Project Z

Strawberry Fields Forever

I once knew a lady who was an undertaker in a funeral parlour. She always had bright red lips. Her lips were luscious and she looked like a modern version of Aunt Jemima. Red was her color. She was vibrant, sort of glamorous in sub-urban way. Those were the days when I was working as an make-up artist and wearing red lipstick without any smudges was a matter of honor. I could spent hours applying mascara and separating each and every eyelash. I could blend eye shadows of zillion colors and still achieve harmonious results. Make-up was all about expressions for me. Coco Channel was the one I idolized...red lipstick, sharp suits and cigarettes with holders. I had cigarettes (couldn't find a holder), sort of sharp suits but red lipstick was my downfall.

The lady with impeccable bright red lips finally disclosed her secret. As before doing make-up for living people she did make-up for dead people. And permanent make-up is used for dead. She was wearing permanent red lipstick. Permanent make-up for dead, so claustrophobic. I had an urge to smudge her lipstick. I couldn't do make-up for people after this as it always felt like i am burying them alive under the layers.

Socha Hai….ye tumne kya kabhi

Geo is so keen to lament the injustices in Pakistan. It is much preferable to Geo to depict itself as a victim and also the TV channel that has so called assools. What happened to subtlety of expression? In contrast Iqbal’s Shikvah to Allah is so elegantly written and even in his complaint there is pride and humor. To see yourself as a victim who has suffered all the injustices in the world is much easier then to stand up and face the world. Gone are the days when there were people who could write great books during their imprisonment. (Note to self: need to visit Rawalpindi jail) Books not about their personal suffering but about societal ills. From TV channels to lawyers to journalists to politicians everyone is concerned with their individual grievances and is constantly starting vendettas. The only thing that is accomplished is major drama and who doesn’t like soapy serials. After watching Geo’s message to Obama which was worse than PPP’s new guy’s one line statement (“As my mother said, “Democracy is the best revenge.”) I wanted to escape to Yaddo.

Yaddo is a place where you can stay free of charge and create art or write or compose music. You have to apply and be accepted based on your publications and blogs don’t count.(Damn!) Truman Capote and many other writers went to Yaddo to think and write. I know I should go to Barnes and Noble if not Yaddo and ‘think’ but what about meeting all the other writers and artists. I can’t do that at Barnes and Noble as many of the people there are either homeless like me (figuratively) or they are zombies (literally). The collaboration and idea exchange has been postponed to near future. In fact I did exchange ideas with Richard Yates about differences in living in Suburbia now, compared to living in 1950s. I understand where he is coming from but he is dead to understand my point of view.

Bollywood movies and songs have taken the time slot I had reserved for staring at walls. They cause the needed brain pause and sometimes even full brain stop. I did sneak into a theater with my 2-year-old nephew to watch Shahrukh Khan’s new movie. My nephew was not as impressed as he should have been considering that this was his first ever movie in the theater. I tried to reinforce the fact that he is lucky to go to theater when he is only 2 as I first went to theater when I was 18. (Respectable people don’t go to cinemas in Pakistan) Didn’t get the desired effect as he can only say, ‘leila! Come!’ but as soon as he will learn to fully understand and talk he will definitely appreciate his first Bollywood exposure. Patiently waiting for Amar Khan’s new movie releasing next week. Yaeee!!

Recently I visited the Woodbridge police station to get fingerprinted and I asked the guy if he has seen ‘The Wire’ and the reply was that he doesn’t know what that is. And in reply I told him it is about cops and corrupt cops and drug dealers. After seeing him frown I tried to change the subject and asked him why they use black ink for fingerprinting. (I know the stupidest question you can imagine.) And he was like why do you think we should use pink ink. (loser!!) Ignoring his reply I then inquired about his satisfaction with his role as a cop who fingerprints people everyday. He replied that he does other stuff too for example, paperwork! (at this point I vanished)

Marlene Dumas’s exhibition at MOMA is surprisingly precise. It has some disturbing elements in addition to the melancholic feeling of oppression. It reminded me of decay of life and the nauseating events of global politics. There was no space to even breath in Van Gogh’s exhibit whereas in Marlene Dumas’s exhibition only few people were barely glancing around. It is all about starry night.

My sister, the aspiring artist has given her two weeks notice by saying that she needs a break from demanding old ladies and she needs to paint.(Breaks run in the family) Her manager tried to change her decision.

Manager: You know Zunera I think you are doing great and you will be soon promoted to the key holder title from the sales associate title.
Zunera: Thanks but I really need a break.
Manager: You know I went through the same stuff when I was 16 and my doctor prescribed anti-depressants which I am still taking and look I am the store manager now. You should do the same.
Zunera: I just need a break I am not depressed.
Manager: I know you don’t want to share but please think over your decision, as you can be assistant store manager in a year.

After this dialogue my sister really wanted to visit a graveyard as people there are not illusioned about their death.