Au revoir, again.

I part with this in mind: The self needs no seeking, what it needs is creating.


Creation comes from nothingness.

The Waste Land

Ah, but even I feel the chill of solitude at times.

Fall out.

I never saw THIS coming. Man, all I wanna do is stay in bed all day with Island In The Sun on loop on my phone. Sheesh, I'm supposed to be the anti-social one who keeps them at arm's length but it seems now I'm the stable centre of gravity. I hope they get over this yarn ball of 'hurt feelings' and be buddies again soon. Just don't make me take sides please. Thought I'd have just the room for myself this week, now I've the whole place to myself *shrug*

Silence upon this moor.

Absolutes approaches mere fantasy.

Drought

All I do these days is pick up a novel, read the first few pages, chuck it by the side of my bed. I'd then feel guilty, reach under my bed for either Rumi, Keats, Ginsberg or the Rubaiyat (whichever I grab first) and read a poem or two. I'm a disgrace. I've left much too many books half-read. Way too many. When will this spell of disinterest end?

"It is a sad thing to think of, but there is no doubt that genius lasts longer than beauty. That accounts for the fact that we all take such pains to over-educate ourselves. In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. The thoroughly well-informed man--that is the modern ideal. And the mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value. "

                                                                                                         ~The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde~


Frustrations that paralyzes you is poison.
It breeds self-contempt that lasts too long every time it plagues you.


All this. It makes one question one's realities.
Why torture yourself?
Why conform?


The collective norm is an infinite cruelty.

Raya - I digress.

I take back what I said about Raya here in Melbourne being downright dull. It's FANTASTIC. I particularly enjoyed the Salah Raya at Flagstaff Garden. The food you get at open houses are fantastic too. Never too crowded because people come and go so a crowd never really builds up in one house at a time, which suits me perfect. I thoroughly enjoyed myself today. Today deserves a smiley :) There.

So, Eid Mubarak ! to all my loved ones. I apologize for all my imperfections.

Deliverance from Error note 1

"This is the practice of dim-witted men who know the truth by men, and not men by the truth. The intelligent man, on the contrary, follows the advice of the Master of the Intelligent, Ali –God be pleased with him!– where he says: "Do not know the truth by men, but rather, know the truth and you will know its adherents."


"However, assuming that they are found only in the writings of the philosophers, if what is said is reasonable in itself and corroborated by apodeictic proof and not contrary to the Qur'an and the Sunna, then why should it be shunned and rejected? If we were to open this door and aim at forgoing every truth which had been first formulated by the mind of one in error, we would have to forgo much of what is true. We would have to give up a lot of the verses of the Qur'an and the traditions of the Apostle and the recitals of our pious forebears and the sayings of the sages and the sufis."        

"Thus they always know the truth by men, not men by truth – which is the ne plus ultra of error! This, then, is the evil due to total rejection of the philosophers' ethical teaching"


"The second evil is that due to total acceptance of their ethical teaching. For one who studies their books, such as that of  "The Brethren of Purity" and others, and sees the prophetic maxims and sufi sayings they interspersed with their own utterances, often approves of their writings and accepts them and forms a good opinion of them. Thereupon he may readily accept their errors mixed up with those borrowed truths because of a good opinion acquired about what he has seen and approved. That is a way of luring men into error."


"...the close proximity of the true to the false does not make the true false, as it does not make the false true."

                                                                                             ~ Deliverance from Error by Al-Ghazali ~ 

This puts my mind at ease. All this while, when I read books and found some sort of serendipitous truth or wisdom from writings, I find myself conflicted. I know that what I've found is beautiful and true but since the author is, to quote al-Ghazali, 'in error' I reluctantly reject them. It breeds self-contempt too because it makes me feel as if I'm adhering to teachings of those who do not see the truth. I know now that it's not that they do not see, they do, they simply do not realize it. Of course, I state this with careful reservation. It is not a universal application to be used carelessly. I also know that my judgement of what is true and what is not is very restricted for someone so un-learned like me. I understand that.

We must learn to know men by the truth, not the truth by men and be aware of the second evil.

Orchids

When furious, do something that requires attention. e.g. grab a pencil and draw some damned orchids. I call this my 'Fuck you orchids'. Since taking seni for SPM, I've a love-hate relationship with orchids. I'd paint this but I've only discovered that I've got watercolour but not a single paintbrush. It's ridiculous.

Rainbow in my window II

Ah, you dreadful beauty. You drain me.

I love my canon S95.

The Crying Imam.

I will cry to Thee, and cry to Thee, and cry to Thee, until the milk of Thy kindness boils up.

                                                                                                         ~Rumi~

Terawikh tonight took longer than previous nights. There's a new imam today. Not a Malay man, somebody foreign. Somebody who's native tongue is the Arabic language. All this is nothing remarkable but something happened tonight. Instead of reciting the dua Terawikh after we were done, the imam decided to recite the dua after rukuk of the third rakaat of salah Witir.

Maybe it's becauce he understood every word of the dua, or perhaps there was something else altogether but the imam cried his heart out. His poem, song-like recital of the dua faltered a little when he started choking up. Then he started sobbing and there was a strain of silence punctuated by sobs from the men's side of the jamaah. It wasn't long before some of the women started crying too.

I don't know what it was but I thought that there's a kind of beauty in the Imam's fervent tears. He had a personal apocalypse in front of the whole jamaah. I don't think he was ashamed, just filled with an overwhelming longing.

I thought, 'Am I in the face of beauty?' Forgive my sappiness.

Because I was suddenly reminded of something I've read in a book on Sufism. I'm a little frustrated that I can't remember whrere I read it. It might've been from this yellowed, crumbling, moth-eaten book titled 'Some Aspects of Sufism as understood and practiced among the Malays' by Syed Naquib al-Attas. Translated by Shirle Gordon. I share the book with my friend Adila so it's not with me right now but I'm quite sure I read about it from this book.

Something about the state in which a man suffers from a heartache for which there is no cure. A longing for God. I found this excerpt of an interview that describes this state:

The great Sufi poet Rumi said, "I will cry to Thee, and cry to Thee, and cry to Thee, until the milk of Thy kindness boils up." He is expressing what is most precious for the Sufi: the longing for God. The Sufi knows that it is this longing that offers the most direct route to the Beloved, to God.

Deep within the heart there is the primal pain of longing, the cry of the soul separated from its source. This pain comes from the memory of when we were together with God, what the Sufis call "the sweetness that was before honey or bee." At special moments in our life we can be given a taste of this union, a taste of divine remembrance. It is so unbelievably sweet and intoxicating. And it awakens the knowing, latent in the soul, of being together with God. This is what ignites the longing, the fire within the heart that begins to burn as a heartache.

In any love affair, you long for the one you love. You wait for the telephone call. You wait for the letter. You wait for your lover to come home. In a love affair with God the feeling is the same, but amplified. You long and you wait. You wait for the moment when the Beloved suddenly appears in your heart, when you feel the tender touch of your Beloved.

Even though I did not cry for I felt unworthy of shedding such pure tears. I didn't understand what is said in the dua, who was I to cry as he did? All I'm sure of is that I was, in the face of beauty. Hopefully the rest of Ramadhan will be equally beautiful.

Je T'Aime

You sneeze a little but it echoes as if in a cave. That's just how vacant my place is. No warmth seeps into you from the world outside, no warmth of any kind. You see beautiful things and marvel at them in a subdued manner, always in a subdued manner. As if looking through a window because that's just how you live your life. You do not participate. Instead, you let the world build itself around you. The way you juxtapose yourself to minimize external contact, it borders on perversion. Who else but the twisted peer at life through such narrowness and derive pleasure so little from it that it's never enough?

I have venetian blinds in my mind and rose coloured glass in my eyes but fret not, my soul is not a cave. I am not hollow. Quite the opposite in fact. It's not out of lack of interest or awareness that I not participate, rather it is a stagnant state of lovelessness. A heedless frothing of uncaring that stems from ignorance. I declare myself passionately dispassionate.

Word: Lunacy.

On the way back from terawikh tonight, at the tram stop, in the cold, the Moon is bright. Since INTEC I've fostered quite a relationship with the moon. Mainly because I could see it through my window as I lay on my bed. All those sleepless nights I spent staring at the Moon ( so much prettier than my goddamn ceiling) I've grown to be quite fixated with it. A bunch of my poems had something to do with the Moon back then.

I'd think how there's just dust on its scarred surface. No sound, no wind, no nothing. I'd then think of it as a sentient entity, not just some suspended rock that orbits this world that's made of many little worlds just like mine. If things were bad (as they often are when I took to contemplating the Moon), I'd imagine myself running as fast as I could to the edge of the world and jump off, floating into the inky, star-studded space and landing on the pearly sphere. All the while, I'd have my hand stretched in front of me, towards it, just, you know fantasizing.

To reiterate, the Moon is bright tonight but it seems more distant than usual. It's unfair that it looks exactly the same here, as it does at home. I feel like now that I'm in Melbourne, the Moon should look different. It's cruel that it looks no different. Something within me aches but really, it's probably just the cold. Lunacy, such a lovely word.

The artist.

Because all we want is an extent of realism in our art so it may be cathartic in effect. Revelations of the unconscious by means that grants us self-actualization in our world of alienation. It is not a direct connection that we seek but something more universal and ambivalent in nature. Self-serving, ambitious, indignant fools we are. Never a naked reference to selves, for 'we' is but a disguise.

A pitiful one.

For You & Her.

Note: I know I said I'm never posting my silly poems anymore but this is not my usual silliness. This is a letter.  Just in case.
_______________________________________________________________

Of heartbreak I know nothing of
for Love I never have.
You gave your heart but
she gave it back.
Your first flight, your first fall.

I can only imagine
what sweet assaults to your sanity she must be.
I confess, for not wanting your beauty
I think her silly.
But don't be mad I just want you happy.

To harbour affection for one unattainable
must be a labour in itself.
To be quite so miserable,
made to feel so ornate and fragile
like cheap crystal.

Even then, you weren't pining
just silently, patiently, waiting.
I could see that
but back then she was simply not yours.
Now, she might never be.

For what it's worth, (for we're never
open with each other) I'm telling you
I'm here for you.
Dear brother, I too will pray for her.

Is This It LP

This arrived in the mail today. I bought it on 31st July 2011 in light of the album's 10th anniversary. I feel that it is only fitting that the first LP I ever own is of my No. 1 band, The Strokes debut album.

Now all I need is an actual turntable.

Front & Back cover

Inside Flap and the record in its paper envelope

The 12 inch LP in all its glory

MBTI

That is what roomie is. ESFJs are the counterparts of INFJs. It means we perform similar functions in totally different realms. I find this amusing haha.

Another one of my housemate's an INFP, which surprises me. Thought she'd be an ISFJ. Supposedly INFPs complement INFJs. By complement meaning we have compatible strengths with opposite emphases. Whatever that means. Meh.

The ugly truth.

I feel that in my poetry lies insolence, disquiet, dreams and desires. It is not art. It mimics it, poorly I must say but that is the extent of my miserable attempts at 'craft'.

It is all hogwash. Yearnings of an asinine fool (forgive my redundancy) to be wise and comely. Sometimes it even verges on- I dare not type it out because then it will all be true.

I fear change but I want perfection, which is idiotic (perfectly expected of one such as me). Most of all I think I'm just a damned lazy bum. 

It all comes back to my anti-social nature I think. It brings me conflicts that deeply stirs me. Is it possible to go on a quest for knowledge, art, love or beauty without having to move oneself to align with the rest of the world?

All this profundity of thought makes me suspicious of my own mind. Of my own intent. To be capable of pure sincerity surely one must cleanse oneself of one's own vices? Rid oneself off one's own trivial knowledge of the superficial?

But I have to start somewhere don't I?

Spirituality is something I find myself again and again attracted to yet simultaneously repulsed from. All is my fault of course. The One does not play tricks on His subjects. 

Hence, I go back to what comforts me most in this prison my own mind construct around myself; Books. May guidance come to me when I seek it as often as when I need it.

Rainbow in my window

Always, after it rains I can see a rainbow from my window. A brilliant arc of colours that curves into the sky. It appears suddenly but fades much too quickly. One of the things I find lovely in Melbourne. 

The thing about beautiful things is, it is thought-provoking yet simultaneously it hinders thinking. Rationality, of any kind at all destroys beauty. Also why one should never seek logic in art yet logic is art. A beautiful paradox.

Wrote a poem bout the rainbow but I won't post any more of my silliness here.

Is This It 10th Anniversary

Happy 10th Anniversary!

Today, 30th July 2011 is the 10th anniversary of the release of The Strokes debut album, Is This It. Ten years ago Is This It was released in Australia (30th July 2001). When the album finally came out in the U.S. (September - early October 2001), The Strokes were in Australia doing a gig.

U.S. album artwork of 'Is This It'

U.K. album artwork of 'Is This It'

I've been spamming my facebook & twitter friends hence, I am posting my favourite vids of every single track off of Is This It here too. The album has 11 tracks in total.

Track 1: Is This It

Track 2: The Modern Age

Track 3: Soma

Track 4: Barely Legal

Track 5: Someday

Track 6: Alone, Together

Track 7: Last Nite

Track 8: Hard To Explain

And because the MV for this song is too cool, here:

Track 9: New York City Cops

Track 10: Trying Your Luck

Because this song is my FAVOURITE Strokes song ever, Imma post 3 vids.

Track 11: Take It Or Leave It

This here my friends, is the BEST Strokes performance on TV EVER. This is the essence of The Strokes. This is IT.