writing fiction is hard work!!!
will post the book here...if it EVER ends!

More or less a hundred or so posts later...I go through my dashboard and browse through some old ramblings. It suddenly dawns on me that I have been restricting much of my writing to certain limited aspects of my life. Admitted, there are some eulogies to Karachi, like "dual Karachi" and “Where cobwebs dwell” and some about Faiz, and Ghalib and songs and then some random uttering and mutterings thrown in now and then. But on the whole they remain constrained. I don’t “blog” much about other things, maybe because I blog mostly when I just need to make certain things “vocal”, and seem to loose the voice to verbalize them. I guess it is a realization…I got some awesome, and I do mean AWESOME comments all the way down there where the more diversified posts lie. Hence, Resolution # 3967 : Write more often, more diverse. (as soon as I get done with this book design project, which is also…ironically on Karachi. Much excitement! But buried under the pressure of workload and time constrains…hoping for a miracle, soon! =)

so of late I have mostly been keeping to myself. Highly strange...i've withdrawn a bit, I've mellowed a bit. i dont really know whats up with me...I really dont know whats down with me. And this post makes no sense, has no purpose. Im just deliberately delaying working. Im not even punctuating properly =)

somethings missing...yet again,.
argh.
bleckh
blah.
completely Blah.

Good Riddance

To,
The Cyst
Former Resident,
Slight Left,
Lower Back.
Expressome, 2006.

Cyst,
Im glad your'e gone. Having u around was no fun, but honestly getting you out of me (unwillingly, i must add, emergency mein) was torture, but the weeks after were even worse. And coming from someone whose threshold of pain is way higher than average, that is saying alot. You made me suffer and endure a great amount of physical pain at a time when I was buried under the anguish of emotional pain.
Thanks alot for nothing.
Good Riddance.

The Cardiac Probe

I asked the little whiner why it can’t beat even a bit faster for either one of those senseless souls who tell me they’ll do all it takes, they will go the whole nine yards, they’ll wait, they’ll win me over somehow.
I nudge the little critter to at least try to beat a bit faster at the timbre of their voice, at seeing their name on my phone screen, in my mailbox, or when they sign in…

So I said, “You damn thing, for someone who chronically palpitates you sure seem to be having trouble beating faster when I tell you to! You indolent freak! Try getting down to some action when I tell you to.”

It replied, “Silly girl! You never listened to me when I warned you, you got in way over your head. Try all you might, try all you may. But stop kidding yourself it just ain’t happening with anyone else anymore”.

Damn Freak.