In Celebration of Love’s Labors Lost (Part 1)

Radha Krishna and the Gopis

As I lean back now and look back on the life path I have taken since I first stepped out into the world, two recurring motifs dominate the pattern of events.

The first is a hardwired impulse to be free – free of all external compulsions (which is well nigh impossible when you happen to be part of a family, and all of us are). But as one whose birthdate adds up to a 5, numerologists say I’m “one of those people who is always striving to find answers to the many questions that life poses; [that I] want to be totally unrestrained, as this is the sign of freedom and independence.” So I’m only being true to my core nature in cherishing my freedom.

Freedom from debt, for a start. I don’t have a credit card, no overdraft, and I have never once applied for a bank loan. The house I’m living in is in my wife’s name and it was given to her when her entire village was relocated several hundred yards upstream on account of the Selangor Dam. So, no mortgage either - although the fine print says the land the house stands on is on a 99-year lease. We have until the year 2106 to worry about having to move.

The second motif happens to be my susceptibility to love. Some live to work, some to eat, some to make money – I live for love.

My first love was at the tender age of 4, when I shared a bathtub with a neighbor’s daughter, who arrived on earth 11 days ahead of me, and later found myself sitting beside her at kindergarten. I remember how we shared little secrets in class. She was curious to know if boys and girls had similar genitals, and neither of us had a clue – so I drew a simple diagram to show her what mine looked like, and she reciprocated, very demurely, by handing me a piece of paper on which she had written the letter V. I wasn’t satisfied with her response, suspecting there had to be more to it, that she was holding back. Then we got separated in primary school – there were no co-ed schools when I was a kid – and didn’t meet again until we were in our early teens, and I was smitten by her luminous beauty which I noticed for the first time.

When I learnt she was in the habit of roller-skating along the corridors of a school opposite my house most afternoons, I decided to take up roller-skating too – and soon became quite adept at it. But we were both too shy to go beyond smiling at each other and I felt totally tongue-tied when face-to-face with her.

So nothing at all transpired until fate brought us together again when we reached fourth form. I was appointed to the editorial board of a science magazine jointly published by my all-boys school and a nearby girls’ school. At our first informal meeting to discuss the magazine, I was astounded by how mature the girls were compared to me at 15. She and her best buddy, my co-editor, were smoking real cigarettes (not the chocolate ones I was familiar with as a kid) and even driving around without a license.

That’s how I began smoking, and soon I was borrowing my dad’s car to drive – at first up and down the compound, then increasingly further around the neighborhood. Working together on the science magazine project gave me a good excuse to start visiting her in the afternoons after classes. She lived conveniently around the corner from my house, within a 3-minute walk, even less on my bicycle.

Several times a week, I’d perch my cockatoo on the handle bar and ride over to her place. She was usually home. We would sit around her airy front porch and chat till twilight. Each time I saw her she grew more beautiful in my eyes. But I just didn’t know how to shift gears from being her childhood playmate to being her beau. 

So things drifted along for a while sweetly enough, but neither of us wanted to make the first move into adulthood, although I occasionally detected a flirtatious or teasing tone in her glances. I just wanted everything to be perfect between us. The thought of doing something clumsy or saying something inappropriate paralyzed me. Much later in life I realized that the abstract notion of “perfection” itself could be the #1 Killjoy Factor in the human universe…

Anyway, many other events intruded that weren’t part of the pattern of “perfect love” and I took them all in my stride as part of love’s learning curve. As my mind drifts slowly backwards in time, scanning for precious memory fragments to rescue from analog oblivion, I become acutely aware of the many-layered nature of experience: in so many instances, I can’t draw a linear timeline marking one event without then wondering when some other event occurred.

For instance, during the years I didn’t see my first love, I enjoyed quite a few other romantic fantasies. I vaguely recall an alphabetic crush I had for a pig-tailed cutie who played the letter M in some kiddie concert I witnessed around 10. I remember a couple of stiffy-inducing dreams with me playing the letter K and somehow showing up the loutish low-class L who stood between us. I never found out her name, but I bet it began with the letter M...

Then there was WW, baby sister of one of my best buddies in whose home I used to hang out all day after school. My own siblings were much older than I, so I never felt the same sort of intense kinship with them. In this household there was a great deal of family interaction. It was an ideal atmosphere for innocent fun and puppy love to flourish: the stirrings of juicy adolescence, the brief but intense thrill of her foot brushing against mine during a game of Monopoly. I was present when her first period arrived, her face flushed as she hurried towards the bathroom.

I knew nothing about hormones and pheromones then. But I enjoyed the undercurrent of irrational desires and the heady sensation of erotic impulses. These weren’t exactly romantic – primal, more likely. Electromagnetic and biochemical, at least. No guilt was attached to these prurient fantasies; nor were they focused on any specific person. Non-specific lust is what I call this syndrome.

Girls were lovely to dream about, but my everyday reality was populated with boys. Since girls were sexually unavailable, we resorted to making lewd jokes about them; but among ourselves, we were comfortable showing off our erections and competing to see who could shoot his load the furthest. There was ample opportunity for experimentation. Staying over at male friends’ houses presented no problems with parents and it seemed natural for us to have temporary crushes on each other without their becoming full-blown affairs.

Being single-minded about anything has never been a habit of mine - which may explain why I never became a virtuoso in any specific endeavor. Looking back, if I had kept my focus on winning the heart of my first love, ignoring other distractions and settling for nobody else, perhaps we would have ended up as a couple. I can’t imagine what married life would have been like for us – but I’m fairly certain she would have compelled me to become a high flyer in the upper income bracket, since it’s clear she had set her sights on a comfortable lifestyle, being what people would consider a trophy wife. As it turned out, she subsequently dated and married a fellow who became an accountant – while I drifted in the opposite direction, devoting my energies to the arts, after a short-lived stint in the glossy advertising game.

Clark Kent look @ 1968

But I’m getting ahead of my narrative. While all this was going on, I began to visit a couple of pretty sisters – one shy and demure, the other outgoing and vivacious – both of whom eventually became integral parts of my life.

When you’re a teenager it’s very important to appear cool – and to visit a young lady on a rickety bicycle is fairly uncool (especially with a cockatoo perched on the handlebar). Since I had convinced my father that I could drive competently, he rarely protested whenever I asked to borrow his car. I had a schoolmate named Johnny who was always on the lookout for hot chicks. He didn’t have access to a car, so he would sometimes tell me about some nice girl he knew who happened to have good-looking sisters – and we’d go visit them in my dad’s car.

That’s how I got to meet Annie, my French kiss instructor only a year younger than I but slightly more experienced. It was because of Annie I decided to quit wearing glasses (which, prior to my first kissing lesson, I had believed to be a requisite accessory since they made one look smarter and older). We were both wearing glasses when the serious smooching began one sultry afternoon – and the collision of our spectacles almost turned the experience into an episode out of some Woody Allen movie.  Anyway, thank you, Annie – for your wonderful coaching which has served me well through the decades.

(In 2011 Annie tracked me down on facebook. Imagine the great joy I felt to be reconnected with her after 46 years. She's moved on from kissing coach to tai-chi instructor.)

[To be continued...]

Originally posted 1 April 2012, reposted 6 May 2016

THE TRUE MEANING OF CLASS (reprise)

... or A Case of Unimpeachable Decadence

A man goes to the famous Lucas Carton restaurant in Paris with his girlfriend and orders the Mouton Rothschild 1928.

The waiter returns cradling a bottle of the precious wine and pours a small amount in the glass for tasting.

The customer picks up the glass, sniffs the wine, then puts it down on the table with a disdainful sneer: "This is NOT the 1928 Mouton."

The waiter animatedly assures him it is - and soon there are another twenty people surrounding the table - including the maître'd, the chef, and the manager - trying to convince the man that the wine is indeed the 1928 Mouton.

Finally, in exasperation, the manager asks him how he can be so certain that it is not the 1928 Mouton.

"My name is Philippe de Rothschild, and I make that wine."

Hearing this, the waiter hangs his head forlornly in defeat and confesses that he had poured the Clerc Milon 1928.

"I could not bear to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton. You know Clerc Milon: the vineyard is in the same village as Mouton; you pick the grapes at the same time, the same cépage. You crush in the same way, you put them into similar barrels, you bottle at the same time; you even use eggs from the same chickens to fine them. The wines are the same, except for a minute and negligible difference in geographical location."

Rothschild beckons the waiter to come closer, and whispers in his ear: "When you return home tonight, ask your girlfriend to remove her underwear. Put one finger in one opening, another finger in the other, then smell both fingers. You will understand the difference a minute variation in geographic location makes."


[Forwarded by Shanghai Fish. First posted 29 January 2010]

A PRAYER FOR YOU ~ by Rob Brezsny (repost)

Rob Brezsny is an aspiring master of curiosity, perpetrator of sacred uproar, and founder of the Beauty and Truth Lab. He writes "Free Will Astrology," a syndicated weekly column that appears in over a hundred other publications and on the Web.

His latest book is called Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How All of Creation Is Conspiring To Shower You with Blessings.

As much a storyteller and prophet as astrologer, Brezsny brings a literate, myth-savvy perspective to his work. When Utne Reader named him a "Culture Hero," it observed: "With a blend of spontaneous poetry, feisty politics, and fanciful put-on, Brezsny breathes new life into the tabloid mummy of zodiac advice columns."

In its profile of Brezsny, the New York Times quoted a reader who compared his writing to that of the novelist Tom Robbins. The horoscopes "are like little valentines, buoyant and spilling over with mischievousness. They're a soul prognosis."

Brezsny's docufiction memoir, THE TELEVISIONARY ORACLE, was published in 2000. Coincidentally, Tom Robbins had this to say about the book: "I've seen the future of American literature and its name is Rob Brezsny."

Before The Televisionary Oracle Brezsny's enduring artistic artifacts were music albums, one created as a solo artist and three with the "Jungian beatnik funk" band WORLD ENTERTAINMENT WAR.

Burning Man festival 2001, Oregon

In 2000, after years as a rock musician, Brezsny branched out to develop "Sacred Uproar," a pagan revival show featuring uproarious prayers, chaotic meditations, ritual antics, and musical elixirs.

Burning Man 2001 core group

In one of Sacred Uproar's signature performance art pieces, Brezsny offers revelers the chance to get married to themselves. "Let's all just admit," he says early on in the wedding ceremony, "that none of us is ever likely to find our perfect partner or create the juicy romance we deserve until we first master the art of loving ourselves with great ingenuity."

Working with three freaky collaborators, Brezsny married hundreds of people to themselves at the Plastic Chapel during the Burning Man festival in the summer of 2001. The ecstatic ritual culminated just an hour before the Man himself was burned on Saturday night, September 1st. As the moon rose over the black rocks, the desert air shivered with the sounds of hundreds of blissed-out rapture hounds shouting out the vow "I am a fucking genius" as per Brezsny's instruction.

Believe it or else, beauty and truth fans, it's time for a prayer for YOU.

A prayer to end all prayers. A prayer for everything you've never asked for before, because you weren't sure you deserved it. A special, no-nonsense, hype-free prayer exclusively for you ~ in the most unselfish tone of voice I've ever mustered. Ready?

I am starting to pray right now to the God of Gods, the God beyond all Gods, the Girlfriend of God, the Teacher of God, the Goddess who invented God, and what I pray is:

Oh Goddess Who Never Kills But Only Changes: I pray that my exuberant, suave, and accidental words might move You to unleash ferocious blessings on all the beauty and truth fans who've tuned in.

I pray that You'll grant them what they don't even know they want. Not just the boons they think they need but everything they've been afraid to even imagine or wish for.

Oh Goddess, You Wealthy Anarchist Burning Heaven to the Ground:

The divine chameleons out there in sacred space don't even know they're crazy. Please use Your blinding magic to help them see they're all wildly creative geniuses too big for their own bodies. Guide them to realize that they're all completely different from what they think they are and more exciting than they can possibly imagine. And make it immoral, illegal, irrelevant, unpatriotic and totally tasteless for them to be in love with anyone or anything that's no good for them.

Oh Goddess You Sly Universal Virus with No Opinion:

I beg that You help all the personal growth-addicts that are reading this prayer to be disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation not destruction. I pray that You teach them the difference between self-destructive self-control and liberating self-control. Awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it's impossible to do the totally right thing. Arouse the Wild Woman within them ~ even if they're men. Give them bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more interesting problems.

And, oh Goddess, You Pregnant Criminal Who Scorns All Mediocre Longing:

Inspire all the original sinners out there to love their enemies in case their friends turn out to be jerks. Provoke them to throw away things that make them believe they're better than everyone else. Show them how much fun it is to brag about what they can't do and don't have. Most of all, brainwash them with Your freedom, so that they never love their own pain more than anyone else's pain.

Oh Goddess, you Psychedelic Mushroom Cloud at the Center of All Our Brains:

These budding Demeters and Inannas and Buddhas and Christs deserve everything they need and much much more. Please arrange for a racehorse to be named after them, or a boulevard or river or thousand-year-old storm on another planet.

Help them win the battle against time, and learn to talk the language of the most scientific angels, and master the zen of temper tantrums, and get a fabulous mommy and daddy in their next incarnation.

Teach them to push their own buttons and unbreak their own hearts and right their own wrongs and sing their own songs and be their own wives and save their own lives.

Bless them with lucid dreams while they're wide awake and solar energy-operated sex toys that work in the dark and a vacuum cleaner for their magic carpet and a knack for avoiding other people's hells [!] and a secret admirer who's not a psychotic stalker and a thousand masks that all fit their face perfectly and their own 900 number so that everyone has to pay to talk to them.

Oh Goddess, you Dumb, Fast, Infinitely Wide River of Electricity, You Smart Slow Smoldering Lump of Angel Fat Left Over from the Big Bang, You Ghostly Snake Who Loves Inventive Tragedy and Sophisticated Superstition, You Cool Furnace That Incinerates the Props of Our Nightmares Much Too Slowly, You Creator of Happy Purgatories Where Impeccably Unironic Apocalypse Salesmen Preach Christian Satanism and Rosicrucian Baseball Players from the Middle Ages Dream Politically Cracked Dreams That Reveal the News in More Exact Metaphors Than Any Newspaper:

I pray that You provide all the global village idiots that are reading this prayer with a license to bend all laws, rules, and traditions that keep them apart from the things they love. Show them how to purge themselves of the wishy-washy wishes that keep them distracted from their divine desires. And teach them that they can have anything they want if they'll only ask for it in an unselfish tone of voice.

Oh Goddess Who Gives Us So Much Love and Pain Together That Our Morality is Always on the Verge of Collapsing:

I beg You to cast a spell to nullify all bad spells that have ever been cast on all the beautiful love geniuses out there. Remove, banish, annihilate, and laugh into oblivion any jinx that has clung to them no matter how long they've suffered from it, and even if they've grown accustomed or addicted to its ugly companionship. Conjure an aura of protection around them so that they will receive an early warning if they're ever about to act in such a way that would attract another hex or plague or voodoo into their lives.

And now, dear God of Gods, God Beyond All Gods, Sister Lover of God, Mother of God, Goddess who invented God:

I bring this prayer to a close, trusting that in these mysterious moments You have impregnated the dream glands of all the beauty and truth fans out there with the most compassionate lust and smartest love You can imagine. And if there is anything I've forgotten which will help their cause, please flash it into my imagination in the coming days and months and decades, and motivate me to perform any tricks or carry out any project that will encourage an abundance of sweaty creativity to flow through them, inspiring them to become more wildly disciplined, erotically feminist, aggressively sensitive, demonically compassionate, ironically sincere, lyrically logical, insanely poised, orgiastically lucid, macho feminist.

Amen. Awomen. Ommmmmmm and halle-fucking-lujah.

There you have it, beauty and truth fans. A personalized prayer just for you. A prayer that'll probably come true simply because you didn't even ask for it.

You may now kiss yourself on your own lips.

[First posted 10 October 2007, reposted 20 July 2016]

The Pakistani Spectator interviews Blogger Antares (repost)

Photo by Suzanne Lee Das

The Pakistani Spectator • Jun 25th, 2008

Would you please tell us something about you and your site?

I was born to a middle-class family in a small town called Batu Pahat. Began working at age 20 in advertising, became a Creative Director at 23, quit at 27 to become a freelance audiovisual producer and creative consultant, and soon devoted my energies entirely to theatre, music and writing. I was introduced to the Internet at 48 and immediately embraced the delightful possibilities of digital tech. Relocated from Kuala Lumpur to a forest reserve in 1992 to found an alternative community called Magick River. Soon became involved with an Orang Asli (aboriginal) community and environmental issues. Launched the Magick River website. A dam was built in the area in 2002 and the village went on the power grid - but it took another four years to get broadband access. One of the first things I did was to start the Magick River blog in December 2006.

Do you feel that you continue to grow in your writing the longer you write? Why is that important to you?

Like any other craft, writing improves with experience and regular practice. However, mastering the technical aspects of writing is hardly the most important issue. What’s truly meaningful to me is the process of developing clarity of thought - and simplicity and elegance of expression.

I’m wondering what some of your memorable experiences are with blogging?

Soon after I initiated the Magick River blog I realized the importance of building a readership. There were so many new things to learn: getting listed with Technorati and other blog directories, promoting the blog among friends, adding widgets and generally tweaking the blog template so that it would reflect my personality. For the first year I was happy to get approximately 300 hits a day but after the March 8th 2008 elections I began to focus more on Malaysian politics and that boosted traffic to nearly 12,000 hits a day for certain blogposts. That was a real thrill for me - like somebody earning thousands suddenly receiving a cheque for millions!

What do you do in order to keep up your communication with other bloggers?

I make it a point to read other blogposts pinged on Petaling Street (Malaysia’s blog aggregator) and often leave comments here and there. This encourages random visitors to my own blog who then leave comments and this is how the blog network grows. Once in a while there is sufficient resonance to begin emailing other bloggers and befriending them beyond the blogosphere.

What do you think is the most exciting or most innovative use of technology in politics right now?

The phenomenal growth of digital and microchip tech has made notebooks, palmtops, Blackberries, camera and video cellphones commonplace. At any given moment at any given place there will be somebody equipped to record an image or video footage or transmit a text message almost instantly. In effect, this is the era of citizen reporters whose enthusiasm for spreading info and news within overlapping networks makes it impossible for totalitarian control and suppression of information. For the first time since the Athenian experiment in democracy nearly 30 centuries ago, decentralized power is beginning to supersede the outgoing patriarchal, feudal, top-down forms of political power. I relish the fact that I am now able to live far from the madding crowd and yet - with affordable equipment like a laptop and digital videocam - I can become an autonomous multimedia production unit with satellite access to the rest of the planet. The proverbial Voice in the Wilderness can now be heard in the traditional centers of economic and cultural power, regardless of latitude or longitude. From my idyllic village in the Malaysian rainforest, I can broadcast my thoughts to people in London, Paris, New York, Moscow, Beijing, Ulan Bator... and, of course, Rawalpindi!

Do you think that these new technologies are effective in making people more responsive?

Certainly, and increasingly so. In the early days of the Internet, there was a greater divide between Actual and Virtual Reality. People would spend hours at their computers conversing with absent beings - and then take a break and connect with friends “in real life.” However, the line between actual and virtual appears to be blurring as we switch comfortably from chatting face-to-face to facebook chat or an SMS exchange. Indeed, the new digital interconnectivity makes it possible for an enterprising individual to organize a real-time street event using only a social networking tool like facebook.

What do you think sets Your site apart from others?

I go for substance, not style - and generally offer well-crafted blogposts with strong visual appeal. The subject matter I blog about is eclectic and ranges from musical and literary topics to hardcore politics and metaphysics, with a generous dose of humor and whimsicality.

If you could choose one characteristic you have that brought you success in life, what would it be?

My ability to empathize with, understand and love whatever and whoever I encounter. This has the effect of generating an attractive, rather than a repulsive, energy field - which helps in everything one does.


What was the happiest and gloomiest moment of your life?

It would take too much time and effort to scour my memory banks for interesting anecdotes - and in the end such experiences tend to be intensely personal and not something to be discussed out of context.

If you could pick a travel destination, anywhere in the world, with no worries about how it’s paid for - what would your top 3 choices be?

Machu Picchu, Egypt, and Central America.

What is your favorite book and why?

No particular favorite as such but I was profoundly inspired by The Mayan Factor: Path Beyond Technology by José Argüelles (Bear & Co, 1986). The galactic scope of the book’s vision was a great relief to somebody like me who tends to feel claustrophobic when confronting petty and mundane issues.

What’s the first thing you notice about a person (whether you know them or not)?

Their energy field - whether it’s dormant or radiant.

Is there anyone from your past that once told you you couldn’t write?

Fortunately, no.

How can bloggers benefit from blogs financially?

I know bloggers who earn heaps by managing a dozen blogs all targeted at attracting traffic and generating income from advertising. But this isn’t my reason for blogging and my flirtation with Google Adsense has been shortlived. Nevertheless, the friendship and goodwill my blog has earned occasionally translates into financial support from those who have found inspiration from researching my blog archives (there are quite a few who spend as many as 9-12 hours browsing my blog on a single visit!)

Is it true that whoever has a successful blog has an awful lot of time on their hands?

Time is our most precious resource and it’s up to each of us how we utilize it. The majority of humans are still trapped in the old paradigm of trading their time for wages. I happen to be among the privileged who enjoys the freedom to use my time as I please. Since I resigned from my last full-time job in 1977, I have somehow managed to sustain myself and my family fairly comfortably without having to take on tasks that are unpleasant or ethically dubious.

What are your thoughts on corporate blogs and what do you think the biggest advantages and disadvantages are?

I avoid corporate blogs like the plague! Only individuals have something worthwhile to say. Corporations only have an image to sell.

What role can bloggers of the world play to make this world friendlier and less hostile?

When you’ve been blogging for a while you get exposed to a wide spectrum of opinions and temperaments - from the most refined to the coarsest of the coarse. This has the effect of acclimatizing you to shocking rudeness and even the most bizarre and grotesque prejudices. After a few heated exchanges on forums or via blog comments, you learn not to take things too personally - not to get wound up by a bunch of pixels on the screen. I’m sure this greatly helps in making bloggers more accepting and tolerant of different viewpoints. Bloggers learn to insult each other in a playful manner - without wanting to translate the aggro into violent behavior “in real life.” The only way to a peaceful world may be to allow humans to slug it out virtually with their conflicting opinions.

Is there one observation or column or post that has gotten the most powerful reaction from people?

The most vociferous discussion and feedback I ever got with any blogpost was on the burning topic of Malay Supremacy. Blogposts on the Altantuya murder case also tend to attract lots of attention.

What is your perception about Pakistan and its people?

The Pakistani people are beautiful, intelligent and capable - but, unfortunately, the masses appear to have been kept ignorant and easily misled through the exploitation of religious fervor by a succession of power-hungry politicians, mullahs and warlords. Sounds just like America, no?

Have you ever become stunned by the uniqueness of any blogger?

Indeed I have. Raja Petra Kamarudin (popularly known as RPK) happens to be among the best informed when it comes to local politics. His access to the “corridors of power” (by virtue, perhaps, of his being a prince of the Selangor royal household), combined with his rebellious spirit and sharp intellect, makes his political blogposts pure dynamite. That’s why his newsblog, Malaysia Today, occasionally records 1.7 million hits a day. [Unfortunately, this is no longer true... not after 2010 when RPK apparently did a 180-degree turn and began blogging on behalf of the Dark Side!]

What is the most striking difference between a developed country and a developing country?

Bread-and-butter issues tend to be less pronounced in a “developed” country where the majority are sufficiently comfortable to focus their attention on larger and broader ideas, particularly pertaining to questions of ethics and aesthetics. In so-called “developing countries” the emphasis tends to be on making money and building more visible infrastructure - therefore, abstract notions of justice, human rights, civil liberties, and cultural maturity become secondary… at least, until a sizeable educated middle class exists.

What is the future of blogging?

Personally, I’ll keep doing it till it gets boring. Then I’ll stop. Blogging has become such a global phenomenon because it gives the individual a sense of validity and value in a perplexingly complex world where traditional forms of socializing have become almost obsolete (in a congested city like Bangkok or Kuala Lumpur, for example, it takes so much effort to travel across town just to have coffee with a friend, so the answer is facebook chat and sending each other virtual drinks!)

You have also got a blogging life, how has it directly affected both your personal and professional life?

Once I began blogging the activity seemed to gradually take over most of my waking hours in that even when not actually writing a blogpost, I’m gathering data and thinking of ways to repackage it for my blog. In other words, I am now an extremely mature nerd. But, absent any more stimulating diversion, I’m quite happy to be exactly that. My “professional” life is fluid as I tend to venture into an assortment of activities, ranging from producing low-budget documentaries to giving talks on esoteric subjects and trying to get old manuscripts published.

What are your future plans?

I have never taken the future - or anything else - seriously. One step at a time, I take each day as it comes - and goes. In short, I prefer to live in the NOW. Of course, there are endless “projects” waiting to be actualized - for instance, releasing my musical output digitally (hours of music were recently rescued from analog oblivion) and clearing a space in my study for a digital recording studio. Man does not live on blogs alone.

Any message you want to give to the readers of The Pakistani Spectator?

When your head begins to ache with confusion, just follow your heart - that’s the road to joy and freedom!

[First posted 26 June 2008, reposted 13 May 2016]