tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76169512012-02-16T15:57:26.392+05:00psnobnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-10612534874039802642012-02-06T11:25:00.000+05:002012-02-06T11:25:00.136+05:00

For the me 5 years ago:The Beatles - Here Comes the Sun The Replacements - Can't Hardly Wait Stone Roses - She Bangs the Drums Moody Blues - Emilys Song James Taylor - You've Got a Friend For the me now:The Beatles - Here Comes the Sun MGMT - Time to Pretend Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan - Halka Halka Suroor Tony Igy - Astronomia ?

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-12001873952875189822012-02-06T11:15:00.002+05:002012-02-06T11:15:46.579+05:00

it's never quite what it seems, this second guessing. there should be no second, its numberless usually. take a shot at it, bulls-eye seems so tempting you can't stop focusing all your attention at it. the concentric circles are there for a reason though.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-70089007259001997172012-02-06T11:15:00.001+05:002012-02-06T11:15:22.421+05:00

i thought i was dreaming of her, but i really can't be sure. all i remember is a sad expression. when people talk politics, i zone out. maybe because i don't know enough, or don't care to. it seems to be a hot topic. it seems to irk nerves. i never quite understood what good talking about it will do. but then, someone could just as easily ask me why i bother talking about

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-6144099831784038572012-02-06T11:15:00.000+05:002012-02-06T11:15:02.231+05:00

the title's not sentimental, it's just about flickr. i can still roam around it with somewhat ease, but the days when i belonged on it were pre-face-recognition, pre-photoclubs, just shooting. pre-self-consciousness. some days, it's just panic that something's going by without proper documentation. that somehow makes all of it realer. dreams, told to husband in a half-awake daze, quickly before

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-40072001221990088972012-02-06T11:14:00.000+05:002012-02-06T11:14:09.549+05:00

That's what marriage is. You're not supposed to be touched physically, mentally or spiritually by anyone else. It's not natural to find anyone else of the opposite gender more interesting. Or exciting. Or thrilling. Does it qualify as cheating if come with me, and we'll travel i'd like to be buried next to you it was something i only wanted to share with you only if you're driving the bike i

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-12554853369854664612012-02-06T11:12:00.000+05:002012-02-06T11:12:41.400+05:00

it is this state of mindless procrastination that finds me in an empty house, a friend who's gone to an all-too familiar city. So i do what i've come to be familiar with. Watching foreign films (the subtitles only add to it, never take anything away) and smoking lonely cigarettes. The smoke blows the wrong way in Punjab, so I smoke with my eyes closed.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-37472102769546013992012-01-30T12:00:00.003+05:002012-02-16T14:51:48.259+05:00

Being John Malkovich The Graduate Amelie The Pianist Network One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest The Big Lebowski A Clockwork Orange Pan's Labyrinth Goodbye Lenin The Motorcycle Diaries Mulholland Drive The Thing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Children of Heaven Bonnie and Clyde Cinema Paradiso Pulp Fiction This is England Devdi The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-37100724509510481512011-01-08T22:54:00.005+05:002011-01-08T23:59:14.740+05:00

I think every new years I get a kick from somewhere within to revive this blog again. It's only an annual kick though, this baby takes quite long to get out.My best friend just got married. Three weeks of "I can't remember this move", "you're supposed to be pushing not pulling!", "Do you want to stay and practice the evolution medley"? After the purple favor boxes and the dance printouts, after

psnobnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-84973579329288755592010-01-14T12:26:00.001+05:002010-01-14T12:26:06.586+05:00

2009-12-21 [P1290742 _2470921P _GIMP], originally uploaded by jazamarripae.some pictures are to show, but to induce. establishment, pop culture. communication with the other is more like communication with yourself. eventually, we're all just bricks. eventually, the symmetry, systemitization (sp) gets to you. sometimes, when you're on your own, you're more you than you ever are with anyone

psnobnoreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-32185398800486794792010-01-12T22:37:00.002+05:002010-01-12T23:35:15.263+05:00

why is it so much easier to find like-minded people on the internet than in real life? It can't just be the whole you're-faceless-so-you-can-easily-spill phenomenon. How is it that I can't seem to find the layers in people in the flesh

psnobnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-33037155932278001732010-01-06T17:17:00.004+05:002010-01-06T17:26:31.017+05:00

I've always blamed my parents for breeding this incoherent, ridiculous competitiveness in me. This is what makes me feel angry at myself for being unable to get a strike in bowling, for feeling pressurised to have followers on twitter, and for overwhelming the spouse with consistent demands of we-must-have-a-great-story-to-tell-everyone-about-our-vacation/new years/anniversary-or-else-.You need

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-89912019692171913572010-01-05T06:11:00.002+05:002010-01-05T06:27:28.711+05:00

acting makes you feel alive. Much like writing well, or badminton. Like when the conversation doesn't stop, words stumble on words. Solving a difficult sudoku puzzle, reading wittgenstein, and making up stories of lost girls and beaches to tell you as you fall asleep. I can't remember which stories are yours and which were mine. I sometimes wonder if you made them up for anyone else, and whether

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-891848909348442042010-01-03T20:59:00.002+05:002010-01-03T21:19:06.828+05:00

filling days and nights with much. road trips, spontaneous chicken rolls in the rain with chai, random visit from a somewhat deranged friend, and the first "something" that i made for a guest to the house (just ovaltine with cold milk, perfect housewife i am not). cycling and photo-shoots. with make-up on, i feel invincible.what are you trying to prove and to whom, and when does it stop

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-38145306897126552352010-01-02T21:26:00.002+05:002010-01-02T22:30:29.443+05:00

the windows are dirty. rolling over in bed, weekday or weekend, and all you can think of is, I don't know much but, the windows are dirty.People say new years is an arbitrary date, a random division in time and space. meant for convenience, not commemoration. do you commemorate butter knives and celebrate remote controls? you go out with a few who may or may not know your name, and you get a

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-29819206795693145402009-12-03T18:27:00.002+05:002009-12-03T18:37:55.870+05:00

have never really been resolute with them, never. earnest in making though, can't deduct points for that.last year i was too ambitious.next year, i hope to write atleast once every single day. (maybe i'll do that photo project too some year, not this one, too mundane, all me. click each day, but my ultimate goal would only be to see myself aging over the years. where do i start, where do i begin)

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-9195917812763645402009-11-02T14:51:00.002+05:002009-11-29T17:06:52.823+05:00

talking to a friend across the world, we've discovered connecting with a few isn't really a blessing all the time. stumbing through twitter: having a voice vs having an audience. what if your voice is just meant to harmonise, and not lead? the husband thinks ac/dc is rock, i can't live without springsteen. why is everything breaking news, everything a game of links and numbers and that

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-55860437949937728872009-10-01T18:28:00.002+06:002009-10-01T19:47:32.421+06:00

the biggest hurdle is probably just me, and the wishy-washy version of my past that i seem to remember. the biggest competitor that you have to defeat is always you?on vacation, clearing the head, not quite thinking but maybe getting there. where i really am is a comfortable room, tv larger than any other i've ever had, lots of episodes of a favourite show (always did like memorizing lines,

psnobnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-12847547152798967702009-03-10T22:18:00.002+05:002009-03-10T22:32:04.380+05:00

we get inspired, with 90-rupee bhelpuri and chaat in a shifty restaurant at one end of a broken road. Like so many others, we want to win.like so many, we create lists and think that just putting things down should be half the journey won. half the battle begun.top 5 things to do before you get married, top 5 things to accomplish before your first baby, before before. we create milestones, not

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-79101226353132773152008-10-05T10:37:00.002+06:002008-10-13T01:22:58.961+06:00

first wendys (some kind of fascination with popculture and fries. mcdonalds is better)first imaxfirst time sleeping in an imax(don't bother watching eagle eye, be warned)we used to leave the TV on in the (not-totally-secure) hotel room to pretend that we were still there when we left and keep it on at night because, well, Miami is scary like that.the most weirding out thing is the constant

psnobnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-29405013184706770962008-10-01T11:55:00.002+06:002008-10-02T01:00:16.975+06:00

here it is, the one i promised i'd write.still on the journey.the firstsfirst visit to here, the not-themfirst ihop. it was not the starbucks-like experience crossed with high-end pancake lounge ishtyle crowd that i expectedfirst cycling in a foreign countryfirst public bodysearch at an airportfirst time someone gave me a camera as a present. thank you.first time in harlemfirst medieval

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-46676843192137247892008-02-28T10:50:00.003+05:002008-04-05T20:37:00.888+05:00

no, i will not be silenced. you hear me? i won't be. i absolutely, positively, will not allow it to happen. or to be. to be applied to me, like a slimy grey paste, like anasthesia, like a pall, like the white sheet they cover you up with when you're undergoing surgery. to obliterate all signs of you. generalisations are a constant source of comfort, much like fries and that one t-shirt that

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-82855537998339135442008-02-05T18:26:00.000+05:002008-02-09T14:50:47.697+05:00

i know it's not the monththe same city, different realisations. older, cliches coming to life, chaotic sanity. the collective struggles. i string a thousand phrases, i string you along, one moti and then the next. i have found it is easier to make todo lists, to check, cross, obliterate them out.than?i have to ask, cuz you have the nerve to questionyou refuse to feel deeply about anything,

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-40551909815176867652007-12-19T12:08:00.000+05:002008-01-03T14:02:49.786+05:00

Of nights filled with bleepful sounds swiftly sailing through roads unseen, but felt. living on the 4th floor, in this my new home, in this strange boy's room who I call him in affectionate conversations.any conversation can turn affectionate somehowafter the much-anticipatedapprehensivehype, after the too-sweet forlorn plucked petals, and the dubai-centerpieces (I've never been there but my

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-46524239630453551112007-04-02T17:22:00.001+05:002007-04-02T17:22:30.623+05:00

Anytime Originally uploaded by mdumlao98. you, me and 5 bucks

psnobnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-2961454741262839332007-03-20T10:56:00.001+05:002007-03-20T10:56:48.532+05:00

Un cuore per metà è fatto di ombra Originally uploaded by danielecastrogiovanni. "sing a sad song just to turn it around"now showing some on http://psnob.wordpress.com, but i dont believe in new endings.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-26062734623053720302007-03-09T16:32:00.000+05:002007-03-09T18:43:43.039+05:00

"i'll let you know if i find it"it's not that too much's happening. not much, not more that can be handled, not more that can't be wrapped up and post-ited. the emails say trash it, shred it, file it. the words say serve, the message says false.it's not as much losing myself in this colourless faded yellow office as it is just surrender, quiet. a friend in a bank believes that sooner or later we

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-41808656863295384922007-02-26T15:37:00.001+05:002007-02-26T15:37:46.771+05:00

Cluedo Originally uploaded by Choi Sama. sported like a true badge

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-64689011751344999812007-02-22T13:38:00.001+05:002007-02-22T13:38:51.072+05:00

Originally uploaded by ribe. a certain ex-groupie (in the lums sense of the word, not to be confused with drooling scantily-clad rock enthusiast) tries convincing me i'm clinically depressed while I gleefully neglect work to snoop around explore on flickrr.am unable to post normally through blogger, and there's a young noncute boy with slick hair who says hi to me everytime he passes my

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-84786335729198254352007-02-20T16:30:00.001+05:002007-02-20T16:30:49.067+05:00

glass-house_vista_coat-hanger_01 Originally uploaded by wvs. When you play badminton, you don't just play badminton. You talk in motion, in leaps and swishes. (I know you've said this to me before, I'll say it again just because I can). Someone keeps jabbing on fervently about closing meetings, someone who knows all the names of the top guys. But everyone here is on a first name basis and

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-90691842911582285062007-01-03T17:55:00.001+05:002007-01-03T17:55:04.641+05:00

man in bookshop Originally uploaded by psnob. I've been unable to post on this through the blogger dashboard - beware blogger beta, don't go.I took this picture in the split second that the frenchman looked furtively around, after exclaiming you can't take pictures here! Have stories to tell, someone said "paris doesn't disappoint".

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It's been almost nine years and i can still recognise you by your voice. I had never met him, the dj I fell in fourteen-year-old-crush with years ago. Late night radio, off-air calls, and a girl high on the kind of romance that's sold for twenty rupees in second-hand book shops. In a country of noisy desperation and single-sex schools, we've dug up our own ways of talking to people of the

psnobnoreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1153553943559296522006-07-22T12:17:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:28.621+05:00

I know soundwaves crash against ears, nerves shiver on skin, light rays crisscross but never bend. But I don't know how we smell.I can't decide whether my laundry's dirty or clean till I smell it. It's the kill factor when deciding whether you're presentable enough to meet someone after a day of driving around dripping in the sun. There's a smell theory that links smells to kissing. The other day

psnobnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1153008697664011612006-07-16T05:07:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:28.178+05:00

bruce, clark and the grand narrativebartenders and nurses by day, girl boxers by night. don't like muscles, even on the opposite sex. constructed, alien, cold. but your face doesn't look like yours anymore, words form loopy shapes in projector-lit classrooms. i peer squinty-eyed as farhan doodles me funky glasses on brand-new computer architecture books. But girl boxers, a dream. i could never

psnobnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1151893535474553802006-07-03T05:31:00.001+05:002006-11-11T11:23:27.787+05:00

no i'm not impossible to touchi have never wanted you so muchyou have msn conversations with childhood friends (does being 13 together qualify?) about the city, and the direction you're both trying to find. you realise that for all your postpostmodernism, you still likeneed institutions. you pick boys who look cute and restaurants you want to eat at. you have to break the crab's shell before

psnobnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1150272655844003542006-06-14T12:34:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:26.841+05:00

tea stains on the inside of my water cup - i always think cups are cleaner than glasses. probably misled by the clay, the not believing what you can't see.i know karachi's not different. when you're fluid, change is what you're all about. in a way you can't ever be defeated by it, or shocked.there was a woman with two children next to me on the plane. she pretended not to notice when i was

psnobnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1148078489620478292006-05-20T03:37:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:26.200+05:00

"rendering intelligible what the text does not itself think but neverthelessallows to be thought"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Literary_theorydespite my waving it away as an 'unacademic' source for quoting, wikipedia does rock.

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on holidays i listen to some diluted miles davis and like to pretend im listening to jazzon holidays i sleep a lot, not because i have nothing to do, but because you can't worry about things you have to do when you're sleeping.holidays don't make me catch up with correspondence, they make me long for something that's not stillthey make me miss everything that was once going on, or what i like to

psnobnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1146237465236334702006-04-28T19:49:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:25.239+05:00

it's a bit too long, and i've done the cheesy thing with the colours. So I'm not gonna quiz you on it.There's no gray.RED:Closest red thing to you? This girl wearing red, standing by the guy at the pc infront of mineLast thing to make you angry? ask ignoring my smsAre you a fan of romance? i've been told i live in a storybook world, i know most of my favourite lovestories ki book by heart (# 3,

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Tonight we sit, we or you and me or we. There's a papercut on my left palm, it hurts. I try to find the circles round and round that i drew on it with osman's blue ballpoint pen during pak studies class, the one in which you weren't there. I wanted to show you how bored i was, but all the scribbles had already been washed away. I had to tell you how i lost my contact lens, i took it out at night

psnobnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1145408817454050742006-04-19T05:40:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:23.738+05:00

it just looked breathtaking somehow...actual webpage: http://www.flickr.com/photos/maryannemc/sets/72057594080477495/in other news, found this great blog through huma's: http://cameratoss.blogspot.com/learning a new language, and learning a new person.inspired by - http://openbrackets.com/article/742/personal-fictions - things i believe that aren't even remotely true:when people use wrong grammar

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1144590440789440032006-04-09T17:44:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:23.162+05:00

i may or may not write in the future here. :)

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my aunt believes in the occult, but i can't tell her two grandchildren apart. They're daughters, born roughly ten months apart, and they look like little stubs of human beings, with faces that look like nothing much at all. one summer, when karachi wasn't home anymore and we were staying at their place, the two daughters came to pick me up from k's place in their car. it was one of those hollowed

psnobnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1143651737584208662006-03-29T22:02:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:22.442+05:00

soup Originally uploaded by psnob. we've been far far away from hereput on a ponchoplayed for mosquitoesand drank till i was thirsty again

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1141507318155482792006-03-05T01:53:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:22.138+05:00

i want to put on old sneakers and play street football, except i don't know how to, and my sneakers are actually tennis shoes.we are the children of bathroom floors, of cellphone pictures andi could be a book on a sundaybazaar stall somewhere, not really wanting to be picked up and thumbed through by dirty fingersthings that i am going to miss about lahore s the wonderful, ecstatically

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Originally uploaded by psnob. sunshiny gleamy roads, summers on its way.

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mirror Originally uploaded by psnob. when i was fourteen, i used to write on this mirror with lipstick. i used to trace out hearts and smear initials of cute celebrities in corners.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1141220926294393502006-03-01T18:48:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:20.869+05:00

Originally uploaded by psnob. i don't like taking pictures of leaves and flowers.unless they're dead ofcourse

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1141127941781860802006-02-28T16:59:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:20.448+05:00

ring Originally uploaded by psnob. glass and metalyou turned my hand to look, glinting in the 11 am clean sunshine. it's one of those carnival rings, metal on skin, and it still smells of 15 rupee fun and i-HAVE-to-have-this. it shouts out "look at ME!" from a hand, never belonging to anyone but itself. it has never had to learn silence, keeps singing away crumpled at stifling computer

psnobnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1140800969706769962006-02-24T21:52:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:19.517+05:00

We forgot the blue nailpolish. One day, our mission was to find the perfect blue nailpolish, on someone else's whims. Half an hour later, I had ten fingers all different shades of blue, aquamarine, silverblue, and three shades of you-had-to-see-it-to-believe-it powderysubtle blue. Duly dolled up, ready to go baby.I recently saw my high school english teacher on tv (a feeble but angry nun's voice

psnobnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1140685342902830182006-02-23T14:02:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:18.785+05:00

arsOriginally uploaded by Mustafá. The story:"After photographing the tiny isolated Amazonian village of Nazare do Mocajuba, the residents asked Alexandre Romariz Sequeira to take their picture. The ensuing photographs were printed life-size on the villagers' old tablecloths (which the artist then replaced), and hung on the bushes by the Mocajuba river for the community to enjoy.Some of them

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1140621250466238072006-02-22T19:57:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:18.411+05:00

we lost the rain.we'll always have the rain, you know, like an overquoted line (when you misquoted lyrics, i ended up liking your version more), like continuity (you stand out like the one strand of hair out of place in a neverending plait). sometimes you feel as if, at the end of all things, it'll always rain, glorious.rain at night, two minute drizzle but you go running out anyway. when you try

psnobnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1140392492251841062006-02-20T02:02:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:17.934+05:00

Because when he takes a fabulous picture with my camera, I can't help but be a little jealous, you know. That's donkette, she drives my car.they say that on the subway in new york , every seven seconds you see a face you can imagine spending the rest of your life with.i squeeze out more ketchup for the fries. there's a pink floyd poster on the wall behind fez that reminds me of someone. we take

psnobnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1139854028174267072006-02-13T22:59:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:17.397+05:00

"You Say"Here in the lightIt burns you up insideHere in the shell of a sunWe echo onToo much listeningNot enough living[Chorus]And you sayWhat did I sayWhat did you sayWe justGo awayGo awayGo awayIt helps you outKnowing I'm left outLocked in a box with a lightThat won't shineTurn it on and wait forSomeone to come[Chorus]I'm here nowWaitingHolding on to reasonsWastedI faced itWatching you deny

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1139702491837583282006-02-12T04:09:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:17.014+05:00

Win Some, Lose Some Robbie WilliamsWe didn't think it'd last beyond summerI met her father she met my motherWe didn't have anywhere else to goShe said to me when we grow olderWill we still need young love on our shouldersDoes it just fade away, will we ever know?She touched my face and called me her loverI never thought that I'd need anotherYour cool suburban sunYou're foolin' every oneYou win

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1139267742255769732006-02-07T04:15:00.001+05:002006-11-11T11:23:16.630+05:00

saif Originally uploaded by psnob. on a different note. an icecream parlour from long ago, with assortedrock on repeat. sweet home alabama sounds just right in the middle of nowhere, tiled floors and glass doors which swing soundlessly as you walk in and order the last thing on the menu. sitting side by side, not opposite, like passengers on a bus, twenty rupee cones and no sharing because

psnobnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1139264700891076092006-02-07T03:25:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:15.620+05:00

another sunrise Originally uploaded by shadycat. found on flickr interestingness; i nodandsmile at e who cant see me as he proclaims how addictive it is.fitting that i just watched the sequel, before sunset, the one where i always muddlefused the word after in the title somewhere.sifting through spam comments is like being on duty at a 24hour suicide helpline: you KNOW most of the calls that

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1139178312845134392006-02-06T01:37:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:15.221+05:00

disclaimer for the last entry, the compose window was stolen. much pawfully.found this in a draft. thought it might mean more, somehow, but it was just the fragmentedness of a script never written. when will i untwist my mind from the comparisons endless and nonmeaning.1. painted people - blue and green2. food- ?3. karachi website etc - hand4. changing clothes - driving karachi lahore//5. karachi

psnobnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1139150061011587702006-02-05T19:30:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:14.852+05:00

i am not supposed to be here.i am six years old.she is laughing like she's crazy.she denies everything. categorically, unequivocally.even the letting go.now she's laughing again.you know she's never gonna let go(she's a dumass):Dwhy is that girl moving her head while she's talking?she looks like she needs some sleepshe laughs like she's stupid :Slook at her manmy own little world does not include

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1138805888018688922006-02-01T19:50:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:14.557+05:00

Sometimes my mother mumbles in her sleep. "Is it raining outside, I think I fell asleep". Letting go of piercings is a strange process, rather like letting go of an old friend. Nose stud, the black one that people said was nice just because it wasn't white. The one that looked green or purple in different lights. Came off more easily than I thought it would, and I haven't checked since then to

psnobnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1138312677422439262006-01-27T02:57:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:14.011+05:00

bottles in kitchen Originally uploaded by psnob. My mother stacks these one after the other, recycled soldiers. I never help around the house, but I can microwave to perfection. Contrary to what may seem to be, my mother is a bigger fan of pepsi. She has a firm belief in its curative powers, and often longs for it like a drug.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1138312419637063862006-01-27T02:53:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:13.476+05:00

kitchen2 Originally uploaded by psnob. There's nothing to look at outside, a white wall, the next house, the neighbours sometimes forget to draw the curtains and then it's like spying on a silent play. This window doesn't look anything like Lahore though, no red and no annoying green. clean sun and dust, it could be my city. Like a stranger, i get a little fainter everyday here. And I

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1138184822133066732006-01-25T15:13:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:13.067+05:00

He spells weird the wrong way, and sometimes he traces words on my carwindow as I'm sitting inside. He shapes the letters and words backwards so that i can read them.Conversations about eating out are mostly about the out. We were going to look for anywhere, and keep looking till we found it. "I crave your indulgence..."One of my sproj group partners uses my car as my answering machine. Today he

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1138014486784184672006-01-23T16:05:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:12.726+05:00

2005 - the year that wasn't 20005, and certainly not 20006.This is not sheen btw, it's her (in her words) her nontwin. It was the year of p and s, certainly no m there. The year of the hummer, of the expensive clothes shop in Zamzama and of making strange sounds by running fingers over the edge of goblets whilst having pictures taken - posing and playing with fingers, yes, Mini Golf will always

psnobnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1137573330608140142006-01-18T13:28:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:12.265+05:00

i've been sailing away days. People from far away have swum in and out of the city that I can always conjure up in a breath. Someone did make it all the way here though, a two-day non-adventure, and suddenly a weekend of sundayshopping and 4 am conversations about blood.I could see my dimple in his left cheek, and he said I had his sister's feet."Just looking at them, I can't tell if it's you or

psnobnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1136940431651645492006-01-11T05:47:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:11.275+05:00

kirmani Originally uploaded by psnob. Missing particularly right now for some reason. I don't know why he always looks sad in all my pictures.

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I can't remember if I've put this up before. It just jumped out at me today screaming to be blogged. K in black sandals, and me in weird bright red ones. Summer, and the Lahore Zoo.The summer of synonyms, k's laptop and desperate housewives at 6 am, hair-dyeing incidents which probably couldn't get any girlier. The summer of shishas, turning minigolf into a hangout and finding that perfect

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1136850088232801272006-01-10T04:41:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:10.724+05:00

purple candy bar Originally uploaded by psnob. From the chocolates that a got me. a's a story. But a new thing that I learnt over the weekend was that you can inherit hands and feet by blood. Blood, now that's a tricky concept. Don't think I'll ever fully agree, or understand.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1136849692603752802006-01-10T04:34:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:10.188+05:00

fog at lums Originally uploaded by psnob. missing it, misty mornings an all.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1136841020922633692006-01-10T02:10:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:09.614+05:00

Originally uploaded by mindfuldocumentation. Stumbled across this group on flickr - pictures of shoes found on powerlines. This picture's by mindfuldocumentation. I've never seen any myself, but this seems weird and metaphorical and wonderful. Check out the group - http://www.flickr.com/groups/shoesonpowerlines/pool/It's uncanny how common they seem to be all over the world..

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1136812709524852232006-01-09T18:00:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:08.970+05:00

from k's blog.Seven Things I want to do in my life:1) make good movies2) learn how to ride a motorbike3) look good when i dance4) be at every good concert in the world5) run races6) be a travel show host7) set up that fashion business with mSeven Things I can do:1) drive2) have twelve hour long phone conversations3) watch girl, interrupted for the fifty-thousandth time4) quote friends5) dj6) shop

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"Captain Crash and the Beauty Queen From Mars"bon joviDressed up for a big dateLike Halloween day but it was Fourth of July nowA car crash with a suitcase and a painted faceShe was one of a kindShe wears a plastic crown like CinderellaAnd roller skates in bedCrash rides the greyhound from his hometownWhen he comes around 'cause they don't let him drive nowMixed up as a milkshakeBut make no

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1135982642735527042005-12-31T03:44:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:07.816+05:00

fire at the carnival 2 Originally uploaded by psnob. Winter carnivals, bonfires. Probably the only thing good about.It was a strange night, dropped in for a few hours at the end, with songs on repeat and spent pizza boxes. Trampling, chicken costumes, and a giant snowman for sale. When you spot people with painted faces and you wonder if they've been wrestled into it. And about whether

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1135982482735226412005-12-31T03:41:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:06.876+05:00

fire at the carnival Originally uploaded by psnob. a closeup, high shutter speed shot of just the flames. lick, licking away at the night.

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sam1 Originally uploaded by psnob. Same night. Not posing though, not even the hair. She has random streaks of sinking into silence in the middle of icecream and conversation. Hopefully not as sad as she looks though. And there's something in the background, probably my imagination, which is very khadda market-ish.

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ahsan Originally uploaded by psnob. Posing against his favourite colour, accidentally. Been a glad victim of many shopping scrambles involving hunts for rust coloured sweaters. Among other things.In a random restaurant, a random night. icecream and burgers, and careful food sharing with saif who is a self-proclaimed jhoota freak. Saif, who's permission i forgot to take and whose face you

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1135976601040603522005-12-31T01:58:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:04.816+05:00

k has been lovestruck with the wonderful magic 8-ball of Friends fame ever since she saw the episode with Ross shaking one up and tossing it aside. She'd then asked random friends to get her a magic 8ball from anywhere that they could find one.Msn conversation that was blogged on demand.k says: x camek says: he got two 8ballsn says: oh mann asys: i didnt read the 8 in that sentencek says: 1 for

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1135545686015373672005-12-26T02:08:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:03.949+05:00

Been a while since i put up any lyrics. Found this while looking through old mails because sunday night work pileups must be procrastinated on. I don't know why my friend would send me these. I never even got into Queen much. The words in bold are his. Under Pressure - Queen Pressure pushing down on mePressing down on you no man ask forUnder pressure that brings a building downSplits a family in

psnobnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1135286825491057942005-12-23T02:21:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:03.404+05:00

a keeps sugar at the bottom of his backpack. i watch as he reaches in, gropes underneath books and reading packages, and takes out a few grains. Quickly popping them into his mouth, i imagine them disappearing into blackholes of veins, bones, ribcages. He looks up at me from his computer screen and asks, "do you want some sugar?"My mother's perfume-that-i-borrowed smells clean. It smells of

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toe primping Originally uploaded by Kelley Love. Random picture found on flickr, reminded me of you. You know exactly why.

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He says he doesn't have any childhood memories of playgrounds. No memories of going on the see-saws, climbing monkeybars which left a distinct metallic smell on your hands, chipped paint. Of lining up to slide down, sliding down and running back to stand in line. Never stopped to think whether the wait was worth it. Of going on the swings. Pushing and being pushed, trying the one standing, one

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neon Originally uploaded by Kelley Love. psycho the movie, flickering lights, cities blinking in oblivion. time passing, nights passing, quietness and doors shut. i hadn't written graffiti on your body in the longest time.it's like housing two-cent dreams, a foot up an escape ladder."what's your name, little girlwhat's your name?"lynard skynard.

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"i'm the only real thing you have."troy dyer. one day, i might write about the blowin in the wind theory, which somehow connects.why is it such an honour to have your music playing when the credits are rolling anyway? how many people do you know who stay around watching the credits? high five.maybe someday in another lifetime, someday.we free-associated in composition and writing. yes, i am aware

psnobnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1134418714176035112005-12-13T01:18:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:00.451+05:00

zero Originally uploaded by psnob. stuck. probably worse than being stuck in second gear.hasnt been...

psnobnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1134418501230681952005-12-13T01:15:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:23:00.156+05:00

asad draws Originally uploaded by psnob. asad, the non-kitty one.tonight, one of his random doodles, after a while. there used to be a time when every inch of his books used to be covered in inks, memories of classes whizzing by. on the side, we made a list of all the songs that mcdonalds played during that particular hour or two. nice stuff, they probably had a best-of-the-nineties-rock

psnobnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1134418412721391862005-12-13T01:13:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:22:59.842+05:00

kitty's car Originally uploaded by psnob. again. those are no particular doodles in that particular car. i like, comfortable seats, memories of k in karachi, and having fries on a particularly bad but revealing day. somewhere kitty's hicupping with all this missingness thrown his way.

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kitty's car, dashboard Originally uploaded by psnob. the car was parked, kitty doesn't drive that slow. it should've been 89 on the dial, but 91 was having a doors special. two friends, a stranger couple, and a saturday night that wrote itself out.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1134418128782192122005-12-13T01:08:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:22:59.246+05:00

ashtray at hot fuzon lounge Originally uploaded by psnob. sudden fascination with ashtrays for no particular reason. too many friends who smoke.

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kitty and me Originally uploaded by psnob. that's how i see without my glasses. badly. in lums, back from cookies and a drive, there were three, not two. red scarf and leather coat, and kitty in that brandnewstill grey jacket which looks like it's built inside out.

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a softer world.I don't know if it's just me, but a softer world's become way more comprehendible lately.

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Love and sex and loneliness Take what’s yours and leave the rest(goo goo dolls)i need to go on swings again. things seem clearer in parks, lost shouts and scampering feet. i need to start chasing after words again. chasing, chasing after? an old almostforgotten acquaintance suddenly outofthemsnblue asked me about the word reminisce. irony. bathroom non-humour here.

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self portrait 2a Originally uploaded by psnob. reflection in the infamous(?) bathroom wall. i wish i'd gotten the entire four tiles, but it just wasn't happening somehow, there wasn't enough room, or the zoom wasn't right, or SOMEthing.

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chairlegs Originally uploaded by psnob. one of the few pictures i've taken in about a month and a half. a once said that for a while, he's been seeing the world in frames whereever he looks. i haven't, for the longest, seen pictures just waiting to be taken. i don't know if it's the winter or something else, but kitty's been telling me to take more pictures, and i'm just following suit.

psnobnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616951.post-1133611658758449242005-12-03T15:01:00.000+05:002006-11-11T11:22:57.540+05:00

"i don't remember your feet at all""it was winter""what're you listening to aaj kal?""old, old springsteen man. i can't stop.""never thought i would"he counts the number of times i swear around him. three at last count, in about two weeks.Cold winter afternoons, after thrilling cricket, wickets never looked better falling down. After smses from people far away, hell yeahs, i imagined jumping and

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we'll pack up our dreams and all our livesand find a place where the sun still shinesI watched all of the beach for the first time, late night movie. a huge bowl of maggi noodles, a delicious aalu ka kabaab and some coke (the fizzy kind. because of the one with the hair-on-its-way-to-being-long, i can't use that word without clarifying anymore). It makes you fall fall in love with water, much

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"things just...they get a little unreal sometimes, you know?"your infinite patience and your apc. the boy with the thinnest fingers i've ever seen. the justifications, the compliments, your eyes on me. the boy with the old man's shoes. sometimes i can almost reach out and touch the wisdom held between skin and breath, the years you have not lived, the lives.spitting snarling out lyrics, wrenching

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been catching up with andrew's entries. been reading all the lyrics that he's quoted, lines from songs he gets hold of magically from somewhere. like this onemy dewy-eyed disney bride, what has triedswapping your blood with formaldehyde?monsters?whiskey-plied voices cried fratricide!jesus don't you know that you could've died(you should've died)with the monsters that talk, monsters that walk the

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Random friday morning and my winamp's stuck on Abba.ninadaylight and sparkly 70s music clean. the days are short and never linger. it's always been winter nights and summer days, but it's not winter in Lahore, it's not. It's that time of the year when the weather feels like the stubble on your legs when the hair's too short to be shaved again but too long to still feel smooth.pretty

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one of my sproj group partners sometimes stays over at lums for nights filled with gaming. shouts and fights and high strung, fierce taps on keyboards. s recounts tales of debating and women, his voice rises with a flick of a ciggarette weilding hand, and an excessive use of 'yeh wohs'. k can't wait to roll up her sleeves in corporate messes most divine.it's what they do. i don't do,instant pick

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Chandler: Hey, you guys all know what you want to do.Rachel: I don't!Chandler: Hey, you guys in the living room all know what you want to do. You know, you have goals. You have dreams. I don't have a dream.Ross: Ah, the lesser-known "I don't have a dream" speech.(friends, season 1, ep 18)a two-week run on mtv, and talk shows on daytime.seven years of changing houses like clothes makes you realise

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I haven't had my car stereo stolen, but someone broke into my car once and I never saw a pearl jam live on two legs tape again.Why does everyone's handwriting morph into sameness when they write in capitals?E thinks my writing is too obscure, and while i explain to him the deliberateness and the neccessity, a line from someone's livejournal pops into the proverbial head (there is no head, only a

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