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sg33k – Poems, Pictures & Prose by Saaleha Idrees Bamjee

Year Three

What does one do with a man who fits the floor with wearied socks and jeans.
What does one do with a man whose mouth will never tune to mushrooms or fennel.
What does one do with a man who constantly points out, in a maddeningly accurate fashion, that I procrastinate.
What does one do with a man who nags and nags and nags me to write The Book.
What does one do with a man who tsks tsks at my cussing?
What does one do with a man who forgets to put the milk away?

What does one do?

except to

Thank God

for everyday

with a man

who fits the floor with wearied socks and jeans,
whose mouth will never tune to mushrooms or fennel,
who constantly points out, in a maddeningly accurate fashion, that I procrastinate,
who nags and nags and nags me to write The Book,
who tsks tsks at my cussing,
who forgets to put the milk away.

Things I probably should’ve given Naeem the heads-up on

via Hamish

1. I have a real problem managing time.

2. Hence I’m a pro-procrastinator.

3. It is difficult for me to wake up early especially if there is nothing pressing to attend to.

4. I sing along to jingles and other tracks when I watch TV or listen to the radio.

5. Chaos is my element.

6. I’m always up for eating strange things.

7. I like the bitterness of schweppes dry lemon and malts.

8. My dreams are often strange and textbook. (There’s one I would like to translate into an art installation; a swimming pool shell filled with condoms that have had little notes placed in them by people writing about their regrets or unfulfilled dreams)

9. I’m easily distracted.

10. I can lose hours on repetitive games.

11. I really, really don’t like conflict.

12. I’m selfish. Not because I want to be, but because I don’t know how to be any other way. (I am an only child)

13. My stuff is everywhere.

14. I speak silly.

A big bad block, but there’s always a poem

When I’m feeling particularly useless, I type random words into my Gmail search and read the regurgitated chat archives. It was April 10, 2006 and Sg33k had sent that very first email. I bounced this off of a friend and said, “He seems literate” (ya, Miss-fucking-pretentious was I). That throw-away line was a little piece of flint, and while it’s not going to burn down the house, at least it gave off a bit of smoke today.

He seems literate

Famous first words.
Before clever funny words
And what are we words
And I think this is going somewhere words
And when are you going to words
And then I Do words
Into pet words
And silly words
No words
Never angry words
Just grateful words
Just I am so fucking lucky words
Thank God words
And when I have no words
He brings words
To write this story.

Day One

It was hard for me to bask in a spiritual infusion today, when my brain must’ve been trying to escape through my eye sockets, for all the pain I blinked back.
Hello Caffeine Dependency, you are such a bastard.
A website I was working on had its database eaten by some e-tokoloshe.
That translated into two full days of work having to be compressed into a couple of quicksand hours in order for us not to look like inept fools should some client surf over. This excluded the two hours of downtime we experienced due to the power being cut-off because someone was having a Marie Antoinette moment down at the municipality.
It takes a strong person to not want to smash up the internet and unleash an inner Gustav on anyone within arms reach.
I am not a strong person.
I tried to smile, and I failed.
The frustration and the physical fatigue gave my aura the brown-colour wash of a party-pooper. I could see relief iron out the wrinkles on my boss’ face when I asked to leave early.
I admit the juggling is a feat and I’m trying very hard to keep work, pray and kitchen in smooth circles up in the air.
But this is only Day One. I have an entire month (and beyond) to work out my arms.
And there is something truly magic and complete about breaking your fast with someone who builds your world.

Those singular moments of plural possibility…

…sometimes visit upon us when we’re at our most unreceptive.

We shall refer to him as Significant-Geek or sg33k for brevity. This is what I call him when I’m trying to be cute or ironic. That or “Hey Pumpkin, you’re Smashing!” Which is as emo as we get.

Sg33k’s an interesting fella. Incredibly talented and hard-working, he’s so focused it makes me sick. Because I’m as batty and scatter-thunk as they come. If I had a second’s worth of his drive, I’d be on book four and a half.

Sg33k’s also a challenge (not challenged. Although when he laughs sometimes, he has that special person look…) And I know that when he reads over that, he’s going to say “bleh”. That’s just the kind of guy he is. A guy who says “bleh” a lot. And a guy who reads blogs. Sometimes this blog. That’s kinda how we met. But I won’t go into that. He’s not into mush and sentiment, but he did get me my very own domain to which I gush, “You had me at www…”.

So as I was saying…
singular moments blah blah
…sometimes visit upon us when we’re at our most unreceptive.

‘Quite smoking dammit’, ‘Get off facebook’, ‘You know, he just may be the One’; those missives hit you like hailstones in the highveld, chipping and denting, indelibly.

It only takes that moment for volumes within you to displace in eureka-fashion, sans, we hope, the running through the streets of Syracuse naked.

I’ve just had that moment.

And it’s terrifying. Because even though the possibilities are vast and unmeasurable, it’s like continental drift. The pieces can go anywhere, but back.

And now I’ve gone and blogged it.

There’s no such thing as The One. But there is The One you choose.

And yeah, I guess I’ve chosen.

Bleh.