quick word

folks. much has been occurring in my life of late, leaving me with little time to truly ruminate or contribute to this here ledger...

however, for faithful followers, be not dismayed, for i shall return a-force as soon as my life resumes some semblance of normalcy. suffice it to say that i am currently embroiled in several dilemnas and crises of a somewhat existential nature.

those who may have spoken to me during this time will know what i am speaking of. others, i am sorry, but you will have to employ a modicum of patience, since even while i may return to chronicling my life and the happenings therein, it may be some time before i am able to adequately, indeed even safely, elucidate my current situation.

anon,

'o'

to blog or not to blog

i dont feel like being linear. am sick of it. just want to let my mind wander today. meander away...

i just got an email from an old, old friend. N. adore her. was nasty to her years back. dont think i'll ever really forgive myself for that. she's simply amazing - smart, funny, witty. head in the clouds but feet (it seems) firmly on the ground. beautiful too. like a botticelli angel with curly hair that seemed to go for ever. married to a super guy too.

sigh. life. weird, huh?

anyway, of late, i've been wondering: to blog or not to blog, that is the question...

criticisms of self-indulgence and boring prose have led me to self doubt... boring??? i hear you ask increduously. me???? yes, folks, you read correctly. many a family member from darlingest younger cuz M. to super gorgeous older cuz T. - all seem to think this blog is about as interesting as an autopsy performed on a dead frog.

to be fair, there are some people who might find that interesting. but they're probably as scarce as the people who actually enjoy reading this blog...

shit. gotta jet. fellow musician-cum-journalist and ridesharer extraordinaire Mer-maid is calling... need to boogie. SF is calling. missing my babe. DYING to get away from effing suite effing z... shout, shout, let it all out...

will try to write more.

blah blah blah.

laterz gatorz...

'o'

ps: yo, Big G. you listenin'??? can you hear me callin'? it's a long way from our dayz in the big apple, yo... missin' ya. ping me...

budding fan base?

so i just discovered that, contrary to my earlier beliefs, i do have a readership... while somewhat flattered, i must also confess to being somewhat disturbed... more so, since this supposed "fan" is a co-worker and someone privy to my most private (read public) musings...

i must confess, i find it slightly uncomfortable that one of my co-workers (and apparent "friends") would do this behind my back. admittedly, by putting forth my thoughts, life etc on such a public forum, i am opening myself up to criticism and scrutiny - not all of it pleasant. which begs the question, is this worth it???

for my own part, i consider this blog a means to venting my frustrations, whilst simultaneously keeping those i adore (my near and dear) informed on my doings and whereabouts... but is it worth the cost of clandestine ridicule by my fellow workers? it's not that i mind the tongue-in-cheek humor and sarcasm - far from it. in fact, i actually think it's quite cleverly written and vastly amusing... what bothers me is the fact that i was not included in the joke. after all, since this is obviously authored by someone i work with (and who i - probably stupidly - consider a friend), it stings that i was not made privy to a joke that is quite obviously at my expense...

herring spy? fantastic fan? or simple stalker...? i'm probably overreacting. only time will tell. while i have my suspicions on said person's identity, for the time being, i will keep my cards close to my chest. for one, i will be a lot more cautious about what i say (uh, yeah right!)...

meanwhile, you can check out the musings of my media mole at omarwatch.blogspot.com.

later gators,

'o'

post scriptum

i cant help but wonder, is anybody even reading this??? or are these words really just for my own private pleasure...

in the immortal words of pink floyd, "is there anybody out there???"

quick thought

question: to be a writer, is it necessary to also be an ego?

when i look back and re-read what i have written in my blog, i am amazed by how self-involved and self-centric it all is. then i read the blogs of some friends, and i find the same thing. along with a writing style that is more often than not self-aggrandizing and verbose.

see? i'm doing it right here, right now...

then again, given that this is supposedly my space, the question that comes to my mind is: does that justify my occupying what is essentially public domain with my own ramblings?

i'm opening this one out to the public - thoughts would be most welcome. and, in this case, i withdraw my earlier request of no anonymous postings. knock yourselves out, folks...

yours in anticipation...

'o'

weekend update

hello again folks...

so after an extended hiatus, i am back...

sorry for the delay, but the past few days have just been really busy... have been getting back from the herring at the usual late hour, but for some reason have been more tired than normal. resultantly, instead of taking time to write, i've just crashed out.

plus, of course, i have also been trying to spend "quality time" with tash - which has not been easy of late.

anyway, before i continue, here is my promised shout-out to my erstwhile companion and fellow sinner Big G. many a cold manhattan winter night have been spent in the company of BG and my other british babe, the one, the only, JC. and no, i am not talking about jesus christ.

?!?!?!?!?!?!?

shit, my sense of humor has really taken a turn for the worse...

but fear not folks, it shall, i am confident, return in due course.

so, i was saying, update...

went to muir woods this weekend past. the drive to the woods is simply spectacular. for the pakis amongst us, it is extremely reminiscent of the drive to nathiagali. winding roads lined with trees, random shafts of sunlight filtering through the leaves and branches. the woods themselves were spectacular. tashi and i went on a 5-mile hike, half of which was up-hill. we almost walked all the way to stinson beach (on the pacific, and another five miles), but rather astutely figured out early enough that that was probably not the best of ideas. still, it was a phenomenal experience. exhilarating. not to mention, my good friend Mary Jane came along for the ride, which made the whole thing kind of psychedelic.

now that that's over with, i must confess, i am at somewhat of a loss for words. to be brutally honest, not much of any interest has been going on with my life. work is, well, work. and my life outside work has taken on a strange and rather mundane overtone. one that bothers my little darling no end, i might add. to this end, i have enrolled us in a tantric yoga workshop and am also planning a day trip to napa for tash's birthday...

in other news, S. and i seem to have finally made our peace. although i must confess, i still feel the sharp pangs of jealousy when she talks in dulcet, loving tones about her current amour - also an S.

whatever, blah, blah, blah... i am now starting to bore even myself - so i can only imagine what y'all must be going through. my suggestion: to those unable to match wandering attention spans such as myself, i would suggest that you...

stop

reading

right

about

now!

for those who are able to follow the meanderings of my mind (or are bored enough to try), please feel free to continue...

beautiful BOC, another fellow j-school alum, came over last night for dinner and a rather interesting conversation on identity ensued. given that i am currently somewhat braindead, i will not be able to reproduce much of the original conversation. however, the gist was to question why people tend to identify themselves with what they do as a job/career. this illustrated by how one also tends to identify others by what they do. hence amongst the first questions asked when meeting a new person is, "what do you do?"

i argued that this is not something endemic to america and that what one does is an important facet of self-definition. B. and Catgirl (roommate) argued that this was not necessarily the case. Catgirl pointing to europe (france) where she said people were proud of what they did, irrespective of what it was, and that, beyond that, they made no big deal about it.



sigh... i just ran out of steam...anyone really interested in the outcome of the conversation can just drop me an email. meanwhile, for all those in my vicinity, anyone game for a game of risk? if yes, then, again, drop me a line. am looking for like-minded people to join me in my imaginary quest for global domination.

for now, i am going to sign off before i upchuck my lunch all over my nice brown corduroy pants.

anon.

'o'

quick thought from this side of midnight

here's a question for all you readers and believers out there. what is love? what does it mean? is it more than the yearning in my heart that i feel when she's not around. is it a measure of the divine? or is it simply various neurons firing and hormones raging? "attachment hormones" as my baby calls them.

really, it doesnt matter sweet fuck all.

i realised a few months ago that sometimes love is just an illusion - it's beautiful words masked by great sex and the pretense of intimacy.

"i love you"

it's just words, really. three fucking words, that mean so little unless they can be made real, made tangible.

that, folks, is why i know that i love tash. and why i know, know, that she loves me. it's not just the words, it's the mountain of action that moves those words... it's more than the fact that thinking of her never fails to make me smile. even though that may be part of it. love is the sum of all these tiny wholes. a completed canvas, where even the spaces and distances make up part of the picture.

sigh...

and then, folks, when you get that, that's when you can look behind the curtain and see that while the wizard is just another person, that person is unique and special and fills you and completes you and complements you in ways that you have never before experienced.

ok. enough pseudo-intellectual babble. it's late and i need to crash so i can be up early and fresh for work.

meanwhile, to all those lovers out there. all those people who really know how to love, totally selflessly and with action and faith, i wish you the sweetest dreams - may you all be as fortunate as i am to spend your nights in the arms of someone who loves you as much as you love them - with total and utter reciprocity.

'o'

ps: my little lover just informed me that these words might be construed as a "reaction" to an earlier conversation this evening with S. (of new york and far east asia fame). thought i should clarify that such is not the case. later gators...

for whom the blog rolls

so dear readers, it looks like the comments have started rolling in slowly....

i was told by one friend that while this small dark spot in the great wide wilderness of cyberspace had become a staple read, she thought it needed "more sex please". running counter to this suggestion was my cousin M's comment that i came across as "self-obsessed" and was i really "that boring."

so what to do? i find myself in a conundrum...

do i add on the sex and violence in my own personal verbal homage to jerry bruckheimer? or pull back in a virtual coitus interuptus, letting my more sensually inclined readers get their vicarious kicks elsewhere?

honestly, i am inclined towards neither. although perhaps my darling cuz was onto something when she called the blog (or was it me?) "self-indulgent." after all, isnt that exactly what this is? my outlet for self-expression? my world, where everything of any import revolves around me? is this not merely an online version of my little black book?

truth be told, i'm actually not quite sure. there are times when i think of this as a way to let loose my verbal diarrhea. if you dont like it, dont read it...

but then i'll read something like john perry barlow's blog, or baghdad burning, and i wonder about my place in the world and whether it is fair or right (moral, even) to allow oneself the luxury, nay, the novelty, of self-centeredness in a world that is increasingly stricken with strife. is it not my responsibility, not only as a journalist, but as a human being, to write about the sufferings of the world, to tell the stories of those who have no voice? isnt that why and how i justified becoming a journalist in the first place?

i strain to find the answers, but all i keep hearing is cartman singing "uncle fucker" from south park: bigger, longer and uncut...

maybe its the herring... i dont know. right now, all i can hear is birds chirping loudly... am wondering whether i have finally lost my mind. there cant actually be a bird (or birds???) chirping in the air-conditioning ducts??? earlier, i thought i smelt burning rubber/plastic, like in an electrical fire. turns out, it was just coffee (thanks to Katie F.'s finely tuned nasal abilities).

the thing is, if i wanted, i really could "talk about sex, baby". i mean i am going out with a super sexy, intelligent, brilliant and fantastically beautiful woman who simply blows my mind and (get this!) loves me as much as i love her!!!

it's funny, speaking of tashi. she really is everything i have ever wanted or hoped for or desired in a woman. at once a vixen and a dove. sometimes an angel, other times a complete and utter delicious devil... i shall not, however, (despite the requests of my erstwhile college companions and fellow lahoris) "kiss and tell"...

anyway, it's time for me to now head home... am meeting up with LO'B (fellow columbia j-school alum otherwise known as the shadow) to hit the gym...

back to the burn, baby, back to the burn...

more later maybe - if not, i shall see y'all anon.

'o'

bed blogs and bloom flicks

good afternoon faithful reader(s).

as the more observant amongst you may have noticed, i have finally managed to break the curse of one. as i write these words, the hands on my clock stand at just a little beyond half past two in the afternoon. i am lying in bed, wrapped in my red comforter, pondering the flow of color to the red wall opposite.

shit, i really am an effing ponce.

anyway, for those few who might actually have been following this blog with some small degree of interest, the past weekend has been wonderful - and far too busy and packed for me to actually drop something to write. friday night was my old friend YT's (hitherto he shall be known as gollum)girlfriend, oops, no, i meant "partner", CJP's (or just CJ for the sake of brevity) birthday. incidentally, it was also eid. so we all went to lahore karahi where we gorged ourselves on seekh kababs and champein (lamb chops for the non-Urdu speakers). then went to hear a rather interesting band play at a bar called the rickshaw stop. they sing lyrics to one song over the music of another - one crowd pleaser was "smells like billie jean" - i'm sure i dont need to explain that to anyone.

saturday, tash and i took a streetcar downtown to the SF MOMA, where we caught the lichstenstein exhibit. while that was experience unmatcheable (is that even a word???), i was left with incredibly sore feet. and no, i am not a spoilt brat (or at least this particular experience does not illustrate my spoiltness in any way). in truth, i was somewhat under the influence of my favorite - spiderman fans might recognize the name Ms. "Blanketty Blank" Watson. plus, my shoes (effing fashion victim that i am) were not condusive to walking long distances.

suffice it to say, by the time we got back home, i was simply bushed. still cooked a delish aloo keema (again, for the english speakers, this is ground beef with potatoes paki-style) and tash and i kicked back and watched "the forgotten" with julianne moore. frickin' (my new word of choice) strange film... thought it was going to be a psychological thriller, turned out to be about effing UFOs. go figure. anyway, then we saw "troy" (a most disappointing film, what with achilles being hetro and all), and then, never one to give up a movie marathon op, i closed the evening with that cinematic masterpiece, "freaky friday".

oh, by the way, a small digression, if i may - i have noticed a few (ummmm, two) comments, and was wondering if i could be so bold as to request any leavers of comments to perhaps be so kind as to leave their names? the whole Anonymous posting thing kind of leaves me feeling like i'm being stalked.

and yes, i know, i am allowing myself to indulge my already prodigious ego here.

so here i am. lying in bed. in a somewhat sound state of bliss.

methinks it might be the "L" word - although i hesitate to commit it to black on white lest i jinx the damn thing.

the object of my amor is currently sitting on the steps outside the apartment smoking her afternoon ciggie. it never fails to amaze me how incredibly thoughtful this girl is. boggles my mind sometimes really.

damn...

laptop battery has gone into reserve power. and that means either getting up or finishing this off for now. and since i am a lazy fuck i will finish....

ok, now i have to go. tash just walked in to inform me that she has broken my favorite (and actually only) ashtray. was a present from CJ (of earlier mention), so am just a little bummed... oh well. it's just an object. and she does enough for me to gloss over the loss.

sigh. need to get out of bed. sort out laundry. shower. shave. make the bed. clean my room.

sometimes, i wonder why i abandoned my life of luxury back home... oh yeah, i remember, it was the women.

once again, the theme of my life - when will it end??? dear lord, when will i stop chasing these damnable skirts!

never, i hear the good lord whisper good-naturedly in mine ear. for mine is the dingdong and the story and i am now becoming dangerously delusion and must bid you, my faithful reader(s), adieu...

so, in the words of the von trappe children, "so long, farewell, auf weidersen, goodbye..."

'o'

ps: also, it just occured to me that the title of this blog might strike some as a tad incongrous - so it was a play on "bedknobs and broomsticks" the old (disney?) flick with angela lansbury (she who wrote many a murder) - the bloom reference was to orlando bloom in "troy". always good to explain oneself, i say. never leave a lover in the dark - even virtual ones who might adore one only for one's rare moments of literary ephiphany...

effing ponce, told y'all so...

once again it's one

it almost seems as if the fates are conspiring to make me write this damnable thing only when the clock approaches the hour of one. try as i may, i seem to be unable to shake this tendency.

oh well, i suppose it matters little.

my baby and me at peace in monterey bay

had a fairly crappy and unproductive day at work. and while the gym was good ("yeah, baby, can you feel the burn!"), coming home was not as happy happy joy joy as i may have hoped.

tash, the little darling, decided to cook me dinner (bless her my sweetheart). and in the beginning things were good. then, she asked me to "mash" the potatoes, something i have never done and of course told her as such. the blame for how matters transpired from there, i suppose, therefore lies squarely on my now no longer strapping and well-defined shoulders.

tashina, my little tweak, did what she has proven in the past to be an absolute expert in. she tweaked. and of course, having just come home from a 14-hour day, i spazzed. anyway, i took over the culinary duties while she "checked her email" in my bedroom. suffice it to say, dinner ended with her tossing her share of the chicken in the kitchen sink.

to be completely fair to tash, much of the latter was because i now decided it was my turn to throw a tantrum. plus those who know me well, know how irritable i get when i dont get enough sleep.

post-dinner (or lack thereof, i should say) things cooled off after we both showered... and my little darling crawled into bed with her heating pad and book.

the latest developments have her lying in bed, once again peeved at me.

sigh.

will i ever come to fathom the workings of the female mind? the answer to that, my friends, may never be found. and i have never been too good at holding my breath. so i suppose it's time to dive in and do what we men are so good at - make sure that my sweetest thing smiles before sleeping so her dreams might be as sweet as mine for having her near me.

later gators,

'o'

ps: i know, i know. choke choke, puke puke. leave such saccharine emotion at the doorstep i hear my more cynical friends holler. well sorry folks, if it's cynicism you want, you're shit outta luck. i can, however, promise some small degree of self-deprecation and the occasional snide asides in lieu of pure cynicism. ciao for now...