2017

2017 came with many hardships, and I doubt it had anything to do with making me a better person. At the end of the day, being a good soul and kind and caring son, brother, co-worker and human being matters most, and, unfortunately, I can't call myself any of those. Maybe 2018 will be a good year. Whatever the losses, there were achievements, albeit very small ones.

1. I became an art director, with proper guidance and mentorship.

2. I worked on amazing projects, and contributed on huge extent to a lot of them.  

• The year ended with having designed Beatbox Bangladesh's first event - BattleBoxBD's brand identity.
• Finished working on Skitto. 
• Contributed to projects like Deligram, Banglar Mishti, A Chinese New Year event, Voyage of Strings, and Distort.
• Designed the 3 Piece Meal album art in collaboration with NoxMoony.

3. Had my photo published in an international award book (though I really can't take any credit for that)

4. Was able to give my sister her own laptop, and a phone for mom, and of course contributed to family expenses. 

5. Wrote and worked on 7 songs. 

All the achieve listed above are tangible, and I feel that the intangible ones are better off unlisted. 2017 was supposed to be the year of acquiring knowledge, but I failed on that completely.

I don't want to predetermine what 2018 will be about, but I do have some things I want to tick off my list. I am really hoping that 2018 is a better year, filled with positive surprises, because as we're heading closer into January, I do get anxious feeling.

Unlike other years, this one didn't go by in a flash. I remember a lot more of this year than I do the previous ones. Though most of my days were depressingly, and painstakingly spent in office. 

Cheers to another year gone. I wish to be older, wiser, and better in all forms in the days to come.

Eliza by Orfred

Eliza,
There are things you should know
It's easier to have faith
That's how it usually goes
And know that when you're blind
You can still choose not to bat an eye
Locked in this state of mind
I'm buying me some time
Let's hope that we collide
I'll hope that you come by

Eliza ...

Eliza,
There are things we don't see
But knowing they're there
It's easier to sleep
And aren't we all just kind of acting like creeps
Over a lot of things we know are make believe?
Let's hope this is concrete
I'll hope we come to meet

Eliza...

Eliza...

.

There are a lot of things to be fortunate about, Alhamdulillah. Yet, I still have to ask, why does life unfold so unfortunately?

.

If I had known 10 years back, that it only gets worse, and not better, I would have left this world.

.

I think when I'm writing a song or a poem, I become vulnerable and linear. I show sides of myself that people would otherwise not see in me.

There was a girl who once told me that she fell in love with the guy who sang bonfire, and not me.

I was very rude to her the month we dated.

I realized then, that although I put myself out there when I'm making a song, it doesn't reflect my normal demeanor. So songwriting is essentially a way for me to vent.

Eliza (draft), Orfred

We're going places
My feet don't move
While you leave traces
Everywhere you choose to
I fill blank pages
I make sad faces
Crosshatching faster than
the way your feet are pacing
Closer to me.

Eliza.

I'm going places
I'm on the move
Caught in a frenzy
I know it's kind of soothing
I'm catching glimpses of the smoke
from the polluting
Driving away
Closer to you.

Eliza.

.

There's so much pain and sadness that I am holding in. Often times, I stay awake at night knowing that there's more I'll have to face that I am completely not ready for.

The Frog by Changing Homes

Let us head towards the ravine Help me lead the cattle Father wolf and brother Today there will be battle The tiger is hungry, the tiger will feed Unfair play, It's us against one (for) no one dare take my pride when he sees us he will run Hear my father's call It echoes rock to rock Draw forth limping paws Awaken beast "Who calls?" you ask (it is) I and my torrent of black horned bulls We've chased you to your end To take your skin in full Hear my father's call It echoes rock to rock Draw forth traitor paws I've kept my word Now I hunt alone

Chester Bennington

In A' Levels, I had stumbled upon one of the most hardcore Linkin Park fans, and possibly the best rapper in the country, Mode Silver, or my good friend Tauqir Ahmed. He and I bonded over Linkin Park so much so that when A Thousand Suns came out, a couple years later when we were going to the same university, he practically came over to my house just to make me listen to the album in full. We turned the lights off, I sat in front of the PC with the lyrics out, and we listened to one amazing experience of an album. The album was heavily experimental, and thus, quite controversial. It didn't matter what anyone else said about the album. As long as Tauqir liked it, it was validation enough for me to love it.

Funnily enough, my favorite Linkin Park album was Minutes to Midnight, and Tauqir didn't approve of it all too well. I honestly thought it was their most mature, and personal work. And sure enough, a few years later, the album caught up to him. I would feed my depression by listening to the song "Leave Out All The Rest" on repeat. I still think it's one of the best songs ever written, by anyone. Period. But I am thankful to Tauqir for having given me his LP stash. He introduced me to songs lesser known to me, like My December.

A Thousand Suns was so influential, that Rakat and I, to this day, bring up "The Messenger" as a reference for what sort of song we want to make for Changing Homes, next. We still haven't achieved anything near or close to it. In fact, that whole album was a gateway for both of us to start experimenting with the, then, new project, Changing Homes. Linkin Park was as influential to us as the works of Steven Wilson, Aviv Geffen, Anathema, Opeth, Jesu, etc.

I sang "Waiting for the End" to the girl I loved and a couple of friends in an empty, under-construction auditorium in university.

Before Linkin Park, I listened to rap. After Linkin Park, I listened to Metal. In my early teens, Mike Shinoda was a rockstar and Chester Bennington was a misfit. In my late teens, their roles interchanged.

I wish I could say I was influenced by Chester's voice, but I wasn't. His voice was too "up there" to be influenced by it. He was the best singer of my generation, and I wanted to keep it that way. It was something, I assumed, I could never live up to, so I never bothered trying to sing like him. Well, that's partly a lie - my out of tune efforts to scream were always confined by the four walls in my room.
If it wasn't for Chester's voice, I don't think I would have loved Linkin Park as much as I do. I loved what he did on his solo effort, Dead by Sunrise. I loved his lyrics. I never asked who wrote them, whether it was Shinoda, or Chester. But I assumed they were Chester's words.

I don't cry when an artist dies. I mourn for a while, and miss them. I have never cried for a dead artist, until today.

.

Abbu, I am so sorry. I love you.

.

I think what hurts is when I see people who look up to you, and when their faces clearly read out how I wasn't worth you. Little do they see me for who I was in those days when I was with you. How can they ever know who I am, now?

.

I am left to ponder why things weren't different.

.

I don't want to travel. I don't want to be loved. I don't want money. I don't want food. I don't want sex. I don't want cigarettes. I want my mind back. I want my precious ideas back. I want my treasured hands to work. I want my eyes to transport me to other dimensions.

Unreachable.

God.

28

I'm old. And looking back, I realize that I've been so horrible to my partners in love. The childish, most embarrassing things I've done seem just so cringe-worthy now. But this 28 is a lonely one. I am not being able to see my family, and it hurts.

Also, I promise to change... Then again, change is inevitable.

overdose

Just writing a bunch of scrap material as often as I can, hoping the songwriting gets better each time. I can't play the guitar properly while i am singing, so I play the same rhythm on almost all my songs.

Overdose

Village boy on an overnight plane ride
Some are born in the hands of grace

In the hands of grace, to reap what others have sown
Your fortune is born early on

So close to the overdose

City boy as he's rode through the streets, frozen
Unaware of the burdens of living through the heat 

So close to the overdose

ostrich?

.

Existence is fragile.

Ill, Orfn

Sick with a song
Sick,
It plays on
A posthumous release
A time traveler's need

I've been repeating myself lately
Over the years
Breaking my own records
Each time more severe

I'll leave it to God
To even the odds
And in time
The tune will fade into a hymn
Blessing me in spite of my sins
Caressing me into a lull
Uniting me with my true kin

Sick with a song
Sick,
It plays long
I am told I will grow
In time I will know

I'll leave it to God
To even the odds
And in time
The tune will fade into a hymn
Blessing me in spite of my sins
Caressing me into a lull
Uniting me with my true kin

But it grows on me
And I know
That in time
The tune will fade into a hymn
Blessing me in spite of my sins
Caressing me into a lull
Uniting me with my true kin

Storms, by Orfn

Here's a shitty demo. I'm pretty sure the singing will get better as I gradually finalize the song.



I have felt with you the fear
that I may die
I was never good at saying
goodbyes
Once I raised my voice
You rolled your eyes
Then I raised my hands
You stood still
You stood still
You stood still
You stay no more

Like on stormy days
We lacked the sunrays
And who's to say who's wrong?
And who's to say at all
what's right?

Time and time again
We'd put up a good strife
I'd come down, you'd forgive
And as it ends, back to our lives
But when it came time again
The truth was bent; you'd lied
We had learned how to bond
Only to break ties

I raised you
Claimed you
Maimed me for you
I tried to
tame you
You left, I stood still
I stood still
I stood still
I stood still

Like on stormy nights
I choose to hide inside
And who's to say who's wrong?
And who's to say at all
what's right?

ill

It's sad how something that can be considered so trivial - a normal part of life, even; something that happened 7 years ago, still affects me to this day.

thoughts

Money isn't a measure of anything but money, itself. It doesn't define the work. It doesn't define a person. Work isn't a great representation of how one is, either. Meticulous work only means the person is delicate in their work ethic.

I don't know what I'm trying to get at...

I guess this is all coming from a wish to disassociate myself from material.

I need to do better work.

thoughts

There's a lot of pain in trying to forget someone, especially when so many questions remain unanswered. Something I'll never get, however, is why people underestimate me. My lifestyle and erratic behavior really don't sum up to all my worth, and when people come to realize that, I've seen how their faces and attitude toward me change.

-

If I could go back, would I change things? ... I feel like I am at a better place now. I probably wouldn't even go back.

log

3.27 am

I think I want to be alone.

Vigil, Changing Homes

Hours we lay awake

In dreams that keep us warm

where we reach the morning sun

Wingless, we fall to the ground

In this wake, I'm unbound

In this wake, I am unbound

Released from clouds like rain

In thunder cries are drained

Shivering through a chill

In your absence, I stand still

Untitled

Every night
I have a dream
As it comes near
And grasps at my ear
As it slowly beams down
Placing tears on my cheek
I moan in an agony it wouldn't understand
I wake up to the sound of a
gulping dried throat
Thirsty
for
more

ill 4

I don't know why or what is going on that's making me feel this restless, but I've resorted to cooked noodles, and, afterward, having cough syrup in order to help me sleep. I had my prescribed anti-depressant today. Yet I still can't figure out what's making me feel this way. I need a break. A long break.

Jaflong, Orfred

This is a new mobile recording of the song Jaflong for my band, Orfred. A tribute to friends and brothers, Shafkat and Akeeb.

ill 3

I don't know if i can ever be forgiven. I tell people about my past, openly... out of shame, and out of wanting to rid my guilt for what I did before.

My body is breaking down day by day. My mind, too. I feel myself transcending towards becoming a better person, but my state of being is pulling me back/pushing me into sth that I fear the most.

THE RETURN

Return

Can you smell the petrichor As sweat hits the soft floor Darker than your darkest horrors Is when you see those gaping doors
I have heard of djinns and demons, and their harm But his magic lie in silent spells and inviting open arms


He calls to mind his inner peace
From age old dark deceit
It draws on him as sound of feet
He knows you're near
You're incomplete

You're regretting The strands of hair he pressed to kiss
When you took him with you
In your search for bliss

And as you swallow down your fear
You reminisce
He heaves a sigh
He casts a bout of guilt down your throat
It's tragic, this

You step forward into the premises
you find a gentle shine
that binds you back to your edifice;
Reminds you that you had beliefs

You cry
You close your eyes
You glimpse a glance
And what hurts the most is when you realize
He is gone

And there you are
I don't know if you've noticed yet
I wish you knew
There are things that I go through
And the things that I still do
I am as happy as I am mad
There are things that I regret
Some things I'll never get
But I wish I had
More reasons to be sure
More reasons to endure

Ill 2

I feel that all my close ones have distanced themselves from me. It's been tough. I can't catch my breath. I need to. I work all the time and never properly. I go to work with a jumbled mind. I come back with mush dripping on the insides. No day is perfect anymore. And a one day weekend is left to sleep. No friend has time. No friend is a friend. And no memory goes untouched... I miss Sharmin, Safi, Miraz, Amit. I miss Shafkat and Rushlan. I miss Nabid, Akeeb, Nafis. I miss the days in the club, in the cafeteria, in the classrooms. I miss longer days and lesser responsibilities. I miss the thrill of chasing Tinni or having someone to chase. I miss the possibility of getting back with Ann. I miss the concerts. But most of all, I miss myself, and I miss that I don't have anyone to talk to ...

Enough For Me - song for Rakat

I am off the radar and I'm kinda steppin back
I'm ditching the party
I find harder to not break free from the usual act

I'm kind of lonely
But I've been through it all
I've seen a lot of faces running further from home
Come to find me in my zone

Break free now

I'm holding onto the stars tonight
Looking out for a sign above the red-red lights
You can tell me tomorrow's the same
But tonight's a little different
Empty vessel standing at an empty lane
And that should be enough for me

I'm out of the hood now
I'm just like anyone
I got stories to tell
I'm rising above my own little hell

Time is ticking fast
I don't wanna go back
I've missed you lately and I'm close to your door
Completely unsure if I want to move forward

Break free now

I'm holding onto the stars tonight
Looking out for a sign above the red-red lights
You can tell me tomorrow's the same
But tonight's a little different
Empty vessel standing at an empty lane
And that should be enough for me

Break free now

I'm breakin' out tonight
Looking out for a sign above the red-red lights
You can tell me tomorrow's the same
But tonight's a little different
Empty vessel standing at an empty lane
And that should be enough for me

Rushlan's Song 2

it's the pain of broken promises

and the pain of not being told

and being alone to see the story unfold

that hurts the most

the novel worked well in collaboration

now i am face to face with a block

i speed ahead only to crash into a rock

only to be finished off

posthumously i will be heard

on the tongues of those

who've played no part in my prose

and it hurts the most

lover could you speak well of me?

bury me with flowers

let others know and devour

how i loved you hour after hour

till the end

be it bent and twisted

maybe you and i will recur in adaptation

maybe the best-selling sensation

but i will never know

lover could you speak well of me?
bury me with flowers

let others know and devour

how i loved you hour after hour

till the end

Interlude

lyrics

follow the signs of your madness/ they only lead you back/ to your corner where you're safer/but alone isn't safe at all/ you wonder how you stand so tall/when you're clearly seen slouching in your shadow/ you're not tall at all/ feeding time with sadness/drooping eyes and trickling salt/ the ashes fall much harder than you/ onto the asphalt/ you wonder how you stand so small/when you're clearly seen slouching in your shadow/ you're not tall at all/ you've been saying "no" for too long

Ill

I am ill. Apart from the alopecia, I am not sure as to what else I have wrong. I haven't seen a doctor about it - or them. I feel a lot of it is due in part to my stress, and smoking, both of which I've correlated. But how can I not be stressed when I can't think or get up out of bed, or when there are days I wake up and feel disoriented, and there are days when my body aches but I just pretend to ignore it. I can't explain how I feel, and I don't expect people to understand. However, I worry sometimes. I use my head to do my job, more than I use my skills. If I can't think properly, then I don't know how I am going to keep my job.

Almost every day feels like a struggle. And on some days, things feel normal. Today is not one of those days.

Rushlan's song

Shala-la-la-la! You have your dreams spread out Time's running out, and you know that feeling Butterflies for the wrong reasons Stress pans out and you're done daydreaming Shala! la-la-la! Your head is screaming Your mouth is shut How is it that you've glutted down so much pain And not a single note you've managed to clutch You wish to vomit Maybe with some blood on it So others can sympathize and see it as a metaphor to maybe just empathize with your made up tough life and your songs about your love life Shala! la-la-la! Your dad's done waiting on your money Your girlfriend's gone, and you're as bitter as
that green tea and honey If blues is meant to be a struggle, This is it! A failed endeavor And bloated thought bubbles! Mid-night snacking! You smoke! You finish a pack and You sit down but you still choke! Shala! Shala! La-la-la! You have your dreams spread out Time's running out, and you know that feeling Butterflies for the wrong reasons Stress pans out and you're done daydreaming

Last message.

Come back, please?

Bother

It bothers me that the word GENUINE isn't used to describe people anymore.

Happy New Year.

"And the Ripped Ones say goodbye 
While the others meet, 
Attached somewhere 
At least they're shared."

- Loro, Pinback


And so, it was decided our entry into the new year would all see us shitfaced and miserable, and in the process we would have a little bit of fun.


Happy 2017 folks.