’ things, to feel better about life.

She said she’s ‘’high on life.” I couldn’t help but disagree.

I said, really? No you’re not. And if are, then it must be a really depressing high.

Life used to be much easier before I started figuring things out.

The happy have the advantage of stupidity.
It’s the knowing that’s driving me insane.

Knowing how predictable, selfish, and …

No … I need to stir things up a little. The shit needs to hit the fan.

This is no more fun. Something insane must always happen.

Life shouldn’t be this easy. I need mental trauma.

And all your drama.

And everything needs to go wrong.

And everyone needs to stab each other in the back.

And our backs should hurt our knives.

Otherwise, we don’t have anything to go on for.

We need more wars. And more natural disasters.

Otherwise, life is just a stroll in the park.

I’m not a pessimist. I’m not narcissistic. And I’m not sexist. I’m just realistic.

“That’s a smart way of saying, you’re a little pessimistic, a little narcissistic, and a little sexist – but it’s fine,” she said.

And if only she was real. Then maybe all of this would’ve been easier.

If only I was real, maybe yours would be too.

We’re all figments of our own imaginations. Because the world is what you turn it into.

Too bad none of it is real.

Leaving God’s house.

2009-12-20T05:05:00.001-05:00

It’s 5 in the morning and I just woke up from a weird dream.

I dreamt that I was in a small church, out of nowhere. And not a church, but a small room that was made into a church.

I remember seeing someone wearing a black beanie/hat thing. I think it might’ve been me.

So, after realizing where I was, the house of God, or whatever, I think to myself; “This can’t be right, I’m at the wrong place,” and start to leave.

But this old man, although I don’t remember seeing him in the dream, stops me and says something similar to; “You really shouldn’t leave.”

That’s when I woke up. Trippy, huh?

51 and The Ace of Spades.

2009-12-20T00:45:00.001-05:00

Shuffling a deck of cards, a card aimlessly plopped out from the middle of the deck, and fell face up.

It didn’t surprise or scare me though, it was the Ace of Spades.

I picked it up and pushed it back in the middle of the deck.

At the end of the day, the cards all belong in the same deck. Somewhere in the middle, most of them.

Someday I’ll put the Ace of Spades up on a wall somewhere, for the world to come and see.

But not right now. Right now, the rest of the deck needs the Ace of Spades.

If you say so, love.

2009-12-20T00:24:00.001-05:00

I’ve spoken about being self sabotaging, a lot.

Also, of being careless, and irresponsible.

I let everyone know just how guile I am. Just how two faced, and reckless.

A proper dosage, really.

I say it out loud, I try expressing it to the best I can.

Like sand. I’ve written it about it numerous times. So that it won’t go away, and be there always.

About not knowing what I want, but wanting everything – so I can take my pick.

Agnostic. On the bench. About most things. Or everything, if you say so.

I’m getting predictable, say the masses. And why wouldn’t I, when you put your eyes on me and refuse to look the other way.

Why wouldn’t I, when I want just that?

It’s like leading this nation. This nation of people, this pool of humans. You, and everyone else I can manage to. But not to lead, but to learn something from. And I do, I really do.

It’s you, that has taught me everything I know. All of it. So I try giving it back somehow, to the best I can. But it never works in the favor of the messenger.

I try to prove, to the best I can, how messed up humans really are. How messed up the human mind really is.

But if only things worked that way, yeah?

But if only you were any different, yeah?

But if only I knew any better, yeah?

But if only I really was who you expect me to be, yeah?

If only you didn’t put me in a chair so high, that I couldn’t help but fall off of it… yeah?

And fall so deep each time, that I wouldn’t want to climb back up … yeah.

If only my mind was in the right place. And not all over the place.

If there wasn’t so much to learn from everything. From all of this.

If only you could keep me in your palm, I would love to have sat right there – and wouldn’t ever even contemplate moving.

Does that make you wonder if I will?

Why are you so predictable, world?

Why are you so cold, harsh, and similar to each other?

I have a feeling, my search will continue. And continue. And continue.

Forever perhaps.

Until the world is colder. Darker. Lonelier.

And until this ends.

Till death do us part, perhaps.

The only thing that set you apart. The others all left.

See the similarity yet? The predictability yet?

Things will happen if they’re meant to happen.

If you say so, love.

You know my name…

2009-12-18T21:06:00.001-05:00

You may think you’ve won, but you never saw me change – the game that we, have been playing.

I’ve seen angels fall from blinding heights.

And you yourself are nothing so divine. Just next in line.

Arm yourself because no one else here will save you.

The odds will betray you,
And I will replace you.

The coldest blood, runs through my veins.

You know who you are, and you know my name.

Hello, me, meet the real me.

2009-12-18T04:52:00.001-05:00

Took this quiz. The result is so accurate, it’s creepy.

Look at last two traits. That’s as accurate as it can get.

“Risk taker, easy going, outgoing, social, open, rule breaker, thrill seeker, life of the party, comfortable in unfamiliar situations, appreciates strangeness, disorganized, adventurous, talented at presentation, aggressive, attention seeking, experience junky, insensitive, adaptable, not easily offended, messy, carefree, dangerous, fearless, careless, emotionally stable, spontaneous, improviser, always joking, player, wild and crazy, dominant, acts without thinking, not into organized religion, pro-weed legalization.”

I would put up the whole thing, but it gets too detailed. And I wouldn’t want you just figuring me out like that, would I?

Sorry.

No apparent reason.

2009-12-16T15:06:00.001-05:00

Nothing beats waking up in the morning, and not wanting to get out of bed.

Because you realize what you’re going to step into, once you step out of bed.

Asking yourself if there is a point. Hoping the night could’ve gone on for longer. Hoping the sun would’ve waited.

But it doesn’t. And it never will.

Nothing beats staring at yourself in the mirror after crawling out of bed.

With a cigarette in your hand, and the smoke over shadowing your reflection.

Fighting fire with fire. The one inside you, and the one between your fingers.

Nothing beats staring into your own eyes, and not liking what you see.

Like looking into yourself, and not finding what you’re really looking for.

For searching, but not knowing what it is you expect to find.

Floating in nothingness, and for no apparent reason.

No apparent reason.

Agony.

My poetic sweetheart and the truth.

2009-12-16T01:04:00.001-05:00

dibelleva: you think you being depressed is only depressing to you?
dquicksilvera: well, about that…
dquicksilvera: it wouldn't depress other people if they didn't want to be
dibelleva: they probably don’t want to be happy without you
dquicksilvera: that was poetic
dibelleva: truth

All Apologies.

2009-12-15T15:22:00.001-05:00

I tried.

I really did. I tried making you happy, and you told me it worked. I tried wiping all your tears away, and bidding your sorrows goodbye. And you told me it worked.

I tried giving you everything you asked for, and whenever you asked for it. And you told me it worked.

So then I asked you for what I wanted. And you told me it wouldn’t work.

So I went out and did everything I possibly could, and more. Things deemed impossible. So that it would work.

But you told me it still wouldn’t.

I didn’t give up. I don’t ever give up. But there’s a limit. I’m only going to do so much, before my attention diverts. Until I deviate.

Because you weren’t the only one asking for it. Even if you would really like to think you were. There are others. Perhaps more deserving, because they don’t ask for so much. And they give back in return.

I don’t want your selfishness anymore. I’m sorry. It may hurt to realize this, but it’s true. You don’t know what you are looking for yourself. You just made me run around in circles for no apparent reason at all. And I’m sorry. I’m not destined to walk around in circles to not get anywhere. My journey is a straight path to the top. To the skies. Not around in circles to nowhere.

No one can do it any better. No one at all. I’m the only person that could make all your dreams come true. It’s true, and deep down inside, you probably know it.

No one else dares think of the impossible. And I don’t believe in the impossible.

People look up to the sky, hoping to count all the stars. I look up to the sky, hoping to one day shine brighter than them. Because their number doesn’t daze me. And you knew that.

It’s unfortunate you decided not to do anything about it. And realize, that this isn’t my fault, or my doing. You should’ve known this would happen. Like sand. I tried explaining. You just wouldn’t listen. Or would shrug it off, thinking you could hold on to me forever. But you can’t. Nothing ever can, or will.

The only way I would ever stay, is if you made me want to. But you didn’t. You only wanted me to stay, because that’s what you wanted.

What about what I wanted?

I hope you have what you wanted. It sure seems that way.

And I hope you’re happy. And know that I’m alive.

You just proved me right once again. How selfish people are, it’s true.

And therefore, I live life by just one simple rule. Which could perhaps explain why I do what I do.

I’m never going to need anyone. Everyone else whoever, will always need me.

You know who you are. And you know my name.

- Quicksilver.

Sleepyhead.

2009-12-14T04:57:00.001-05:00

Moving on down my street
I see people I won't ever meet

And I cannot remember
What life was like through photographs
Trying to recreate images life gives us from our past

I was walking down the street, in the middle of the city, at 4 in the morning. With music blaring straight into my head. And no one in sight. The wind blowing against my hair, and when it stopped – strands would fall either back to their position, or in a completely new one.

Intoxicated by miss Mary Jane and a few pints, I was free of care. Ataraxic. Free from worry. All thoughts were clear. They were all in the present.

Having that isolation, but still understanding ego and I. Having that vivid perspective and perception of self. Like a close up head shot, in a group of pictures. But the only one in color.

So your attention is all focused on it, instead of the bits and pieces. The universe. God.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about myself. About who I am as a person. About where my life is headed and why, and I’ve realized something that may be miniscule but still very important to realize.

I’m not doing this for myself. None of it is, really, if you look at the broad picture. And therefore, I do not care so much about it. I’m doing it for a cause that is not greater, or less than, but just different. And therefore responsibility has a different label and idea.

Life is abstract. It has no dimensions. Dimensions are vivid and surreal, but limiting. There is no limit.

It is vast. Like the sky. The sky is life. And I’m skydiving right now. And I don’t ever want to hit land.

You thought you might be a ghost.
You didn’t get to heaven but you made it close.

I like tapping my fingers really gently on the keyboard. I like the sound it makes.

Two really weird things just happened.

One of them is the following:

I’ve been getting calls from a ‘restricted’ number since the last two days. Someone calls, I don’t get to see what the number is, and after I pick up, they don’t say anything or hang up. And it’s been happening for 2 days. And almost non stop. 15 times in a row, at once. Someone obviously has a lot of time on their hands.

It just happened a while ago. And it’s almost 5 in the morning. I picked up, and no one said anything on the other side. So I hung up. I’m talking to Belal after that, when we hear his phone ring, and it’s a ‘restricted number’ too. But unfortunately, he doesn’t pick up.

Fortunately though, it rings again, and it’s a restricted number again. He picks up, and no one answers on the other side.

So yeah, I’m not freaking out. It would be stupid to. Because this isn’t a teenage, slasher movie. We don’t have a black friend here, we’re all brown skinned, how would the serial killer know what sequence to kill people in? And which one would he save? And our skin colors aren’t light enough for one of us to be the serial killer either. We’re not THAT crazy either.

Laugh out loud.

I’m going to stop trying to write, it’s probably not working as I would hope it does. –sigh …

… being intoxicated, I wonder – what’s it worth? But then again, what is anything?

“It’s so hard to find you. Even when you’re close.”

This is sweet.

2009-12-13T01:44:00.001-05:00

View Full Album

The one about time.

2009-12-10T13:58:00.001-05:00

I’m sitting at the edge of my bed. My laptop in my lap, and face book live updates in front of my eyes.

I’m running my bony fingers through the length of my gravity defying anime hair. I can’t remember the last time I got my mum to do that for me, and I miss it.

Thinking about another 13 hour flight was making me cringe last night. But waking up today in the morning thinking about it – if it’s 13 hours just to go back home, it’s probably worth it.

I think I saw a couple of more dreams. I don’t remember them anymore. I rarely do.

Listening to Hush by Deep Purple.

I just felt like it’d been a while since I wrote. I don’t really know how long it’s been, my last blog post probably isn’t that old. My sense of time is pretty shaken.

And if not shaken, just so different than your sense of time.

Time being just an illusion, I think I’m going to start ignoring it completely. And if not completely, to the extent at least, that I don’t remember when certain events took place. Or how long ago. Or for how long. But it’s ok, the flow of time might just be subjective too.

It’s one of the many things the human mind controls, but we don’t realize it. Which is sad, really.

It’s been a year that I’ve been in Philadelphia. I can remember like yesterday.

I went to the subway near CCP after a really long time, yesterday. I remember going there when I first started going to CCP. I remember going through that solution-less loop, and being worried and tensed. I remember getting lost, on my way to CCP, like 6 times. I remember getting lost inside the CCP building itself.

I remember not knowing where things were, near the apartment. I remember having to use Google maps, and then writing directions down. I remember still getting lost.

I remember being all alone for a month. My first month here. Inside an apartment, with no internet, and no friends. With nothing.

The ability to control time, or at least the sense of it, and how we contemplate it, is wonderful.

What’s even more wonderful is realizing how far you’ve came within just a year. What’s even more wonderful is, realizing a year can be as long or as short as you want it to be.

What’s wonderful is also remembering the things you wouldn’t want to remember.

Like people telling you how certain things you dreamt of, would probably just stay that way. In your mind, in your imagination. Because some things are impossible. And you can’t always get what you want.

What’s wonderful, is knowing you proved people wrong.

I’m sitting at the edge of the bed, running my fingers through the skin of my face. Pushing against it, so it feels like rubber. But it doesn’t. Tiny shard-like hair brushes against my rough skin, and I can hear friction.

It’s wonderful how there is no limit, to what fascinates the human mind.

There is no limit.

Not to time, not to the human mind’s fascination.

The only thing that can limit us, is our stupidity. Our standards, and contemplation of the world so far – falls under that category.

Hush by Deep Purple has stopped playing for the fourth time. I should get up, shave, maybe shower. Get something to eat. Go downtown, try to sell my books. Indulge in a little lower level human activity, and let my mind rest for a bit. Let me rephrase. Try to rest my mind, for a little bit.

I’m getting late. Or am I?

So.

2009-12-08T17:31:00.001-05:00

I have this sudden urge to write.

I was thinking of creating a blog, one that’s not public, and pouring out on that. I’ve been contemplating it subliminally for a while now, just never get to it or put much voluntary thought into it.

No matter how open and public I go with voicing my thoughts and everything, a part of me always insists – that it’s somewhat fake.

And that I can’t help it.

But I try. Sometimes I can’t even tell myself. It’s not easy when all your thoughts are jumbled up in such a manner, that you can’t really tell what you want or are feeling.

Being bipolar isn’t easy.

Like being bothered severely by something, and not being able to figure out what it is. Specially when you’re so good at figuring things out, and figuring out what other people want, need, or feel. It’s ironic that it’d be so hard to do it for yourself.

Poetic justice, maybe. It all falls on paper so much more beautifully. When there’s some ironic misfortune that entails it all.

It’s what you’d want to read, at the end of the day. Not just some happy bullshit.

Like how I get surprised feelings from people when I tell them I’m happy or love life. It confuses them.

Which is kind of sad, if you think about it. People tell me I’ve become predictable.

Yet it confuses some people when I’m actually happy for a change.

Then it confuses me, when I’m not happy anymore, out of nowhere, for no reason at all.

Life is confusing that way.

End of transmission.

Letter to Cigarette Smoking Santa.

2009-12-06T03:46:00.001-05:00

I love your profile picture.
And it is SO ironic, that the other day, my project for Philosophy class was to look at this set of old Cigarette ADS, and your profile picture is one of the ADs I had to write a paper on.
It was about whether we thought ADs like those were Ethical or Unethical. I ended up writing about how stupid Ethical And Unethical moral values are.
Hehe, good stuff.

The average man.

2009-12-03T23:48:00.001-05:00

Sam brought this to my attention, and I feel that I couldn’t have said it any better.

Alan Moore, ladies and gents.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! You've read about it in the papers! Now witness, before your very eyes, that most rare and tragic of nature's mistakes! I give you: the average man. Physically unremarkable, it instead possesses a deformed set of values. Notice the hideously bloated sense of humanity's importance. Also note the club-footed social conscience and the withered optimism. It's certainly not for the squeamish, is it? Most repulsive of all, are its frail and useless notions of order and sanity. If too much weight is placed upon them... they snap. How does it live, I hear you ask? How does this poor pathetic specimen survive in today's harsh and irrational environment? I'm afraid the sad answer is, 'Not very well'. Faced with the inescapable fact that human existence is mad, random, and pointless, one in eight of them crack up and go stark slavering buggo! Who can blame them? In a world as psychotic as this... any other response would be crazy!"

~ The Joker’s monologue, from Batman: Killing Joke.

Like sand.

2009-11-30T00:13:00.001-05:00

Holding on to me is probably not in your best interest.

It’s not that I’ll let you down.
It’s just that, I’m probably too fast for you.

It’s not that I’ll leave you behind.
It’s just that, you might end up feeling that I have.

It’s not that you will start holding me down.
It’s just that, you will probably start hoping that you can somehow.

But it never works that way.
It never has. I don’t know if it will.

So, my floor is occupied with a million broken hearts.

And I feel like I’ve written this before, or at least something similar.

You probably find it similar too.

Something crazy must always happen. I’m here to entertain you.

But please don’t fall for it, no matter how bad I want you to.

There’s a thin faded line in between what you want, and what you think you want.

I’m here, only to give you what you really want. Not what you think you want.

But please don’t end up thinking that you can probably hold it in your hands for too long – think of it as sand.

Think of me as sand.

And maybe you’ll be ok.

See, the problem with me getting everything I want is, it ends up fucking things up that other people want.

Me getting what I want, probably means you won’t get what you want. Not for much long, anyway.

I’m not trying to brag. Not trying to be cold hearted.

I don’t want to be misunderstood.

The beauty of this illusion is. You might end up believing I have everything I want.

Maybe I do.

But I probably don’t.

Do I?

Magnets.

2009-11-29T23:37:00.001-05:00

“It’s not your fault. You are who you are. And girls fall for it. I’m just glad I’m not magnetic material anymore.”

Something crazy must always happen.

2009-11-29T03:13:00.001-05:00

So, I was chasing Belal, on Broad street in the middle of the concrete jungle. At 3AM in the morning.

And he kept getting faster and faster.

So I kept getting faster, and faster.

And being stoned, it was the best thing in the world.

It almost felt like the wind was carrying us, and the rest of the world was just a blur.

All the cabs, the freaked out people that got scared when we ran in between them.

And I yelled ‘incoming’ really loud while passing by them.

Adrenaline rush.

Something crazy must always happen.

Expandable.

2009-11-26T13:32:00.001-05:00

So, I wake up, at 1 PM. With my head still spinning, and me remembering my lost cell

That's right. I also lost my credit card, the day before that. And then my cell phone yesterday. I just don't know where it went.

But surprisingly, it's all right. Was just a cell phone.

I feel like I'm disconnected from the world at the moment. Not completely, but right now, I can. I have an excuse, to. I have the option to.

So, I took another hit, and decided to go downstairs for a cigarette.

Standing on Chestnut, looking around at all the tall buildings, and the light blue sky - with puffy clouds.

This man came up to me, with eyes half open, and asked me if he could bum a cigarette off of me.

I reached in my pockets, for the pack of cigarettes, but stopped when my fingers reached it.

I looked down at the cigarette in my hand, and back up at him, to say;

"Aah, this is the only cigarette I have, man, sorry, I bummed this off of my room-mate upstairs ..."

And he quickly started telling me how it's ok, and thanks anyway.

When he walked off, I let go off the pack in my pocket and wondered to myself why I did that. I never ever have.

I was standing at the same exact spot around 3 days ago, when a homeless man sitting across the cigarette yelled to me for a cigarette. I actually reached in my pocket without thinking, crossed the street, walked to where he was sitting on the floor, and handed him the cigarette.

As I walked back, the smile that suddenly appeared on his face was still roaming around in my head. Cocky, and impressed at the same time. It was absurd.

But I said no to a man today, without even thinking about it. And I don't know why I did it.

But then I started looking around at all the people and realized how I must look like crap. I did, after all, get out of the couch I was sleeping on, put on a hoodie, take another hit, and just walk out in the city with flip flops and my pack of cigarettes. My hair was probably the messiest ever, and I probably looked like hammered crap.

But I didn't give a shit.

And being it northeast america, no one on the street gave a shit either.

And I liked it. I like not giving a shit.

Life is precious.

I have everything I want.

I lost my credit card, and my cell phone - but it doesn't matter. Tangible things can all be replaced.

All of them.

The Ace of Spades.

2009-11-22T18:31:00.001-05:00

The power of the human mind can not be described.

And I realize that.

So, I’m laying in bed, shuffling this deck of cards. Concentrating on the ace of spades, trusting myself to pull it out in random, out of the 52 cards in my hands.

I don’t think I will, I don’t believe in luck, fate, or chance. I know, that I’m going to pull out the ace of spades, just because I’m thinking of doing it. Without looking at what card I’m pulling out.

I wanted to pull out a random card, out of the 52, without looking at them.

Random card. Could be any card, out of the 52, right?

But I wanted an ace of spades, so bad. And there’s only one ace of spades, in the 52.

Probability, 1 to 52, right?

But the power of the human mind – it can not be described.

After enough thinking, and throwing out ‘probability, and chance’ out of my thoughts, I pull out a random card.

Guess what card it was.

It was the ace of spades. I shit you not.

…am I or the others crazy?

2009-11-22T03:46:00.001-05:00

“Yeh, dil, yeh pagal dil mera,
kyun bujh gaya? Aawaragi.”

Those who’re supposed to get it, will.

If you aren’t, you won’t.

Words are wonderful that way.

So, I feel like writing again, after a long time.

Because it’s ironic, and sad, but I can only write when I’m either;

a) In a drugged state of mind
b) Depressed/melancholic/sad/angsty/angry

I’m option b, right now, unfortunately. Or fortunately. For you entertainment hungry people, who love packaged depression, all tied up with a pretty ribbon and what not. You do, don’t even deny it.

I don’t have any moral values, so I’m not going to judge you.

I do too, sometimes. But I’m the producer and marketing manager, so the store policy declines me any employee benefits. You, however, get discounts and shit. This blog is one of them. This post is your fucking holiday sale.

Maybe I'm just one person. Maybe I'm so many people in one. Maybe that's why I'm so lost and why I'm so hard to find. When you don't know who or what you're looking for, the search is only tougher.

And therefore, I need to either self destruct into a million different pieces.

Or find myself before that happens. It’s probably right around the corner though, so don’t get your hopes up too high.

Or actually, if you really love pretty little packages of gloom, with a red fucking ribbon, Christmas comes early for you. I guess.

Karma is a bitch, but only if you believe in it. Because if you don’t, you’re probably completely oblivious to it, and therefore you don’t see it happening. And the human mind, being so fucking moronic, needs to see shit hit the fan, to realize that shit has hit the fan.

Shit has hit the fan. See it or not.

What the eyes see, the mind believes.

Stupid, stupid.. stupid.

When you don’t know what you want, you end up fucking shit up for other people.

When you do know what you want, shit ends up getting fucked for you.

When you want what you want, depending on whether or not you fucked shit up or not – it can go either way.

It’s a game of chance. But is it really?

I feel like my head is about to explode, sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder if there’s really any point in bothering.

Sometimes I think there isn’t.

Then sometimes I think there is, and my head almost explodes.

Other times I’m too stoned to give a shit.

But when I’m not, I’m trying really hard to keep my head from exploding.

But if it did, would it really matter?

If I’m so fucking brilliant, I need to go insane.

It’s only poetic justice.

That Australian what’s-his-face in ‘a Beautiful mind’ went insane. Ended up getting an award at the end of the movie, or some shit. Just had to go crazy to get it, though.

Who would’ve watched the movie if he didn’t? Not me, not you. Maybe the shitheads that would’ve gone ahead and created a movie, where he doesn’t go insane.

“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?”

Albert Einstein said that.

I hope I go crazy soon, this purgatory in between isn’t much fun.

I’d rather go to hell, then dwell in nothingness, wondering where I’m going to end up.

But hey – how can hell exist? How do you and I exist? How did we manage to get this far? And why? And for what?

To end up a cog, in a system that’s failed.

But then again, you can’t blame the system either. It was designed by you and I. And you and I are flawed, to begin with.

If God created us, why didn’t he create us to be perfect?

Or did he decide to get creative, and experiment? That would make sense.

“Oh, let me fuck this kid that’s about to be born’s life by not giving him any sight. It’ll be hilarious.”

“Oh, this other kid that’s about to be born – I’ma give him cancer by the time he turns 5. And maybe I’ll go get make popcorn while I’m at it.”

“Aids. Hmm, haven’t done that to anyone in a bit. How about that two year old ..” *gives 2 year old Aids*

Nothing happens without God’s consent, right?

And that right there is God’s consent?

Right.

Something I tweeted got RT-d around three times, so I’ma repeat it. Recreate history, or some shit.

“The only thing more confusing than a woman, is two women.”

And it’s true. I’d rather bake brain cells. But then again, I’d pick that over anything and everything. Even life itself.

I’m hoping for 2012.

And for a zombie apocalypse at the same time.

We need to stir shit up a little, and then chuck it at the fan.

So it hits the fan, but it’s different somehow. On a larger scale somehow.

All this little shit isn’t doing it for me anymore.

But then again, life isn’t either. At all.

“I wish we could run, to the sun …”

“No, I don’t want to get burnt.”

“Then we’ll go at night …”

I hope you know, I’d hand the skies to you.

Or push them into your hands, and you can let me die underneath it when it’s yours.

Apparently, that’s how things work.

We will create God. And then make God destroy us.

And then blame God, but not ourselves.

We’re all just human though. So let shit hitting the fan slide, just once more.

Just once more.

Random Post Title Name Thing.

2009-11-21T14:13:00.001-05:00

So much has happened in the past few days, I can't possibly contemplate even trying to describe it.

But I wonder. Why is life so easy? Put my finger on anything, and it happens. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but something tells me I should aim even higher.

Life is beautiful that way.

I’m out of words and wouldn’t know how to continue.

The City where I never sleep.

2009-11-15T20:01:00.001-05:00

My life is at it’s craziest right now. And I love it.

I just got home after a crazy ass weekend in the city.

This song can sum up my life right now:

Thanks to Belal.

And Windows Live Writer is by far the best desktop application for writing blog posts. Go get it if you haven’t already checked it out.

Remembering.

2009-11-14T04:34:00.001-05:00

Today was probably the last day I can spend my freedom.

So I lived today, like no tomorrow.

Just care free, and let it all go up in smoke.

I have a shitload of projects to be doing, so after tonight’s little party, I might not party again for a whole week.

In fact, I know I won’t. I’m not going to.

That’s why I went crazy today. And I mean Crazy wit a capital C. Wow.

Anyway, I’m buzzed out but everyone else is asleep and I’m wide awake with my train of thoughts.

It’s like, crazy. Wow. The stuff gets me riled up instead of putting me down. I’m like a powerhouse of energy or something. Wow.

Anyway.

The day started by me getting 12 people to play True Combat: Elite with me and Morpheus. I call him Morpheus. I don’t remember his real name. He’s really cool though. He said he would play if I could get around 6 or 7 people to play. I got 12 to.

Kicked butt throughout, too. Was amazing.

And then I had a mini party with all these people. Was awesome. Cant’ go in detail. I’m tired, and I’m sipping on Dr. Pepper. It’s the best fucking thing in the world.

Remember. No Tomorrow.

Let’s see if I remember this when I wake up.

Alive.

2009-11-12T21:04:00.001-05:00

“Is something wrong,” she said.

“Oh, of course there is.”

“You’re still alive,” she said.

“Oh, and do I deserve to be? Is that the question? And if so. If so, who answers?

I’m still alive.”

- Alive, Pearl Jam.

Figuring out Danish.

2009-11-09T01:51:00.001-05:00

I just love how some people can confine themselves to only one kind of music and still call themselves music lovers and what not.

It takes either courage, or sheer stupidity, to do that. Just listen to a particular genre and say you appreciate music.

God, this conversation with you, has been like a blog post. I don't really talk like Deepak Chopra or Socrates in real life.

Something someone recently said to me that made me smile and wonder. And even inflate my already inflated self esteem, of course, that’s why it made me smile in the first place.

“Are girls constantly flinging themselves at you?”

Oh, if only, love.

If only people knew what was good for them.

If they did, they would probably stay away from Danish Arif though.

You figure out which one.

No longer about whether you have an addiction or not.

2009-11-08T03:59:00.001-05:00

It’s about what that addiction is to.

The city is so pretty to look at, at the dead middle of the night.

I don’t mean, at like, a poncy corny late, like 12 am. No, I’m talking about 4 in the fucking morning.

When everyone is snuck up in bed.

Alone, clutching the pillow or the blanket, while they dream and don’t remember them after waking up.

Or, with their significant other. Maybe even hand in hand, if they haven’t been sleeping together for long.

Or maybe close together, head on arms.

Or if they have been together for a while now, probably facing in their own directions. Put themselves to sleep wondering what to do next. What else is left to look for?

And they make that list in their head before falling asleep and having multiple dreams. But not remembering any when they wake up.

I remember looking down at the street, in Karachi.

And now I’m doing it in an apartment in center city, Philadelphia.

I make myself smile with my heart.

I’m your addiction, aren’t I? We’re all addicted to one thing or another, even if we don’t admit it.

The internet maybe.

Daily cup of tea maybe. Caffeine.

Chocolates maybe.

Watching the news maybe.

Having the same dull routine every fucking day maybe. The comfort and convenience involved in that. And in human life in general. Or what we’ve made of it. Ourselves.

I try to stop, I try to do the best I could.

Make me smile, with your heart, for a change.

Cream.

2009-11-08T03:23:00.001-05:00

Remember those moonlit nights?

Stargazing and nothing else.

With no other care in the world, just the wind blowing really slow.

Oddly comforting.

You realizing how alive you are.

How alive and beautiful everything else is.

The stars in the sky, the darkness around them, and the moonlight. So clear and beautiful, like nothing else.

And the leaves, fresh and damp. After it has stopped raining. But it’s still humid.

And everything is beautiful. The night is beautiful.

And you have a beautiful mind. So you let it wander. And it days, off to your world of dreams. The one you’ve created yourself. When you play God inside your head, because it’s so much more safer that way. And secure. And comfortable.

Like love is. Comfortable. Makes you feel content.

Like you’re safe. Like you’re sniffing tissues that smell like vicks vaporub.

My funny valentine …

You, make me smile – with my heart.

Like the moon is smiling at you when you’re not looking at it.

Like life is a beautiful mess you want to create. By falling for it, and falling in it’s many games. Probably the one you love the most. Probably the best game there is.

So you let your mind wander off, to think about your lover.

Or lovers.

What if one person, is not just that. What if a million people lived in one? Maybe that’s what you’re looking for.

Are you?

Because everyone is ONE. But you’re looking for someone that isn’t. You’re looking for more than One itself.

Because you’re looking for God. Not THE God, though, of course. We’re all looking for something. Everyone always is.

Cream by Wu Tang Clan is one of the best rap songs in the world. With one of the best beats in the history of music.

But no one really gets all this. No one understands.

Specially if this wasn’t a blog, and a person, this wouldn’t have ever worked.

It never really does. Minds work better for people when they keep them closed. And so this is shut out. Would have been shut out. If this wasn’t a blog, and was a person.

“But as the world turns I learned life is Hell
Living in the world, no different from a cell
Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase, sellin base
Smokin bones in the staircase
Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess
I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed
But I'm still depressed, and I ask what's it worth?
Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth
Who explained working hard may help you maintain
to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain
We got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks
and stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
Leave it up to me while I be living proof
To kick the truth to the young black youth
But shorty's running wild, smokin sess, drinkin beer
And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear
Neglected for now, but yo, it gots to be accepted
That what? That life is hected”

Cash rules everything around me.

CREAM. Get the money. Dollar, dollar, bill ya’ll.

- Wu Tang Clan. Cream.