A few of the best Rap and Hip Hop Beats/Instrumentals.

Yes, I’m taking this approach to blogging. Why? Because I can. It’s a part of my universe that isn’t highlighted as often as I’d like to. The part that revolves around music. It’s most of my world, in that context. Funny I don’t write about it as often. But I should start. And so I am.

Even if a person doesn’t listen to rap and hip hop, you can rest assured they realize that rap and hip hop is close to, if not already dead. With outlandish things like auto-tune and Lil Wayne, I should probably think twice before I call it rap and hip hop music anymore.

But there used to be a time, where music wasn’t completely pointless and not about having sex with ‘bitches’ and having a large bank account. Not that I’m going to talk about rap music in great detail, but only a few very good songs with very good music in the background. And the lyrics will be meaningful too every now and then. In no particular order, this list, so don’t think I’m evaluating anything.

High Til’ I Die – Tupac Shakur
Apart from singing about killing people and living a tough life – Tupac also wrote songs about drugs. And this one is probably my favorite. Off of the Sunset Park OST – high til’ I die is a good song to be blazing to. Or just sitting back and listening to.  Tupac’s lyrics are top notch, and the music does more than compliment them. It’s also the life of the song.

 

C.R.E.A.M. (cash rules everything around me) – Wu Tang Clan
Anyone that knew me, also probably knew after reading the title of this post, that this song was going to be making the list. I love this beat so much, I can actually play it on a piano and guitar both.

One of the best beats I’ve ever heard, The RZA borrows this from “As Long As I’ve Got You” by The Charmels. The Charmels couldn’t have

predicted that the piano intro to their song would go on to spawn a rap song, but it did. In fact, the type of music in both songs is so different, it’s hard to imagine either contributing to create the other.

Also worth listening to is the instrumental to the Wu Tang song, by El Michels Affair.

 

The Wu Tang Clan ain’t nuttin ta fuck wit. I couldn’t resist, sorry.

Flashing Lights – Kanye West
It’s not an old song, Kanye West is probably not the best rapper, and the genre’ is debatable too. But one thing is for certain – the fact that the beat Kanye managed to come up with is both very catchy, and very beautiful. Off of his album ‘Graduation’ – his lyrics and music both seemed to have evolved, which is a very good thing indeed. This song also provides us with something to miss, after 808 and Heartbreak.

 

We Got More – Shock G. ft. Luniz

I’m not quite sure what this song is about, but I am fairly certain it involves smoking marijuana. And therefore, I will listen to it. Another thing that helps a great deal is the beat. I’m sure if you’re an appreciator of good music and blazing, you will come to love this song as much as I do.

 

 The Breakdown – People Under The Stairs
I couldn’t find a youtube video with The Breakdown by People Under The Stairs, so I’m putting up just the audio. And I underwent all the extra effort, because this list would definitely be incomplete if I didn’t put this song in here. One of the best beats I’ve ever heard, this is a very underrated song that has actually helped me go to sleep a lot of times. A must hear, if you’re a fan of good music.

Whenimondamic - Lootpack
Mellow, soothing to the ears, and beautiful, is what this song is. They don’t make rap like this anymore, and you

should appreciate getting to hear this song. As with the Shock G song above, I’m certainly lost most of the time – when it comes to the lyrics. Some of it just plain and simply doesn’t make much sense – but it doesn’t matter. With a beat so well developed, I couldn’t care less. Although, I more than certainly get what the following line means:
“But if wild child dies, before wild child wakes, I pray to God to step down and take down all them fake MCs. Pretty please.”

Why You Wanna – T.I. / Favorite Drug – Styles P

This song has been my ringtone for the longest time now, and has a whopping 101 plays on my iTunes. That’s much more than any other song I have.  A sample of a slowed down keyboard chord from Crystal Water’s “Gypsy Woman”, it was used not only by T.I. for this song – but also rapper Styles P for “Favorite Drug.” Each rapper has tweaked the beat to their own

liking, and I can’t decide which one is better. Even though I probably prefer T.I.s’ version, it’s undeniable that the song is all about … having sex with a particular female and getting her to break up with her current boyfriend(?)

T.I. is one of the best rappers I’ve heard, and is definitely good with lyrics. It’s the fact that he raps about things like … having sex with females and getting them to break up with their boyfriend … that leaves the mind to ask for more meaningful things. But I’m not complaining with a beat so good.

 

Still Dre – Dr. Dre ft. Snoop Dogg

The first time I paid attention to this song was while being really high. It played on a friend’s phone, and I recognized the beat, but it was the first time I actually listened to it and paid attention. I was hooked right away, and first thing I did when I got home was to get the song.

This list would be incomplete if this song wasn’t mentioned, and you’ve probably heard it too. A classic, and a very good song to blaze to.

Game Over (Go Big Or Go Home Boy) – Doomtree
I recently ventured and looked around for good independent and non-mainstream rap songs, only because of how much better they are, due to the fact that artists creating these wonders are not aiming to get on the radio. Or even if they are, they’re not aiming for the sheeple that listen to the crap the radio plays today. And it’s a very good thing. One listen to Doomtree’s ‘Game Over’ and you’ll agree.

 

All Eyez On Me – Tupac / Street Dreams – Nas
Another instrumental that was used by two rappers, and that too, two of the

most well known rappers in the business. Need I say more?

One of Tupac’s best songs, in my opinion anyway. Tupac and Nas both made apparent changes to the beat, and it’s arguable which one I like better. They’re both really good, and that’s why they’re both here.

Hero – Nas ft. Keri Hilson
It’s ridiculous how good this beat is. So good that I learned how to play it on the piano, and also how to recreate it using Fruity Loops.

Also note how subtle Keri Hilson’s role in the song is, yet it would be missed if it wasn’t there.

A very underrated 2008 song, you shouldn’t not listen to this if you like rap music.

Superman, The Real Slim Shady, White America, Guilty Conscience – Eminem
I’m putting Eminem in this list, just for the sake of having Eminem on this list. Truth. It would be too hard on my conscience if I made a list concerning rap and hip hop and didn’t somehow squeeze Eminem in. Not that he doesn’t have any bad beats, in fact – each song I listed above, and many more, are very well written and produced. Eminem is a lyrical genius, Dr. Dre is a beast when it comes to music production, and the two work so brilliantly well, that whatever Eminem has to spit – Dre can masterfully weave music around it. Take his songs about hating on his promiscuous exs’ and then a song about murdering people and holding up a convenience store for proof.

I could go on with a lot more songs, and I’m probably missing/forgetting a few. These ten/twelve tracks should be sufficient to keep you going for now, though. Look forward to more lists, reviews, and what nots’ in the future. =]

Censorship and Art.

"Let's agree to disagree."

Censorship in Art was the topic of discussion in my Art 101 (also known as Visual Communications) class, on Wednesday and Friday.

First, let me tell you what I think of the class. A bunch of people that have no clue what they're talking about - with the opportunity to sound like stuck up pretentious yuppies - that can put two and two together, when they look at a painting. Or 'work of art' as my teacher likes to call it.

But similar to other things, I have an issue with that too. First of all, how in God's name do we know that the painter, photographer, or simply 'artist', whose 'work of art' we are shredding to pieces really did pour down his or her emotions/feelings, rather than just splatter paint on the canvas. Really.

Second of all, we're supposed to be learning how to interpret the stuff. Issue a) that I mentioned above comes into play again. Issue b) is, we can get close, but can we really 'interpret' what the 'artist' was trying to portray? Probably not, because half of the 'artists' we talk about are dead.

Anyway. Censorship is retarded. That's what I think about censorship. Why, you ask?

First, if it's political censorship - then that's just it. That's the reason. The truth deserves ... no, it needs to be out there, even if it's not political censorship. And if it is, then yeah, everyone needs to know what's really going on.

Second, if it's censorship due to a racial or religious issue - which it usually is - then seriously. What is censorship going to do?

There is a picture called "Piss Christ," and "Yo Momma's Last Supper" - both of which were censored. But the respective artists still gained notoriety and fame. Do you know why? Probably just because, they were censored, because really - the 'work of art' weren't, actually. Works of art, I mean.

You say to someone; "Did you see that new controversial painting?! No one should ever see it! It's disgusting!"

And the someone you are talking to, first thing they do is - go home and google it.

Do you see what I'm talking about? The only way racism, and other things that offend people, will completely go away - is if people stop making such a fucking deal out of them, and just completely let it go. Try not to get riled up about things. And even if you do, just stop paying attention and move on. That's the only way things that really offend you will go away. And I said that in class, too. To which most people tried to disagree and share their feelings and thoughts. Then I made a come back with logic, and somehow they got what I was saying - and decided to shut up.

Then - there was the other thing that pissed me off.

The pictures "Piss Christ" and "Yo Momma's Last Supper" pissed people off, and they thought that the censorship of those pictures was appropriate. Then they were shown the bombing of this huge Buddha sand statue in Afghanistan. The Taliban in Afghanistan thought it was a part of western culture, that they didn't want in their country anymore and so they blew it up.

And after seeing that in class, people muttered things like, "Oh, that's just stupid," and "why would they do that?"

Because they fucking could, that's why, geniuses.

But here's what's grinding my gears about that. Why was that not ok, if the censorship of 'Piss Christ' was? No matter what the reason for censorship, it's still censorship at the end of the day, right? How can people not get that? If you like to believe and claim that everyone has their rights, then how can you take that away from them by censoring their work? You fucking can't and shouldn't.

But as always, people are too stupid to figure that out. It's sad, but true. And that's why we're all always offended and crying.

It's not much a matter of growing up, as it is just getting a little smarter. Wait, maybe those things are actually just one.

See what I did there? Yup.

Superman

I don't wanna flip when I see you with guys,
Too much pride,
Between you and I,
Not a jealous man, but females lie,
But I guess that's just what sluts do,
How could it ever be just us two?
Never loved you enough to trust you,
We just met and I just fucked you.
But I do know one thing though,
Bitches they come they go,
Saturday through Sunday, Monday,
Monday through Sunday, yo'.

Nevermore.

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

- The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe.

How about you,

Talk to the hand, 'cuz the face ain't listening.

Thank you, come again.

How does it feel? =]

Knowing that I held you in the palm of my hands, while you thought it was the other way around?

Or that, I could make your world come crashing down as so. Play God with your life.

I bet it sucks. I heard you cried your eyes out and everything.

But why didn't you expect it? Can't you see that you deserved it?

I'm a man that does what I feel is right, and only God can judge me.

It's just a pity for you, that I have the power to fuck shit up for you - when you want to do what you want to do.

But hey, it was only because I wasn't too happy.

And you wouldn't like me when I'm not happy. I don't turn into a big green monster, but even the Hulk couldn't have fucked as much shit up as I probably have, don't you agree?

Aah, I love myself. And my uncanny ability to be so brilliantly deceptive. So sly, so guile. Change colors, be two-faced, all that. Because sometimes? You just have to be. I bet you agree.

It's just a pity for you, that I'm much better at what you thought you were doing.

But hey. You should've expected it. Because I'm not like everyone else out there. I thought you realized that.

And if you didn't, well, you definitely do now. =]

Hope your valentine's day was wonderful, because mine was spectacular.

I made shit hit the fan. Stirred things a little.

And you know how you kept saying "fuck my life," and I kept asking you not to, because you don't have a reason to? Now you do. You can say fuck my life all you want now, isn't that great?

It's good to be constantly throwing my middle finger up in the air.

I would like to dedicate this song to you too. Juttni by Billy X.

Is you happy?

I woke up with my head still groggy, and heavy. It took me a while to recollect last night, and not even all of it – just tid bits that I think were important.

I covered up my eyes from the vile sunshine pouring in through the windows, that burnt in my eye, causing adrenalin to be produced when my body clearly didn’t want it. It only gave me more of a headache.

I tried getting out of bed, and spotted my pack of cigarettes – so I lit one. And then sat down to think about last night again.

I faintly remember going around and telling everyone how awesome they are. And also how short life is. And how they shouldn’t be sad, no matter what. Even random strangers I met later, when I stepped outside to smoke. And everyone seemed to agree. It was weird how everyone was so much more nicer.

Tylenol, I hear, helps during times like these. Maybe I’ll give it a shot. –groan- .. I don’t even want to hear the word shot, for another week.

It can’t rain forever.

Try not to get depressed by the following, I’m not. I’ve accepted things for what they are, and am just trying to make sense.

I don’t see the point anymore.

In anything.

In living, in relationships, in life as a whole.

I think I’m about ready for it to just end. Sooner than later preferably. Maybe a zombie apocalypse, or just 2012.

I think I’m too tired to go on, I really am. With people, their judgment. With everything. With people being too stupid. With life being too much of a drama for no reason.

With everything.

I really wish it would all just end. Nothingness.

Maybe that’s why I’m so numb. I’m halfway there. Halfway dead already. I’m just waiting for my soul to completely leave my body. Go nowhere, just disappear.

Seriously.

I’m tired of this migraine headache being constantly there, in the corner of my head. Tired of being so pissed off at everyone and everything all the time. Tired of wanting to hurt people. Tired of doing it.

Tired of trying to punish as many people as I can. Tired of wanting to make people suffer.

Tired of suffering. Feeling the pain.

It doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m completely numb, anyway. I don’t feel human emotions or feelings. It’s wonderful, but sad.

It’s so sad, it’s funny. Laugh with me.

…

slowly but surely the drapery will fall

and we'll all be trapped under it until we suffocate and die

lol .. im probably not in the best mood to be bloggin right now, but here's to

everything I predicted already .. the ending up dying alone? it's going to happen one day

like with van gogh .. kurt cobain .. you know what im talking about.

but it seems like im going insane

because i feel no guilt, or remorse .. its like i have no feelings or emotions .. it's insane ..

it's like being so numb that I can't feel anything .. I think I'm really going crazy ..

as in turning into a lunatic .. the veil of sanity is slipping off faster than you'd think it could ..

lol., it's amazing I can still sound poetic being like this

but it's true .. i need serious help . . maybe this is my cry out to the world

or myself when im back on my feet .. that i need some serious being saved you know?

yeah .. before i go completely insane .. you know?

Build your cages, burn your bridges.

You’ve made me hate everything, and everyone in sight. Made me see what people are really like. On the deep down inside. How we want to just use people and end up doing it too, voluntarily – but mostly involuntarily. How mankind is doomed, and how everything you think is real isn’t. How people don’t really care about you – and how you should step over people before they step over you.

How a lot of things we assume exist or want to believe in, really don’t. Like a neverland, and a heaven or hell. Any of those things …

You’ve made me what I am today. The narcissistic, sadistic, egotistic, sexist – cynically depressed agnostic. You’ve played a very large role in creating me. You’re the person that probably could be held accountable for who and what I am today.

You’re the reason I ever really knew depression. Angst. Hate. Pain. Fear. Agony.

And the reason I still know what it feels like. And can still feel it, even though it was so long ago.

And we can burn down all old bridges, to create new ones.

But can we really?

How does it feel to be talked about so much in The Catcher in the Rye?

How can you be so stupid? How can you have your eyes shut so tight?

Why can’t you wake up and see the world for what it really is? Why do you have to believe that ignorance is bliss?

Why do you think everything is just as it seems? Why can’t your brain comprehend other possibilities?

Why can’t your thoughts wander? Why are you so afraid of question and standing against the current for a change?

Of breaking away, and developing a school of thought that is different, maybe? And unlike the thought process of the rest of the sheeple?

Why must you indulge in drama and emotions created and developed over time due to our lack of intelligence or knowledge?

There are so many other things to worry about. So much more.

The truth you’ve decided to just nod your head in unison with, your truth, has fallen apart. It’s collapsed in a heap of bullshit that it consisted of, and is scattered all over the floor. Everywhere. Like 12 inches of shit that just fell from the skies, it’s covering everything your eyes can see.

And so you believe it, because you either – 
     ~  Are too afraid to think for yourself/any other way.
     ~  Are too stupid to think for yourself/any other way.

But it’s ok, really. Congratulations, in fact, because you’re just like everyone else.

With your literal interpretations of Shakespeare, and your false theories and faux wisdom concerning life, art, and everything else.

Worrying about things that do not matter at all. Because you want to worry. Fighting your wars for nothing at all, because you want to have wars.

Take a minute right now. Think about all the things you’ve worried about or wasted brain cells on in the near past.
Does any of that matter? Does any of that really matter? Is it something you really want, or is it just an illusion that makes you think that you do?

Your sheep like behavior. The waking up, going to work/school, coming back home, getting good grades, keeping people happy. Do you really want to do it, or are you just being forced to?

Would you rather speak your mind and not do the same shit over and over every day, or be what you are right now?

A cog in the fucking system, just churning and keeping it all up and running.

With your constant need to be surrounded with drama and things going wrong. With your constant will to survive, but not knowing how to. With your constant need to be comforted by flesh and bone, and the need to have a finger to hold while you walk around aimlessly. Little did you know, that finger you’re holding on to is just as lost as you are. Or is leading you down a very dark tunnel, and not for your benefit either.

Sleeping awake, like you are right now. Ignorance is bliss, so you’re glad and you’re happy.

Congratulations world. You are a phony. And you don’t even know it.

All I’d do all day is be the Catcher in the Rye.

The world is so full of phonies.

Everyone. Each and every one of these people I’m sitting in class with.

Talking about Art. That’s what this class is about. It’s called Vocal Communications, but the professor just told us it’s about “Talking about and understanding art.”

But isn’t art subjective?

There’s a toilet seat, sitting in the Philadelphia Art Museum.

And it’s pretty much a big fuck You to modern art. The artist who came up with the idea is sheer genius.

Such phonies. Making comments on the damn picture.

The artist who drew this isn’t in the fucking room with us. How the fuck do we know what he was trying to portray?

Martyrdom, says the professor. But isn’t the only difference between suicide and martyrdom the press coverage?

All I want to do right now is walk out of this room and walk away.

From all of these phonies, from all these stupid interpretations.

All of this that doesn’t matter. Such a miniscule detail in this world so fucked.

Aeden doesn’t like it.

Aeden is trying, but Aeden can’t be a fake.

Can’t be phony.

All I want to do is be the Catcher in The Rye.

La seule chose que je veux etre, c’est L’attrape Coeur.

That’s all I’d do all day, be the Catcher in The Rye.

To every Holden Caulfield around the world.

And to never being phony.

(RIP J.D. Salinger. January 1, 1919 – January 27, 2010)

Houdini

I think people have started to wonder where I’ve disappeared off to.

But why wouldn’t I? My tales of melancholy, and depression aren’t entertaining enough anymore. I’ve lost comments and followers faster than I lose other things. And I lose things really fast. Sometimes I think I’m working on losing them. But that’s not the point.

I have nothing else to write about, really. I can’t publish fiction after fiction, just to please the masses. There’s this thin faded line in my life, that separates the fiction from the non-fiction, and sometimes I can’t tell the difference either.

And I can’t just write about being happiness. Not when I see no ultimate point in anything at all. Anything at all. Life, college, socializing, and public relations. Anything…

And it’s not my fault, really. I just don’t care anymore. About anything at all, really. I mean, I’m trying to, I really am … it’s not that I’ve just given up … but I don’t know what else to do.

But here’s how you can help; stop expecting shit. Seriously. From me. I’m as far from perfect as the sky is from the ground. I can’t please and entertain all the time. I know my life could be chronicled as a trilogy of books that would outsell Twilight, but seriously.

Something crazy must always happen. Shit must always hit the fan. Well, I’ve done that for a very long time, and I want to keep on the low for just a little while. It’s not that things have slowed down – it’s just that I’m not writing about it anymore. Because apparently it’s getting too dull. Not for me though, I still have my hands full.

It’s also that I can’t write about everything on the internet. Just won’t be a good idea. For me, of course. All of you would just love all of it. I’m pretty sure. Because it’s nothing short of a soap opera, my life, really.

But as the world turns I learned life is hell
Living in the world no different from a cell

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…

- C.R.E.A.M. (Cash Rules Everything Around Me)
Inspector Deck, Wu Tang Clan

But it just doesn’t work that way. I wish it did, but as I said earlier – the knowing is driving me insane. and I don’t have the advantage of stupidity.

But I guess you don’t want to read about that anymore, because I’ve already said it so many times – over and over. And over.

So, just wait for a miracle to take place, then. Maybe I’ll witness enlightenment and find joy in life or something. Yeah. Then I can write about rainbows and sunlight and other happy things.

Yeah.

Myself to think about.

What is this obsession I have with loneliness?

It's the only thing I seem to attract the most.

All the fake faces. Acquaintances. Friends. And with nothing to show or feel comfortable next to at the end of the day. Except the cold hard exterior of myself, with an internal void so deep ... a thought process so shallow ...

At the end of the day, with nothing or no one to turn to.

I must do this to myself. There is no other explanation.

And then I get labeled lucky. Do you see why I have a problem with that term? Luck?

The grass is always greener on the other side to you fucking sheeple. Always.

You are forced to label things, it's just how our petty minds work. Right? To make things convenient for ourselves, it's just another step we have to take. Absolutely have to.

Does it ever really occur to you, why things are how they are?

Do you ever try thinking about it? Or thinking at all, for that matter?

About what or how other people feel, maybe. What goes on in their mind?

Maybe, if you weren't so fucking busy crying over your own story.

Well, guess what. Everyone's got a story to tell, and I'm tired of lending my ears and shoulders.

Think of the mistakes of others as your own for a change, and you'll realize how fucking terrible you all really are.

As far as I'm concerned - you can go fuck yourself.

And THEN I'll be lucky. When I really, REALLY, have just myself to worry about.

Aeden Durante’s Inferno

[La Commedia di Aiden]

"My name is Aiden. That’s all the personal information I’m going to share. Even if the rest of my story seems even more personal then my name, you won’t know for certain who I am. Or how my mind works. You can try, though. I know I have, it just never seems to work. Figure myself out, I mean. I can’t do it. Maybe you can.

Let me tell you a bit more about myself. Make things just a little more easier for you.

I realized at a very young age, how stupid everyone can be. And even though I realize stupidity and intelligence are subjective to judge or classify people by, I still hold the deep thought, that everyone could’ve been smarter. Maybe it’s just the fact, that everyone has their eyes so tightly closed. That they can’t see things for what or how they really are.

I’m void of most human emotions. I don’t necessarily feel sorry for people. Don’t most of the time, in fact. I try to, but it never seems to work. I’m narcissistic. I love myself. I have a huge ego. I don’t care much about what other people think, or about other people at all, really. I don’t care about much, in general, in fact.

I don’t think there are innocent people. I don’t think there are guilty people. I just think there are people that do things people like, and then things people don’t like. And if you’re caught with the bad end of the stick, then it probably is your fault somehow. If you really have to blame someone, I believe it should be divided equally at the middle, for everyone.

I don’t think I have it in me to love people. Or fall in love. I don’t generally believe in the whole idea or concept, really. I believe people are stupid for believing the text book definition of love. It’s things like shakespeare plays which make fools out of us.

I truly believe that the only thing that really makes me happy, is a lot of money. And spending a lot of money. Not just on myself, though. Just in general. Spending money on other people makes me happy too. Not as much as spending it on myself does, but you get the idea, right? I’m not very stingy with money. I don’t mind passing it along, if I have enough to keep myself happy.

But sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have enough to keep me happy. See, human beings don’t like being happy it seems. I solely believe that too. I believe we want wars, and to be depressed and sad. It makes much more sense.

I see people’s weaknesses clearly as soon as I meet them. I can read people inside out. Know how they feel about things. Deduce their habits, their way of thinking. Figure out what I can do to offend them. Figure out what I can do to be on their best side. Figure out what I can do, to manipulate them. It’s very easy, really. Minutes after meeting you, I’ll know exactly what it is you’re looking for in the world. And then I can pretend to give it to you … so you can give me what I want.

I believe no matter how much a person has, there is always something missing. And you give someone that, and you’re basically holding them in the palm of your hand. No matter who the person is. Everyone wants something.

But the problem is , I don’t know what I want. I’ve tried figuring it out. But I really can’t tell. Because I don’t think it’s ever possible for anyone to be completely happy or content. So maybe I’ve given up on trying.

All I know is.. I’ve consumed a lot of pain and suffering for things that were both my fault, and weren’t my fault. And now I feel it ok to pass it on. Share the hurt. Inflict the pain so you can see it too.

For what doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger.

And I think you should appreciate me trying to make you stronger."

How far from the past.

I asked my mom where all my old books were, and she told me. So I decided to go take a look after all this while … after too long, really …

All my books from my childhood … most of them belonged to my dad. And most of them, probably too inappropriate for a child to be reading. But them being the only books I could get my hands on at that age, I didn’t let that stop me.

All the books I furiously went through during my growing up … as if I was looking for something specific, but keeping everything I was coming across with me, just in case. And it’s all stuck, even if you can’t see it. But it’s all I consist of.

Books whose pages will fall apart in a few more years. But I really hope they don’t. They smell like … they smell like years and years of knowledge. Information. Tales of human suffering, love, triumph, revenge, happiness … and my childhood, of course. All of it.

The pages have turned several shades of brown, and the dust sticks to your fingertips. I sat there, smiling. And I don’t know why I was smiling, but I was. I just sat there staring at them for a while. Then running my fingers through all of them … and as many pages as I could. And then flipping through the pages, and sniffing the insides. –sigh-

I remember reading this detective novel about a murder. The Screaming Virgin, it was called, I think. Because it started with a naked female standing on a rooftop, screaming.  I think I was 13 or 14 when I read it. Yeah.

All my old encyclopedias. Colorful books, with drawings I did inside. Ruined them, pretty much. But read them while ruining them, so it kinda worked out. Cooking books I used to stare inside as a child. I used to stare into any book you hand me. For hours and hours. Because they were the only things I really owned when I was little.

I would lay on the floor and stare inside a book, every other day. Sometimes the same one, over and over again.

Now my mind is occupied with things that don’t matter as much. A part of growing up to nothingness I guess. We all do it, don’t we?

I’m diagnosed with ADHD by the way. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. In case you don’t already know. You probably do.

Add that to the list.

I’m going to go insane, I can see it now. I just hope it takes some time.

I have started tumbling. I guess, that’s what it should be called? Here’s my Tumblr.

Sitting down with all my old books in my hands, I felt like the Danish I seem to have lost somewhere down the road.

You know, the optimist that thought the world was a happy place. Where you should be all right as long as you treat everyone all right.

Yeah, the Danish who had his eyes closed just like all the sheeple of the world. Like what I did there? I’m going to do it more often, just a heads up. Sheep, People, Sheeple.

Life was comfortable, with my eyes closed. I didn’t fear going insane. I didn’t have this burden in my hand. I didn’t have much to think about.

The knowing is driving me insane. Holding me down, being my burden. Making me lose sleep, all the thinking.

I saw American Psycho a few hours ago. Patrick Bateman reminded me of myself so much. You should see the movie, if you haven’t already.

I’m deviating. Going to blame it on ADHD. And, uh, have nothing else to say, really. I wanted to blog so bad but I just couldn’t get myself to. Then it just happened. This just happened. I’m glad.

I’m glad you’re reading this, too. Thank you. You’re pretty much one of the reason I do all this. The other reason is me, myself. For the sake of sanity. Or maintaining whatever I have left of it.

~ Much love. Danish Arif.

Why the fuck can’t we smoke in the bar?

xt says, today I found out my friend Ali is gay. And that Danish is the biggest jerkoff in the world. While Saad and Sarmad are also gay, they like staying in the closet until the right moment comes.

Ali says, I’m so proud to be mentioned in Danish’s blog. And xt’s blog sucks big time… http://saad.tblog.com

Sarmad says, Danish is the biggest hypocrite I’ve met. I’m playing Call of Duty. (xt adds for sam – and these guys are drilling my ass.)

Saad says, I have nothing to say.

Danish says, disregard everything everyone said.

Cloths of Heaven

Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

- William Butler Yeats

This is why I don't ever get sleep.

Most of the time, when I say something and people decide to argue or raise a question - the sole reason I never reply or answer back is because, the answer is so ridiculously easy to figure out, and the whole argument therefore is so idiotic, that I don't feel like wasting any time even contemplating and then writing down an answer. So I just stop thinking about it in the next second or two. Literally.

But, as I toss and turn in bed, I suddenly started thinking about Luck again, and a few questions ArfawLuv decided to raise. And so, I'm going to answer them. Yawn.

Arfa Said:

If you're not lucky, explain how you got all that you do?

The luxuries of life, latest gadgets and whatnot, how would you say you have them?

Easy.

As pie.

The luxuries of life, latest gadgets and 'what not', how would I say I have them? See my dad, right, worked his ass off most of his life to make money. That money in return, buys me the luxuries of life, the latest gadgets, and what not. Everything else that you see? Me studying in Philadelphia? Yes, my dad funds it, but you can't just get into a college sitting on your ass, and a lot of money in your bank account. In fact, I didn't have any of that a year or two ago. See, to get into college, you actually have to pull off a few feats yourself. And even bigger feats than that, to get an american visa.

Now, you might argue - that it was my dad that worked the most for all the things I have today. But if you look closely enough, you'll realize, my dad wouldn't do all that for me if I wasn't doing what he wanted me to do either. It's a two way road, and I keep my parents happy so that my parents keep me happy.

As materialistic, and cold hearted as that might sound, trust me - it's not, it's just how human kind basically works.

I know a lot of rich ass parents that treat their kids like crap. But it's ok, because their kids treat them like crap too.

And how I will be treated by my kids (if I ever choose to have them - the chances are bleak though) depends on how I treat my parents.

My parents are happy. I'm happy. End of discussion.

Why must we insist on creating false, imaginary, intangible forces and completely ignore the ones that exist? Even if it's involuntary, I'm not forgiving, even if it's due to stupidity.

All stupidity maybe naive stupidity, but you're not off the hook for being naive.

Seriously.

Mankind, stop creating things just so life becomes convenient. Plz. Kthx. You have your iPhones. And weather forecast. You can order pizza from the couch. Is that not convenient enough? Do we really have to create things like Luck?

Oh, so if it happens your way, you did it on your own. But if it doesn't, then it just wasn't meant to be, right? You got unlucky, yeah, of course.

Everyone needs to see the movie Idiocracy. Or maybe just Wall-E if that's easier to understand. And convenient to get a hold of.

You see those fat humans connected to pods and what not? Yes, that is us. The near future. Except, there won't really be any robots or advancement in technology. No. That's the only part that won't come true.

Karma.

And a little of what I forgot to mention in my comment earlier: The law of attraction. As cliche' as that sounds, your world is how you create it in your head.

Life is like a balancing act. I have everything because I'm managing not to fall off.

Which brings me to another thing I was thinking of. The point of life, of course.

But I'm not going to put it up because of something my Dad said.

Something about people being stupid.

Oh, wait, did I? Yes, I just did. Why, Pardon me.

Nothing much at all.

dibelleva 5:52 am
what've you been up to?
Dquicksilvera 5:52 am
just ... yeah ... apart from thinking a lot, nothing much at all

It’s so easy. Life here. I love it, I really do.

With nothing to worry about. The other day, I was stressing about my laptop being unresponsive. And I realized how I’ve stopped worrying about such minor things … and that, if I am thinking about them now – it could only mean I don’t have bigger things to worry about.

But soon after, all that went out the window, and I had one of the most messed up days ever.

How messed up? Nicotine deprivation and a lot of anger. I remember gritting my teeth so hard, it gave me a headache.

I just saw Idiocracy though. It’s basically, about these two people that ‘hibernate’ in 2005, and wake up in 2055 to find that people have turned idiotic.

So yeah, it’s pretty much what I see the future as. Which is why I loved it.

I have a few more days left in Riyadh, it’s back to the shit hole then. –sigh- … I wouldn’t be lying if I said I don’t feel like going back, life is too easy here … too comfortable … you can’t blame me for enjoying it.

I didn’t know the new Sherlock Holmes movie was directed by Guy Ritchie. Which means I can’t miss it. Guy Ritchie is effing genius.

In the near future, I’m going to try and see the following movies:

Waking Life, Collateral, Vanilla Sky, The Machinist, eXistenZ, The Game, Cypher and Being John Malkovich.

On a side note, you know life isn’t perfect when – you starve yourself, just so you don’t crave cigarettes like you usually do after you eat.

Definitely not perfect.

Apathy, The Knowing, and Confusion.

I leave you with the rest of the conversation.

Dquicksilvera 6:23 am
I don't know how I've survived in philly for a year
being as cynical as I am, and not giving much of a crap about anything
being self destructive and what not
I don't think it's a good idea to be that way anymore ..
dibelleva 6:25 am
imo, neither do i
Dquicksilvera 6:25 am
but I can't help it
I need to find a motive to be alive soon
dibelleva 6:26 am
to spread ur evilness
Dquicksilvera 6:26 am
too many people already doing that
dibelleva 6:26 am
billions of people have lived, you may have to give up on originality lol
Dquicksilvera 6:27 am
See, that's so unoriginal too
dibelleva 6:27 am
just to prove my point
lol
Dquicksilvera 6:28 am
>_>

The (m)asses.

I need a few more miracles, to make myself believe that I can make it happen again.

Just like I did before.

But I seem to be running out of it, and I have this feeling that things are going to come crashing down.

Maybe it’s just me, though.

I’ve brushed past things a lot worse. And survived.

But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to do it all over again. No I wouldn’t.

No, I don’t want to.

Yes, I get bored easily. But I hate running around like I do.

I think it’s hilarious, how you would think I’ve had things handed to me, and that it’s all been a joy ride.

One of the reason I get ticked off when people talk about ‘luck’, or call me ‘lucky.’

I don’t believe in things mankind’s thought up to make life convenient. And luck is one of those things.

So please. Keep your shit to yourself. If you like thinking, that I have what I have today due to luck – just so you can feel better about yourself, do it in your head. Don’t talk to me about it.

Luck, fate, destiny. I think people are stupid for believing in things that don’t exist.

Basically, let me break it down.

Fuck you, for thinking things come easily to me and that I’m ‘’lucky.’’

And fuck you, for judging me too.

And fuck you, for being so fucking stupid, yet thinking – that what you, or the masses (the asses) think is correct, IS correct.

Guess what? If you think like the masses? You’re most probably one of the asses.

An ass of the dumb variety, perhaps.

Have you seen me?

It’s kinda sad how I always turn to blogger or twitter when I’m stressed out or depressed.

Something about people always missing at the right time.

Always.

withdrawal

I wish I knew any better. I wish I thought about the consequences. I wish I carried out actions after thinking about the outcomes.

But I don’t. Fortunately, or unfortunately.

But you drive me up the wall, so well. It can’t be helped.

So, pissed, off. It’s, insane.

Maybe it’s the withdrawal. Maybe it’s just me.

Changes

Why send out subtle hints, and subliminal messages? And encode everything you really want to say, in between other words. And go around in circle. And waste time.

And not go all out. With everything.

Why do you insist on playing mind games? Not that I mind. But it's getting tiring. And I'm tired of running around in circles, I really am.

Because that's all I've been doing for so long, and I could use some slowing down, or walking without getting lost. That's all walking around in circles has done for me.

I get lost, but I try finding my way. It never works, because you insist we do this. Each and every time - it happens too often.

Just meant to be isn't it. Because everything happens for a reason, right? And only good things always happen.

But they don't. And if they do, explain what good is. Because if this is good, I'd much rather accept bad. Because it's all a riddle, good and bad.

-sigh- ... Life used to be much easier. With tall green fields of grass, and windmills complimenting the blowing wind. Dandelions, and puffy white clouds, against a light blue sky. With things making sense, with people being what I wanted them to be in my head.

Everything has changed. Absolutely nothing's changed.

All pleasure, no business.

It's all pleasure, no business. If that will calm most people's nerves.

I don't really even give a wooden nickel about the issue at hand, most of the times. It's just for the sake of a petty argument between humans. The thought just tempts me so much, I love poking a few people - and then stepping back to watch them go. It's hilarious.

The more controversial it is, the more it acts like a catalyst for the whole thing to blow up sky high. Ya'll should try it some day. Works like a charm, each and every time.

It’s a different high.

Nicotine Withdrawal.

I shit you not.

So jaded – my idea of what I want and how I shouldn’t want it. Only because I’ll end up getting it. So, instead of feeling guilty after getting it, I feel guilty for even wanting it. Because wanting for me – is ultimately getting.

Not that it’s ok, or a good thing – just saying.

Bite my nails because of how crazy it’s all gotten.

I’m liking not having things to run to.

Being back home, it’s all so peaceful, so calm, so easy …

I had almost forgotten how nice this all was. The comforts of home, and what not.

I wish it could stay this way.

Mine to keep.

The next time you’re pissed off, ask yourself. Who are you pissed off at?

I could’ve asked you the same, but I didn’t. I could’ve told you what I thought of You, too, but I didn’t. Because you proved yourself a hypocrite trying to prove me one. And it was a wonderful and joyous sight.

But I can’t blame you, now, can I. It wasn’t your fault.

Of course not. All the fault, and the blame – all mine to keep.

Figments of my imagination.

“I like that quote,” she said, pointing to a James Dean poster.

And I told her how I love, that people love such cliche’ things. And that mankind is pretty much doomed, if people need posters that say such cliche’ things, to feel better about life.

She said she’s ‘’high on life.” I couldn’t help but disagree.

I said, really? No you’re not. And if are, then it must be a really depressing high.

Life used to be much easier before I started figuring things out.

The happy have the advantage of stupidity.
It’s the knowing that’s driving me insane.

Knowing how predictable, selfish, and …

No … I need to stir things up a little. The shit needs to hit the fan.

This is no more fun. Something insane must always happen.

Life shouldn’t be this easy. I need mental trauma.

And all your drama.

And everything needs to go wrong.

And everyone needs to stab each other in the back.

And our backs should hurt our knives.

Otherwise, we don’t have anything to go on for.

We need more wars. And more natural disasters.

Otherwise, life is just a stroll in the park.

I’m not a pessimist. I’m not narcissistic. And I’m not sexist. I’m just realistic.

“That’s a smart way of saying, you’re a little pessimistic, a little narcissistic, and a little sexist – but it’s fine,” she said.

And if only she was real. Then maybe all of this would’ve been easier.

If only I was real, maybe yours would be too.

We’re all figments of our own imaginations. Because the world is what you turn it into.

Too bad none of it is real.

Leaving God’s house.

It’s 5 in the morning and I just woke up from a weird dream.

I dreamt that I was in a small church, out of nowhere. And not a church, but a small room that was made into a church.

I remember seeing someone wearing a black beanie/hat thing. I think it might’ve been me.

So, after realizing where I was, the house of God, or whatever, I think to myself; “This can’t be right, I’m at the wrong place,” and start to leave.

But this old man, although I don’t remember seeing him in the dream, stops me and says something similar to; “You really shouldn’t leave.”

That’s when I woke up. Trippy, huh?

51 and The Ace of Spades.

Shuffling a deck of cards, a card aimlessly plopped out from the middle of the deck, and fell face up.

It didn’t surprise or scare me though, it was the Ace of Spades.

I picked it up and pushed it back in the middle of the deck.

At the end of the day, the cards all belong in the same deck. Somewhere in the middle, most of them.

Someday I’ll put the Ace of Spades up on a wall somewhere, for the world to come and see.

But not right now. Right now, the rest of the deck needs the Ace of Spades.

If you say so, love.

I’ve spoken about being self sabotaging, a lot.

Also, of being careless, and irresponsible.

I let everyone know just how guile I am. Just how two faced, and reckless.

A proper dosage, really.

I say it out loud, I try expressing it to the best I can.

Like sand. I’ve written it about it numerous times. So that it won’t go away, and be there always.

About not knowing what I want, but wanting everything – so I can take my pick.

Agnostic. On the bench. About most things. Or everything, if you say so.

I’m getting predictable, say the masses. And why wouldn’t I, when you put your eyes on me and refuse to look the other way.

Why wouldn’t I, when I want just that?

It’s like leading this nation. This nation of people, this pool of humans. You, and everyone else I can manage to. But not to lead, but to learn something from. And I do, I really do.

It’s you, that has taught me everything I know. All of it. So I try giving it back somehow, to the best I can. But it never works in the favor of the messenger.

I try to prove, to the best I can, how messed up humans really are. How messed up the human mind really is.

But if only things worked that way, yeah?

But if only you were any different, yeah?

But if only I knew any better, yeah?

But if only I really was who you expect me to be, yeah?

If only you didn’t put me in a chair so high, that I couldn’t help but fall off of it… yeah?

And fall so deep each time, that I wouldn’t want to climb back up … yeah.

If only my mind was in the right place. And not all over the place.

If there wasn’t so much to learn from everything. From all of this.

If only you could keep me in your palm, I would love to have sat right there – and wouldn’t ever even contemplate moving.

Does that make you wonder if I will?

Why are you so predictable, world?

Why are you so cold, harsh, and similar to each other?

I have a feeling, my search will continue. And continue. And continue.

Forever perhaps.

Until the world is colder. Darker. Lonelier.

And until this ends.

Till death do us part, perhaps.

The only thing that set you apart. The others all left.

See the similarity yet? The predictability yet?

Things will happen if they’re meant to happen.

If you say so, love.

You know my name…

You may think you’ve won, but you never saw me change – the game that we, have been playing.

I’ve seen angels fall from blinding heights.

And you yourself are nothing so divine. Just next in line.

Arm yourself because no one else here will save you.

The odds will betray you,
And I will replace you.

The coldest blood, runs through my veins.

You know who you are, and you know my name.

Hello, me, meet the real me.

Took this quiz. The result is so accurate, it’s creepy.

Look at last two traits. That’s as accurate as it can get.

“Risk taker, easy going, outgoing, social, open, rule breaker, thrill seeker, life of the party, comfortable in unfamiliar situations, appreciates strangeness, disorganized, adventurous, talented at presentation, aggressive, attention seeking, experience junky, insensitive, adaptable, not easily offended, messy, carefree, dangerous, fearless, careless, emotionally stable, spontaneous, improviser, always joking, player, wild and crazy, dominant, acts without thinking, not into organized religion, pro-weed legalization.”

I would put up the whole thing, but it gets too detailed. And I wouldn’t want you just figuring me out like that, would I?

Sorry.

No apparent reason.

Nothing beats waking up in the morning, and not wanting to get out of bed.

Because you realize what you’re going to step into, once you step out of bed.

Asking yourself if there is a point. Hoping the night could’ve gone on for longer. Hoping the sun would’ve waited.

But it doesn’t. And it never will.

Nothing beats staring at yourself in the mirror after crawling out of bed.

With a cigarette in your hand, and the smoke over shadowing your reflection.

Fighting fire with fire. The one inside you, and the one between your fingers.

Nothing beats staring into your own eyes, and not liking what you see.

Like looking into yourself, and not finding what you’re really looking for.

For searching, but not knowing what it is you expect to find.

Floating in nothingness, and for no apparent reason.

No apparent reason.

Agony.

My poetic sweetheart and the truth.

dibelleva: you think you being depressed is only depressing to you?
dquicksilvera: well, about that…
dquicksilvera: it wouldn't depress other people if they didn't want to be
dibelleva: they probably don’t want to be happy without you
dquicksilvera: that was poetic
dibelleva: truth

All Apologies.

I tried.

I really did. I tried making you happy, and you told me it worked. I tried wiping all your tears away, and bidding your sorrows goodbye. And you told me it worked.

I tried giving you everything you asked for, and whenever you asked for it. And you told me it worked.

So then I asked you for what I wanted. And you told me it wouldn’t work.

So I went out and did everything I possibly could, and more. Things deemed impossible. So that it would work.

But you told me it still wouldn’t.

I didn’t give up. I don’t ever give up. But there’s a limit. I’m only going to do so much, before my attention diverts. Until I deviate.

Because you weren’t the only one asking for it. Even if you would really like to think you were. There are others. Perhaps more deserving, because they don’t ask for so much. And they give back in return.

I don’t want your selfishness anymore. I’m sorry. It may hurt to realize this, but it’s true. You don’t know what you are looking for yourself. You just made me run around in circles for no apparent reason at all. And I’m sorry. I’m not destined to walk around in circles to not get anywhere. My journey is a straight path to the top. To the skies. Not around in circles to nowhere.

No one can do it any better. No one at all. I’m the only person that could make all your dreams come true. It’s true, and deep down inside, you probably know it.

No one else dares think of the impossible. And I don’t believe in the impossible.

People look up to the sky, hoping to count all the stars. I look up to the sky, hoping to one day shine brighter than them. Because their number doesn’t daze me. And you knew that.

It’s unfortunate you decided not to do anything about it. And realize, that this isn’t my fault, or my doing. You should’ve known this would happen. Like sand. I tried explaining. You just wouldn’t listen. Or would shrug it off, thinking you could hold on to me forever. But you can’t. Nothing ever can, or will.

The only way I would ever stay, is if you made me want to. But you didn’t. You only wanted me to stay, because that’s what you wanted.

What about what I wanted?

I hope you have what you wanted. It sure seems that way.

And I hope you’re happy. And know that I’m alive.

You just proved me right once again. How selfish people are, it’s true.

And therefore, I live life by just one simple rule. Which could perhaps explain why I do what I do.

I’m never going to need anyone. Everyone else whoever, will always need me.

You know who you are. And you know my name.

- Quicksilver.

Sleepyhead.

Moving on down my street
I see people I won't ever meet

And I cannot remember
What life was like through photographs
Trying to recreate images life gives us from our past

I was walking down the street, in the middle of the city, at 4 in the morning. With music blaring straight into my head. And no one in sight. The wind blowing against my hair, and when it stopped – strands would fall either back to their position, or in a completely new one.

Intoxicated by miss Mary Jane and a few pints, I was free of care. Ataraxic. Free from worry. All thoughts were clear. They were all in the present.

Having that isolation, but still understanding ego and I. Having that vivid perspective and perception of self. Like a close up head shot, in a group of pictures. But the only one in color.

So your attention is all focused on it, instead of the bits and pieces. The universe. God.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about myself. About who I am as a person. About where my life is headed and why, and I’ve realized something that may be miniscule but still very important to realize.

I’m not doing this for myself. None of it is, really, if you look at the broad picture. And therefore, I do not care so much about it. I’m doing it for a cause that is not greater, or less than, but just different. And therefore responsibility has a different label and idea.

Life is abstract. It has no dimensions. Dimensions are vivid and surreal, but limiting. There is no limit.

It is vast. Like the sky. The sky is life. And I’m skydiving right now. And I don’t ever want to hit land.

You thought you might be a ghost.
You didn’t get to heaven but you made it close.

I like tapping my fingers really gently on the keyboard. I like the sound it makes.

Two really weird things just happened.

One of them is the following:

I’ve been getting calls from a ‘restricted’ number since the last two days. Someone calls, I don’t get to see what the number is, and after I pick up, they don’t say anything or hang up. And it’s been happening for 2 days. And almost non stop. 15 times in a row, at once. Someone obviously has a lot of time on their hands.

It just happened a while ago. And it’s almost 5 in the morning. I picked up, and no one said anything on the other side. So I hung up. I’m talking to Belal after that, when we hear his phone ring, and it’s a ‘restricted number’ too. But unfortunately, he doesn’t pick up.

Fortunately though, it rings again, and it’s a restricted number again. He picks up, and no one answers on the other side.

So yeah, I’m not freaking out. It would be stupid to. Because this isn’t a teenage, slasher movie. We don’t have a black friend here, we’re all brown skinned, how would the serial killer know what sequence to kill people in? And which one would he save? And our skin colors aren’t light enough for one of us to be the serial killer either. We’re not THAT crazy either.

Laugh out loud.

I’m going to stop trying to write, it’s probably not working as I would hope it does. –sigh …

… being intoxicated, I wonder – what’s it worth? But then again, what is anything?

“It’s so hard to find you. Even when you’re close.”

This is sweet.

View Full Album

 

<3

The one about time.

I’m sitting at the edge of my bed. My laptop in my lap, and face book live updates in front of my eyes.

I’m running my bony fingers through the length of my gravity defying anime hair. I can’t remember the last time I got my mum to do that for me, and I miss it.

Thinking about another 13 hour flight was making me cringe last night. But waking up today in the morning thinking about it – if it’s 13 hours just to go back home, it’s probably worth it.

I think I saw a couple of more dreams. I don’t remember them anymore. I rarely do.

Listening to Hush by Deep Purple.

I just felt like it’d been a while since I wrote. I don’t really know how long it’s been, my last blog post probably isn’t that old. My sense of time is pretty shaken.

And if not shaken, just so different than your sense of time.

Time being just an illusion, I think I’m going to start ignoring it completely. And if not completely, to the extent at least, that I don’t remember when certain events took place. Or how long ago. Or for how long. But it’s ok, the flow of time might just be subjective too.

It’s one of the many things the human mind controls, but we don’t realize it. Which is sad, really.

It’s been a year that I’ve been in Philadelphia. I can remember like yesterday.

I went to the subway near CCP after a really long time, yesterday. I remember going there when I first started going to CCP. I remember going through that solution-less loop, and being worried and tensed. I remember getting lost, on my way to CCP, like 6 times. I remember getting lost inside the CCP building itself.

I remember not knowing where things were, near the apartment. I remember having to use Google maps, and then writing directions down. I remember still getting lost.

I remember being all alone for a month. My first month here. Inside an apartment, with no internet, and no friends. With nothing.

The ability to control time, or at least the sense of it, and how we contemplate it, is wonderful.

What’s even more wonderful is realizing how far you’ve came within just a year. What’s even more wonderful is, realizing a year can be as long or as short as you want it to be.

What’s wonderful is also remembering the things you wouldn’t want to remember.

Like people telling you how certain things you dreamt of, would probably just stay that way. In your mind, in your imagination. Because some things are impossible. And you can’t always get what you want.

What’s wonderful, is knowing you proved people wrong.

I’m sitting at the edge of the bed, running my fingers through the skin of my face. Pushing against it, so it feels like rubber. But it doesn’t. Tiny shard-like hair brushes against my rough skin, and I can hear friction.

It’s wonderful how there is no limit, to what fascinates the human mind.

There is no limit.

Not to time, not to the human mind’s fascination.

The only thing that can limit us, is our stupidity. Our standards, and contemplation of the world so far – falls under that category.

Hush by Deep Purple has stopped playing for the fourth time. I should get up, shave, maybe shower. Get something to eat. Go downtown, try to sell my books. Indulge in a little lower level human activity, and let my mind rest for a bit. Let me rephrase. Try to rest my mind, for a little bit.

I’m getting late. Or am I?

So.

I have this sudden urge to write.

I was thinking of creating a blog, one that’s not public, and pouring out on that. I’ve been contemplating it subliminally for a while now, just never get to it or put much voluntary thought into it.

No matter how open and public I go with voicing my thoughts and everything, a part of me always insists – that it’s somewhat fake.

And that I can’t help it.

But I try. Sometimes I can’t even tell myself. It’s not easy when all your thoughts are jumbled up in such a manner, that you can’t really tell what you want or are feeling.

Being bipolar isn’t easy.

Like being bothered severely by something, and not being able to figure out what it is. Specially when you’re so good at figuring things out, and figuring out what other people want, need, or feel. It’s ironic that it’d be so hard to do it for yourself.

Poetic justice, maybe. It all falls on paper so much more beautifully. When there’s some ironic misfortune that entails it all.

It’s what you’d want to read, at the end of the day. Not just some happy bullshit.

Like how I get surprised feelings from people when I tell them I’m happy or love life. It confuses them.

Which is kind of sad, if you think about it. People tell me I’ve become predictable.

Yet it confuses some people when I’m actually happy for a change.

Then it confuses me, when I’m not happy anymore, out of nowhere, for no reason at all.

Life is confusing that way.

End of transmission.

The average man.

Sam brought this to my attention, and I feel that I couldn’t have said it any better.

Alan Moore, ladies and gents.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! You've read about it in the papers! Now witness, before your very eyes, that most rare and tragic of nature's mistakes! I give you: the average man. Physically unremarkable, it instead possesses a deformed set of values. Notice the hideously bloated sense of humanity's importance. Also note the club-footed social conscience and the withered optimism. It's certainly not for the squeamish, is it? Most repulsive of all, are its frail and useless notions of order and sanity. If too much weight is placed upon them... they snap. How does it live, I hear you ask? How does this poor pathetic specimen survive in today's harsh and irrational environment? I'm afraid the sad answer is, 'Not very well'. Faced with the inescapable fact that human existence is mad, random, and pointless, one in eight of them crack up and go stark slavering buggo! Who can blame them? In a world as psychotic as this... any other response would be crazy!"

~ The Joker’s monologue, from Batman: Killing Joke.

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.