moved

http://www.plainlyme.com

 

sorry :*

Grandpa’s cock

Grandpa taught him how to pray and how to suck cock.

He learned things pretty well pretty fast, and soon enough he was praying every day. He prayed to God not to let him suck Grandpa’s cock, but that didn’t work out well, and soon enough he got used to it — fell in love with it, actually — and started to look forward to being alone with Grandpa.

He was six at the time. Mommy and Daddy weren’t talking. Mommy took him and his two sisters and younger brother to stay at Grandpa’s. They stayed there until he was eight. They stayed at Grandpa’s, where he was taught about God, the Prophets, the Twelve Imams, the usurping Sunnis, the rotten Christians and Jews, as well as how to suck cock.

Shortly after he turned eight, Mom and Dad were okay again and they went to live back with Dad. But he was in love with Grandpa’s cock. In love with Grandpa’s rough hand touching his cheeks as his eager lips embraced grandpa’s hard penis. So he spent every weekend there. At Grandpa’s, where it was just him, Grandpa, the housemaid, and Grandma in a room outside the house.

Grandma couldn’t walk or talk; she had a stroke, and for as long as he remembers she was always in pain. Grandma only moaned all the time and sometimes screamed in the middle of the night. Grandpa would get furious and call her a “whore” and wish that she dies.

So anyway, he spent his weekends there, learning how to be a good Muslim and how to suck cock and kiss Grandpa’s old mouth back, with its bad teeth and the rotten taste of age, without shuddering.

At sixteen, he no longer sucked Grandpa’s cock, because Grandpa was dying of cancer. He still spent weekends there at Grandpa’s house, helping him move about with two plastic bags of warm piss attached to his old body because he could not urinate. And he spent his summer vacation at the hospital with Grandpa, where he stayed up all night reading Quran, sitting on a chair by the old man’s head until he died.

He promised that he will always pray and always be good to his parents. He’s still good to his parents. He doesn’t know otherwise. He no longer prays though, but still sucks cock.

Many the Miles

So this is Sou’s scary tag. It’s quite interesting. Most of the songs I haven’t really listened to, yet. I usually download albums on torrents and don’t have the time to listen to them. So yeah … tag yourselves, people!

Here are the rules:

1. Put your iTunes/music player on “Shuffle”.
2. For each question, press the “Next” button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT! After you’ve answered all of the questions, tag 5 other people and then let them know they’ve been tagged to do them themselves.

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
Eat Yourself, Goldfrapp (I … haven’t listened to the song. I’m sure it isn’t rude though.)

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Money, Money, Money, Mamma Mia soundtrack (oh, yeah..)

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
No Good Deed, Wicked Soundtrack (I have no idea what that  means)

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Contact High, Scissor Sisters (that’s not very accurate …)

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
I Shall Be Released, Beth Rowley

6. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Sentimental Heart, She & Him (that’s a lie!!)

7. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Out of This World, The Dreamers (another lie)

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
The Moth, Aimee Mann (aha)

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
He Used to be a Lovely Boy, Keane (very lovely)

10. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
It Was You, Sharleen Spiteri

11. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Battleships, Travis

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Milk, Garbage (now that’s what I call dirty)

13. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Real Bad News, Aimee Mann (fucking bitch-ass shuffle!)

14. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
She Has No Time, Keane

15. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Both Hands, Ani DiFranco

16. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Looking for Nothing, Aimee Mann

17. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Hands Clean, Alanis Morissette (yes, people. i love soap bars)

18. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
AntiqueHighHeelRedDollShoes, Rasputina (lie lie lie!)

19. WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
Many the Miles, Sarah Bareilles

20. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOURSELF?
King of the Jailhouse, Aimee Mann

Sleeping soundly

If you know me well enough you’d know that I semi-worship the Dresden Dolls and their disturbing delicious lyrical poetic pious music. Yes, I’m kissing ass.

Amanda Palmer, the leading vocalist, is going solo! Her debut Who Killed Amanda Palmer? will be released next September. I want to get it!!!!!

She posted some videos of the songs that will be featured in the album on her blog. Here are my favorite two so far. Enjoy!

Ampersand

Runs in the family

I work with monsters

So we got this photo. And then everyone started talking about it. Out IT guy is the one that usually receives pictures that reporters send to the direct phone line where we usually get photos of such things — we get them everyday: fires, car accidents, suicide attempts, drugs and liquor, etc … there always has to be something.

So today the IT guy starts talking about the guy in the picture very casually. “Today we’ve got an awesome one!” he said to my colleague and I as we were passing by his desk to get  to the chocolate cake that was on the  table at the end of the office .. (don’t ask, we always have food to share in the office, and yes it’s an insignificant detail but kaifi, i had bad chocolate cake, now get over it) So we’re passing by there … and then he goes, “The man got himself free plastic surgery!”

A man was fixing a flat tire. And was hit by a truck. His face disappeared. It is gone. Take a look at his face. I can see a  trace of a mouth. I’m not sure of it’s (it was) actually his mouth. But yeah … that’s a man who is now dead (I think? I don’t want to know!) and he’s dead, and we get to publish a very very short and brief news story about him. And my colleagues get to talk about his mutilated face as if it were a joke. A circus. Anywho … Brace yourself and take a look…

You know you could do better

I’m having difficulty deciding what I want to do. No matter what time I sleep, I wake up shortly after five in the morning. It sucks.

I lie in bed for over one whole our trying to decide whether I should get up or whether I should sleep some more, and the latter is very hard to achieve! Sleep used to come to me so easily. All I had to do was lie in bed and think of something nice and sweet, and off I’ll go, deep into sleep.

Now this seems to be impossible. And what sucks is I don’t know if I should talk about it. I feel like I want to fast forward everything in my life and see where I will be, not in the cliche ten years but maybe in  two or just one year. 

I’m constantly disappointed in people, friends and family and colleagues and everyone, it’s annoying how I keep setting high expectations, ie keep disappointing myself more and more.

I lost my ability to wriite anything. I don’t know if I should be working at the newspaper anymore. I blame it on things that happened at work, at how people come and leave every other month and how they don’t know how to criticize a stupid piece of writing. But I shouldn’t blame it on that. I always took my writing as something personal, why does it have to effected by this shit?

Every morning I wake up and promise myself that this will be my new beginning, that from now on I’ll forget all the crap i’ve done and start anew, and every morning I get disappointed.

While I was helping my colleague do the gossip page in the newspaper …

I came across this valuable piece of information ….

Jack Black used to put Coco Pops up his butt.
The ‘Kung Fu Panda’ star – who recently became a father for the second time – admits he found unique ways to entertain himself when he was a child, and found the chocolate-flavored cereal highly amusing. He said: “I also put Coco Pops in my butt. Why? For comedy and experiment. I was a scientist and I discovered you could put a lot of them up your butt.”
Jack, 38, recently revealed he is desperate to lose weight so he can star in more nude scenes. He said: “When I saw my rear end in my nude scene in ‘Margot at the Wedding’, it actually had a double chin. I’ve joined a gym because the next time you see me naked I’ll be trim.” Jack also said he wanted to slim down because he was getting worried about his health. He added: “I want to feel good too. Now if I eat a cheeseburger and fries, it tastes so good at the time and then right after it’s like, ‘What did I do? Why?’”

Keep your hands off me!

If you know me enough you’ll know that I don’t touch anyone unless I’m hugging them or making out with them. (Friends, I hope this doesn’t terrify you)

I think people should keep away from touching others. Your skin has its own chemically-formulated coating that protects it and leaves a stain on others when you touch them. So if they don’t like you to touch them, then back off nicely.

I don’t feel comfortable sitting shoulder-to-shoulder next to people. I always skip a seat wherever I sit, and I always inch away if anyone decides that the perfect spot to sit is where our butts are touching. I’m not ready to have people smell me. I might have bad breath, I might smell like khara, so until I show the signs that I am willing to have you sniff my disgusting bodily odors, please stay away.

At work, I live in a constant state of worry. I have a colleague who likes to touch me all the time, repeatedly and on different spots in my body. She finds it very functional to stand next to me, and put her head on my shoulder and then let out a wheezing sigh. I feel the warmth of the sigh on my face, and the wheezing starts gnawing at my ear. Then she says in a very nasal sound, “How are you doing, Hussain?”

It doesn’t end here. Her hand stays there, waiting for a response from me. I try to move away as politely as possible, but her hand stays glued to my shoulder. She finds comfort touching me like that. Her hand finally moves, but she remains. She stands there, peering at my computer screen. I might be writing an e-mail to a friend, having cybersex, checking nude photos online. She remains there. At first I started opening a blank Word document and keeping it minimized, just in case. As soon as I hear her dragging her feet (she doesn’t walk, she drags her feet on the floor very noisily) I pretend that I’ve just started writing a new article on Word. But later on I realized that it still wouldn’t stop her if I’m typing or not. I could be on the phone, talking to someone while typing furiously on the keyboard, and she would still come and touch me. She touches my ear sometimes. Not the sexy kind of erotic touching, but the disgusting kind. The oh-you-have-an-ear-and-I-can-touch-it kind. She plays with my hair, too. I have short hair, very short hair and she would pluck it with her fingers and make a cooing voice. I feel like screaming! I feel like screaming and peeling off my scalp when she does that!

When order from 6alabat.com almost every day. We have a shared account that we all use. We all know the password. As soon as you’re employed here, the first thing you get is our 6alabat username and password. But she comes to my desk and says, “Are you ordering anything?”

Okay, I don’t mind ordering together, but she has her own way of sharing an online order with you. She stands behind me and cranes her neck forward toward the screen where I can smell her breath and feel the heat of her skin. And she makes thinking-noises! She’d go, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm and start talking to herself. Internally! And I have to hear that! Later she touches my hand. My hand is on the mouse. She puts her hand on top of mine and starts scrolling to find what she wants. She scrolls up, and down, and up, and down, and up, and down, until she decides on something to eat. Ah!!

Today she stood next to me and started doing her usual thing, peering at my screen and waiting for me to talk about something retarded and dumb that she can relate to. Yes, kaifi, I’ve decided that she’s a total retard based on her writing skills and her dragging feet. So she was there, invading my space. I got off my desk and went to the bathroom. I went to the canteen and had my chai 7aleeb there. I came back, she was still standing there, holding the newspaper copy that was on my desk (the one that you can grab for free as soon as you walk into the office) and reading it all. All of it. She decided that it’s the perfect spot to leaf through the pages of the newspaper while I was working on an article and trying to submit it on time.

And I didn’t mind that at all. I needed the break anyway. So it wasn’t really that bad until she decided to attack me later on (a few minutes ago) when almost everyone left. She came and started touching my hair. Ah! Why!! Whyyyyyy!!

I’m talking to my boss. I want to be moved to another desk. Another department, even. Hell, I can quit the job and work somewhere where people don’t touch you like that!

My mind is a bubble I need to burst

I wrote a long post and decided to delete it. I’ll keep writing for a better time.

Snuff: a dull pornographic biography

I’ve always idolized the writing of  Chuck Palahniuk. Among all the contemporary literary voices, he had his own way of sending a shiver up your spine. He’s disgusting. He’s great. He’s moving. He’s brilliant. He’s the best writer ever, but snuff is such a great disappointment I can’t put into words how much it sucks.

It starts off really good. You find yourself in an abyss of pornstars. It’s a dark murky dirty place where sex is tackled shamelessly, although he manages to have the young prude who strongly believe himself to be the son of the pornstar Cassie Wright who is the center of the book. Cassie wants to fuck 600 hunks to set  the world record now that she’s old and saggy and almost losing her career.

But that’s about it. Don’t expect any play with the language. Don’t expect any plotline development, except for that which is disgustingly similar to soap operas and barfy movies where people are linked together miraculously and are joined towards the end dramatically. There isn’t any twist, except for a lame one, and aside from the disgusting blunt pornographic language, the book has no backbone to hold it together. The plot is just barf, it’s very amateurish and is not at all what one would expect a writer like Palahniuk to come up with.

I guess I’ll have to be more careful with choosing books based on favorite authors.

Will be reading The History of Love by Nicole Krauss next…