Monday, 24 August 2009

Born And Raised

It doesn't matter what we will eventually accomplish with our lives. The painful truth will be that It won't be miles within reach of what we had wanted it to be. Nobody will be around to care. Neither will you. There is no consideration beyond yourself, because there is no one you love. You are subject to contempt and hate, much like everyone else in this rotten tribe you once called a family. Lovers will hate lovers, sisters will hate sisters, brothers will hate brothers, mothers will weep, while fathers wither silently, stoically, heroically.

It's the weight of the world, and we'll be struggling to breathe.


Dom said...

Relax, it's just hormones. When you look back from the comfortable distance of the future you, you will see that what you wanted here and now was irrelevant, trivial, unimportant, save within the grand halls of your own imagination. Family grow closer, mother's don't weep, and age enhances fathers. But teenage angst withers and decays in the shadow of the proud young blooms of adulthood, thrusting upwards into the sunshine. If you're lucky, and your writing isn't too introspective and cryptic, it will be able to stand the cool, knowing review of your mature adult self. I kept my gothic musings in exercise books, and once or twice have reminded myself of the ridiculous self-obsessedness of my youth, just to make sure I keep it real from now on. I was depressed throughout my late teens, but there was really no benefit in pretending that anyone else noticed or would care. When I decided to fuck it and become pro-active, the inky tentacles retracted and slithered back down into the deep, seldom to be seen ever after.

Dreaminglass said...


How aboutttttttttttttttttt

you go fuck yourself?

Teenage angst? I'm past teenage angst. Have been for 5 years, save for the odd tickle of amusement. Proud young blooms of adulthood? My blooming adulthood had no pride in store for me, simply weariness and a thousand worries beyond my age.

Families grow closer? Fuck off. Whatever fairyland this is you've managed to land yourself in, I suggest you stay there. It's a universe absolutely unlike mine, and I wish, for your sake, that it never changes. Mothers don't weep? Guess I have to find whatever pore(s) is/are leaking saltwater onto my mother's bedsheets, and plug it/them up. Fathers enhance with age? Yes, like fine wine; only, Fine wine starts to ferment after a while. Not so fine anymore now, is it?

Don't talk to me about luck. It's why I don't play cards. And make of my writing what you will; I don't care to illuminate the world with glowing anecdotes of the finer things life has to offer. I rarely write about anything personal, so when I do... My "cool knowing mature adult review" can go sodomize itself with a broken beer bottle; I, for one, hope it finds a 40.

I'm sorry you came here trying to make a positive difference in someone's life, but please, know your place. Gothic musings? No WONDER you were depressed. I've not bothered pretending I'm "gothic" past the age of 14/15. I had no use for it. Who gives a shit what you call yourself? It's what you do that matters.

So thank you for your advice on pro-activity; it falls, unfortunately, on ears that wrote that tune for themselves, or, well, at least tried. Good to know your "tentacles" have retracted into the deep, and have seldom been seen since. I have no such tentacles creating issues. My issues are the stuff of flesh and blood, and you know nothing about them, "Dom". I suggest, therefore, that you not give personal advice on a matter (or matters, as the case may be) that is beyond your ambit of comprehension. Self-obsessedness of your youth? Buddy, you're still self-obsessed, and self-assured, and quite possibly just as self-adulating.

Thank you, come again. "Keep it real", playa/OG/dawg/*insertnicknameherethatsuggeststhattherealisbeingkept*

P.S.: Don't you just fucking love internet anonymity? I mean, as if it's not bad enough that I don't know who Dom is (could be a Dominic, or a Dominique, or a Domino, or a Dominican Republican) there's no insight into who (s)he is, either. That REALLY fucks me off. I mean, I'm hardly the avatar for non-anonymity, but here, there's a chance to pick my brain to see who/what I am. And if you're really bothered as to who I am...I'll tell you. My anonymity was an attempt at self-amusement. I don't care whether I discard it now or not.

P.P.S: I don't know whether to acknowledge the "grand halls of my imagination" as a back-handed compliment or not...But I will. Benefit of the doubt. So thanks. Really. I mean, at least you got one thing right, or maybe I should say not entirely wrong...

Dom said...

Oh dear. Take a good long look at yourself, why don't you. I was merely pointing out that the self indulgent crap you write is only of interest to you, and in years to come, even the accolade of your self-appreciation will be denied to it.

And BTW, internet anonymity allows people like me to leave opinions without risking the deranged stalker revenge that emotional casualties like you are prone to. If you don't want comments from anon's, don't leave your shit scattered all over the internet for people to trip over.

Dreaminglass said...

Why don't you instead watch where you're going? Or are you such a bluthering fool that you're prone to trip over any little thing that comes up in your way?

You're right. This tripe is only of interest to me. I do not care for your input. Like I said before...Keep it to yourself. I am well aware that, in a few years time, I won't enjoy what I've already written. Hell, I don't enjoy anything I wrote a few months back...YEARS into the future is a moot point.

Internet anonymity is a facade behind which weaklings like to hide, simply because they don't have the balls to put where their mouths have already been placed. Hot tempered and frustrated, I definitely am; vengeful and violent, I most definitely am not. The second correct inference you've made is that I am an emotional casualty (And I won't deny that it's primarily my own doing) but I suppose that was pretty easily inferred. A fifth-grader could show your skills of observation. The point still is: You don't know me, you don't know what my "emotional trauma" consists of, and your advice is worthless, especially since you're not willing to get off your high-horse.

And why I allow anons? I welcome discussion. I'd like for them, in turn, to extend the same courtesy. Had I anything with which to judge the merits of you as a person (however whimsical they might be, given that you can be anything you want on the internet), I might have been less scathing in my riposte. Anonymous as I may be, you can look at who I am. What I am. You don't have that much courtesy.

Know what, fuck it. If you're hiding, go ahead. I'm not. My name is Usman Kashmiri, the youngest of four siblings, and I am an emotional casualty. I have spent the last 6 years trying to get my family to get along. I am sick and tired of being the glue, and equally sick and tired of suggesting solutions to everyone's miseries and problems. As such, I do not appreciate some no-faced 8-bit "entity" telling me my hormones are out of whack, and that I'm depressed, and that my concerns for MY FAMILY are irrelevant, trivial, and unimportant.

Do you have anything to add/rebut? I'd LOVE to hear it, please. Shoot me off an email.

Dom said...

Well, 'Usman', where to start? I Could hardly be bothered to write this reply, having wasted too many words on you already, but since you are trying to claim the moral high ground and play the sympathy card to boot, I thought I would close this exchange with these observations:

You keep a journal of your psuedo existentialist/nihilist musings and gothic poetry (if you are in any doubt about your own gothic leanings, try this link: - Some of your best stuff is there), which is fine, in and of itself: a creative outlet, the valve on your pressure cooker. But you post it online as a public blog, thereby delegitimising and cheapening everything you write. It is no longer what you really think, what you really want to say, because it is now written with half a mind on the reader, and it becomes a means by which to engender a response, be it shock, sympathy, empathy, laughter, etc. It has in short become a collection of vacuous 'look at me!' exclamations. Welcome to teh internest, pilgrim.

You attack me for what you perceive as 'weakness' for commenting anonymously, showing little understanding of the nature of the internet zeitgeist, whereby anonymity is a virtue that guarantees freedom of expression, as well as protecting the user from the 'tyranny of the majority'. It is in fact a constitutional right. It is the anonymity of the vote that underpins democracy, for example. However, I'm not sure what your beef is here, as at the time of writing (and your last reply not withstanding) your profile remains a paragon of anonymity. Most bloggers leave slightly more info about themselves than simply their Sun-sign (ooh, Sun-sign! Are you sure you're not a goth?), but not you. You also aver that you rarely write about personal stuff, so I wonder how relevant to 'Usman Kashmiri' any of this 'mother weeping'; 'heroic, yet fermented father (??)'; 'I am immortal, look at me write about plunging to Earth!' bloated turgidity really is. I suspect it's all made up, and you are just spinning grandiloquent tales to get a reaction. And herein lies the fundamental flaw in your attack: You claim that despite your own anonymity, I can still look at 'who' you are and 'what' you are (that is after all the main point to your blogging, is it not?). But in virtually the same sentence you dismiss my opinions as 'worthless', stating that I don't know you or your problems. Which is it? Does your blog give insight into you and your life, or not? And does it even matter? Because over and above the fact that you invite opinion by publishing online and allowing anonymous comments, I don't actually need to know you to have an opinion, and you have quickly formed one of me, despite my anonymity, so that line of reasoning is clearly fallacious. I couldn't care less anyway. I should have stopped when I read the first few lines and got to "Wah! Wah! Nobody cares that I'm an immature narcissitic hypocrite"!

You'll learn the hard way, or give up and die :D

Zh. said...

mano, baba, relax..

Zh. said...

and dom, thank you for your incredible psychoanalysis of the situation, but sometimes being a know-it-all just doesn't cut it.

mehreenkasana said...

Man oh man.

bah. Opinions. Unasked for.