tired

ever been so tired you have trouble staying awake? dumb question. obviously. what i mean is ever been so tired your eyelids physically trying to shut themselves close? that’s how it is with me now. course being a college student i have pulled an all-nighter or two in my day but i pledged long ago not to repeat that. matter of fact i got so good at it i even overshot and for a good while i succumbed to insomnia. this evening however for the first time in a long time i am in the grip of the most terrible urge to pass out. and not even ahmad rashid’s descent into chaos can keep me up. not his own descent into chaos -i don’t know the man and how chaotic or otherwise his state of affairs are- im talking of the book. as to why i am reading rashid and not sleeping when i need it so bad? well, counting from now i would have about two hours or less before i have to catch a red eye back home. it has been an intense past 48 hours of which i have spent my fair share hearing the not so unpleasant -at least to myself- sound of my own voice and those of others and the sheer overabunden of ideas of blinding brilliance and then some which have been shocking in their lack of brilliance or for that matter even their average-ness has sent my head into a whirlwind of the kind not experienced since that first semester when i changed over from pre-med to poli-sci. also for someone who has spent an unfortunate amount of his life learning and reading and writing and thinking and dreaming in a second language -english- the discovery that farsi can be so refreshingly malleable and can actually, actually serve as a language for diplomacy, negotiation, serious stuff -and allow for fine nuances that one only thought existed in english, well, it has been a discovery rivaling the momentousness of that one time long ago i discovered that big sack of delicious dried berries in the small room upstairs in watan, behind the farming tools and just of the rightest texture and state of dryness -not too dry, not too soggy, and still worms-free. yum.

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~ by safrang on March 15, 2009.

12 Responses to “tired”

  1. Huh, traced you in U.A.E. How is the weather there?

  2. i’m sure its hot and stuffy and suffocating outside, but like so many other things, one does not actually get to experience the real weather… it is all a seamless flow of airconditioned climate from terminal to cab to hotel room to bus to wherever to wherever and back to hotel room and plane and before soon you are back in good old kabul with the promise of spring and blood hanging in the air…

  3. by the way do you know you are such a geek -how did you trace me here? and are you sure you are not staring at me from that camera at the top of the screen as i sit here all tired and a little less than decent

  4. Funny story about sleep deprivation: once, after foolishly and absent-mindedly mixing caffeine pills with some prescriptions during my first year of college, I didn’t sleep for three days, maybe more. I finally had to knock myself out with sleeping pills after I saw a giant hand reach out from my best friend’s forehead during dinner. I didn’t scream or anything. My mouth just kind of fell open, and I excused myself with, “Sorry, guys, I’m hallucinating, so now it’s serious. Bye.” It was all very Donnie Darko-esque.

    Jeez, the things we reveal on blogs.

    Eyelids begging for you to close them, reflexes slowing to standstill, I know the feeling. At a certain point, parts of your mind start switching off, going black, and it’s like you’re desperately chasing a moving spotlight around a dark room.

  5. now the little white ants that make up the words against this black background are really beginning to go crazy on me and are moving all over… down to the last 30 minutes now and i am dragging myself all over the place trying to remembe what i left where and trying to pack my things up -i wont be surprised if i left behind this laptop. or myself. there was something else i wanted to say in response to your latest transitionland but i think that train of thought went right into one of those shut off sections of my mind now. i must say as an experience this has been interesting albeit utterly unpleasant. maybe i will read this all later and decide to delete it but then again maybe that won’t be in line with some unwritten law of blogging ethics somewhere i dont know. can’t think straight. central processors suffering overwork and approaching critical limits of hysteria. beep beep.

  6. on another note, i am becoming rather certain this is the state david mitchell wrote at least two of his three famous novels in. just enough caffeine in the system to keep from physical breakdown, just enough sleeplessness to induce utter hysteria and carelessness and disregard for… well, try reading ghostwritten or number9dream. i did not read cloud atlast so am not sure about that one.

  7. Ah, Ghostwritten. Enough said.

  8. “it has been an intense past 48 hours of which i have spent my fair share hearing the not so unpleasant -at least to myself- sound of my own voice and those of others and the sheer overabunden of ideas of blinding brilliance and then some which have been shocking in their lack of brilliance or for that matter even their average-ness has sent my head into a whirlwind of the kind not experienced since that first semester when i changed over from pre-med to poli-sci…”
    Insomnia is evident from this endless sentence!

  9. It counters a deep held fear to learn that Dari/Farsi was “so refreshingly malleable and can actually, actually serve as a language for diplomacy, negotiation, serious stuff.” My fear was that the days will pass with people still prefacing their arguments. Some, I feared, will throw poetry around. You know that foreign policy doctrine-in-a-verse that Ustad Ash-qa-ree carried to our century. I feared, again, that others—include my absent self there—will lose their thoughts as they searched for words that may or may not exist in Dari. I guess, as Chuck Norris, though books say FDR, once said, ‘the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.’
    Once you get some rest, then I would submit that we talk. Either send me a number or I will send you mine, whoever gets to it earlier. Of course we talk on your time; mine remains that of a student. My trade off is minor; whenever you call, you will probably catch me choosing between handing in a paper in good time against hearing from a friend.

  10. i must confess the only stanza of poetry thrown around in the entire two days was at the hands of yours truly. i am going to post it here in the next post under the series در سفته and i think given the context you will know the relevance. and of course it was from hafez. i began my own spiel with it, and i distinctly recall it struck a harmonious chord with minister spanta. and besides, it was, as will become clear from the poem itself, an attempt to shorten the purfunctory preface and get right to the point rather than to embellish. so, yes, there is my mea culpa.
    *
    there was, to be sure, some prefacing, but i have been through some where it amounts to torture and dancing around the bush and delving into history lectures but as i said, refreshing to see the language can actually lend itself to serious discussion, and so many shades of nuance -which was important given the context. one might say why is this a novel discovery given the depth and breadth and so and so of the farsi language, but then again it must be said that what we currently speak amongst ourselves is not farsi but an amalgam and amputated mess that can one day, hopefully, with some effort, become proper farsi. there again i know opinions diverge, but again the foreign minister sealed the matter when he resorted to using an english word in his otherwise exceedingly lucid and enlightening -and as far as the language itself was concerned, apart from the content- pleasant to the ears presentation, and in doing so (using the english word) he jibed: “as the dari speaker would say…”
    *
    talk we must, and i will send you my number via email and it would be good to have yours too.
    *
    i am back to my office in kabul and amazed that for all of my lack of sleep i can actually still function but i am sure haatef would see the first two paragraphs of this response and -again- beg to differ…

  11. […] author’s vividly-rendered dreams and nightmares, reflections on Afghan politics and society, insomniac ramblings, creative writing, honest rants about the everyday aggravations of work, and, as they say, much, […]

  12. […] i have, as it turns out, yet again managed to get myself into this situation: waiting for a red eye flight in a few hours, unable to […]

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