CaTaKoMb
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
india here i come.
(not packed.
sleepy.
and mad with desire......for someone i have no right to want.)
india here i come.
- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 3:56 PM 0 comments
Sunday, October 10, 2004
eye brows arched, lips almost pursed, fingers curled on the guitar strings and a tickle stubble on the jaw of my "sweetheart the drunk". his greybrowngreen eyes are on his bass and not me.
perhaps hes stage-shy. perhaps hes so lost in the heavy breathing of his instrument that he forgets me.
his fingers play the chords, creating shadows that play with his hands and lead him in his genius, twisting and turning the tips of his fingers and burning the silk of the strings.
perhaps the shadows help create the magnificent tapestry of sound. OR perhaps its me.
i do wonder why he never looks out at me for inspiration.
perhaps it is because he is stage shy.
or because i am inside.
Posted by Hello
- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 6:10 AM 0 comments
Saturday, October 09, 2004
beautiful baby..meeting with the cosmos..
Posted by Hello
- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 2:07 PM 0 comments
"Why do we care about singers? Wherien lies the power of songs? Maybe it derives from the sheer strangeness of there being singing in the world. The note, the scale, the chord; melodies, harmonies, arrangements; symphonies, ragas, Chinese operas, jazz, the blues: that such things should exist, that we should have discovered all the magical intervals and distances that yield the poor cluster of notes, all within the span of a human hand, from which we can build our cathedrals of sound, is as alchemical a mystery as mathematics, or wine, or love. Maybe the birds taught us. Maybe not. Maybe we are just creatures in search of exaltation We don't have much of it. Our lives are not what we deserve; they are, let us agree, in many painful ways deficient. Song turns them into sonething else. Song shows us a world that is worthy of our yearning, it shows us ourselves as they might be, if we were worthy of the world."
"Five mysteries hold the keys to the unseen: the act of love, and the birth of a baby, and the contemplation of great art, and being in the presence of death or disaster, and hearing the human voice lifted in song. These are the occasions when the bolts of the universe fly open and we are given a glimpse of what is hidden; an eff of the ineffable. Glory bursts upon us in such hours: the dark glory of earthquakes, the slippery wonder of new life, the radiance of Vina's singing."
- exerpt from The Ground Beneath Her Feet, by Salman Rushdie "
Posted by Hello
- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 11:45 AM 0 comments
Mekaal Hasan Band - Live in concert - Oct 5, 2004
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- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 11:40 AM 0 comments
snapshot from a past DYING to be relived : zany - ash - azy - hirra - myself
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- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 1:48 AM 0 comments
Helplessness is a dangerous feeling.
It makes you understand why people steal and rob.
Like today.
It is rising inside me like mercury in a thermometer...like anguish in the heart of a freedom fighter's widow...like a rush of blood to the head...like a bolt of electicity across the lines that leaves all the crows frozen in time...hanging from their beaks..blowing in the wind...
I feel helpless today
and i feel that i have the power, even, to KILL.
- posted by Mehreen Malik @ 1:21 AM 0 comments
