Stream of Consciousness II

Divorcee. What a funny label. I have divorced myself from matrimony. I am matrimonially removed. Keep your ring finger away from me. You won’t take me up the aisle. I don’t care how big your rocks are. Let’s play a game of truth or dare and let it play out to a good ripe conclusion. That would get my rocks off. So would a party that breaks all the rules, it would be just the tonic everyone needs. A celebration that spits in the face of tradition and makes a ceremony of the ridiculous. Where both prim and proper and coarse and obscene must reside as neighbours, for the party is always so much better when the prim and proper are there to shock. Send me an invite or I will gatecrash anyway.

The Kama Sutra of kissing. Even if you wrote a book about it, it can’t be taught. It’s sensuality and artistry and timing and taste and all kinds of other things in between.

* * *

The winner takes it all. But when they lose, the thing they lose really hurts. Or it hurts them that everyone else loses because of them.

Why do people eat shark’s fin? What is it about the fin? Those motherfuckers need to leave sharks alone.

I don’t go for blonds. Or brunettes. Or redheads. I don’t have a type. It’s something that shines outward I go for. I can’t explain it. Something sparkly when the light catches their eyelashes or something. It’s an essence or a spice. Like coriander or lemongrass. Subtle, sharp, pervasive, perfumed. All that and more.

Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.

* * *

Who says meal worms can’t climb out of their bowl? They’re desperate to be a new thing, not just fodder for the dragons. But the blind lazy ones don’t mind being food, because the dragons need to bloom. Their warm chubby bellies as they wriggle up your forearm. Their bright little eyes as they regard you sideways and lick you for recognition. Their sharp little spikes and darkening scales when they get annoyed. Melt. Dragons are love.

I can feel the whispering ghost of winter’s beauty in the air even though summer hasn’t yet grown ripe. I love winter’s whispering beauty, it always comes upon me at this time of year. It hints at something intimate and loving just out of reach but attainable at a given time. The ghost of this wish has always been with me. It excites me and I have no idea why.

You need to deal out a different medicine for different people. They all require an individual remedy. Some need to swallow their own bitter pill to meet the transformation they are so ardently seeking.

© N Nazir 2020

*photos taken from i-stock and film stills off the internet

The text to each image is deliberately jumbled up so you have to piece it together at the end. I don’t know why I chose to do it that way, it just felt right.

Stream of Consciousness II

Divorcee.  What a funny label.  I have divorced myself from matrimony.  I am matrimonially removed.  Keep your ring finger away from me.  You won’t take me up the aisle.  I don’t care how big your rocks are.  Let’s play a game of truth or dare and let it play out to a good ripe conclusion.  That would get my rocks off.  So would a party that breaks all the rules, it would be just the tonic everyone needs.  A celebration that spits in the face of tradition and makes a ceremony of the ridiculous.  Where both prim and proper and coarse and obscene must reside as neighbours, for the party is always so much better when the prim and proper are there to shock.  Send me an invite or I will gatecrash anyway.

The Kama Sutra of kissing.  Even if you wrote a book about it, it can’t be taught.  It’s sensuality and artistry and timing and taste and all kinds of other things in between.

* * *

The winner takes it all.  But when they lose, the thing they lose really hurts.  Or it hurts them that everyone else loses because of them.

Why do people eat shark’s fin?  What is it about the fin?  Those motherfuckers need to leave sharks alone.

I don’t go for blonds.  Or brunettes.  Or redheads.  I don’t have a type.  It’s something that shines outward I go for.  I can’t explain it.  Something sparkly when the light catches their eyelashes or something.  It’s an essence or a spice.  Like coriander or lemongrass.  Subtle, sharp, pervasive, perfumed.  All that and more.

Hast thou the flower there?  Welcome, wanderer.

* * *

Who says meal worms can’t climb out of their bowl?  They’re desperate to be a new thing, not just fodder for the dragons.  But the blind lazy ones don’t mind being food, because the dragons need to bloom.  Their warm chubby bellies as they wriggle up your forearm.  Their bright little eyes as they regard you sideways and lick you for recognition.  Their sharp little spikes and darkening scales when they get annoyed.  Melt.  Dragons are love.

I can feel the whispering ghost of winter’s beauty in the air even though summer hasn’t yet grown ripe.  I love winter’s whispering beauty, it always comes upon me at this time of year.  It hints at something intimate and loving just out of reach but attainable at a given time.  The ghost of this wish has always been with me.  It excites me and I have no idea why.

You need to deal out a different medicine for different people.  They all require an individual remedy.  Some need to swallow their own bitter pill to meet the transformation they are so ardently seeking.

^{© N Nazir 2016}

I trust because…

just because
there exists this mysterious thing called love
that melts the iciest grudge into a lake of forgiveness.
Sometimes you know things and you don’t know how you know
you just know.
The other day scientists made a blind woman see again.
No one can explain how we came to be here,
people expound theories but no one really knows
mystery is rife and history is our checking-in system
and we are still here, suffering though we are.
Beauty, hope, passion and art still make the world go round
so I trust because
just because.

^{© N Nazir 2016}

On Being a Mother

^{Mother and Child (Central Bristol), Digital Photograph, El Mac, 2015}

It seems there is a wave of pregnancies and births at the moment. Perhaps it’s a leap year thing.  It always seems to happen in cycles.  I like kids but I feel somewhat removed from this phenomenon, and it never awakens within me the instinct to have a child myself.  I used to think it was something I wanted but I realised that it was societal expectation that made me feel this way, not an innermost desire.

When I really think about it, I’ve never had the instinct to have my own child, not deep down.  I always thought I might eventually but I’m glad I haven’t and I still don’t.  I understand that, for couples, having a child is the ultimate gesture to express an extension of their love, though sometimes it comes as an unplanned surprise.  And then this being or beings become the next generation of their family tree, who they can pass their talents, knowledge and legacies onto.  I get that.  I think it’s lovely.  But I feel I can do this just as much in my role as teacher, friend, lover, psychic, artist, writer, traveller, with anyone I bond with in my life, child or not.  Also, I look at the straining overpopulation of the planet and I think, let’s just do away with this pressure of having kids when there’s so much else to worry about.

I never “get broody” over children, I find them endearing and fun to be around but that’s it.  My lust for life doesn’t include being a biological mother.  I’m happy enough being the crazy aunt.  Being a parent requires endless selflessness and I feel more inclined to be selfless towards the world at large then specific humans that happen to be my offspring.  Being a some-time teacher satisfies any need I have to enjoy the company of kids and then I can go back to my million creative pursuits.

And the thing is, I spend so much time mothering people in my life as it is that I already satisfy any need to be a mother spiritually.  (I don’t think this is limited to just women; there are plenty of men who are good at mothering others).

Having said this (total sidetone diversion) I do get very “broody” over animals, reptiles in particular.  Having volunteered part-time for a popular reptile company this past year, I have learned a great deal about a variety of species, snakes and lizards in the main, and I am surprised at how passionately protective I feel of them, even right down to the stick insects.  I’ve always loved snakes.  I am by no means an expert.  It’s only in the past year that I got to learn about them, how to handle and care for them, all the different genus’, their individual characteristics, etc.  I work with two incredibly talented reptile specialists who are a mine of information and never cease to impress me with their skills.  I just love animals.  So, no kids but a menagerie of animals will do me just fine.  I prefer them to humans to be honest.  I like humans, I just don’t want to make one.

I’ve decided that if I ever have the urge to have a child later on at a time when it’s not biologically feasible, then I’ll look to adopt.  There are plenty of children out there who are missing a mother, so I would prefer to take this avenue.  The child doesn’t have to be borne of my flesh for me to be its mother.

And like Einstein, I am so passionately curious about the universe and my potential as a human or superhuman, that this adventure is all-consuming  and wonderful enough.  And I just want to keep fulfilling it.

^{© N Nazir 2016}

No. 13 Baby

I love the conversation between the bass and the guitar in this song.  The bass says, listen to me, I’m the voice of reason, I’m talking sense.  And the guitar says, you don’t know what you’re talking about, this is what I’m talking about.  And the bass replies, I hear what you’re saying but my way is still better, you need to be calm and steady like me.  And the guitar replies, NO, listen to this, I’m going to make your heart sing.  And the bass tries to argue but the guitar drowns it out and bellows fuck you, you’re wrong, I’ll make everyone listen to me and rebels and plays a heartaching riff and the bass is moved but pretends it isn’t and says fair enough, I get your point but you still need me.  But the guitar doesn’t listen and plays its relentless heartaching riff that goes on and on and off into the space-time continuum and the bass gives in and has no more words because the guitar has won.

^{© N Nazir 2016}