And then there's Moharram and the other new year! Awkward Silence.
I won't deny that I love living in Pakistan. I figure other people doing all my work and more does has it's damaging effect on me but I like the fact that people here are able to resiliently warp their surroundings and beliefs into something they can digest. They aren't stupid. They're just comfortable with stupidity and the escape it provides. I have a poem:
Sylvia Plath was smart and beautiful.
But she was tired,
stuck her head in the oven, killed herself.
But it was just asphyxiation, she wasn't fired.
Her bell jar reminds me of here, "rebreathing only our own fetid air, more and more subject to delusion". We need something so badly to believe in that we perpetuate lies to ourselves and cling on to them for dear life. Not now Ma, I'm busy making my own reality.
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But on to more pressing issues. One of my friends is getting married and although I don't (read can't) dance, its fun to just go over and have a good time. But only one thing: I did dance. Only for a few seconds, but that's all that was needed for someone to write my name on a list. Generally I'm a fan of the idea of panentheism but there was nothing divine on the dance carpet. Boys can't coordinate for life and girls just make the boys feel worse by being disproportionately better.
There are worse things and it makes me feel good in some capacity that I'm trying. To dance.
I feel a shit coming.
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