BB

I think that it was bound to happen simply because there were warnings/threats of suicide bombings,and since there have been suicide bombings in Karachi in the past, these threats were obviously very legitimate. There were scant measures(if any?) taken to avoid or counter the event of such.I feel this entails sabotage, if not a staged catastrophe.
Benazir keeps talking about letting American forces into Pakistan and deliberately 'letting' this happen (if not orchestrating the whole thing), only gives them further excuse to do so.
As far as those who do not support mush and BB being Islamo-obsessive pro-terrorist bigots is concerned...
Musharraf and Benazir have both looted the Country, made laws and constitutional changes to obtain and play with money/power and the very fact that Sheikh Abdul Rashid a venal absconder roams so freely and lovingly around with them is a wonder indeed...
The People Of Pakistan-(B.B's favorite line) are tired of being duped and looted by military dictatorships and democracies alike.
Most people don't even vote. People from my family have found their names missing from voting lists. Doesn't every citizen of this Country who is older than or is 18yrs of age have the right to vote?
Or is it just bribed poor village people willing to stake their lives for a pretty penny and friends in power?

Again, the majority isn't blowing itself up ,this Country isn't pro-terrorist... Who knows maybe suicide bombers are hired for political gain too..
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml?xml=/opinion/2007/10/21/do2102.xml
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/opinion/main.jhtml;jsessionid=CTTOIAT0XDFH1QFIQMFCFGGAVCBQYIV0?xml=/opinion/2007/10/21/do2101.xml&posted=true&_requestid=1472702

how do I register with this site?

crator lake

craters

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Crater Amundsen A H|%ederv|%ari
Crater Apollonius C Ameghino
Crater Apollonius D Cartan
Crater Apollonius G Townley
Crater Apollonius K Abbot
Crater Apollonius P Daly
Crater Apollonius T Bombelli
Crater Apollonius W Petit
Crater Aratus A Galen
Crater Archimedes A Bancroft
Crater Archimedes F MacMillan
Crater Archimedes K Spurr
Crater Aristarchus A V|:ais|:al|:a
Crater Aristarchus C Toscanelli
Crater Arrhenius P Blanchard
Crater Auzout A Van Albada
Crater Auzout B Krogh
Crater Banachiewicz F Knox-Shaw
Crater Barringer L Scobee
Crater Barringer M Smith
Crater Bellingshausen Bellinsgauzen
Crater Bessel A Sarabhai
Crater Bessel E Bobillier
Crater Bonpland E Kuiper
Crater Borman A McNair
Crater Borman L Husband
Crater Borman X Resnik
Crater Borman Y McAuliffe
Crater Borman Z Jarvis
Crater Carlini B McDonald
Crater Carver K Kozyrev
Crater Censorinus F Leakey
Crater Condorcet K Wildt
Crater Cyrillus B Ibn-Rushd
Crater de Roy X Chadwick
Crater Diophantus A Artsimovich
Crater Dollond C Lindsay
Crater Drude S Heyrovsky
Crater Drygalski Q Ashbrook
Crater Dubyago C Respighi
Crater Dubyago P Pomortsev
Crater Dubyago Q Stewart
Crater Dubyago S Liouville
Crater Dubyago U Boethius
Crater Ellerman Q Konoplev
Crater Euclides B Norman
Crater Eppinger Euclides D [from Oct 2002]
Crater Euler K Jehan
Crater Euler P Natasha
Crater Ganskiy H Debus
Crater Gilbert D Geissler
Crater Gilbert M Van Vleck
Crater Gilbert N Weierstrass
Crater Gilbert U Avery
Crater Goclenius A Ibn-Battuta
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Crater Guericke C Kundt
Crater Hadley A Joy
Crater Hadley B Santos-Dumont
Crater Hadley Hadley C
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Crater Kastner F Black
Crater Kopff A Lallemand
Crater Krieger B Van Biesbroeck
Crater Krieger D Rocco
Crater La Hire D Caventou
Crater Langrenus A Barkla
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Crater Langrenus C Acosta
Crater Langrenus D Al-Marrakushi
Crater Langrenus F Bilharz
Crater Langrenus J Somerville
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Crater Lavoisier D von Braun
Crater Le Monnier B Very
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Crater Maclaurin S Hargreaves
Crater Maclaurin Y Born
Crater Macrobius A Carmichael
Crater Macrobius B Hill
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Crater Macrobius L Esclangon
Crater Manilius A Bowen
Crater Manilius F Yangel'
Crater Maraldi B Lucian
Crater Maraldi M Theophrastus
Crater Marinus D Harlan
Crater Mariotte Y Murakami
Crater Maskelyne E Aryabhata
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Crater Maunder Z Couder
Crater Menelaus S Daubree
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Crater Peirce B Swift
Crater Pettit T Shuleykin
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Crater Picard X Fahrenheit
Crater Picard Z Curtis
Crater Pingr|%e H Yakovkin
Crater Plato A Bliss
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Crater Prinz A Vera
Crater Prinz B Ivan
Crater Proclus F Crile
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Crater Rayleigh A Urey
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Crater Taruntius C Cameron
Crater Taruntius D Watts
Crater Taruntius E Zahringer
Crater Taruntius G Anville
Crater Taruntius M Lawrence
Crater Taruntius N Smithson
Crater Timocharis A Heinrich
Crater Timocharis F Landsteiner
Crater Timocharis K Pupin
Crater Vernadskiy B Florensky
Crater Vinogradov Natasha
Crater Vitruvius A Gardner
Crater Vitruvius E Fabbroni
Crater Wallace B Huxley
Crater Webb R Condon
Crater Wollaston C Nielsen
Crater Yamamoto W Oberth
Catena GDL Leuschner
Catena RNII Lucretius
Catena GIRD Michelson
Mons Euler Mons Vinogrado

Tirade

“My heart goes out to her, such a lovely beautiful girl”

“Don’t say that in front of her, she’ll be on my head forever, poor lovely girl married to a bloke like me”

“You’re lovely too”

“No you don’t understand, she’ll make it out like that, like poor her, like I’m jealous she got a compliment or something”

“…‘that’ she got a compliment. You sound jealous”

“Do you understand that ‘she’ will go on a self-pitying rampage that will leave me picking after her while she nags and nags and nags., and acts like I’m no good for her. I don’t want to go through it, so this is a preemptive strike.”

“Such aggression young man, I think that she ‘is’ a poor girl and needs to be taken out of your ruthless clutches.”

“Just don’t say it to her, ok?”

“Oh I will say it and give her a good reading on you too!”
























VIRAGO:

“Germs, everywhere germs….I feel just awful ……..disgusting confused, germs”
“What are you talking about?”
“GERMS! ARE YOU DEAF OR SOMETHING?????!!!”
“Not so loud….germs, right um solution ah! Eureka… soap”
“Soap with germs all over it, feces particles… its disgusting”
“How about soap solution?”
“You have to touch something to get it out, it isn’t as though I can just clap my hands or snap my fingers”
“Under the circumstances I wouldn’t think you’d want to”
“I just think that it would be really nice if you know like those dryers they have in public bathrooms. Yeah like those, leave your hands under it and a knob of liquid soap just drops in. I think that would be terrific.”
“Or better yet, ‘something like a dishwasher…’ just foams up while you rub and scrub your hands together. Beautiful.”
“I like my idea better.”
“Who’s going to implement it, God?”
“We should copyright it”
“Yeah great that would be awesome, do you know any copyrighters?”
“I think so, but they may write copy and not copyright if you know what I mean.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Ruining my life as usual”
“You haven’t grown out of it?”
“Oh people rarely do”
“Yeah”
“She took my sheets”
“Is that code for trouble”
“No, she literally snagged my sheets. It’s great just”
“Made out with them like a bandit eh?”
“Yeah super mum, burns clothes steals sheets, the great big hood, slimy dilemma, and the wonderful woman who spawned me.”
“Why?”
“She has something against getting clean sheets, ‘must rob me of mine and not provide ‘me’ with clean sheets either”
“I love her already”
“All smiles, I’ll tell you what, three cheers for the ‘living with mother syndrome’. I need to get to Alta vista they have teachers for my courses I’ve been telling my grand financiers that since last year. I wish I could somehow drive to them the fact that by wasting my time and energy, they’re wasting their money.”
“It’s no waste he likes watching you suffer”
“Eh?”
“I can tell”
“Hmm. Anyway I’m gonna try a few sums, get out and buy some bleach, hope to God that old hag’s, not playing solitaire at the monitor so ‘I’ cab get to ‘work’ which really translates to, writing stupid memos for my darling daddy, who for some odd reason has a hard time figuring out the phrase “Uni has no teachers for my courses, I need to go to Islamabad. I Know I told you last year and the year before that when my math teacher Mr.Noorideen was blimping signals of future despair. But then, I am at fault since I’ve always known how thick and impossible to get through to, you are””
“THE WHOLE NINE YARDS!”
“You betcha! No umm I’ll have to write something long tardy impeccably superfluous, a real Sisyphean task. All polite and shit, with all the necessary web links, so all he needs to do is to make a check. Though that’s all he needs to do anyway… *tongue in cheek*… if only he weren’t thick, old fart.”
“You sound like a first class bitch”
“You would too in my situation.”
“Can’t argue with that. Even if it’s just to avoid an argument about how I can never put myself in your place no matter how accurate my simulation it wouldn’t be the same… here it comes”
“Don’t flatter yourself, though, I’ll give it to you kid, you’re a good listener.”
“Shucks we’re out of toothpaste”
“I’ll get some with the groceries, that Mrs. Hendricks gave me a compliment yesterday, called me the loveliest most beautiful girl”
“Did she say anything about me?”
“No, nothing”
“She sounded like she had a lot to say about me”
“Really? You talked to her?”
“Come on, what did she say?”
“She made no mention of you”
“Look I was in a bad mood, tired, over worked needing a break”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about”
“Look, she said she’d give you a good ‘reading’ on me. WHATEVER THAT MEANS”
“Why is it that you just can’t stand it when somebody says something nice about me, can’t you be happy for me just this once?”
“This is what I was bitching about”
“You can’t handle anyone telling you your wife’s good-looking??”
“No how you make it about me being insecure and cold and jealous and hotheaded and everything”
“I’m sorry, I stand corrected!”
“Apology accepted”
“Ho ho ho, no you don’t”
“You’re Santa Claus now?”
“You know what, you’re not worth it”
“Excuse me?”
“You seriously are not, I mean… adios I’m going to get myself some fresh air, fresh fruit and veg. and I just need to relax, breathe.”
“And you’re ‘not’ breathing now?”
“Not like I should be, no!”

BANG WHAM SLAM!


PENNINGTON’S WILL:
“I never read the book; can you fill me in on it?”
“It is about Pennington and his will”
“A little less brief, please?”
“Pennington was a pianist, quite a popular one; it is narrated by the girl who loves him… there are terse reflections on fondness, she always finds her hands in his and so on. He’s interested in the posh filthy rich type though and she’s insecure about her girlish infatuation being dismissed as just that. To be honest I haven’t read it either.”
“Thanks anyway”

WALK WITH ME:
“She entered with a grisly smile on her face and began relating an erotic parable which was distastefully amusing, her idea of ‘buttering up’ the boss, I’m the boss. So I’m sitting there teeth out, wondering if a loud applause would serve as a loud enough cue for her to march off. I’m wondering, she’s talking, snickering gurgling giggling, her hands touching her mouth then her belly, sporadic heckling, I could puke. Finally I got her the idea that she had made the best impression she could and somehow convinced her to get to work without coming off as a grouchy old jerk… She was back the next day, sheets of paper sprawled all over my desk, and piles mounting, my tie loose and aggravated and her, she offered to help, put my desk in order, her hands found their way to my shoulders and then climbed down to the small of my back, it was relaxing I got comfortable and even more so when she stopped. There was that silence that blindsides you in the oddest moments, you don’t know where to start so you’re struck dumb, I went straight for the pile ferociously attacking it, she began to tell her filthy jokes again, feeling she had offended me and had to make up for it, and what a way to make up too, this time it was a relief. The pile got duller and like a jack-robin she spurted her colors on me, I felt a laugh coming and her hand moved from her lips to her navel and then touched her bare knee those nervous ticks gained something magnetic, sweat dangling in her black snaky locks, her face glowing, eyes bright, lips red, even the bubbles foaming between her teeth as she gurgled caught an attractive turn. Her knee, then her calves her ankles strappy heels, her airy white blouse, cleavage, I yelled at her, every word that wanted to spill out the day before, while I slapped a PR smile on my face and was making her feel like number one, blurted. I liked it today, it made me tingly today , I ached to touch her leg , I wanted to grovel, slobber all over her and rage spilled in all directions, she looked like she was just about to cry, her face: crumpled ashen, and again me, with my carnal urges the desire to just pin her to the floor. And then the phone call, like a death sentence: it’s your wife sir, “Thank you” I replied, “I’ll take it in” the door shut, her eyes gaped at me with the oddest admiration, large young watery eyes. She was touched not hurt, there was the utmost respect speckled with love, admiration. “You can get back to work now” I said as politely as I could, standing over my desk, my gaze lowered, officiously shifting papers, she watched me on the way out and before I knew it the entire office was buzzing about what a wonderful decent man I was. ”

TALK TO ME
Breakeven fire escape jingle jangle fear guns heart beat you.
“Hon, you didn’t shave!”
“Tell me something I don’t know”
“It’s a real bother; all that pit-hair, would you mind getting rid of it?”
“Do you mind? Underarm hair…”
“Yes I do, I think voicing my complaint should make that clear”
“I mean, do you mind getting out of there? I’m not really in the mood.”
“When ‘are’ you in the mood?”
“Not at 2 A.M in the morning. I’m not in the mood for this either. Night e night”
“No, I’m not sleeping on this”
“Shucks. Why do you have to be such an old hag sometimes?”
“Geez ‘I’m’ an old hag, that’s really something you know that?”
“Yes I do, now can I get some shut-eye?”
“We’ve got issues damn it, you can’t just sleep ‘em off”
“Correction “You’ve’ got issues. “I’ve” got simulated insomnia. And you simulate it. I’m sleeping on the couch. Don’t follow me!”


“Hi”
“I said ‘don’t’”
“I know what you said”
“I guess; “are you deaf or something?” is an unfitting retort. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Hon, don’t be like this.”

He gave her a gentile kiss on the cheek close to her eye, and then proceeded to give her a back rub.
… “Nobody likes an aggressor.”
“And I don’t like a nag. I said ‘no, I’m not in that mood” and that’s that.” she walks into the bedroom and turns around, slamming the door behind her.
“Why don’t we ever talk?” he droned contemplating the state of his back in the morning. It was already morning any way. Sometimes he thought about hooking up with a call-girl. Just like that. Fish-net stockings and a whole lot of orangy-red lipstick. The smell of that and this, Warmth… gusto , what a profession, girls trained to turn you on and flip, eat off you ,maybe, he would like being eaten off, acting?
He couldn’t take that frigid old, hairy dormouse. Always ‘minding her business’. Just something. A tinge of jealousy? A little anger if not passion. Come on, the girl couldn’t give a damn about him. He ruffled his already ruffled tresses, hmm hair. Then he took himself out for a stroll, just him and… him.
After a warm ‘nice to se you buddy’ ‘it’s been a long time’ ‘don’t forget your quote’ and humming a happy ‘out for a walk’ tune. He considered just listening for the breeze, as animals howled and chirped.

“Hey old man” a neighbor grunted, she was out for a smoke , his wife yelling behind him , about setting the house on fire and ‘that’ filthy stench, then a little about his ugly good-for-nothing posterior , she used the word ‘arse’ , he would’ve personally favored ‘bum’. But what the heck difference does it make.
“Good times” he finally responded
“The best I’ve had in my life” chucked the newly discovered neighbor.
“Me too, never felt better”
“Hey old chum, a joke’s a joke… did she throw you out? Women!”
“Boy, you’re soon to judge, um no I do all the chucking and hurling in my darling abode.”
“How’s about a smoke?”
“How about something interesting, instead”
“Does my old man, have a proposition?”
“Where did your daddy come from? I’m just about your age, and must you remind me?”
“To answer the first question, my daddy’s from Wisconsin, and the other thing, I must.”
“Let’s go out tonight, just us guys??”

cold cream ad

First off:
The Far-case, if I hadn’t reacted to Far’s tirade (her reaction to ‘correct’ accusations of bias) then I would not be in the play, as a misunderstanding about my selection would not have been cleared up(i.e. “Nida” would be interpreted as a nonexistent absentee, as opposed to a common distortion of my name. And neither I nor Far would find out that I was one of the three girls initially selected. ). Which as confusing it sounds (quite deliberately) is none of your business as usual.
F: Do you have something to say to me?
Me: Me?
F: Yes
Me: About the play…any news on who’s selected?
F: No not yet
Me: Fine. (Thinking: Jibran knows he’s selected, Saad knows he’s selected, and everybody else who asks her, gets a straight/definite answer.)
F: Are you sure you don’t have anything to talk to me about since your mails seem to suggest otherwise.
Me: I wrote that I’m sorry… that doesn’t suggest anything about wanting to communicate rather quite the contrary”
F: What?!
Me: No, I have said my piece and made my peace as well.
F: Come to the room with me and we’ll talk about this.
Me: There’s nothing to talk about.
F: Come to the room with me
Me: I’m not going to any room with you.
F: You were not good enough. That’s why you are not going to the LUMUN. The people, who didn’t make it to the play, can try out next Saturday and ‘you’ can come for the next audition, you were not good.
Me: If I was someone else I’d believe you, Mustafa told me about Altamash and how he couldn’t even speak.”
F: He’s in the other slot.
Me: Yes… the slots that did not exist until after the bogus trial that I was called to.
F: You were not the only one called
Me: Was anyone who was ‘called’ selected? Did anyone from the party that was called on my designated day ‘not’ speak? Rather was anyone from the 24 people who attended the first LUMUN meeting not selected? I wonder why I’m beginning to question the legitimacy of the second trial; I wonder why I think it was bogus and a waste of my time… the point is you called me without reason on a day I did not have a class for the umm… fun of it?
F: I don’t need your negative energy, this is so juvenile! I’m going to Mr. Tariq’s office, you don’t know about the power I have.
Me: I didn’t want to say anything. You came to me and you’re the one who keeps calling me to a strange room. And that too, after I’d written sorry, well I’m not sorry. Who’s Mr. Tariq? (Wondering) I don’t mind going to anybody’s office.
F: Mr. Tariq is the guy who owns l’ecole. Look at the way she’s talking to me, do you see this?
Me: For one these People are ‘my’ friends and two, how should I talk to you?
Except for this guy, he’s new I don’t know him.
F: You wrote ‘screw you’ in your mails, and now you’re embarrassed in front of your friends. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d come to the room with me.
Me: I’m not embarrassed, I’m right, why should I be embarrassed? And I never wrote ‘screw you’ I wrote ‘please don’t screw the play thing up for me” or something to that effect. And there was the bulletin thing. You told me to write an article in front of your favorite Saad and on the next day you said ‘No’, ‘cause you just felt like it. Third times’ a charm…
F: Did you submit an article?
Me: How could I, you said ‘no’?
F: I don’t want to come down to your level. You have negative energy,(she’s been stuck on that , ever since Saad claimed I was being negative/pessimistic which needless to state does ‘not’ mean I have negative energy.) keep it with you. This is so juvenile (word from my book, I wonder which horrible version the masses have read).
Ayesha: Look Nadia, if you’d just state your case maybe she’d understand.
Me (to A): No, she wouldn’t, what case? There’s nothing to state, she’s daft… (She’s too busy insecurely defending herself to see my point of view or how what she did was wrong)
F: She just called me daft, did you see that? I really don’t want to come down to your level.
Me: Well, I don’t know what your agenda is. I didn’t start this, but since we’re on the subject, I don’t ever want to come down to your level. For even now, it’s below me!

Jibran: Dramabaaz larki, I’ve never seen you like this… khajoor?
Me: shut up!
Jibran: I’m just trying to make you happy
Me: And when has ‘that’ ever made me happy? What have I done, I wrote I’m sorry, I thought I ended this.
An: She’s afraid of you, when you were complaining about being called for the fake LUMUN trial, she was afraid you’d go to Mr. Tariq.
Me: That doesn’t even make sense.
An: What are we going to say if someone asks us if you called her daft? Is that really an insult? Doesn’t it mean silly or childish
Ayesa: It’s a nice way of calling someone stupid!
An: But she’s right, haven’t you seen F? F is really nice to guys, even ‘they’ know it, have you seen her around Jibran?
Ayesa: She’s not right! You’re supposed to keep your cool around people, ‘especially’ when you know they don’t like you.
Me: Nice way? ‘Silly’, childish, petty, daft… euphemisms for stupidity…
Jiban: huh? …Khajoor?
Me: Phir se? Tum to jao…
Jiban: I’m just trying to make you happy.
Me: By annoying me?
Jibran: Geebat buri baat hoti hai. You were both wrong, yelling at each other. Girls!
Me: Tum se poochha hai?
Discussion on geebat and Ramadan
For the moment, my bleeding stuffy (literally) nose aches. ‘Been attempting to read my guides, ‘was supposed to go to school at 4 (arrive at 4:30), ‘was supposed to wait for someone to take textbooks out of his car yesterday, ‘was supposed to download marketing slides from a certain terminal at school… ended up getting upset all day, ‘cause my mother , whom I unwillingly depend on , decided to slyly accuse me of being a suicidal maniac , since I’ve ‘threatened’, ‘attempted’ and ‘committed’ suicide(as all wonderfully credible(some by myself…could I ever be sarcastic? How impossible) non-satirical testimonials proclaim) those accusations as usual taken from my wonderful audience of avid readers(including my mother, and my dearest father) in all their opulent thirst for blood venom and spite , can never ever be, dare I say?…bogus!
Oh no, not again! The advent of sense… pithy ye … swoon and die for this devastating mail actually prods you to use your … ‘brain’? To quote the author of my stats guide M.Knott “Only a numbskull would produce a probability greater than 1, but we are all numbskulls at times”. People think being brainy is a constant, as though making a sensible assertion once , means you always will/do…not true: The proof needs no explanation since it is with everyone individually, no one is sacrosanct. “Let he who is free of sin, cast the first stone’-Jesus Christ, the Bible
Right now, though I feel more guilty than anyone.

Angry blogging

So,how does this go? "my name is, mein nama est Nadia and I'm an anger-holic??"
anyway so it be and so it is. I have a problem,it stinks, it doesn't work for me. I know it's caused by anxiety, which is caused by people and my inability to adapt and cope with weird illegal uncomfortable irreligious situations. funny how even the most normal looking folks do the strangest most dastardly things. Anyway i can't really do anything about them , so little things trigger and charge me up to a surmountable fit of rage that continues for an entire day, which in turn is completely wasted(my work proliferates for the next day thereof and therefore)and ultimately simmers to a morning headache.
The stimulus is usually my mother, because she's trying to help.and while I have no doubt about her philanthropic intentions, it is a pain indeed. and I don't understand why mothers can't take a hint.I know that's horrible of me.
However ignoring my bouts of rage until their momentum rises to an apex only leads to trouble and I'm sure every mother who goes through life thinking that she's being charitible and nice when she's annoying you, knows surely(not surly, which is another word) that she has it coming.
To what avail? to what point? it's as though the book of life has shifted into a dusty corner , has been read and reread and each every time the words remain unchanged. yet somehow there is a want of an end not yet reached by a means used and abused to exhaustion.
Anyway I used every swear word i know and understandibly in reation, my ma went ballistic. I don't see fasting as a testament to my faith rather a decent attempt to improve(it and myself). and attempts can be unsuccesful(don't I know it).
What is lucid however is that pages need be turned and i'll have to change,since she's never going to. as she was being nice right , by serving me when i want to be left alone by doing stupid dances in front of my so-called friends. it's okay when i do it they're mine , but it's embarrasing when she does. and there are other habits of 'wannabe cool' mum stereotype that cling onto her like tar on a 'getting paved again' karachi road.
I don't wish to discuss it however.I need to be more tolerate less distracted, blame less, move on, if smething bothers me I can try talking about candy canes and butterflies though when ur angry spite seeps through always, thus that would be utterly pointless, except to get a laugh from ma initially.
There's excercise, yoga , seeing a therapist? continuing learning german , making a time-table, that as history has shown I won't follow.Perhaps prayer and breathing excercises might help, if the pollution lets me inhale an oxy-friendly ercentage of toxins and others chemicals.Karachi's the most polluted city in the world. dehli comes second, number 13 is New York.
my daddy thinks that if i'm upset with amma/ma then i'm suddenly inclined to liking him which is not the case at all. That kind of sits at a certain fixed tempo but it's never enough to blow me to bits. I think it's because I expect from mother. 'if you expect great things you're bound to get disappointed or to not rejoice if things work out."i expect her to understand ans she acts like she does(like all mamas0 but she doesn't so it's always a disaster waiting to happen being fed with lies until the truth demands a part and wrecks everything.
Toodles
keep breathing
even if the good air/bad air ratio isn't exactly healthy/salubrious??
carry your parahernalia and off to work...
life is a fine thread of do's and don't's ...
scripted for those you cannot read...
I meant to write 'who' not 'you' but this fits.

Times

They are a'changing
and some might say we will find a brighter day.

germs with error

Germs: germs laminated the saliva ridden rim of her half-empty glass of cognac. She had the oddest sensation of them feeding on her recently unused head. Which wasn’t technically ‘unused’ except functionally confined to nurturing grudge and heartbreak. She waned from the table gradually sliding down her seat, as the table top blurred and cacophonic thuds of relief throttled her rubbery spine. Sighs, pangs and bangs, relaxation then noise again, repetitively methodically winding tightly around her like a boa constrictor as she awaited her final gasp, that exciting last heartbeat: The welcomed end.
“It is my fault”, falling on to the kitchen floor, with a numb nimble crash she then crawled to her bedroom. Thinking about the cat’s saliva in her pan of pot pouri, it was her fault, she knew how her cat was, she knew just how she was, and she kept literally falling on her face “Itsy bitsy spider climbing up the wall...” the sojourn to the bedroom was short, as her apartment was small. To climb onto her bed seemed an impossible task, so she rolled under it, taking a last gasp.

***************************************


The wood on her bed’s underside was visibly dusty in the morning sunlight, and her heavy head felt like a bowling ball, she searched for three holes to stick her fingers in and yank it up. This time, rolling wasn’t a viable option; she slid from underneath it and was glad it was morning not afternoon, when the sun would be unbearable. Now, she’d have to stand, with her aching bowling ball of a head wobbling here and there as she tolerated the worst pain. . . “Hangover remedy” she muttered, staggering to the phone at her bedside, he fell and dialed her friend Samaritan’s phone number , when she noticed a man tied up in a chair duct tape on his mouth bloody and muddy , gawking at her , she dismissed it as being delirious. Alcohol could do that to her, though visual hallucinations are generally uncommon, she always knew she was special.
“Sam?” she moaned softy, he mimed her weak waning voice “Yes?”
“That … I was… hang”
“You called to hang up?” he enunciated while her headache mounted to what can only be described as ‘A red bang’ and she shrieked.
“No” she croaked
“I’m coming over”
“Thanks” mission accomplished she thought. That dryad of a tortured man glared at her, and she blinked thrice, considered pinching herself and then plopped into her bed.
Samaritan unlocked the front door, searched the living/drawing room which was part kitchen and then proceeded to the boudoir. There was a man in the room and Aida lay unconscious on her bed, the man was painted red-brown with mud and blood, his bushy black eyebrows were his only discernable feature and his bloodshot eyes were fixated on his friend.
“Is that you?” she murmured
“Me?” Samaritan answered, his gaze not leaving the phantom in the corner.
“Sam I’m having a terrible hang over. Come. Sit beside me.” He did, `` his eyes not leaving the living corpse chair… She continued, “You wouldn’t believe, it’s the worse ever, I’m seeing things, are you listening?”
“Yes I am, what did you see?” He cautiously did not shift his gaze and neither did what he was gazing at, their eyes never met. The Salamander vibrated wildly trying to break free.
“Not so loud!’ she screeched
“Sorry” Samaritan answered
“Not you…I can see this guy tied up in a chair , all bloody and wounded , like a cross between ‘the passion of the Christ’ and some kidnapping movie , and the Abu Ghariab tapes , I don’t know what’s wrong with me? Do you think it means something, like my inner sanctum is revealing that I’m actually an angry tortured prisoner all tied up sitting down looking stark naked under a blood mud camouflage?”
“Hmm”
“I thought you’d have no thoughts on that, so where’s my hang over remedy?”
“Have you thrown up yet?”
“No”
“You’ll have to throw up first”
“Oh goodie” she exclaimed acrimonious arms out, clasping his back like it were a Zimmer.
“Piggyback?”
“Are you crazy” she scoffed
“I ‘am’ a eunuch” he retorted.
“Fine” so he rushed her to the sink as the tortured prisoner’s head moved, gaping at her neck as if his life depended on it. Samaritan shut and bolted the lavatory door as the chair creaked towards them, the bruised victim made to the door with all his might shifted and shuffling, grunting growling , like two rutting animals , aggressive determined violent and ready to bite. Samaritan had no time to admire the dying man’s Stamina. He just knew he had to get of there with Aida, who was vomited and said “You know doing this in the toilet would’ve been cleaner”
“Yeah” he answered his voice tense. Was the bathroom window his way out? He’d seen it in the movies, so why not? He looked out side and examined fifty feet of ‘why not’ …
“Smell that bad (she giggled half-heartily) now, where’s my magic potion???”
He peered through the keyhole, chairman had not moved more than an inch and was still straight jacketed so to speak, the coast was clear; he gave her his concoction, “Drink up”, she swooned and he carried her out in his arms. Leaving the apartment with the man grunting and blubbering locked bolted latched inside. He got to his car, shoving her in the backseat; he drove back to his place. He threw on the couch and thought about paced to and fro in his living room; she muttered “miracle cure’ triumphant smiling,
“It is mostly the placebo effect” he said calmly, interrupting his thoughts with the conjecture ‘we’re safe now’, “Do you remember anything about last night?” he prodded.
“I came home with a bottle of cognac, invited a friend over for cards, played solitaire, got tired of waiting and got really drunk.”
“So this ‘friend’ never turned up” he found it hard to believe that a beaten up man could be in her room without her knowledge or involvement. “Are you sure he stood you up? Was he late? ‘Did’ he turn up?” he reiterated fiercely
“It was a ‘she’ and no ‘She’ didn’t! What do you take me for? I don’t call guys over in the middle of the night”
“I’m not a fan of savoir faire myself, but really be honest there’s no taboo, you were lonely you got drunk, it was a Saturday night, Are you sure, you weren’t ‘with’ somebody” being born sans pudendum, didn’t make him any less of a person, he self-argued against society’s view of social correctness and normality.
“I have my own set of morals, I maybe a drunk but I’m not a slut!” losing her temper
“No one’s calling you one, it’s perfectly understandable” softly
“Shut up” she hollered indignant sitting up with a start ‘what am I doing here?’ she asked irritated.
“Okay You were lonely, you called this guy over, you both got drunk, he thought you easy, you probably jabbered about you’re entire life story and he thought it was time to make his move, you had a violent fit, protecting your ‘maiden head’ and he raged after you, you used martial arts shred his skin, left him bruised and bloody and then not knowing what to do, tied him up on a chair. And got ‘really’ drunk before falling dead asleep?”
“Boy, you should be a writer” she snorted
“Am I right?”
“Of course not, you lunatic!” she peered at him with disbelief Standing up , “Where are my shoes.
‘In the foot locker, you’re not going anywhere, without an explanation”
‘For what? My hallucination?” she strolled to the footlocker, scoured her shoes and put them on, strutting to the front door.
“He was real. I saw him too”
“Well, I’ve just born witness to your dynamite of an imagination so excuse me, while I get my shoes. If anybody needs an explanation it’s me”
“Think, did you order pizza, Chinese something, anything? Was there anyone at your door last night?”
“I ‘DID’ ‘NOT’ assault a man in self-defense, do I have to sing it to you.”
“Then ‘who’ is he?”
“I DO NOT KNOW, I was alone last night, case closed. I’m going home”
“He kept glaring at you and he’s probably still in your apartment, and he might’ve broken free by now, and he looked really angry with you”
“You’re playing with me ‘cause I got drunk” she smirked wise to the ploy, she smiled victoriously “This is one those intervention thingies, right? You are ‘such’ a poker face” she giggled poking his cheek “And I would’ve bought it too , if it weren’t for that twitchy temple that gives you away. Don’t you know that I know you? Always a kidder. I’m fine I’m going home now , its an addiction , its not like I choose to get drunk , It keeps me alive , look I’m fully functional happy and cheerful , don’t worry about me , be happy.”
He scrutinized her, as she looked around.
“What are you looking for?”
‘The guy, you sent to scare me??”
“I didn’t send anyone”
“Oh I get it; I’m supposed to promise never to drink again before you admit to anything. Gotchya good game” she walked out.
He stood thinking for a while, still looking suspicious of her story, thinking it unwise to call the police, he followed her.
“You’re not going there alone”
“Are you serious?” She chuckled
“Yes and you should be too”
“Then why not call the police?”
‘To get ‘you’ into trouble?”
“No, to make a laughing stock of yourself and your silly “intervention”.”
“There was no intervention. This really happened.”
“It’s not Abdul Qadeer’s birthday.’
“No it isn’t”
“Why are you so serious? Lighten up, take a backseat, enjoy the show. Relax”
“And what ‘wait for the barbarians? What show is it that you so candidly refer to?”
“The show of life, I thought you’d know about it, since you play the part so well”
“Oh right we’re having one of those… call me you’re sober.”
“That’s a song and barbarian, there’s just one.”
“Not in the poem but okay, I stand corrected”
“Sit down old chum”
“SINCE WHEN DID WE GET CHUMMY?”
“Never with that attitude, no soirée”
“Hmm, maybe we should invest in stocks, is anything up?”
“What is the matter with you?”
“It matters not”
“See you later”
“BUBYE”

The sun shied behind the clouds and winds crisp as a tucker, slapped about my face like a fly desperate to be swat. Oh the tyranny of the moment, slandered by my selfish being in selfless ecstatic masochism. Dread.
“l drooled in public , when having ice cream. It was tragic.”


“Ah work, what a wonderful little factoid… I’m afraid of running out of it , so I avoid it altogether.”
“OH purpose”
“ you laugh?”
“YES”
“Why?”
“What else should I do?”
“It is not for me to state, but you could answer the answer the question”
“Great suggestion but I’ll pass”
“Inshahlah”
“What with our progress nothing can stand in our way”
“You’re so optimistic”
“Predictable you are”
“Like a broken record”
“No like a love song actually, shall we dance?”
“What for?”
“WHAT IF?”
‘Let’s work instead”
“You know we can’t, this will be another futile attempt, so give it up already”
“I laud your enthusiasm, perseverance and what should I say ‘will’ to go on, there’s do and don’t, there is no try, wise old Yoda said that”
“Where there’s a will there’s a way”
“Come on give me a push, nudge me, propel me, motivate me, I KNOW you can, you have so often. I miss it terribly infinitely”
“It’s getting stuffy, suffocating...”
“Don’t go”
“The dance?”
“No”
“Goodnight then and adieu” he blows a kiss while she looks askance then examining the rim of her glass ,remarks “My lipstick doesn’t come off… it actually works.. Wow”

heroes and demons.

The bylaws’, he muttered in his usual monotone
“The bylaws?”
He smiled seeing no cause for repetition..
“Something particular?”
“Something particularly interesting’
“No”
“I kid you not’
“’but that’s…”
He grinned, she was waiting for him to pull the bunny out of the hat or at least wipe that smirk off his face.
“Where’s the catch?’
He bit his lip with enthusiasm
“Get out” she spoke under her breath not facing him, almost to herself and surreptitiously like keeping a tender secret, as if the sound would break it, cautiously handling the fragility of the information that oozed out of his glowing beaming eyes... words he tried to withhold , emotions bursting out despite enclosure.
He ‘tried’ to contain himself, her shock and admiration were driving him giddy and the accomplishment, the greatness, a feverish excitement spurred through him like mad cannon balls, he felt the need to dance in gushing fountains, fly a kite and set it ablaze some beautiful wild withdrawal for all the positive completeness he was brimming with... and ‘her’… ‘She’ couldn’t foresee it, she didn’t suspect a thing, the dynamite of an idea, plummeting through caustic sands of dissention unhurt undamaged: free
“You couldn’t have, it’s… come on’ she patted his shoulder almost pinching, her eyes suspiciously amused…. He burst out laughing, ‘You’re lying’ she said wise to the ploy
“Yes, ‘I’m’ lying, believe what you want”
“If it’s true everyone will know it soon enough” naughtily peevishly poking fun.
“And wouldn’t you feel like a cad?! I can just imagine you, falling at my feet, kissing my toes, ‘oh I should’ve believed you’, and ‘You’re the greatest most wonderful man in the universe... No existence’; and I’ll royally ignore you while you slobber and grovel”
“It isn’t that I don’t trust you or your self-proclaimed brilliance... it’s…it’s just”
He watched her, drained but still smiling
“Too good to be true’ she finished.

“Wanna see it?” whispering, he offered a hand.
She declined, hands in pockets “Sure”… she followed his lead as he walked through the corridors, she added casually, “Miracle of miracles, wouldn’t miss it for the world”
“Prepare to be swept off your feet” the thespian advertised, tired feeling humbled as if all this petty décor ate up and withered away the grand notion, reduced it to a superficial chunk of trash, his credibility in question, his defense statements taking wearing away his pride, he felt like a nut, this could hinder and obstruct the superb greatness it paves the way for, he couldn’t let it be the only achievement of his life. He had to work to forget her to throw himself into more development , his responsibility as pioneer and genius compelled him to walk on, without admiring this medal of glory , for it was a mere trinket compared to all that could be achieved all that he could give up if you contented himself in this, he honed himself to realize true greatness to rise to a maturity of thinking that always pushes forward, peeks beyond the peak, sees the bigger picture and more…there is no biggest picture , the voyage of discovery is compelling and never-ending, or complete circular and unstopping.
But his brain wasn’t churning anything now , was he really standing in the way of progress, or maybe his want/value of it came in the way . Maybe he wanted to grow too much, to be able to stop, think, gain perspective. The urge to stifle his pride made him prouder , expectations he could never expect to fulfill , was this a victory or a loss/ was this the end of him/ would his idea live beyond him and him simply this and nothing more? Immortalized: in a mere thought albeit a powerful one but ‘just’ a thought.
“Slow down, you almost banged into a wall back there, do you even know where we’re going?”
“It’s petty, it’s small’ he turned to her, his lids lowered, stopping humbled, focusing on the floor.
“What?” she half-spoke
He fumbled tap-dancing, a little lost in confused humility, not sure if she understood what he was saying.
“I’ve been working on this for five “whole” years! ‘You!’ have been working on it for two...”
“And I couldn’t have done it without you, without your help and guidance, the boundaries you set up the parameters, the goals…” still fumbling his feet, illustrated by a head shake, gazing into the floor
“Look, I’m not taking the limelight away from you. This is ‘your’ breakthrough’
“I couldn’t have done it without you” shifting focus from tile to tile
“It’s yours and I’m a little jealous, even.” She tried to meet his gaze
“It’s right there, in that room”, he pointed to a closed door across the hall: their workspace millions of hours spent in hard mental labor pondering over snarling scribbles of equations , searching for the inevitable answer and then … now, it would all dissipate , be squandered.
“’But I won’t get a first hand presentation , you won’t show it to me?” annoyance reeked from her as he irritatingly still focused on the green marble tiles: images losing him , thoughts evaded by the fear of loss of it, fear of the culmination of this odyssey , this fascinating vacation into the mind all lost in completion.
“No”, regretfully
“You are ‘such’ a drama queen”
“What?” he looked at her
“Years, damn it, years, and look at you, you are soo full of yourself ‘
“Please, you just hate me ‘because I got to it first”
“Yes, that’s it” sarcastically” I mean , you won’t even gloat , you won’t even rub my face in it , throw in a little motivational talk , be all big about it.. Look at you. You poor thing! Tell your sob-story to someone stupid, I’m not buying it”
“No one told you to, step right up miss, remember you asked for a show, if it gives you cramps it’s your fault.”
“Bring it on, a show giving me cramps? What, am I eating it?”
“You’ll eat it all up missy’ there was a disheartened tenderness in his voice, a slight reluctance, a compulsion to run and she loved forcing him into it, watching him drag himself limb by limb wandering into an interesting world of fantasy, when truth opens up a new idea breaches common sense and yelps at the delight of it all, he was right, it ‘was’ phony, it ‘was’ petty, it ‘was’ just an idea. And now he would have to shine in it , fill himself up with it , ouch and this for her , the presentation , this was nothing, oh the media , the crowds , the crazy people, fanatics, enemies , hate mail and booty mail, oh she’d love watching him fade , suffer for taking from her all she willed , he couldn’t have done it without her, his mentor and now how shallow and empty he’d feel , bogged down with useless accolades , adoring supermodels , when all he’d want/need is that pure addiction of using his head , wanting to splurge in mountains of paper , demonic files and folders flooded with valuable organized information , so tempting , so real , so fascinating to drown in the ecstasy of words, numeric and graphs to feel the adrenaline , late nights in a room full of clutter , night or day it didn’t matter, there was always enough red bull. It wasn’t ‘work’ it was ‘passion/drive/impetus’ and like any hopeless addict he wanted more , afraid , he’d lose that satisfaction , afraid it would feel ignored.
Then again, he wouldn’t mind getting used to the attention; it was to the workspace for her and wonderland for him. Let him celebrate, let him have a great time, she told herself, not once suggesting the admittance that maybe they’d miss each other, maybe the ‘company’ made the work interesting…no, they always loved it graphical dynamics, speed , prodding over nitpicky details, but the meeting of minds made it a friendly enchanting experience suddenly impersonal and quaint. A softness of expression, a recognition of each other’s faults values differences and common denominators. Oh and fondness but no she couldn’t admit and neither would he. She was stuck in that cold dark room, with the glass window and white papery blinds, twin terminals buried under wads of paper: designs, fragments of joy… pitiful, just pitiful.

“Jealous” Jay screamed, “You’re just jealous of me”
“Really?” she answered not quite sure what brought this about.
“Yes, ‘because I’m pretty and smart, a doctor, you never could be a doctor and you hate me for it.”
“I do” she answered trying not to argue, a biting strain on her head “I never wanted to be a doctor, my heart was never in it… I’m happy with what I have”
“Feeling sorry for yourself because he’s leaving…you? He’s too good for you and you know it and you’re always feeling sorry for yourself”
“Stop talking about what you don’t know about, I pushed him away, it never would’ve worked out”
“Is that what your ego says? you and your complexes.”
“I got scared” she spoke timidly, her eyes analyzing wooden planks laid neatly on the recently waxed kitchen floor. It was wonderful laying them down methodically mechanically; how many years ago? Numbers… Jay couldn’t stand her presence any longer and stormed out of the room grunting grumbling…
Sara strolled into the inviting garden, through the sliding door, it had a white wooden frame and it felt warm and earthy, she examined the lavenders: purple this time of year, in full bloom, the sun blazed cheekily as she felt creepy crawlies tickle her toes. Remembering…

“It isn’t…’she stopped as he filled brown boxes with hazy memories: pictures, presents notebooks… she waited for him to stop moving around. He walked slow but didn’t pause…”It’s not...” she hesitated “I don’t know what I’m saying” she shrugged.
“Love.’ I’ know” he smiled at her, reassuringly.
“Did you complete my sentence or are you calling me love?”
He didn’t answer… smiling, that tired smile he had on ever since his ‘exciting’ revelation.
“Stick around” she said, casually
“I will” he nodded without feel.
“Why?”
“How do you mean?” he chuckled lightly
“Be honest, this is it, no?”
“Look, we’ll write to each other”
“You never reply”
“That’s cos you bog me down with a truckload of mails and more recently incredulous accusations and still more recently you haven’t been writing at all so I’ll get to it , but I’m really not in the mood. Give me the benefit of the doubt. People change, (hastily, business like) and help me with these boxes will you? You look like a ‘Gird darn’ morbid Greek statue”
She picked a box; the cuss substitutes, ‘gird darn’ floating in thought... Gird: darn: fix: mend.
“You always hated me”
“Can you see that I’m under travel stress here?”
“Why here? You’ll have plenty of time to recuperate in the departure lounge and then at the hotel”
‘If you’re going to be like this...”
She waited … “then what?”
“I just, I don’t know”
“You can’t turn your back on everything”
“What do you want? scented candles? Flowers? Chocolates? A night to remember, what?”
“You make it sound so cheap”
“ISN’T IT?”
“I want us to be friends but you keep pressing on romance” she whined
“Oh, it’s all me, right?” haughtily
“Yes, you always do this, you make eyes at me or hit on me and when I turn away or evade it, you get offended, it’s all over your face, how dare I and to top it all, that becomes a ‘moment’ in the pages of your mental diary, a moment of romance and feel that you can secretly resent me for spoiling. As if I’m supposed to melt into your arms. And not even that, if ‘I’ would, you’d get scared and act peevish...”
“Don’t knock it before you’ve tried it...and that was what ‘how’ many years ago?”
“Rodney!”
“Kidding! But as usual I really don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Uh right”
“I don’t want you to fall; I just want us to be happy. But then with you it’s impossible, there’s always something, it has to be war: self-delusion hatred.”
“Delusion, hatred? You want to convince me of hallucinating, because you can’t face the truth?”
“Where’s the proof?” He answered knowingly
“I don’t ‘trust’ you with it… (She didn’t) I don’t need to prove to you what you know”
“What do you want, then? You seem to have all the answers… why not badger yourself about them?”
“I’m not a badger”
“I don’t care”
“You lie”
“What’s new?”
“It ‘is’ over”
“If that’s what you want”
“What do ‘you’ want?”
“Last box” he hollered ignoring her, a hasty offended look on his face, accentuated by his busybody. He shoved her on the way out, she didn’t follow. His eyes were lost in a distant glare. She lazily picked the last box up, kicking the door shut on her crawl out. Strolling at a snail’s pace to the parking lot. He looked confused still holding his pile of boxes, perhaps wondering if she made away with his stuff. The boxes he was carrying went in first. He made her wait her turn and then took the last box from her.
“I went to a play last night”
“Hmm”
“The direction was grossly amateur; they kept saying hare/hair instead of here/hear but the acting was superb … I don’t know I guess I wasn’t in the mood”
“Or maybe you feel like a wasted sack of stifled talent”
“Pascal did say direction was in my blood, I could swear you were going to say shit not ’stifled talent’, you don’t cuss around me”
“He never recommended you, and we ‘dis’ ‘cuss’ things all the time”
“I put him off, I said I wasn’t interested”
“Why?”
“He made it sound like a career option, a life purpose even, I felt like it was beneath me”
“Was it?”
“I feel squeamish now.”
“Small?”
“Disfigured”
“More to the point, I felt sickly paranoid”
“Hmm” he grunted not really listening. Disapproving of how she changed the subject so abruptly.
“I’ve realized that I take two three facts pin them together and drop to conclusions that may have some logical bearing but still aren’t true…”
“And?”
“And I just, I feel so...”
“You do know I’m leaving now?”
“Yes.”
He stopped wondering why she avoided the subject of departure and instead used him as a sounding board to whine or confess. He was not a confession chamber, why couldn’t she step out of her murder mystery life and open up to the facts, he was leaving, he needed a goodbye, closure not a feverish speech on the blahs of depression: self caused, self-annihilated.
“You really didn’t have to drive me to the airport’ he insisted after a long silence, it was raining heavily, the streets were flooded.
“It’s the least I can do. I mean really, are we even?”
“Not by a millimeter”
“Or a quadrillionth of an ampere, eh?” she laughed the hollow wounded laugh that he never could tolerate. “This theory of yours, does it apply in reverse? Like if I do something big will it get small results?”
“Like this grand gesture?”
“Well not really , what are friends for?” she snortled another one of those annoying quirks, one day he’d sit her down and teach her how to laugh like a person.
“It ‘is’ true, all of it”
“That was bogus”
“Really, I didn’t expect this from the girl who wouldn’t stop hanging me upside down and shaking all my coins onto the floor?”
“That was a weird analogy; I prefer white conical light, interrogation room, possibly flavored with violence and bloodshed, anguished screams, wails of “WHY?!”, she parked and they got of the car helping him with his luggage.
“More to the point...”He continued.
“You don’t have to make me feel better…your flight’s about to leave”
“It’s delayed”
‘I had a feeling’ she sat on the floor, why did she like sitting on the floor so much???
‘You don’t trust your feelings anymore”
“What do you care? You don’t even believe me.”
“Do you believe yourself?”
“I don’t have to, I just see confirmation sometimes but I wave it off: coincidence, not enough evidence to support a conjecture.’
“There’s never enough… to support anything, even if it is real.”
“Will you be back for the holidays?”
“Do you still want your pictures?”
“Badly”
‘Tough, I don’t have them”
“My opinion or belief wouldn’t alter or determine whatever the truth is; therefore I am keeping my mouth shut!” she moaned, strolled ahead and sat on the steps outside the departure lounge, he followed her. “You do know that you can only keep what you ‘have? About my umm ‘discovery’...”he muttered sitting beside her.
“Yes?”
“I was inspired by that dance you cooked up.”
“Dance?” she peered ahead crouching, it was breezy.
“Forget it: idle thoughts,” he thought about throwing his coat over her self-hugging shriveled form, but she’d probably object.
“The great Gatsby, the account of, my version of the events, that never took place in the fictional novel based on Francis Scott Fitzgerald’s real-life, or was it just the female character based on his wife, love-interest Zelda Sayre.”, she contemplated aloud, deviating from the cause of her contemplation. He watched her confusion with a mixture of disgust and amusement.
“The dance?” he reminded her, eyebrows raised, forehead crinkled with irritation.
“Oh umm, there were two people too weak to stand, too tired to walk, dancing, leaning on each other for support”
“Balance, they balanced, whilst falling against each other, forming an equilibrium at the centre of gravity of the three dimensional polygon thus created. They couldn’t stand individually but used gravity to keep them from falling, ‘by’ falling against each other.”
“You’re repeating yourself?”
“I’m better with figures, graphs things like that”
“You attribute ‘that’ to me?”
“It’s an integral part of my why I set out to do, what I set out to do, thank you”
“The bylaws”
He didn’t answer.
“I thought you ‘wanted’ to dance’,” she smirked
“That too... (Inviting smile squashed by her foreign gaze forward) but it doesn’t feel … (pausing as if to choose his words cautiously) ‘appropriate’ now” looking forward, wondering what the horizon had that he didn’t, ‘horrific competing with an imaginary line that recedes as it you approach it. You, whoever you are.
“Time changes everything”, she sighed
“The only thing more uncertain than the future is the past- old soviet proverb”
“‘You can’t ever be home again’ –Thomas Wolfe”
“Random!” he chuckled
“Is that right or was that a misquote”
“Honey, it really doesn’t matter” he grinned, leaning sideways, his eyes glittering with excited amusement. “You worry too much”, smiling.
“I like you like this”
“Like this?” still trying to meet her gaze
“Warm, friendly, it’s lovable even”
“And?”
“You stop ‘because I’m cold, and you’re resentful”
“‘aw come on, we’re not going down that road again!?” this was the last straw
“Why not?” she had to push it
“You’re crazy, why do you have to fight all the time? Does it charge you up? Turn you on?”
“Duh it charges me up and ‘Turn me on’ ha! You wish”
“You seem to know a lot about what ‘I’ want and think and ‘Wish’”
“I want my pictures!” she demanded
“Bah!” he rose and charged into the departure lounge yelling “And don’t follow me!”
She followed him.
“Oh bother” he whined, “Woman, could you let up! You need help”
“What’s your theory?”
“About you needing help???”
“No”
“I have ‘two theories”:
“Really?” she said disbelievingly
“Yes” he retorted, waving a victory sign in her face.
“Would that be a zeugma?”
“Triple meaning ‘gesture’ not word”
“That’s what I was thinking”
“It might be who knows? But not in the strictest sense”
He sat on a bench patting a spot next to him motioning her to sit down, she complied.
“Well the first has to do with Newton’s third law and chain reactions”
“For every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction”
“That’s right, and each reaction is in itself an action, leading to series of reactions”
“In the case of a chain reaction”
“I can prove that ‘all’ reactions are chain reactions, that the cumulative reaction will always be greater than the initial input. What follows is that, the slightest ‘action’ or ‘activity of any kind, whether natural, physical or chemical leads to disproportionate reactions i.e. any ‘small’ changes , insignificant readings like that of point a million zeroes and ‘one’ amperes can result in a humungous change in output.”
“Can?”
‘They do. I have simulations to prove It.” he beamed lips sealed.
She watched him thoughtfully, “The by-laws? Is that the second theory?”
“Um...”he turned away from her and muttered a “No”
“What?” she exasperated “but you said!”
“Well I’m not a logistics kind of guy, I’d rather the computer handle that bit, I’m a thinker, that’s just too tedious and complex and irritating and”
“And ‘my’ kind of job, leave the nitty gritty fact checking to me!”
“You do call yourself a worker bee??” he squeaked apologetically
“The labor theory of surplus value springs to mind…continue”
“Ha, the second idea is the dance thing?”
“Hmm, I’m listening” impatiently
“Testing, testing earth to Sara”
“Roger that, why are you such a tease?” patiently
“‘Why?’ the universal question, if only I had a theory to answer that”
“Maybe your theory does, ‘why’ is answered by a series of answers which are so small that they require explanations , that is each answer in itself leads to a series of questions with due answers which in turn lead to branches of answers , which might , touch upon the circumference of finite knowledge , which maybe the ultimate answer.”
“You’re having fun” he chuckled
“What ever”
“Eva”
“Ever”
“To assume that knowledge is finite is questionable”
“Our knowledge is ‘finite’ and it is simultaneously expanding, taking into account growth the circumference moves outward as the questions and answers keep increasing, but ‘if’ there is an ultimate answer then it is reasonable to postulate that the knowledge outside of us ‘is’ finite and complete, therefore as the diameter of our circle expands is gets closer to the size of the orb knowledge and may one day in fact touch upon its circumference and arrive at the ‘universal’ answer”
“Philosophy”
“The beginning and end of everything”
“And nothing, for what is something?”
“Assess the greenness of the green?”
She smiled in response and then blurted “Supercallafajallistic”
“Ikspiallidocious, you were not always ‘mean’, you made me out as a philanthropic Samaritan once. You were nice sometimes … and funny… but I guess you just wanted me to differ”
“You did, you were like oh I just asked them to give you a shot … no apology for being the apoplectic repressed Romeo that shunned me as the ‘evil’ temptress who hurt him so... I’m sorry, but you honestly couldn’t care less, so I deem your behavior unintelligible?”
“Unintelligent”
“No incomprehensible.”
“Why?”
“I get it, but it’s so calculated and slow and organized, I mean how can you know and plan so much yet its all common knowledge you just made use of it. And I know I’m wrong, that’s why I want the answers from you.. But you claim not to understand the question as you are careful not to answer or perhaps too lazy to conjure one that encapsulates the justification of/in what you do. You’re not on trial; but ‘I’ am and I do not like it”
“What trial?”
“Never mind”
“I try to but you always stop me”
“I’m lazy too”
“What is wrong with my flight?! Sorry um what?!”
“You have a very short attention span. And you sell yourself short. And you’re needlessly conscious”
“Who isn’t? Sell myself short? I thought I was the media man propagation secretary or the other bull you threw in my face”
“In the car you kept talking about this guy who ‘shot up’ one day like a scion and you called this other guy 6 feet tall to denote that he was really tall. As if 6 feet is the measure of height, a level you never ‘shot’ up to”
“A- an indefinite article, an indefinite level, or a single standard??? What were you saying? It isn’t that I think ‘I’m’ short just that I think you think so, since you said six feet’s pretty normal, I felt abnormal”
“You’re finally opening up!”
“I hear a drum roll”
“And a standing innovation”
“Ovation”
“That”
“Where do we go from here? What other complexes do you think I have?”
“The new-G thing, people keep acting like I let you down because you’re not an old Grammarian. I never even considered a single ‘old’ grammarian let the record speak for itself”
“I thought I heard you say something like … hmm so what are you saying there’s something else wrong with me?!”
‘Why would you need to be inadequate for me to …?”
“Okay so I’m not crippled but I’m not great either?”
“I ‘do’ like you”
“Ok, but you insult me and yell at me and are put off by any advances on my part”
“You’re right on the money” she smirked again, hoof he couldn’t take it
“Am I? And you’re no miss. Perfect!”
“Far from it, why do my laughs irritate you this much and why do you need me to fall head over heels in love with you? Why can’t your daft old ego ever be sated?”
“His is not to make reply
His is not to question why
Into the jaws of death
Into the mouth of hell”
“Think I’m Xenophobic?”
“No”
“What about stereotypical?”
“No … predictable yes.”
“I wanted to be spontaneous. Do you think I’m a virago?”
“What’s that?”
“I had a dream in which you said “she’s not a slut, she’s a virago””
”Ah…‘better stop trusting your dreams”
“What’s funny is that I never used the word before.”
“Hey you aren’t piddled anymore?” cheerfully
“I’m not urinated??” boggled
“Pissed but close”
“All synonyms are not perfect substitutes”
“You’re telling the guy with a higher SAT score”
“In the dictionary SAT is short for standard assessment something not scholastic aptitude test, I thought that was odd”
“Why can’t I leave?”
‘That’s flattering” monotone
“No offence, it’s just what’s taking so long? Maybe it’s on the news.” Edgy, he headed to nearest terminal, worried and then looked to her, thinking ‘walking off’ over, then saying “Ask around”
“Orders” she smiled biting her lip, and then started chatting with the other passengers you wondered how she was sitting here without a ticket and then there was an announcement, speakers blaring. Something about ‘not being alarmed’ (therefore alarming)
“High security my ass, what the hell is she doing here?”
“Ok this is where I take a hike”
Rodney stood beside her, and took control calming the others down, giving her a hug “goodbye” he whispered.
She rushed to the exit and didn’t look back.

engrossed

My heart goes out to her, such a lovely beautiful girl”

“Don’t say that in front of her, she’ll be on my head forever, poor lovely girl married to a bloke like me”

“You’re lovely too”

“No you don’t understand, she’ll make it out like that, like poor her, like I’m jealous she got a compliment or something”

“…‘that’ she got a compliment. You sound jealous”

“Do you understand that ‘she’ will go on a self-pitying rampage that will leave me picking after her while she nags and nags and nags., and acts like I’m no good for her. I don’t want to go through it, so this is a preemptive strike.”

“Such aggression young man, I think that she ‘is’ a poor girl and needs to be taken out of your ruthless clutches.”

“Just don’t say it to her, ok?”

“Oh I will say it and give her a good reading on you too!”
























VIRAGO:

“Germs, everywhere germs….I feel just awful ……..disgusting confused, germs”
“What are you talking about?”
“GERMS! ARE YOU DEAF OR SOMETHING?????!!!”
“Not so loud….germs, right um solution ah! Eureka… soap”
“Soap with germs all over it, feces particles… its disgusting”
“How about soap solution?”
“You have to touch something to get it out, it isn’t as though I can just clap my hands or snap my fingers”
“Under the circumstances I wouldn’t think you’d want to”
“I just think that it would be really nice if you know like those dryers they have in public bathrooms. Yeah like those, leave your hands under it and a knob of liquid soap just drops in. I think that would be terrific.”
“Or better yet, ‘something like a dishwasher…’ just foams up while you rub and scrub your hands together. Beautiful.”
“I like my idea better.”
“Who’s going to implement it, God?”
“We should copyright it”
“Yeah great that would be awesome, do you know any copyrighters?”
“I think so, but they may write copy and not copyright if you know what I mean.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Ruining my life as usual”
“You haven’t grown out of it?”
“Oh people rarely do”
“Yeah”
“She took my sheets”
“Is that code for trouble”
“No, she literally snagged my sheets. It’s great just”
“Made out with them like a bandit eh?”
“Yeah super mum, burns clothes steals sheets, the great big hood, slimy dilemma, and the wonderful woman who spawned me.”
“Why?”
“She has something against getting clean sheets, ‘must rob me of mine and not provide ‘me’ with clean sheets either”
“I love her already”
“All smiles, I’ll tell you what, three cheers for the ‘living with mother syndrome’. I need to get to Alta vista they have teachers for my courses I’ve been telling my grand financiers that since last year. I wish I could somehow drive to them the fact that by wasting my time and energy, they’re wasting their money.”
“It’s no waste he likes watching you suffer”
“Eh?”
“I can tell”
“Hmm. Anyway I’m gonna try a few sums, get out and buy some bleach, hope to God that old hag’s, not playing solitaire at the monitor so ‘I’ cab get to ‘work’ which really translates to, writing stupid memos for my darling daddy, who for some odd reason has a hard time figuring out the phrase “Uni has no teachers for my courses, I need to go to Islamabad. I Know I told you last year and the year before that when my math teacher Mr.Noorideen was blimping signals of future despair. But then, I am at fault since I’ve always known how thick and impossible to get through to, you are””
“THE WHOLE NINE YARDS!”
“You betcha! No umm I’ll have to write something long tardy impeccably superfluous, a real Sisyphean task. All polite and shit, with all the necessary web links, so all he needs to do is to make a check. Though that’s all he needs to do anyway… *tongue in cheek*… if only he weren’t thick, old fart.”
“You sound like a first class bitch”
“You would too in my situation.”
“Can’t argue with that. Even if it’s just to avoid an argument about how I can never put myself in your place no matter how accurate my simulation it wouldn’t be the same… here it comes”
“Don’t flatter yourself, though, I’ll give it to you kid, you’re a good listener.”
“Shucks we’re out of toothpaste”
“I’ll get some with the groceries, that Mrs. Hendricks gave me a compliment yesterday, called me the loveliest most beautiful girl”
“Did she say anything about me?”
“No, nothing”
“She sounded like she had a lot to say about me”
“Really? You talked to her?”
“Come on, what did she say?”
“She made no mention of you”
“Look I was in a bad mood, tired, over worked needing a break”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about”
“Look, she said she’d give you a good ‘reading’ on me. WHATEVER THAT MEANS”
“Why is it that you just can’t stand it when somebody says something nice about me, can’t you be happy for me just this once?”
“This is what I was bitching about”
“You can’t handle anyone telling you your wife’s good-looking??”
“No how you make it about me being insecure and cold and jealous and hotheaded and everything”
“I’m sorry, I stand corrected!”
“Apology accepted”
“Ho ho ho, no you don’t”
“You’re Santa Claus now?”
“You know what, you’re not worth it”
“Excuse me?”
“You seriously are not, I mean… adios I’m going to get myself some fresh air, fresh fruit and veg. and I just need to relax, breathe.”
“And you’re ‘not’ breathing now?”
“Not like I should be, no!”

BANG WHAM SLAM!


PENNINGTON’S WILL:
“I never read the book; can you fill me in on it?”
“It is about Pennington and his will”
“A little less brief, please?”
“Pennington was a pianist, quite a popular one; it is narrated by the girl who loves him… there are terse reflections on fondness, she always finds her hands in his and so on. He’s interested in the posh filthy rich type though and she’s insecure about her girlish infatuation being dismissed as just that. To be honest I haven’t read it either.”
“Thanks anyway”

WALK WITH ME:
“She entered with a grisly smile on her face and began relating an erotic parable which was distastefully amusing, her idea of ‘buttering up’ the boss, I’m the boss. So I’m sitting there teeth out, wondering if a loud applause would serve as a louder cue for her to march off. I’m wondering, she’s talking, snickering gurgling giggling, her hands touching her mouth then her belly, sporadic heckling, I could puke. Finally I got her the idea that she had made the best impression she could and somehow convinced her to get to work without coming off as a grouchy old jerk… She was back the next day, sheets of paper sprawled all over my desk, and piles mounting, my tie loose and aggravated and her, she offered to help, put my desk in order, her hands found their way to my shoulders and then climbed down to the small of my back, it was relaxing I got comfortable and even more so when she stopped. There was that silence that blindsides you in the oddest moments, you don’t know where to start so you’re struck dumb, I went straight for the pile ferociously attacking it, she began to tell her filthy jokes again, feeling she had offended me and had to make up for it, and what a way to make up too, this time it was a relief. The pile got duller and like a jack-robin she spurted her colors on me, I felt a laugh coming and her hand moved from her lips to her navel and then touch her bare knee those nervous ticks gained something magnetic, sweat dangling in her black snaky locks, her face glowing, eyes bright, lips red, even the bubbles foaming between her teeth as she gurgled caught an attractive turn. Her knee, then her calves her ankles strappy heels, her airy white blouse, cleavage, I yelled at her, every word that wanted to spill out the day before, while I slapped a PR smile on my face and was making her feel like number one, blurted. I liked it today, it made me tingly today , I ached to touch her leg , I wanted to grovel, slobber all over her and rage spilled in all directions, she looked like she was just about to cry, her face: crumpled ashen, and again me, with my carnal urges the desire to just pin her to the floor. And then the phone call, like a death sentence: it’s your wife sir, “Thank you” I replied, “I’ll take it in” the door shut, her eyes gaped at me with the oddest admiration, large young watery eyes. She was touched not hurt, there was the utmost respect speckled with love, admiration. “You can get back to work now” I said as politely as I could, standing over my desk, my gaze lowered, officiously shifting papers, she watched me on the way out and before I knew it the entire office was buzzing about what a wonderful decent man I was. ”

TALK TO ME
Breakeven fire escape jingle jangle fear guns heart beat you.
“Hon, you didn’t shave!”
“Tell me something I don’t know”
“It’s a real bother; all that pit, would you mind getting rid of it?”
“Do you mind?”
“Yes I do, I think voicing my complaint should make that clear”
“I mean, do you mind getting out of there? I’m not really in the mood.”
“When ‘are’ you in the mood?”
“Not at 2 A.M in the morning. I’m not in the mood for this either. Night e night”
“No, I’m not sleeping on this”
“Shucks. Why do you have to be such an old hag sometimes?”
“Geez ‘I’m’ an old hag, that’s really something you know that?”
“Yes I do, now can I get some shut-eye?”
“We’ve got issues damn it, you can’t just sleep ‘em off”
“Correction “You’ve’ got issues. “I’ve” got simulated insomnia. And you simulate it. I’m sleeping on the couch. Don’t follow me!”


“Hi”
“I said ‘don’t’”
“I know what you said”
“I guess; “are you deaf or something?” is an unfitting retort. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Hon, don’t be like this.”

He gave her a gentile kiss on the cheek close to her eye, and then proceeded to give her a back rub.
… “Nobody likes an aggressor.”
“And I don’t like a nag. I said ‘no, I’m not in that mood” and that’s that.” she walks into the bedroom and turns around, slamming the door behind her.
“Why don’t we ever talk?” he droned contemplating the state of his back in the morning. It was already morning any way. Sometimes he thought about hooking up with a call-girl. Just like that. Fish-net stockings and a whole lot of orangy-red lipstick. The smell of that and this, Warmth… gusto , what a profession, girls trained to turn you on and flip, eat off you ,maybe, he would like being eaten off, acting?
He couldn’t take that frigid old, hairy dormouse. Always ‘minding her business’. Just something. A tinge of jealousy? A little anger if not passion. Come on, the girl couldn’t give a damn about him. He ruffled his already ruffled tresses, hmm hair. Then he took himself out for a stroll, just him and… him.
After a warm ‘nice to se you buddy’ ‘it’s been a long time’ ‘don’t forget your quote’ and humming a happy ‘out for a walk’ tune. He considered just listening for the breeze, as animals howled and chirped.

“Hey old man” a neighbor grunted, she was out for a smoke , his wife yelling behind him , about setting the house on fire and ‘that’ filthy stench, then a little about his ugly good-for-nothing posterior , she used the word ‘arse’ , he would’ve personally favored ‘bum’. But what the heck difference does it make.
“Good times” he finally responded
“The best I’ve had in my life” chucked the newly discovered neighbor.
“Me too, never felt better”
“Hey old chum, a joke’s a joke… did she throw you out? Women!”
“Boy, you’re soon to judge, um no I do all the chucking and hurling in my darling abode.”
“How’s about a smoke?”
“How about something interesting, instead”
“Does my old man, have a proposition?”
“Where did your daddy come from? I’m just about your age, and must you remind me?”
“To answer the first question, my daddy’s from Wisconsin, and the other thing, I must.”
“Let’s go out tonight, just us guys??”
"Sounds pretty good."
"But what?"
"Huh?"
"What's holding you back"
"Obligation , responsibilty, apologising to the wife. My old lady??"
"All that can wait."
"I guess"
"Do you want to go anywhere in particular?"
"The icecream den"
"Where's that?"
"I don't know in some articial igloo somewhere"
"Right"
"How about you , any brighht ideas"
"I'll just walk and leave a trail of bread crumbs behind me , follow my nose back home when I'm ready"
"So we're going to see a wicked old witch"
"Who lives in an ice cream igloo , hmm ... no we'll fly off to neverland , chat with the birds and bees. Fight some pirates andrealise we're old too. Maybe we'll whoop old Pete's ass"
"A good ol' spanking is what that child- forever needs."
"Peter principle. To hit the apex of your potential"
"Bull"
"We can dream can't we?"
"So what do you think she'll do?"
"How do you mean?"
"How serious is it? divorve?as in war, separtion?as in a battle, or just a little fight? a skirmish to be forgotten."
"I don't know yet , it's upto her. How's she acts next time I see her."
"Hmm"
"yeah"