Single Males (True Story)

I had such a good time airing out grievances tonight.

Amarie and I went to all-you-can-eat sushi. We definitely ate more than what we could eat (that was our feat of strength, thankyouverymuch).

Then I got to drive her cube home. It was so much fun! I am telling you, between ye olde english jokes and making more fun of le le le le chum production (DO NOT click on that link) and his GF, there wasn't any room for any sulking about.

I got home to a house smelling of boiling turnips in date juice. Husband was making his favorite dish (boiled turnips in date juice). But even a husband boiling stanky turnnips couldn't get me down - I was on such a high, I decided to play xmas songs on the piano.
So I started... with Jingle Bells. As I was playing and having a grand time, who comes into the living room with a glowing smiling face?

Husband.

And what is he singing?

Single males! single males! single all the way!




I swear this really happened. Happy Festivus!


Bret Martin

your face glows
by the light of the crescent moon
you are a beacon for the believers.

you knit with the linens of your heart
a needlepoint of peace
of colors green and gold.

salam,
tis a quilt to shelter us
salam, salam, salam



The Most Valuable Pack of Peanuts

or
A Lesson in Humility

A nagging need to write has been at me lately.

At one point I had this "awesome" idea for a book: the plot would take place in a parallel universe where it wasn't socially acceptable for women to wear anything other than bikinis... but that died away pretty quick.

Then I decided I was going to write a rant about how I am sick of the media making news out of miscellanea and how NO BODY cares about the special demands of a handful of Jews and Muslims. But other than the preceding, I have nothing to say, because I just don't care about a handful of stupid people making stupid demands.

Then I thought I would write about how much I love Karen Armstrong, but everyone who loves intellectual integrity loves Karen Armstrong and this blog isn't addressed to those who don't.

Then it dawned on me that no one reads this blog anyway because it was meant as an emotional outlet, a therapy of sorts, a project that is meant to remain anonymous, save for a chosen few.

Then I understood why I have been having a nagging need to write: I miss writing because I'm not writing, and I'm not writing because I have no need to, and I have no need to because everything is AMAZING right now.

So it dawned on me that my struggle now is remaining humble. It is so easy to forget the important things in life when all the hardships of the world seem so far away. It's easy to come home, shut the door and forget there is a world out there with injustice and poverty and calamity.

I am so blessed. Even when I fast, all I have to do is go to the local grocery store and choose whatever I want from every food imaginable. Hunger is not a real problem.

Even when I am home alone, bored, all I have to do is get 3 dollars from my change jar and bus over to Hiba's for dinner. I don't have to worry about things like war - I can't even go into detail about war because I don't even know what war is! Sure, I can google the word "war" and weave all kinds of "deep" sentences using all kinds of words like "tanks" and "mines" and "coup d'état", but what meaning would they have? alhamdulillah ala kulli hal, there is little I can be more thankful for other than the inability to discuss this topic adequately.

A family member recently told me about a very touching moment in his life. A customer came to the store he works at part time and called him "brother". He suddenly felt very happy at the idea of being called "brother" by someone who doen't share anything with him other than the fact that they are fellow humans. "Think about it, he said, we are all brothers, no matter our creed, so why should we be so arrogant?" That really put things into perspective for me. After that moment, I decided I wasn't going to hate anyone, no matter how heinous their crime.

It's so hard. I really hate Pinochet (1).

***

And so it was my mum who taught me the loveliest lesson in humility. Today. I woke up from a nap, in mum's Kingston home. Tiggy the cat was at my feet and mum was on Youtube, listening to folklore and eating peanuts.

She said: "Do you know where I got these peanuts? An inmate (2) gave them to me." Groggy, it took me a while to grasp what she was saying, so she continued:

"There was an inmate who came from another Federal institution. They prescribed a walker to him, but when he came to us, they decided he wasn't going to have one, so he couldn't walk. The first time I met him, I asked him to tell me about himself. When he got up, I noticed he needed to grab the walls. He said his name and I asked him why he was walking like that. He said 'Ma'am, I have problems with my knees. All my cartilage is gone. When I put my weight on my knee, it hurts'. So I asked him to tell me everything and made notes for the doctor, asking him to assess the inmate for a walker and any other orthopedic need. A few days later, he was given a walker. Next time I saw him, he gifted me this pack of peanuts. I told him: 'Keep it for yourself. I have my freedom, I can buy any food I want on the outside.' But he insisted, so I accepted."

Most people look at a hardened criminal and only see the heinous crime.

My mum, she sees her brother.

Peace is such a wonderful state to be in.



(1): Augusto Pinochet, the modern-day Pharaoh who said "Not a single leaf moves in this country if I'm not the one moving it. I want that to be clear!"
(2) My mum is an RN in a Federal Institution.

yo habibe ain't it totally inappropriate?

After startling my friends and potentially ruining my whole reputation among the Muslim community with the previous post (which was not an essay on my beliefs, but rather an exploration of thoughts and emotions I had never had the strength to touch on before), I received a direct tweet from some random rapper on twitter with a link to this... this... thing.
Not only does this song lack musical sophistication (to my ear) but i find it profoundly distasteful and offensive.

I surprised myself. I didn't even give "attar mohammed" the time of day, i didn't even watch the whole video . Mind you, I spent 4 days researching the taqwacore scene, fascinated and confused and shocked and infatuated and disgusted and giddy and mad, yet this video, which is arguably equally provocative, strikes me as being profoundly inappropriate.

why?

seriously, i don't know... maybe i am just a big fat phony...
Whatever my problem is, one thing is sure. I think I may have an acute intolerance to "video hoes", pardon my farsi.



update:

(black nobility, who sent me the tweet, is the mixer for the track. he apologized to those (me) who felt offended by the girls' presence in the vid. i want to voice my appreciation of said black noble and thank him for his reply)


In response to the Taqwacore Subculture

I hear them in my head, all the beards and burqas. I know you hear them too, mistaking them for your conscience.
"harraaaaam alaik!"

At first I just took it. I took it, put my name on it and quit my piano lessons. I still remember hearing Yusuf Islam's anasheed the first time, as a Muslim learning how to pray, and thinking "oh god, this is awful". I love you, Yusuf Islam, I love you for Allah's sake. But, in general, it takes a heck of a nasheed for me to enjoy tambourines and off-pitch vibratos (at least Yusuf's voice is soothing mashaAllah). I suspect I am not alone in this, especially among Muslims of Western background.

Around the same time I quit my piano lessons, I quit eating burgers. I don't know what I was thinking, but it didn't last. A couple of years ago I ate a burger and have been eating burgers every week ever since. I bring this up because my return to music has been a lot slower. One has to understand that there aren't really "fast-food" music fixes available for a hijab wearing girl woman. I can't just park out in front of my local youth center and pretend I'm not listening to the newest thing to come out of the Aylmer death metal scene. First of all, I'm too old. And always the beards and burqas telling me imma be sinning against God Almighty...

Slowly though, I have been getting angry at the beards and burqa's. First I got mad when I realized I wasn't being true to myself. Why was I pretending? To please who?

Then I got a little madder when I noticed I was becoming another burqa, getting uncomfortable with other Muslims who are just living their lives. For a while, I think I forgot that Allah is The Most Merciful and that only He knows the content of people's hearts. Who was I to judge?

I got really mad, though, when it finally clicked that the beards and burqas in my head - the very beards and burqas who convinced me to quit piano and give away my NIN CDs - were the beards and burqas who cry when they listen to ibo, dance when they listen to haifa, and no one even blinks.
And I started to think... isn't that a little hypocritical?
Well after chewing the cud for a while, I decided that I think it's a lot hypocritical.

***

There is a thing called culture. What is culture? According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, culture is "the totality of socially transmitted behavior patterns, arts, beliefs, institutions, and all other products of human work and thought."
That is, everything anybody has ever done or will ever do that is a product of what they have learned or acquired from their society (family, friends, tv, books, school, etc.)

And are humans homogeneous?
No, they aren't

Can you make them homogeneous?
Even though our age is one of mixing-by-clashing on every level, giving rise to an ever increasing number of fusions in every form, you cannot make humans homogeneous. Part of our nature is being different.

I know i'm getting away from the point, but this is what I want to say to all the beards and burqas:
Allah made us different. You hate on me, you hate on Allah. Go suicide-bomb yourself if you want, at least suicide is a clear-cut statement of apostasy. Last I checked, playing Guitar Hero isn't.

***

Back to music then.
As a form of entertainment, music can be a way of numbing out the feeling of emptiness we feel when we are far from Allah. As a tool for consumerism (and you know as much as I do that the music industry is called the music industry for a reason), it can become a way of blocking out what really matters, of avoiding the truth. In fact, there is no doubt in my mind that music can be toxic, a drug, a depressant... and stop kidding yourselves: for some it has become another god.

But it is also an element of culture, part of our identity, a mirror, even, as most art form are (I say most because I've seem some of the shiz modern art has hatched, and it reflects nothing, means nothing, and brings nothing) reflecting what is, what was, what ought to be. In this respect, a member of a different culture cannot be expected to give up on their identity to embrace another. It just isn't natural. we are what we are and owe it to ourselves to be true to our identity.

Seeing as the identities of Muslims are becoming more and more complexe, it's no wonder subcultures like Taqwacore are surfacing all over the place.

I spent the last two days trolling myspace pages and blogs and learning as much as I can about this subculture without actually reading M.M. Knight's book.
I don't know what I think, but I know what I feel: torn.
And I don't even know what I am torn between.

So for the time being I am going to go on the record as saying that I support any form of art that provides an outlet for people, marginalized or not, to express themselves, even though the fruit of their efforts may shock me (or secretly excite me).

Taqwacore


Islamic street preachers

By: Riazat Butt
The Guardian, Saturday 28 April 2007

There can't be that many female playwrights who are deaf, punk and Muslim, so Sabina England is something of a find. With a lurid Mohawk and leather jacket slathered with slogans, she looks every inch the rebel and has an attitude to match.

Sabina, who says she lives in the "shitty midwest of the United States" or the "HELL-HOLE OF BOREDOM AND YUPPIES", is part of a subculture that, until a few years ago, existed only on paper.

The Taqwacores - a novel about a fictitious Muslim punk scene in the US - has spawned an actual movement that is being driven forward by young Muslims worldwide. Some bands - such as the Kominas - have a cult following. Others, such as Sabina, are virtually unknown. In a brief email exchange, she lays out some harsh truths.

You're a playwright. What do you write about?

"I write plays about fucked up people in fucked up situations, because we're all fucked up human beings that live in a fucked up society. People need to quit whining and shut up and realise that we're all freaks, whether we admit it or not."

Where are your ideas from?

"Being a deaf woman from an Indian Muslim family growing up in both England and the US, I've never felt I fit in or belonged anywhere. So I was always forced to be an outsider, and because of this, I'd just watch people and observe their actions and words. I guess a lot of my ideas come from my alienation and anger."

How well known is the taqwacore phenomenon where you are?

"Muslims around here would rather act like a model minority and don't really want to rattle anybody's chain. I really want to move to New York City, if I can get my plays produced there. Unfortunately it seems many theatre companies are too scared to do my works, or think I only cater to Indians and Pakistanis and won't attract white people. But they're fucking wrong, and they can't see beyond racial boundaries. Fucking worthless piece of shites."

What does taqwacore mean to you?

"It means being true to myself, having my own faith, and interpreting Islam the way I want to, without feeling guilty or being looked down at by other Muslims."

What is the future for taqwacore?

"It's gonna get bigger. A lot of Muslim kids are tired of being told what to do, how to think, what to believe in, and how to act, by their parents. There are 'the angry muslim kids' who wanna grow beards and pray five times a day, and then there are the OTHER 'angry Muslim kids' who wanna get drunk and say a huge big 'fuck you' to the Muslim population. Or maybe they just don't care and wanna sit at home and not think about Osama's video speeches about how America is the Great Satan."

How her words would fare with Michael Muhammad Knight, author of The Taqwacores and an unwitting idol to the young and restless, is anyone's guess. Knight, who is 29 and lives in New York with his dog Sunny - "not as in Sunni Muslim" - downplays his achievement of single-handedly inspiring this subculture that has produced artists such as the Kominas, Secret Trial Five, Vote Hezbollah, Al-Thawra, 8-Bit and Diacritical.

"There was a scene already," says Knight modestly, whose next novel will be titled Osama Van Halen. "I just gave it a name. There were kids out there, doing their thing. I don't think of it as a movement, though, just a group of friends supporting each other."

Knight wrote the book to deal with his own issues. He converted to Islam as a teenager and admits he "burned out" from being so religious. "I was so intense. I felt Islam was so black and white and there were no grey areas. These Muslim kids, who are punks, they are in these grey areas."

The kids he refers to have all devoured Knight's work, some taking it literally.

"One kid," he says, "thought the book was non-fiction and thought that stuff in the book actually happened. He got in touch. He said if it wasn't real, that he would make it real." He sounds worried by the suggestion that his book will be a manifesto for Muslim punks. "If the scene develops, I don't want it to be based on my book."

The words stable, door, horse and bolt spring to mind. Some Muslims are deeming his book to be nothing short of a revelation. "When I read The Taqwacores," says Basim Usmani, frontman of The Kominas, "all my reservations about Islam melted away."

Usmani was born in New York and moved around the US when he was growing up. "I had this identity that stretched way further back than these disenfranchised white kids I was hanging out with, but they were the ones who showed me the most respect. I entered America where I was weird and, when I went back to Pakistan, I was weird there too. I was too Pakistani to be American and too American to be Pakistani."

His aggression was ongoing, although he freely admits his rage didn't come from social dynamics. "In Boston I was middle class. In Pakistan, where I am now, I am definitely upper class. But the poverty here is intense and that makes me angry."

Basim first played with Boston-based outfit Malice In Leatherland, supporting horror punk band the Misfits. It was during this time that he heard about Knight's book.

"I read the book and I'm amazed. I send him an email and he called. I saw a lot of myself in it. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a story." Neither he nor his taqwacore comrades confess to embracing the more debauched antics of the novel - which has one character urinating over the Qur'an and then reading from it and a female Muslim veil-wearing punk, performing oral sex, onstage, in front of 200 people.

Understandably, Usmani was nervous approaching Shahjehan Khan, also in the Kominas, about the book. "I didn't know how he would react, he's not punk, but he was cool about it. He read it in one day. You could say it was a catalyst for the Kominas." Their songs are irreverent and un-PC. His favourite track, he says with a snigger, is "I Want A Handjob" - a jibe at Pakistani rockers Junoon (who launched a Muslims For Bush campaign for the 2004 elections).

Usmani left the US just as the Kominas were breaking through into mainstream culture. But he has a new band - the Dead Bhuttos, a variation on the Dead Kennedys (who released their first single through the independent record label Alternative Tentacles, the very label that picked up Knight's book for distribution).

A future project, hopes Usmani, will be a Punjabi version of the Billy Bragg song There Is Power In A Union. "I'd like it to be a song for the Pakistani workers 'cos they don't really have one," he muses.

The Kominas, currently on a gigging hiatus, will tour later this year in North America. "It seems weird to leave just when we were on the brink. If I'd stayed then I would have been playing to sympathetic white liberals. I didn't want that. In Pakistan, people want to rebel against the police and religious authority and punk is the perfect way to do that."

He's put a downpayment on a bus and decorated it with the shahadah [the Muslim declaration in the oneness of God]. "I have no idea how we're going to get it through customs."

Meanwhile, Khan is in Boston mixing the Kominas debut album: "We've put some EPs out but this is our first official release. There will be remixes of our old stuff like Suicide Bomb The Gap."

Khan says he looks like a typical engineer - with glasses and a goatee - and comes from a comfortable, middle-class background. But he appreciates what taqwacore has done for him. "I was like, where has this book been all my life? None of us know where taqwacore is going or what's going to happen. It is a subculture that could influence culture in general. It's nice to be part of something at the beginning."

One of the newest recruits to the taqwacore scene is Secret Trial Five, from Vancouver. Lead vocalist Sena Hussain, 25, took her inspiration directly from the Kominas. "We saw them play and we were all into punk music anyway. We haven't had a chance to rattle some cages, we only got together last summer, but I expect we will. That's the point of punk."

Proposed title tracks include Hey, Hey, Guantanamo Bay and Emo-hurram, a pun on the first month of the Islamic calendar. And, in a male-dominated culture, she thinks they will face challenges from all sides. "It's another thing that drives us," she says, "Muslim women are seen as helpless and oppressed. We want to prove that wrong. I used to sport a mohawk, I don't now, but we will totally play up the punk thing.

"There's so much animosity towards Muslims and we need a dissenting voice to say 'fuck you' to people who pigeonhole us." Hussain, who is looking for a new guitarist, adds: "It's only fitting that we identify ourselves as taqwacore, that's where we got our inspiration from, and I think that's the way the genre will grow - and I hope it does."

· Riazat Butt presents Islamophonic, www.guardian.co.uk/islamophonic

out of the word, into the paint III

Life in the Ark Fleet, Ship "B"

The WYSIWYG Factor

"What do I care what people have to say about me?"
"Yeah, who cares what people think, it's between me and Allah"

Ah yes. Indeed, who cares? People will talk, and spread rumors and be jealous... that's what people do. But does that mean you can do whatever you want without ever taking responsibility for your actions? Without any repercussions ever?

I'm a translator. At work, I always work in WYSIWYG. Why? Because I know what to expect when I send my document to the printer. I know where my margins are, I know where my page breaks are, and I know almost exactly what my print out will look like when I'm done.

Logically, what do you expect from a liar? Lies. What do you expect from a thief? Thieving. What do you expect from a gossiper? Gossip.

So if you're the kind of person who doesn't care what people think, more power to you, but remember that what you see is what you get, and when it comes time to judge your character, people will only rely on one thing: what they've seen.




The Islamic Prayer Times – Computational Philosophy with Particular Reference to the Lack of Twilight Cessation at Higher Latitudes

OR
Praying and Fasting where the sun don't set



I was sent this "joke" of an article, today, about two saudis who died on the 16th day of Ramadan because they were working up North and weren't able to break their fasts*. It really is meant as a joke. Though I must admit, I don't get it.

Just for the record, the subject of breaking one's fast at the right time in areas where the sun never sets or rises is legitimate and is the object of serious research.

See for yourself (.PDF).


* I'm pretty sure this scenario is unlikely due to the social disease and poor management of funds that plague the saudi society. Money+ arrogance make for well paid american imports hired to do your work for you, innit?

out of the word into the paint II

ergonomy, or the lack thereof