Like sand.

Holding on to me is probably not in your best interest.

It’s not that I’ll let you down.
It’s just that, I’m probably too fast for you.

It’s not that I’ll leave you behind.
It’s just that, you might end up feeling that I have.

It’s not that you will start holding me down.
It’s just that, you will probably start hoping that you can somehow.

But it never works that way.
It never has. I don’t know if it will.

So, my floor is occupied with a million broken hearts.

And I feel like I’ve written this before, or at least something similar.

You probably find it similar too.

Something crazy must always happen. I’m here to entertain you.

But please don’t fall for it, no matter how bad I want you to.

There’s a thin faded line in between what you want, and what you think you want.

I’m here, only to give you what you really want. Not what you think you want.

But please don’t end up thinking that you can probably hold it in your hands for too long – think of it as sand.

Think of me as sand.

And maybe you’ll be ok.

See, the problem with me getting everything I want is, it ends up fucking things up that other people want.

Me getting what I want, probably means you won’t get what you want. Not for much long, anyway.

I’m not trying to brag. Not trying to be cold hearted.

I don’t want to be misunderstood.

The beauty of this illusion is. You might end up believing I have everything I want.

Maybe I do.

But I probably don’t.

Do I?

Magnets.

“It’s not your fault. You are who you are. And girls fall for it. I’m just glad I’m not magnetic material anymore.”

Something crazy must always happen.

So, I was chasing Belal, on Broad street in the middle of the concrete jungle. At 3AM in the morning.

And he kept getting faster and faster.

So I kept getting faster, and faster.

And being stoned, it was the best thing in the world.

It almost felt like the wind was carrying us, and the rest of the world was just a blur.

All the cabs, the freaked out people that got scared when we ran in between them.

And I yelled ‘incoming’ really loud while passing by them.

Adrenaline rush.

Something crazy must always happen.

Expandable.

So, I wake up, at 1 PM. With my head still spinning, and me remembering my lost cell

That's right. I also lost my credit card, the day before that. And then my cell phone yesterday. I just don't know where it went.

But surprisingly, it's all right. Was just a cell phone.

I feel like I'm disconnected from the world at the moment. Not completely, but right now, I can. I have an excuse, to. I have the option to.

So, I took another hit, and decided to go downstairs for a cigarette.

Standing on Chestnut, looking around at all the tall buildings, and the light blue sky - with puffy clouds.

This man came up to me, with eyes half open, and asked me if he could bum a cigarette off of me.

I reached in my pockets, for the pack of cigarettes, but stopped when my fingers reached it.

I looked down at the cigarette in my hand, and back up at him, to say;

"Aah, this is the only cigarette I have, man, sorry, I bummed this off of my room-mate upstairs ..."

And he quickly started telling me how it's ok, and thanks anyway.

When he walked off, I let go off the pack in my pocket and wondered to myself why I did that. I never ever have.

I was standing at the same exact spot around 3 days ago, when a homeless man sitting across the cigarette yelled to me for a cigarette. I actually reached in my pocket without thinking, crossed the street, walked to where he was sitting on the floor, and handed him the cigarette.

As I walked back, the smile that suddenly appeared on his face was still roaming around in my head. Cocky, and impressed at the same time. It was absurd.

But I said no to a man today, without even thinking about it. And I don't know why I did it.

But then I started looking around at all the people and realized how I must look like crap. I did, after all, get out of the couch I was sleeping on, put on a hoodie, take another hit, and just walk out in the city with flip flops and my pack of cigarettes. My hair was probably the messiest ever, and I probably looked like hammered crap.

But I didn't give a shit.

And being it northeast america, no one on the street gave a shit either.

And I liked it. I like not giving a shit.

Life is precious.

I have everything I want.

I lost my credit card, and my cell phone - but it doesn't matter. Tangible things can all be replaced.

All of them.

The Ace of Spades.

The power of the human mind can not be described.

And I realize that.

So, I’m laying in bed, shuffling this deck of cards. Concentrating on the ace of spades, trusting myself to pull it out in random, out of the 52 cards in my hands.

I don’t think I will, I don’t believe in luck, fate, or chance. I know, that I’m going to pull out the ace of spades, just because I’m thinking of doing it. Without looking at what card I’m pulling out.

I wanted to pull out a random card, out of the 52, without looking at them.

Random card. Could be any card, out of the 52, right?

But I wanted an ace of spades, so bad. And there’s only one ace of spades, in the 52.

Probability, 1 to 52, right?

But the power of the human mind – it can not be described.

After enough thinking, and throwing out ‘probability, and chance’ out of my thoughts, I pull out a random card.

Guess what card it was.

It was the ace of spades. I shit you not.

…am I or the others crazy?

“Yeh, dil, yeh pagal dil mera,
kyun bujh gaya? Aawaragi.”

Those who’re supposed to get it, will.

If you aren’t, you won’t.

Words are wonderful that way.

So, I feel like writing again, after a long time.

Because it’s ironic, and sad, but I can only write when I’m either;

a) In a drugged state of mind
b) Depressed/melancholic/sad/angsty/angry

I’m option b, right now, unfortunately. Or fortunately. For you entertainment hungry people, who love packaged depression, all tied up with a pretty ribbon and what not. You do, don’t even deny it.

I don’t have any moral values, so I’m not going to judge you.

I do too, sometimes. But I’m the producer and marketing manager, so the store policy declines me any employee benefits. You, however, get discounts and shit. This blog is one of them. This post is your fucking holiday sale.

Maybe I'm just one person. Maybe I'm so many people in one. Maybe that's why I'm so lost and why I'm so hard to find. When you don't know who or what you're looking for, the search is only tougher.

And therefore, I need to either self destruct into a million different pieces.

Or find myself before that happens. It’s probably right around the corner though, so don’t get your hopes up too high.

Or actually, if you really love pretty little packages of gloom, with a red fucking ribbon, Christmas comes early for you. I guess.

Karma is a bitch, but only if you believe in it. Because if you don’t, you’re probably completely oblivious to it, and therefore you don’t see it happening. And the human mind, being so fucking moronic, needs to see shit hit the fan, to realize that shit has hit the fan.

Shit has hit the fan. See it or not.

What the eyes see, the mind believes.

Stupid, stupid.. stupid.

When you don’t know what you want, you end up fucking shit up for other people.

When you do know what you want, shit ends up getting fucked for you.

When you want what you want, depending on whether or not you fucked shit up or not – it can go either way.

It’s a game of chance. But is it really?

I feel like my head is about to explode, sometimes.

Sometimes I wonder if there’s really any point in bothering.

Sometimes I think there isn’t.

Then sometimes I think there is, and my head almost explodes.

Other times I’m too stoned to give a shit.

But when I’m not, I’m trying really hard to keep my head from exploding.

But if it did, would it really matter?

If I’m so fucking brilliant, I need to go insane.

It’s only poetic justice.

That Australian what’s-his-face in ‘a Beautiful mind’ went insane. Ended up getting an award at the end of the movie, or some shit. Just had to go crazy to get it, though.

Who would’ve watched the movie if he didn’t? Not me, not you. Maybe the shitheads that would’ve gone ahead and created a movie, where he doesn’t go insane.

“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?”

Albert Einstein said that.

I hope I go crazy soon, this purgatory in between isn’t much fun.

I’d rather go to hell, then dwell in nothingness, wondering where I’m going to end up.

But hey – how can hell exist? How do you and I exist? How did we manage to get this far? And why? And for what?

To end up a cog, in a system that’s failed.

But then again, you can’t blame the system either. It was designed by you and I. And you and I are flawed, to begin with.

If God created us, why didn’t he create us to be perfect?

Or did he decide to get creative, and experiment? That would make sense.

“Oh, let me fuck this kid that’s about to be born’s life by not giving him any sight. It’ll be hilarious.”

“Oh, this other kid that’s about to be born – I’ma give him cancer by the time he turns 5. And maybe I’ll go get make popcorn while I’m at it.”

“Aids. Hmm, haven’t done that to anyone in a bit. How about that two year old ..” *gives 2 year old Aids*

Nothing happens without God’s consent, right?

And that right there is God’s consent?

Right.

Something I tweeted got RT-d around three times, so I’ma repeat it. Recreate history, or some shit.

“The only thing more confusing than a woman, is two women.”

And it’s true. I’d rather bake brain cells. But then again, I’d pick that over anything and everything. Even life itself.

I’m hoping for 2012.

And for a zombie apocalypse at the same time.

We need to stir shit up a little, and then chuck it at the fan.

So it hits the fan, but it’s different somehow. On a larger scale somehow.

All this little shit isn’t doing it for me anymore.

But then again, life isn’t either. At all.

“I wish we could run, to the sun …”

“No, I don’t want to get burnt.”

“Then we’ll go at night …”

I hope you know, I’d hand the skies to you.

Or push them into your hands, and you can let me die underneath it when it’s yours.

Apparently, that’s how things work.

We will create God. And then make God destroy us.

And then blame God, but not ourselves.

We’re all just human though. So let shit hitting the fan slide, just once more.

Just once more.

Random Post Title Name Thing.

So much has happened in the past few days, I can't possibly contemplate even trying to describe it.

But I wonder. Why is life so easy? Put my finger on anything, and it happens. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but something tells me I should aim even higher.

Life is beautiful that way.

I’m out of words and wouldn’t know how to continue.

The City where I never sleep.

My life is at it’s craziest right now. And I love it.

I just got home after a crazy ass weekend in the city.

This song can sum up my life right now:

Thanks to Belal.

And Windows Live Writer is by far the best desktop application for writing blog posts. Go get it if you haven’t already checked it out.

Remembering.

Today was probably the last day I can spend my freedom.

So I lived today, like no tomorrow.

Just care free, and let it all go up in smoke.

I have a shitload of projects to be doing, so after tonight’s little party, I might not party again for a whole week.

In fact, I know I won’t. I’m not going to.

That’s why I went crazy today. And I mean Crazy wit a capital C. Wow.

Anyway, I’m buzzed out but everyone else is asleep and I’m wide awake with my train of thoughts.

It’s like, crazy. Wow. The stuff gets me riled up instead of putting me down. I’m like a powerhouse of energy or something. Wow.

Anyway.

The day started by me getting 12 people to play True Combat: Elite with me and Morpheus. I call him Morpheus. I don’t remember his real name. He’s really cool though. He said he would play if I could get around 6 or 7 people to play. I got 12 to.

Kicked butt throughout, too. Was amazing.

And then I had a mini party with all these people. Was awesome. Cant’ go in detail. I’m tired, and I’m sipping on Dr. Pepper. It’s the best fucking thing in the world.

Remember. No Tomorrow.

Let’s see if I remember this when I wake up.

Alive.

“Is something wrong,” she said.

“Oh, of course there is.”

“You’re still alive,” she said.

“Oh, and do I deserve to be? Is that the question? And if so. If so, who answers?

I’m still alive.”

- Alive, Pearl Jam.

Figuring out Danish.

I just love how some people can confine themselves to only one kind of music and still call themselves music lovers and what not.

It takes either courage, or sheer stupidity, to do that. Just listen to a particular genre and say you appreciate music.

God, this conversation with you, has been like a blog post. I don't really talk like Deepak Chopra or Socrates in real life.

Something someone recently said to me that made me smile and wonder. And even inflate my already inflated self esteem, of course, that’s why it made me smile in the first place.

“Are girls constantly flinging themselves at you?”

Oh, if only, love.

If only people knew what was good for them.

If they did, they would probably stay away from Danish Arif though.

You figure out which one.

No longer about whether you have an addiction or not.

It’s about what that addiction is to.

The city is so pretty to look at, at the dead middle of the night.

I don’t mean, at like, a poncy corny late, like 12 am. No, I’m talking about 4 in the fucking morning.

When everyone is snuck up in bed.

Alone, clutching the pillow or the blanket, while they dream and don’t remember them after waking up.

Or, with their significant other. Maybe even hand in hand, if they haven’t been sleeping together for long.

Or maybe close together, head on arms.

Or if they have been together for a while now, probably facing in their own directions. Put themselves to sleep wondering what to do next. What else is left to look for?

And they make that list in their head before falling asleep and having multiple dreams. But not remembering any when they wake up.

I remember looking down at the street, in Karachi.

And now I’m doing it in an apartment in center city, Philadelphia.

I make myself smile with my heart.

I’m your addiction, aren’t I? We’re all addicted to one thing or another, even if we don’t admit it.

The internet maybe.

Daily cup of tea maybe. Caffeine.

Chocolates maybe.

Watching the news maybe.

Having the same dull routine every fucking day maybe. The comfort and convenience involved in that. And in human life in general. Or what we’ve made of it. Ourselves.

I try to stop, I try to do the best I could.

Make me smile, with your heart, for a change.

Cream.

Remember those moonlit nights?

Stargazing and nothing else.

With no other care in the world, just the wind blowing really slow.

Oddly comforting.

You realizing how alive you are.

How alive and beautiful everything else is.

The stars in the sky, the darkness around them, and the moonlight. So clear and beautiful, like nothing else.

And the leaves, fresh and damp. After it has stopped raining. But it’s still humid.

And everything is beautiful. The night is beautiful.

And you have a beautiful mind. So you let it wander. And it days, off to your world of dreams. The one you’ve created yourself. When you play God inside your head, because it’s so much more safer that way. And secure. And comfortable.

Like love is. Comfortable. Makes you feel content.

Like you’re safe. Like you’re sniffing tissues that smell like vicks vaporub.

My funny valentine …

You, make me smile – with my heart.

Like the moon is smiling at you when you’re not looking at it.

Like life is a beautiful mess you want to create. By falling for it, and falling in it’s many games. Probably the one you love the most. Probably the best game there is.

So you let your mind wander off, to think about your lover.

Or lovers.

What if one person, is not just that. What if a million people lived in one? Maybe that’s what you’re looking for.

Are you?

Because everyone is ONE. But you’re looking for someone that isn’t. You’re looking for more than One itself.

Because you’re looking for God. Not THE God, though, of course. We’re all looking for something. Everyone always is.

Cream by Wu Tang Clan is one of the best rap songs in the world. With one of the best beats in the history of music.

But no one really gets all this. No one understands.

Specially if this wasn’t a blog, and a person, this wouldn’t have ever worked.

It never really does. Minds work better for people when they keep them closed. And so this is shut out. Would have been shut out. If this wasn’t a blog, and was a person.

 

“But as the world turns I learned life is Hell
Living in the world, no different from a cell
Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase, sellin base
Smokin bones in the staircase
Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess
I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed
But I'm still depressed, and I ask what's it worth?
Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth
Who explained working hard may help you maintain
to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain
We got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks
and stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
Leave it up to me while I be living proof
To kick the truth to the young black youth
But shorty's running wild, smokin sess, drinkin beer
And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear
Neglected for now, but yo, it gots to be accepted
That what? That life is hected”

Cash rules everything around me.

CREAM. Get the money. Dollar, dollar, bill ya’ll.

- Wu Tang Clan. Cream.

In Search Of… am I high?

 

Me and Yousef are sitting on this couch in his apartment, after a visit from Puff the Magic Dragon.

He told me to download the whole N.E.R.D album, In Search Of … and it’s on my playlist, but not playing. So I ask him if the song is trippy or not, and he says.

“Oh, it’s kinda trippy, but not as much as you would think.”

And he goes back into drifting, when I feel like giving it a shot and play it.

I lean back and we both start listening to the song. Then after 5 seconds into the song, we look at each other and say.

“Ok, woah, that IS trippy.”

I don’t know why I felt like putting that up, but it was hilarious at the time.

-yawn-

So, I ended up crashing at Belal and Yousef's last night, which I'm still trying to comprehend.

They live right in the middle of the fucking city. Right next to center city. And waking up and going downstairs for a cigarette doesn't seem that odd in that light then, does it?

Watching all these people scatter around, with their lattes', iphones, blackberries, and what nots', in their expensive suits and stuff. Aah, people running after the American dream.

It's depressing, but still a sight to behold.

With all the tall skyscrapers, the thin straight roads that cars ultimately get stuck on. Mostly because SEPTA - the public transportation system, is on strike. And it's messing up things for people that don't even use it.

And suddenly I don't see why I'm writing this blog post. I'm just going to go ahead and publish.

I am going crazy.

Me and Belal got on the elevator to get to his and Yousef's apartment. So we're standing inside the elevator, with two cartons of tastycake, one 10 pieces chicken nuggets, one frosty, and we have to get to floor nine.

But I end up pressing every button on the lift from 8 to 1.

So, we sit down on the floor and I tell him we should play a game.

Leatherface, with a chainsaw, is on one of the floors that the elevator is going to stop on, and we don't know which one. And we have to get out ourselves, on the right floor, above Leatherface, or as far as possible from him so we can escape and get to the apartment. But if we get on the wrong floor, or stay in the elevator, while it stops on the Leatherface floor, we're going to get chopped up.

And so we're sitting on the floor of the elevator, freaking out as it stops on every floor.

Then we just start talking about all kinds of crazy stuff, not realizing that we're still on the floor and that the elevator is stopping on each.

Until we get to the ninth floor, and decide to get to the apartment already.