DEEP DISAPPOINTMENT TOWARD CERTAIN PEOPLE AND THEIR DECEPTION.

 DEEP DISAPPOINTMENT TOWARD CERTAIN PEOPLE AND THEIR DECEPTION.

MAY 20th, 2024

Today is the day when suddenly everything was revealed to me

How deceptive and deceitful those people were!

I was saddened to learn the facts...

Because I happened to like them.

Most of the time I have been impulsive about people,

Especially the new people I meet and like them or want to like them...

I have realized that I, must suffer from loneliness here...

I come form a big, passionate, impulse family. We talk and complain and talk some

more and complain some more and laugh and laugh...so my first impulse is to make  friends with

 strangers in a hurry, not with all the strangers, some I won't imagine seeing again or running

into them but some strangers who intrigue me on the very first encounter, something about them,

the way they talk, they way they walk, the way they dress...

 I get an impulse to meet again so, I might have some new friends.

But the real problem is I am showing too much affection too soon.

Some of them especially in this so called modern, lonely and suspicious society

they get alarmed, because they are not used to the sincere, rapid and enthusiastic

affection ever in their isolated lives.  It's the cultural difference.

I am of a different culture, vibrant and noisy with chatter and hospitality.

  I have lived here very long time but somehow can't change my nature.

But change I must. Every time I regret being so loving for no reason to every Tom Dick or Harry

Thinking that they might be different than the one's i got hurt by...

 But can't abandon my nature completely.

It's also being a very social person i have a disadvantage here.

People are very careful here and it's a good idea to be careful but I think

sometime they are too distant as if they are afarid, afraid of the, "Other." the one looks

"Different." from them as if that person is somehow dangerous.

That's very very sad. I didn't know that part of the culture otherwise I might not have come here.

But everyone have a kind of dream of adventure and I was a very dreamy person.

In my dreams I meet beautiful places, beautiful people, full of enthusiasm of meeting

and getting to know someone different from another far away culture.

But after living here for so long my dreams have taken a different shape.

I am often being chased by men with daggers, guns and big knives...

Some of them are accompanied by big ferocious dogs.

I am afraid of big dogs. My. fear has intensified by watching the demise of

Abu Gharib prison where Iraqi soldiers were hung upside down with their

faces covered, hand cuffed and being thrown at horrendously dangerous dogs

biting their legs...

It's sad that we some how unknowingly abandoned our homes, our families, our language

without ever anticipating that this is how it will end up...

Our existence in a tiny apt with four walls made of sheet rock, creating

constant fear of fire, no courtyard, no verandha, no sehen, no sun, no heat

and no family to love and fight with and share everything and that laughter?

We for sure lost our laughter, loss of our extremely humerous language, punjabi,

Urdu, our ghazals, our naat khooani, our musheras...no great food, no company for breakfast, lunch or

 dinner, no clean looking beggars saying a prayer for you after you help them, no children running

 around

and laughing freely, un-afraid enjoying the heat of the sun...

And when we meet someone we like and try to exchange contacts, they think

we are suspects...can you imagine human beings being afraid of other human beings?

The government here also think that we are suspects so they drop bombs to kill

people, our people, our families, our neighbors, our children, our friend...

All suspects who were born where the oil is, where this country's economic interests are,

where the strategic location is perfect for occupations...bombs must be dropped on those

locations to get rid of the suspicious people who were born there, who breathed till yesterday

who are no more, neither their houses, neither their children...all gone.

Here, if one dare to express these thoughts, these uncomfortable feelings, 

people politely and some time not so politely say, "Why don't you go back home?"

Let me tell you, we have no homes any more. All demolished, everyone got killed

including the resources to survive. Our countries are now, Khunders, (Ruins)

Curious people of the West should go as tourists to see the ruins, like the ruins

of Pompei...

Just yesterday people, human beings lived here but in a few seconds the land became

a huge ruin. Tourists will love it.

Why did we come here? It was a mistake. We had no idea that we were making a mistake

and we had no idea that mistake would have enormous punishment.

So obviously a person like me still naive and trusting would be hungry for friendship in a hurry...

and that's the problem...

"The person you are seeking to give your affection, time, company, conversations,

question silently or complain to their friends, "This strange person i

 encountered recently seems extremely needy, man! she send me nice loving messages about

 meeting for lunch or a drink...I wonder why? I only fucking met her once...

what does she need from me? Connections I am sure, that must be it.

Maybe she is a stalker..."

Oh! gee, that's their favorite word, "Stalker." and that word really disgusts me, scare me too.

That's one thing i would detest, Stalking someone? give me a break. No one is worth

stalking...how dare they think that I need something from them or i might be a,"STAlKER"

Give me the shivers. They are not worth a dime for me to stalk them.

And do i need something from them? what am I going to need from them?

A drink?

 lunch?

A coffee?

A theater ticket?

A museum ticket?

An invitation to a gallery opening?

A pair of shoes?

A dress?

A pair of pants?

A scarf?

A book?

A part in a play?

GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK.

Do you know how many lunches and dinners i have eaten with my husband

and my extended family?

Do you know how much coffee i have drank in fancy cafe's?

Do you know how many clothes, how many shoes, how many books I have?

All those things are crowding my apt, my memory, my work, my thoughts?

My time spent on thinking about how to get rid of them?

Do I need those things from a stranger I just met? Maybe I just wanted to talk or have a glass of wine

 and liked him/her and want to have a glass with a new potential friend.

 of course going fucking Dutch, oh! how people from my culture hate that word, that

cheap, un-classy, un-sophisticated, miserly word, "GOING DUTCH."

Oh! go to hell, go Dutch by yourself...

So, why do you do it? Why do you want to be a friend of a stranger you just met?

Because he or she, mostly him, women are being more difficult now, with their political correctness

and everything else. Everything has becomes politically correct.

But I was saying why do I want to meet that stranger again ?

Because he fascinated me somehow. Is there something wrong with being fascinated by someone

who might be still fascinating in this stuffy, calculating, doubtful and miserably lonely world.

But let's decide never to reach any person you meet no matter how fascinating they

might seem to you. Maybe it's all fake, maybe they don't think you are fascinating

yourself?

But hey! that's not possible. There is no one who is more intriguing than me.

That's for sure. I assure you, you won't meet anyone more fascinating than me.

You want conversation?

I am the one to converse with

You want to go out to eat?

I am the one with the knowledge of all the fancy restaurants in town

You want to talk about the war?

Please! don't start...it won't ever end from my side...

You want to talk about ethnocentric western world?

I am there for months...i won't shut up.

You want to know something about theater?

You for sure got the right person to talk to...

You want to know about playwriting? or directing? or acting? or the lights? or the

sound? or how to fucking get the audience in the theater? how to be abused by the

un-professional so called actor, how to be shut out of the theater if you make a huge mistake

of giving your play to another director...man, that's the biggest mistake of your

life, bigger than sending a messages to the stranger you just met.

Do you want to know about writers?

Oh! do I know the writers? They are my life long friends...

Baudelaire

T. S. Elliot

Beckett

Pinter

Tennessee Williams

Victor Hugo

Balzac

Flaubert

Emerson

Edgar Allan Poe

Marguerite Duras

Mupassant

Sartre

Rimbaud

Ghalib

Allama Iqbal

Minto

Edward Said

Montaigne

Valery

Gogol

Pushkin

Oscar Wilde

Samuel Jhonson

Do you want to have literary Conversations? 

Do you want to have humorous Conversations?

You are welcome

But alas! you suspect every one

You think every one is needy

You think people are stalking you

Oh! what a shame...

Let me make it very clear, (like Biden says)

Let me make it very clear, "No red line has been crossed." Thousands upon thousands have been

 murdered by his weapons but, "No red line has been crossed." "Bravo Biden, Bravo."

Let me make it very clear to any stranger I met and liked and sent a message showing interest

in having a coffee, (Dutch) was not of any need or desire to stalk, it was just to have future friendship, maybe? I say maybe?  I say, maybe? Because it's a busy money making world. But I need not a dime from this person or any persons I have known for a some time time and liked them. I just found out on this day of May 24/2024, how deceptive and deceitful she turned out to be...while I just thought she was a nice person and i was quite nice to her,  but she couldn't wait to show her true self which is in many cases is phony and shady and full of deceit and cunningness.

No more excitement about meeting a stranger or for the one's i have known for a long time.

Time to be completely aloof, distant and alone.

 

SARTRE and T.S. ELLIOT ABOUT BOUDELAIRE

 SARTRE AND T.S. ELLIOT ABOUT BOUDELAIR

SARTRE: "Forever the accomplished architect of his own ruin."

T.S.ELLIOT: "Mullish determination to make the worst of everything."

BRECHT: " When he laid his hands upon the age-it resulted in his own

                     self-strangulation, his tongue-tossed to the dogs."

BOUDLAIRE: "BELGIUM DISROBED

 BOUDELAIRE: "BELGIUM DISROBED"

As Boudlaire said about Belgians.

"A Belgian can not get it through his skull that a man

might praise another man for entirely disinterested reasons."

Walter Benjamin about Boudelaire

"Secret discontent of his class with its own hegemony."

" A QUOTE FROM, PAUL LYNCH'S AMAZINGLY HAUNTING BOOK,"PROPHET SONG."

 "PIERCING AND SUDDEN IRRUPTION OF WAR ENTERING FREELY INTO THOUGHT."

From Paul Lynch's great book, "Prophet Song."

Haven't written any thing for months. Since this Gaza war started.

Everything has created a tight knot in the brain and soul, unable to untie it to 

start something co-herent, something less heart breaking, something which will make sense,

but every morning, every night the knot keeps getting tightened, need sharp cissors to just 

cut it out, since can't untie it. Emotions are bundled up, where to begin? from 100 years ago?

or from Oct 7?

Or from time of the prpphet Mohammad? or the Iraq war of 1991?

Or the Iraq war of 2003?

Or the Afghan war which lasted 20 years? or the Iranian revolution? Or the birth of Israel stae?

Or the massacre of millions of muslims over the centuries? Or just deal with the current Gaza war?

Gaza war where thousands upon thousands of children are murdered...maimed...hungry...starving?

Where to begin? what to write? How to explain your history of colonization?

Of hatred towards you and your religion? How to mourn? How to deal with so much grief? so much

 injustice? How to have a decent debate of history? How to remind them of context of history?

How to sleep under the constant shadow of death? How to hear the cries of mothers whose children's

 bodies are melting right infront of them in minutes before they themselves melt into the flames of war?

How to rest? How to sleep? How to wake up? and then what to do, from where to begin?

hat to say about the pain and grief of human suffering? which words will be able to portray the loss, the

 horror, the danger, the clouds of bombs raining down more death and more death on the innocent

 children? innocent women? innocent men? bombs destroying their history, their archives, their

 hospitals, their schools, their culture. their mosques, their scholars, their poets, their teachers, their

 schools, their journalists, their doctors, their nurses, their shops, their food, their medicine...

Can there be a name given to this utter and complete horror? A title? An atrocity? A mass murder? A

 massacre? A genocide?

Can't decide what to call it? Can't find a title...

And if there is no title, there is no article can be written, no essay, no poem, no play...

Just nothing....nothingness...

"CAUGHT IN SUDDEN NOTHINGNESS." To quote again from Paul Lynch's book, PROPHET SONG

ABSENCE

 ABSENCE

Not the temporary absence

But the permanent one

Can't complain

Who are you going to complain to?

To the one gone?

To God?

No one...

Can't delete that absence

And fill it with something else

Something else?

Something else, whatever that

something else may be...

Go to the cafe?

Go to the theater?

Ok, do theater?

Go for a walk

Go to the cinema

Are these the real fillers of that eternal absence?

Where ever you go

Whatever you do

You take your mind, your soul and heart

with you...

And that's where the absence lies...

WORDS OF PAUL LYNCh''S BEAUTIFUL AND SAD BOOK. PROPHET SONG.

 "The world pass by in strange pretense." 

"Hearing the thinking mind."

"The charge is cowardice and falsehood."

"Everything in this world is but a shadow."

"An ache at the base of my skull."

'Static silence."

"Darkness of rain."

"A mercilessness which belongs not to the dogs but to the wolfs."

"She finds herself softly crying."

"This sudden sorrow."

"You can not put a stop to the wind."

"Caught in sudden nothingness."

"This tiredness throughout his body."

"A nothing month giving giving to a nothing year."

"Shadow and disorder."

"The house of memory."

"Turn to look and meet your grief."

"No longer know who I am, we are."

"Animals in docile servitude to the needs of the body."

"Watching and waiting for facts to come."

"History is the law of force."

"History is the silent record of people who couldn't leave."

"Map out of this please."

"The mind has drifted slowly into absence"

"Piercing and steady irruptions of war entering

freely into thought."

"Death awaits with open arms all over the city."

"The death that waits to be let drop from the sky."

"You need to spit it out."

FROM PROPHET SONG BY PAUL LYNCH.