I feel pretty. Oh so pretty.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 27, 2009 by mildewed

Wow. I don’t know if this is good news for me or bad, but where the severest bout of depression has relinquished its hold on me, it has also paved the way for a phenomenon that was until now completely alien to me.

I’ve suddenly become extremely paranoid. I don’t know how to put this into words exactly, but the best I can do is “paranoid”. It’s so bad that when I do occasionally get my arse out of the house, I’m looking over my shoulder constantly, fearing some unknown attacker. If not that, I’m fearing some sort of car accident, or something more horrible like a bomb blast or something.

If I go out with other people, I feel like running away and hiding in my room because they genuinely scare me to the point where I’m trembling slightly – and these are people I’ve known for a good 10 years or longer.

Yesterday, while out to dinner with my sisters and a friend, I had to park the car in the breakdown lane midway to our destination and had my sister take over because I was shaking too badly – almost about to faint, really – to keep the car straight, and I was literally twitching and jumping in my seat every time a car passed mine by.

I’m not sure if I’m going insane… maybe it’s just a side-effect of being holed up in my room all day in fetal position. I’ll make it a point to tell my shrink that in the next session.

Meanwhile, for the first time in months, I felt good about things for once.  I wrote a small script, that I’m hoping y’all will see on my Youtube channel quite soon. What it’s about, I’d like to keep to myself and those involved right now, don’t want to ruin anything, do I?

So I’m at a strange fork on this dark, psychotic road. I don’t know how to deal with the paranoia, yet what it has seemingly replaced – at least for now – was far, far worse, and I’m just glad it’s taken a break.

The rest, as they say, is trivial.


The Not-So-Emo Poem

Posted in Poetry on June 23, 2009 by mildewed

I dare not walk the woods alone
I fear getting lost, of losing my way
I dare not brandish the stick and stone
For that has led many astray

I burn where there isn’t a fire
I think I burn for burning’s sake
I’ll run forever and never tire
And leave blind shadows in my wake

Take me over when I’m gone
Lead the way when I don’t know how
Don’t you dare await the dawn
Just take me over, here and now.

Here’s to the Original Krumbine. Here’s to Charly.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 15, 2009 by mildewed

I know you are most likely far too disengaged to read emails (or blogs, for that matter) right now, but I thought I’d write this to you anyway.

You and I are nearly the same age. My father is precisely the same age as your father was when he passed away.

The reason for that insane little preamble is this, Jordan my dear friend: I have to make a fairly small amount of effort to empathize with the shock of losing your father so unexpectedly. Even trying to step into your shoes right now brings tears to my eyes, and I don’t mean that as a figure of speech. I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of torment something of this magnitude might entail for you.

Even though I’m just a distant contact over the Internet, please know that you have touched my life deeply, in ways that I may never be able to fully elucidate. I would love to do absolutely anything I can for you in this hour of hurt, as you did a mere week ago for me. I can be that little escape when it starts to get too real for you to handle, even if it is for a little bit. I have now realised – upon re-reading this paragraph – just how absolutely gay that sounds, but I really don’t give a fuck right now.

We have never met each other, and odds are we never will, but I still consider you a close friend. A real friend. So please, remember that I’m here, and regardless of whether or not you choose to cry a little on this Mildewed Muslim’s shoulder, I always will be.

You may not believe in him, but I do. God bless your father, and you, Jordan Krumbine.

Much love.

General ramblings of an obscene mind VI

Posted in General Ramblings of an Obscene Mind, Prose on June 10, 2009 by mildewed

I wrote a very emo poem just now. It was in fact too emo to post here, so I ditched it and decided to leave this small note here instead.

“Us, humans, have the will to do everything, but the power to do nothing.”


The Blood, The Wine, The Roses

Posted in Uncategorized on June 1, 2009 by mildewed

Everyone knows her, knows her name.
Deadly siren, that’s her game
They want to be near her.
Playing her game
Get to know her.
What’s her name?

She strides among us with a burning fire.
Her victims endless, piling higher
And I run along with them, the heaving mass,

fighting anyone to get past

I want her fire, her burning fire, her dark caress, her red hot kiss
I want desire, her roaring fire, from milk white breast to raven tress
I want her nights, morning light, her endless days, amazing grace

I’m on her trail every single day
Ahead, she glides, I stumble blindly in her wake

I witnessed lovers torn by her.
Teary maidens killing her
You’ll never be lovers when she’s in town
because in her eyes, we all drown
Broken-hearted, we leap to God, and die like lovers everyone forgot

I tremble when she passes by.
Lord make her mine or let me die
She looked at me.
Her eyes! Her eyes!
They drew me in.
Her sin! Her lies!

I see my final night
Glory, what a sight!
The blood, the wine, the roses
And me all snowy white

Her hands on me, it’s ecstasy.
It’s Heavenly, it’s God I see
I risk a kiss. One kiss
One kiss!
I knew from then my life had died

General ramblings of an obscene mind V

Posted in General Ramblings of an Obscene Mind, Prose on January 26, 2009 by mildewed

From Bangkok, With Love

This has so far been the single most boring day of my life, and I once spent 17 hours trying to code a piece of software that would endlessly loop an algorithm that conducts searches and hangs computers. A virus, if you will. Sounds terribly exciting but it really was not. Needless to say, I failed miserably.

Point being that the fragilities of the mind are best exposed when the mind simply has nothing to dwell on, or nothing to do. In my case, I have a good bunch to dwell on: what am I going to do once I get the fuck out of Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi International Airport, what will I do when I reach Lahore’s Allama Iqbal International, is my furry little friend going to be all right in the boarding house I left him in, and a myriad other queries with answers as elusive as anything.

But I simply have nothing to do. The airport has little to offer in terms of entertainment, and whatever it offers is naturally too expensive. I can’t leave it for I don’t have a visa permitting me to enter Thailand proper. Even if I did, I probably would not for fear of being beaten up by an angry mob, or something akin to an angry mob. This from a guy who has spent 21 years in Pakistan. The world, indeed, is spinning out of control.

So back to the alleged fragilities of the mind. Does its constant need for something to do bring to the fore a long-dormant fear that one day the Internet revolution will engulf me whole and leave an emotionally and socially stunted individual who fails to accomplish the simplest of social tasks unless he has a keyboard at hand? Does that mean that going back to the way it was is no longer possible?

I have to say that when your online friends are probably closer to you than people “IRL”, it’s time to stop and take a good long look. The problem is not with the people. They could be wonderful people. Most of the ones I know are. It’s the medium that’s so blatantly fucked that it leaves little to the imagination.

“Hey man! Wassap?! Where you been dawg? I just posted a new vid.. check it out when you got time!”

*Press Send* *Sit mindlessly and pointlessly in front of the computer hitting the refresh button every ten seconds or so to see if someone new commented on said video* *Actually be disappointed when the tired Mozilla Firefox screen shows no new or unread messages*

Is it not pitiful, I ask you, that life has driven us to the point where fallibility is inevitably, and perhaps irrevocably linked to the survival or popularity of one’s social networking account, be it Farcebook, Or-butt, Hi-5172908 or Ewe-Chube. Ewe-Chube is probably an exception because it involves actual creativity. But does this road have an end?

You decide.


Posted in Prose on November 28, 2008 by mildewed

Chuck is getting increasingly awesomer and funnier.

Last week’s episode had me on all fours, and this week it’s official:

Charles Bartowski is a certified BADASS.