A rainbow is a rainbow and will always be a rainbow...

Saturday, November 26, 2011 by B.H.

I’m still a rainbow like one from two years ago… I prefer to be an original instead of trying to be like others. If I am like others, that’s only by coincidence. I’m a rainbow who’s become a bit narcissist. My day starts with alarms, Regina Spektor’s Us, it’s been four months now…though it’s not hard to wake me up even in winters when the sleep is prettier than the most soothing serenades.
I am not much of a couch potato, but I love to watch some telly on weekends, I read newspapers and I know what happens in this country, I have opinions too…but I usually refrain from making opinions and I stay quiet. I read magazines…though I am still not as fine about reading as I should be, most of my storybooks are unread but poetry books are read at least twice, I own two Holy Books, one in English. I am not really perfect when it comes to that, you know? I admit I skip prayers which I shouldn’t…but at least I try not to be a bad human being.
Among things that winters bring, I like the sweet-smelling orangeness of divine oranges, besides cappuccino coffee, crunchy leaves in the start, foggy pathways, flu affected voices and the fascinating mess in my room, it is one beautiful thing that I associate with winters, there’s a roguish mingle-mangle of sweet and sour delectability that comes with oranges. I still prefer sweet tea, water and juice especially grape juice over soda.
I am not much creative, I used to paint, and I used to write, mad stuff and never ending stories and then those stories about people who don’t exist and those about people who shouldn’t exist and…I don’t do much of both now. Oh well.
I like people who start conversations – for no reason. I always get the feeling that these people are the friendliest people on planet Earth. And sometimes, I like people who start conversations with a compliment. I like neckties…I have one for every shirt in my wardrobe. I don’t judge people by their footwear or clothes though it tells a lot which can be sometimes completely wrong.
I used to have a little feline until one unfortunate day I noticed she was gone or maybe stolen…and then mum bought a pretty baby rose-ringed parakeet and it flew away too after few weeks like they always do and I haven’t had any pet since then. I have very few friends…to be fair. They are the nicest people you’ll ever know, I keep my windows open to them even when the sun is not at a friendly angle…but I try that the light falls on them in the white silver winters and hope that it melts into delighting springs. They are people – worth dying for, people worth living for… 
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Saturday, November 12, 2011 by B.H.
You have the same peachy face after all this time, only a bit wrinkly now. You still drink in every lifelike nonsense no matter how irrelevant. I still see the tender folly and bright violet wandflowers adorned with myriad love in your tawny-brown eyes. The same somber expressions but surprisingly cheery when you feel like it, strangely mellow on some days - especially on rainy days, glowering when you read or write, deep in thought when you listen to your favorite songs and endlessly vacant when you walk. You have subtly deepened in a manner that I have too. And it's cute how you don't try to hide your teeth anymore when you laugh. Only your blackish-brown hair has changed in color, they seem faintly light and weak. Your dresses are still more stylish than you are but not a lot of people know about that. And humor, still hard to get but then, I have the same problem too. You're unearthly, lost in your own literary world, I love the songs that you sing in your enchantingly wild voice as you play the uke. And how you smell the old, frayed pages of the books before you read them. You're you and I live in a beautiful world.

whipping boy

Tuesday, November 8, 2011 by B.H.
You know how goats can be creepy to some thickos. Can they not see, how incessantly innocent looking creatures God has made them and when you go near them, they stop ruminating and pause to stare at you with their huge and vacant eyes and sweetly bleat 'how do you do sir?' sort of sounds with their honeyed voice? And how some of them smile at you and shy away? How lovely individual characters and intelligence they possess, it makes me want to hug them. I love goats even though they can be thoroughly ungrateful like this one from my neighborhood, he used to eat all day long and bleat clamorously throughout the night and I was sort of glad when they killed him and it happened just a few hours ago and now I will savour his majestic mutton notwithstanding the fact that I do not have any fond admiration for it.

Well, Eid's over, and everyone's probably got rid of their goats, cows and camels including my loser neighbour who was too lazy to find a butcher and thus gave me another sleepless night. And now when I have this golden opportunity to lie down on this softest and best invention attributed to mankind called bed, I find it hard to sleep for alien reasons. I can feel the meek pain of this dull weariness in my body but my brain is alertly functional as though the shut off button of this scummy organ is broken. So, I imagined a paradise in my head with two glorious gardens and two gilded streams of honey and tried to imagine a random love song by Elvis Presley playing in the backdrop but all I could hear was the bleating of this daft goat from my neighborhood! I wonder when will this ghost of that daft goat stop haunting and let me be calm as a child in dreamless slumber! Sigh. I can really use a wish right now...