Usman lies against my shoulder, his head growing steadily heavier as he drifts into sleep. All there is to say, blatantly, is alhamdulillah ("amnilla", if you're Usman)--for so much, so heart-breakingly much. i "moved back home" two days ago, insofar as home is that of no further preoccupation, no further textbook dealings: none-none-done. i can sleep in my own bed again as opposed to on the carpet next to this desk or the sofa. i can swear off coffee. i can't count the number of times Ammi's come downstairs to find me slump'd over in my chair, narcoleptic, asking if i'm awake at which i start and mumble something of yes of course...i think my record was thirty-seven hours of waking insanity. My eyes are sunken, something bloodshot, layer'd in weight and gloom, beard is blotchy, and--
--the above was written twelve hours ago, but you know? by now, "meh--enough complaints": in my father, mother, sister, newest little brother, i am bless'd beyond anything. Now is for hope. Crashed for thirteen hours Friday night, so now am as chipper as a 39-year-old rhinocerous. Yes, own-body is vegetable, but soon again is physical work and lithe young strength; yes, spirit is desert wasteland, but the gates of Rahmah & Return are open till the moment of death, and i'm yet alive...
Yesterday was one of the most beautiful afternoons in living history. Noor and i went on a three-hour bike ride, Talked, picked garbage at the marsh and then back all the way till the Farmer's Field Of Cow-Remains And Death ([by the red dot next to "629"]), and everywhere with sunlight streaming through summer leaves, deep green. Tales of Dixie. Missing everything, every single thing, pre-emptively, although not so much as reflecting in those around... And home, growling mutually with Usman walking to the growing potato field (pictured: he planting (k)alloo in May.), checking on young saplings planted last year. Lupins bloom, irises bloom, lilacs bloom. Strawberries ripen. Raspberries grow. Shadows on drifting grass, shifting light-patterns on morning dew.
-A few days ago was a few hours in the same room with Grade Niners. i left traumatized. Seriously. Amerikkka has a "terrorism" fear-factor. i have this.
-Everyone's voting tomorrow. i think Paul M*rtin's feeling desperate while Harper is grim. i heard somewhere that, were Muslims to vote en masse, their bloc vote could shift the result in 100 ridings (a third of all in the country)! i wish we were organized. Hmm.
-[Fahrenheit 9/11] [plays in Edmonton]. i should go see it some time. Who wants to come?
-The "9/11 Panel" now has "linked al-Qa'idah to Iran" [sic]. What? So now they're laying the outline for a showdown with Iran. Ha. Wake me up when the nightmare's over, everybody.
-[Iraqi police fight the US too. heh. Is for fun-times]
-My dreams are either of Truth and Clarity, my life imposed onto absolutist scale, or crazy-maddness. Last night was of the latter: something about Farooq and i as part of an international spy ring. Heh.
-Fifty-eight days left wherein to--no, wait. Fifty-eight? Written out, is exhaustingly unbelievable. i'm leaving in fifty-eight days. ^_^
Lately too, the feeling i simply fill preset roles, stereotypes--"the ungrateful child", "the kindly oulder brother", "the ardent young lover" (cough), "the halo-ific monk", "the imaginative bohemian", "worldly-wise ancient", "beleaguered student". The moment i realize this is happening i either continue on with a sense of bitter, bitter irony, or snark and withdraw from whatever it is i do with impatient consequences. i think i had a dream of suchlike this past Ramadan...more on this later.
Also was reminded i have to attack John-fascism. It'll come, give me a couple of days. And must finally get to writing the Grenwood's letter, and wiping away own millstones, "like icicles in spring". For now, though, i am free like the birds what soar in the clouds. This summer, [=inshaAllah./] i sketch once more. i write poetry. i used to do both, you know. i read. i sit under trees without mind or worry. i debate the essence of futility. i regain Focus. i tighten a failing grasp on the hablAllah. i lie on grass and watch flowers bloom. i fly to the moon, and beyond!
Let's get started.
