Worth it.

Sometime, somehow… yet at a definite place, this post became the continuation of it’s predecessor.  The conditions from my crumpled piece of paper below just evolved in something worthy above.

You know the euphoria that one elates to being post-flirtatiously-focused by a half-a-decade old crush at a party. Yeap! I am still in that moment. It’s textually indescribable, desirably writeable and highly scriptable.

I’ve discovered that being crumpled is not that bad. Some crushes are actually worth their weight in money. After all, one has to be crushed first to unwind, unravel and eventually re-bloom.

1. 6. 7.

I was your confection.

A whole piece of pie. A juicy pastry. Deliciously content. Stoic & static. Stagnant & secure. Neatly tucked and afloat in my paper-boat. Your guilt-lush sugar rush. Set-atop a beautifully inedible pedestal, unknowingly awaiting your indelible digestion.

I got bought. I got eaten. Turned inside out. Fingered. Pieced & pierced. Beaten. Ravaged & raped while being praised. Such taste. Such divinity. Surprising serendipity. The silence of your moving tongue, engulfed in your grinding ivory family. Tossed. Turned. Saliva-burnt. Devoured darkly. Drowned in the abyss of your chest. Proudly.

Microscopic mountains of ego are what’s left of me now. Crumbled & crumpled on your table. Trapped inside my origami Titanic. Forever secured relic of insecurities. Are you satisfied now?

Ironically, my remains are still recyclable. I’ll still survive. With a bitter after-taste, I too, shall pass.

This shell too, shall thrive.

1.5.7

Diamond in the Rough

Heaving a heritage spanning hundreds of years, Bahawalpur is dusty jewel embedded in the heart of Pakistan. Surprsingly approachable via air, it’s a beautiful destination very easily overlooked by both locals and foreign tourists. A definite must-see!

I’m not going to rant about the beauty of this place as they pictures say more than my meagre and unworthy thousand words. I do have to say that after a long time I actually felt like a tourist. You know, the feeling when you turn around to see a vista that takes your breath away… that’s tourism! The moment they ignited The Fire Palace with electricity . The sensational sea of dyed rainbows in the Chunri Bazaar. The last step before I saw the Masjid Al-Sadiq peeking through its marble arch like a squatting behemoth. The vision of a galaxy of colours i.e. Truck Art rolling behind you on the open road.

All that and more… is Bahawalpur. Beautiful Bahawalpur.

It’s one of those posts, I haven’t written since last summer. One of those “Drunk on Love” post.s Somehow, this weekend automatically became dedicated to the Great British. First hearing Erasure’s new single (see below), seeing all those beautiful sights of London in the video, followed by meeting up with Londoner to reminisce with and then just browsing through thousands of my photos from England. Take London! I got so much love from that city that even a slight glance of Covent Garden makes me giddy with emotion. Each and every nook and cranny of the Underground has memories cramped in it. All the love from friends I have waiting for me make my eyes well and chest swell. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. Definitely the love of my life.

It’s a love I will never look back upon. Rather, it’s a love that I will always look forward to.

Great British Love.

Child like love.

Yes. I know I work in advertising. It’s lovely. I get to spend millions and millions of bucks on celebrities, production values and foreign-shoots. It makes me feel good. Sad thing is that most of the time, it makes my viewers feel nothing. Then something like this comes along. Erasure’s new video for I Could Fall In Love With You.

A perfect example of a low-budget yet high-impact message. Mostly, we spend most on production values (and/or ourselves) and loose focus from human-values all together. Suddenly to forget that human-emotion costs nothing.

It costs nothing to make someone emote.
Like a child.

Beautiful song.

Tom knows how to make one.

Instead of going the regular route of releasing press statements informing both fashion victims and vultures about his return to the international fashionscape, Tom Ford (who I love & endorse), has just released a series of photographs saying it all. Ties, shoes, stitching, tailoring and bespoke. What else can you make out from this very intelligent announcement campaign.

If one photograph is worth a thousand words, Tom’s worth a million.

Just call me SUPER!

Speaking of Superheroes… Howard, my lovely-lovely-super-love from London sent me this card yesterday with Supermodel Kate Moss on the cover and Superhero me inside.

Who needs superheroes when you’ve got friends like these!

Hide your underwear!

It amazes me how people get traumatised at the slightest push of a sex/gender button. Pakistan, being a fairly homogenous society, hardly has any protruding pushable race-buttons. Hence most scandals resort to the gender-bender debate.

The mention of the word “aroused” makes the local-ladies go aflutter. Which is a little weird because they are the ones sleeveless-see-through in a male dominated society. Then what to say about the gendermen… sorry gentlemen, who can’t even say the word “gay” but proudly wear their names around their groins. So basically, you can do, say, hear and wear anything as long as no-one’s looking. The truth will disappear from right under you nose, as long as you close your eyes.

Yes. We live in an hide-your-underwear society. No wonder we lack supermen and superwomen. Because we can’t bear to wear it over everything else.

My apologies for the angst-ridden post. I think it’s because of all that Nine Inch Nails. Frankly, some readers might find this offensive because in their minds; this post hit, well… below the waist!

Skeletons.

Office gossip & family politics got me thinking. Sometimes indulging in self-importance (or self-preservation!), we guard our secrets so tightly as if they are keys to our social demise. Skeleton keys to our grave secrets perhaps. Is it because we have so little to hold on to in our living lives. Or is it because our anorexic relationships can’t bond us anymore. Secrets are the new social glue. They keep us interested, gossiping and guessing. Where would be without word of mouth. Probably in a social grave, no?

Apparently, everyone has a bone to pick with everyone else. Unfortunately we don’t know what’s in our own closet.

Grave secrets or just plain graves?

The funny thing about working for a cellular service is that the desk-phone never rings.

It’s quite quiet.

The day itself is littered with various snippets of songs though. Like those romantic comedies where musical clips heighten the sense of their reality; so is our cellular office. Boss’s insults invigorated via Linkin Park ringtones. Soft flirtations aided by All Saints. Monday blues by Michael Buble.

Here, like everywhere, ringtones are the new soundtrack to your life.