2006 March « Softest of Tongues

March 2006

Monthly Archive

March 30, 2006

Friday Night Insight

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“In law we have a principle… say youre walking by the beach and you see a man drowning. He might not even be very far out. Say youre a good swimmer, strong, and you have the ability to save him – but you don’t. You decide that its too risky, and so you walk away.

That’s fine – you can’t be held accountable if he dies.

But say that you jump in, and start swimming towards him, and then decide half-way that you want to turn back, so you do. Then you can be charged for his death.

Why?

Because if you just walk on by, there’s a chance someone else will come along and do what you should have done. But if you do jump in, then another passerby with the same abilities might think ‘Oh, well, its already taken care of’ so he’ll leave the matter.

So if you’re going to jump in, go all the way. Don’t get doubts halfway there and think about turning back.”

***

I love Moin Yahya for the sake of Allah.

March 30, 2006

iRaq Posters Showing up in NYC Subways…

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March 28, 2006

I hate them with all my heart.

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http://www.asiantribune.com/show_article.php?id=3088

“As outrage over the incident erupted in Iraq, Washington sought to
distance itself from the killings. The shifting US account of the
incident suggested a crude attempt at cover-up…..

“This was an Iraqi planned and led operation and US forces were only in an
advisory capacity,” a State Department spokesman declared Monday.

The corpses, however, were surrounded by shell casings from 5.56mm
bullets, the ammunition issued exclusively to US troops in Iraq. Parts
of the mosque had been damaged by fire, substantiating witness accounts
that the building had been struck by rockets fired from US warplanes.”

March 26, 2006

V for Vasopressin

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Just got back from V for Vendetta with some brothers… [ I ought to have been studying physiology. So I shall now, insha'Allah.] Interesting film. I feel ill. I think it was too close to reality is all. Because if you actually sit and think that while youre mulling about there are people in the world whose doors are being kicked in, who are being hooded, humiliated, tortured, bludgeoned…

and we sit here in relative security. and perhaps the only reason others suffer is our own indifference.

***

Hence, let them fight in Allah's Cause – all who are willing to barter the life of this world for the life to come; for unto him who fights in Allah's Cause, whether he be slain or be victorious, We shall in time grant a might reward.

And what is the matter with you, that you fight not in Allah's Cause, and the cause of the weak from amongst men and women and children, who cry out "O our Sustainer, Lead us out of this land whose people are oppressors, and raise for us, from Your grace, a protector, and raise for us, from Your grace, one who will bring us victory"

[An Nisa; 74, 75]

***

I find most people just want to be comfortable – raise a family… have children, a happy home.. and thats not asking too much, I don't think… but many people aren't afforded such luxuries. Some people have to start sacrificing their comfort if theres going to be any change for the others, who should have comfort but don't.

Some people are given little, and so little is asked of them. And others are given much, and will have to answer for much. And others take what isn't theirs, and so they should be deprived of what they've taken, and it should be restored to the disenfranchised.

March 23, 2006

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Posted by zalkhatib under Poetry
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	S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
	A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
	Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
	Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
	Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
	Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats	5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …	10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,	15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,	20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;	25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;	30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go	35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—	40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare	45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,	50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—	55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?	60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress	65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin? . . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets	70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. . . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!	75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?	80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,	85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,	90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—	95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,	100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:	105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.” . . . . .	110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,	115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …	120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.	125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown	130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

March 23, 2006

Performancing

Posted by zalkhatib under Uncategorized
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I don’t know how many of you already have this extension for Mozilla Firefox, but you really need to get it – its a blog editor that works right in your browser: you can be surfing the web and, without going to the blog site, write, edit, and publish a post…

the new version also has cool features like del.icio.us functionality and so forth…

Performancing 1.1.1

March 23, 2006