Pillow Talk? Re-Heally!!

Lying in bed, with an arm wrapped around a pillow, am stifling an urge to reach for a cigarette reminiscent of a movie setting of a post coital fag except that there is no post, no coital and definitely no fag… I can imagine my dear mama’s amazing baritones rising to fever pitch with every phrase as she reminds me of the name and kame (okay so I meant kaam but hey, kame rhymes) of the family I belong to starting from the relatively pious-er side of my relations, my dad’s ancestors, who migrated aeons ago in the age of sufis and mystics from the city of Hamdan in search of the Divine truth through Kashmir to finally settle among the various Khans, Shahs and Khattaks in Kohat. Then the tale takes me to the pious wealthy, Sa’daat who are my maternal ancestors; land lords, merchants and traders from the cities of Mash’had and Tehran, with their bearing, honor and pride bringing them the same kind of wealth and reverence when they came to the land of the pak and pure. My ears shall burn with how even the men in my family have never touched (Masha’Allah) any products or by products of tobacco or alcohol despite having the means and the opportunity and how could I forget who I belong to, being a girl no less, who claims to be smarter than most of the world, and reach for a cigarette.

It’s embarrassing to confess that I listened to this particular story just last year, after 12 years of trying my first cigarette and lighting up with friends then and now since and yet, the one time I get the dose is when I have a friend’s cigarette case in my bag, monogrammed with her name no less. I ask you would I be insane enough to tell my mom to open my bag and get whatever change she wanted if I had been hiding cigarettes.

But what was I talking about. Oh yeah, post coital fags… Re-reading Bridget Jones probably had something to do with and realizing that minus the booze and the smokes and the shags, I could probably pass for her…sort off…

Although shall need one hell of a hair cut and probably an appointment with a do it yourself blonder kit. And for some reason, a drastic session with a scissor seems quite exciting much like days of an age past when I used my mother’s sewing scissors to trim a cousin’s hair… And before you shake your head that way, answer me how a kid is supposed to understand that the 3 inch strand that hung below the edge of your pixie cut was very much the style as touted by Marina Khan in a drama.. I simply thought the hairdresser had missed a spot… But why  the excitement… I’m assuming anything would be more exciting than standing in front of a mirror, just knowing that the end of the 10 minute battle to bring your hair down, you will end up winding it up and trying to stuff it into a clutch or a scrunchie or whatever those infernal torture devices are called and still spend every alternate moment trying to brush away those strands that refuse to stay where they’re supposed to… makes me think quite favorably of Britney Spears shaved head… for about a nano second…  *sigh* Quite honestly, my vanity shall not now allow me the undignified persona my countenance assume every time my hair is shortened…  woot a predicament!

Am reading extremely strange chick literature these days… It seems so much more appealing than pondering the power of strategic thinking in locking out competitors or simulating dynamic competitive strategies… anyway, hence the strangeness of my writing… rather have read a whole plethora of stuff by Sophie Kinsella and can now confidently express an insider’s view of the workings of the mind of a shopaholic, a flight wary blurter of secrets to a stranger and an un-house trained lawyer mistaken for a housekeeper. Bloody Brilliant!

Anyone else notice how ponderously pondering this post is plodding on with no head and no tail and probably not much in between which would place a certain level of doubt on its existence in this sphere of existence. Of course you realize I am not speaking of alternate or parallel universes here where an existence without form could probably make more sense than seeing arms legs and a body appear under a head or a head appearing over the rest eliciting screams of horror, rage and cause a meltdown in the fabric of society.

My drollness be exceedingly killing… I like this impressionism of no braining that I can do with such ease. Makes me wonder how much of it is actually a put on act or is that put out… Although how one can actually put on an act without the required head, arms and legs to put through the holes in the act defies any laws of physics that I may or may not remember from the time I ruled the kingdom that was called Beaconhouse. Jeez, I was such a snob about that school. Still am but what does that have to do with put on…? Ah, yes, put on as in the uniform as in every time I wore it, I was esh-peshul. Not that I am not special otherwise but why is it that it makes people give me a funny look where their eye starts twitching and a vein throbs somewhere in the vicinity of their temple when I refer to being special. Don’t really get the smiles and the pats I get too! Oh, hang on a minute, I get special now… Ugh… and in rambling such as I do, special has another meaning altogether…. But to revert to put on and put out, one can manage to put one out if one is putting one on just as easily as one can put out quite convincingly if one is putting on…. Profound!!!

Although, for saving my skin from a certain kind of police, ask me not to translate put out… the mind spins right now with the strangest platitudes and phrases being put out there… Even as I go to form a link somewhat with the first paragraph… as a friend put it, putting out could lead to….. Never mind!!

7 Responses to “Pillow Talk? Re-Heally!!”

  1. Wednesday, February 28, 2007 at 10:40

    ROTFL!…Now, this is what I’m talking about – no holds barred, spur of the moment writing, with no inhibitions that ends up being far superior in content and wit than most of the controlled, seriously thought out writing on the net.

    Way to go, Sarah! Love your work!

  2. 2 suganspice
    Wednesday, February 28, 2007 at 15:18

    u let it go sista….lol..made me laff…best way to write is without bar or hold back…jus let it flow man..makes u feel so much better afterwards!

  3. Wednesday, February 28, 2007 at 15:41

    heheh i always considered myself something of an intellectual snob- you know literati and what not 🙂 loved talking keats and wordworth in the heyday. so you can imagine my utter surprise at myself at loving sophie kinsella. I LOVED her books they were sooo..real in an unreal kinda way. I must really think about this some more hehe.

  4. 4 suganspice
    Thursday, March 1, 2007 at 1:45

    i love sophie kinsella too….:)

  5. 5 Jaded
    Thursday, March 1, 2007 at 5:23

    @ The olive ream: u mean it’s not too much? 😀 thanks so much omer!

    @ suganspice: mission accomplished if u enjoyed it 🙂 alhtough i have to say i wanted to write something really serious but once i started off this way, i couldn’t stop!

    @ Jammie: ufff.. i know exact-cly what you mean 🙂

  6. Thursday, March 1, 2007 at 19:05

    the only -ella i know and believe in….is called nut-ella!

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February 2007

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