Omar Jamil, Journalist

Omar on Apple

Often, those interested in Omar wonder what he has written. Since Red Herring Magazine does not run bylines, picking out Mr. Jamil's gems can be daunting. In a recent announcement, a source Mr. Jamil spoke with wrote about his experience with the reporter.

Apple Expert Aaron Adams, publisher of www.aaronadams.net, said, "Last evening I had the opportunity to speak to Omar Jamil of Red Herring, who was writing this article and asked my thoughts about the rumors of a cheap Mac, allegedly to be introduced at MWSF. Mr. Jamil asked a number of hard questions, many of which I really didn't have an answer for simply because there aren't enough facts with which to form a solid opinion about the subject yet, if it's even true. I was able to theorize a bit, however, and Mr. Jamil chose the perfect quote to represent my first thoughts on the issue."

The article in question, Apple for the masses, ran on December 29th, 2004.

Omar Poetry, Uncovered!

-- BREAKING NEWS --

Recently discovered doccuments suggest journalist Omar Jamil, of Red Herring Magazine, may also be a poet. Experts associated with OmarWatch uncovered the doccuments during a routine investigation. The poem, written almost five years ago, paints a picture of Valentine's day sadness, depression, and love lost. Omar-confidant Ahmad Rafay Alam published the poem, which alludes to a woman with Cranberry-flavored lipgloss.

Monday Morning
i'm feeling low
the way you'd feel
on a grey winter morning
when the snow on the ground
has lost its brilliance
and turned to slush
like my soul
on such muggy mornings
when the coffee is cold
and cigarettes stale
and everything goes
just the way its supposed to
until its supposed to
then comes crashing down
like a house of cards
on a dollar-store dining table
"special offer - a quarter off"
the sale of your self
and else
where you go is not here
but there
where you came from
crash
switch tracks
i'm tired of sleeping and
meeting and talking
and this eternal goddamn need
to be not something
or someone but any
thing
that catches the fancy
of a particular moment in time
that keeps threatening
to run out
and leave me stranded
in this place i know
so well
but yearn not to
escape from
in all my laziness
and complacency
that nurtures the hurt and pain
i believe i have felt
in lives i would have lived
but for circumstance
and chance encounters
in bus-stops and railway stations
and halfway houses for disconsolate
bums such as my
self
where red paan stains
mark floors on which
souls greater than mine
have bled
for causes i can only pretend
to believe in
for lack of faith and hope and love
and all those constants that mark
a man's being with completion
in slow soft streaks
like the scratches on my back
i carry my own private cross
of your loss
which i have imagined
in this void where you would have been
and lived once
in my mind
through visions of your body
leaning against mine
self pity is a marvelous aphrodisiac
to wallow in non-existent
woes and grief and
sometimes i sicken myself
sometimes
with this constant desire
this craving for blank gazes
and hot sighs against my ears
where i can still feel
your warmth
and absence
like a slow persistent ringing
i try to fill with loud music
and harsh words and cool cynicism
that bounces off a vague memory
of your smile
and hits me in the gut
where true feelings lie
true feelings
not those we desire or those
we create or those
we try to milk
out of random moments
of romance that life hands us
like that first kiss in the moonlight
that never really happened
but happened somewhere
because i remember it so clearly
so
fucking
clearly
as real as the cranberry taste
of your lipgloss
so fresh on my lips
from fingers dipped
in a plastic box
when all i wanted was yours
against mine
i stray dangerously close to losing
a bit of what i thought i had
but probably don't
no wait
i don't
but have craved more than
being itself
pause
and so i end
back where i began
between kisses i felt
and your smile
where i put my life
in dreams half finished
before awakening
to another monday morning
14th February 2000
Karachi

Lack of post raises concerns

NEWS -- January 22, 2004 --

Omar Jamil, a San Francisco-based journalist, did not post to his blog last night, raising concerns about his health, well-being, and general state of affairs. This break in service represents the first time he has not made an entry since starting the online journal of his exploits. Pundits have speculated that Mr. Jamil, 30, may have been engaged in some other activity that would impindge on his motor skills, sap his time, or otherwise preclude his ability to type in his web journal.

To be sure, Mr. Jamil's absence could be taken as a sign of improved relations with girlfriend Tasha Amaral, 22. Sources said Mr. Jamil was in high spirits on departing the offices of Red Herring Magazine, in Mountain View, California.

Friday, January 21

OMAR TIFFS WITH GIRLFRIEND

Omar, a writer based in San Francisco, announced today in a release that he and his girlfriend had a fight. The domestic disturbance centered on potato mashing, reports indicate. Tasha, Omar’s 22-year-old girlfriend and domestic partner, could not be reached for comment.

The lowdown:

Omar’s recent foray into athletic endeavor and the rollout of his new “the burn” workout initiative may have been the catalyst for the event. Sources close to Omar note that he becomes “irritable” when tired or even “pissy.” Omar attributed his poor mood to a 14-hour work day – though these numbers could not be verified. Although the dispute seems to have been amicably resolved, investors in this relationship have reason to worry – disagreement over domestic duties often leads to poor long-term dividend prospects.