Events of the day

I fill it up to the brim and it spills onto my hand, leaving a stain and a bad odour there. She's there with the pretty one and she punches me in the stomach. I step back. Mother's there, mother's waiting. Let's meet up, oh let's both go, but then I'll leave early and I'll blame it on work. I'm too used to it all by now. Sister's there, sister's queer. Or is she? Oh, it's gone... looking good. Hey, what happened to you? New fashion, eh? No, you moron, it's genetic! But you never visit. I don't want to but I still tell him I will next time knowing that I won't and knowing that he knows that I don't intend to.

He looks at me but the missiz is in the SUV. Why're you staring then? Cheers, darling, fill it to the brim and I do. I'm still short of forty but close. He tells me it's over. Love is an illusion that'll never be... it's all about sex. I agree - it *is* all about sex. Missiz is waiting and baby's kicking in her tummy.

What's this obsession with making your own anyway? Male involvement in the process is minimal anyway. Yes, I want my peepee to be involved in the beginning. Perhaps I should marry a girl and have sex with you whenever I feel like it. WHAT?!?!

Indeed, it *is* all about sex. I remember my conversations with the kiddo who cannot understand why everyone he meets just wants sex. He wants it to be special... the first time's got to be special. Was I ever given a chance anyway? He refused him and he (being the second he) took it the wrong way and it all got complicated. Why do male-male relationships begin and end with sex? I think that's all there is to it... how many successful relationships have I seen? One, two maybe. It just can't be, it just won't be.

The scourge that's been unleashed on him with such vindictiveness... perhaps it's because he's so blasphemous. But what of the indecisiveness? That's definitely a dominant trait and that'll be his downfall, his indecisiveness. It was foretold and it's apparent but still he pays no heed to it...

There was a gathering of women. In a circle, they sat and one spoke... then she sang... then she spoke. She told the other one to sing next and she sang in the prettiest of voices. I was a spectator. I watched as they handed out a box of Kleenex and each woman carefully took one and folded it in her lap. Then, the first one sang again. They all cried. The box of Kleenex went around the circle again, this time with a greater sense of urgency. I was confused. It was almost as if they'd gathered just to cry because they'd prepared themselves for it. Was it subconscious? Why would someone want to gather to cry?

In Pakistan, when there's a funeral, certain women deliberately cry very loud. I used to be irritated by their presence because it made the immediate family of the deceased cry louder. Their wails could be heard on the streets. They made me want to cry too but I wanted to hold it in and that made me angry towards them. It was only as I grew older that I realized the reason behind it. Crying is therapeutic. You have to cry over your losses to be able to move on.

Then why don't I cry? Why haven't I cried in ages? Is that why the fears keep mounting, why the negativity keeps taking over? Is love a possibility or is it this ideal in my head that will never actualize?

Ibtadaa-e-ishq hai, rota hai kyaa
Aage aage dekhiye hota hai kyaa
Kafile main subah ke ik shor hai
Yaani ghafil hum chale sota hai kyaa
Sabz hoti hee naheen yay sar-zameen
Takhm khwahish dil tu bota hai kyaa
Yay nishaan ishq main jaate naheen
Daagh chati ke abuss dhota hai kyaa

Is God all-powerful?

Statement: God is not all-powerful.

Proof:
Suppose God is all-powerful.
Then God can create a rock he cannot lift.
God cannot lift the rock. [CONTRADICTION]
Thus, God is not all-powerful.
QED.

The one for March

I'd like to sneak this one in so at least there's a link for March on my bloggie. I'm walking along the line of ambiguity, neither here, nor there. I'm caught like a deer in headlights. Yes, that one, that photo. The eyes are wide, the expression dumb. He laughs viciously and I coil into the fetal position and I peek out and his expression softens. I think I love him - or do I? I hate it when friendship reaches a point of ambiguity - does it stay as is or does it develop into something else? Am I attracted to him? Isn't it pathetic that I don't know whether I'm attracted to him? I flirt, he flirts, then he doesn't and then I don't. I feel at ease and then I veer off into the stupid like I usually do... why can I be so stupid at times? And he looks at me like I've lost it... I'm used to that look. I giggle it off mirthfully. He moans, I whisper, we dumb down the conversation, we're in this sort-of dreamy state. I'm sure he feels for me too. But we're both wimps, we are. It's because we don't want to lose what we have. But time doesn't stand still. Time passes, we change, everything changes, nothing is static.