I have so much to write on the other blog - on Iraq, of course, who else ?! But I simply can't be bothered anymore, for now...Truth.
Iraqis are totally fucked up, messed up. Ditto for the Arabs. And spare me the Yankees, they are a subhuman race, up to their necks in lies. They are beyond salvation.
Am sure if Jesus reappears, he will just shake his head in disbelief and give up. Opting instead, to sit in some cafe, smoking a hubbly-bubbly...He'd probably say "Fuck it, they are not worth it. I've paid my dues." And I'd probably join him and we would just suck on our Arghileh waiting for further instructions from above, from within...
By then, God would also be totally out of it too. And He'd just order some natural disaster and wham ! Mission accomplished.
Then we can all truly relax and be done with it. Things and people will finally fall into their natural order, into their natural place...
Re-reading that first introductory paragraph, one would automatically assume that the writer - Moi - is on the brink of some major nervous breakdown. Far from it. I'm just too lucid, that's all.
I remember once reading some Egyptian writer and as usual can't remember his name, he said to the effect - people drink because they can't handle a faulty reality and they can't handle facts.
I hardly drink, I just settle for a wishful apocalyptic "deliverance" scenario, instead.
I have moved beyond anger, beyond grief, beyond sadness, beyond fear...I am in a place that has no name. I just walk around with a startled expression of disbelief, occasionally punctuated with what may sound like a hysterical outburst, when in fact it nothing but an encounter with a very faulty reality.
I think, I am beyond, behind, out of my times...Some faulty reincarnation, where the pre-incorporation, negotiation process, went sour...
In other words, I never felt I fitted in from the very beginning.
It feels like as if I was ushered into something I was not ready for, or knowing in advance, the tragic-comedy - I had hoped I'd be spared the plot.
Since then - I suppose it was my day of birth, I kept wondering what the fuck am I doing here ?
I remember as a child, looking on at the adults surrounding me and thinking to myself - How can they be so stupid ?! I believed that everything was way too obvious, but it was not to them. Hell, I saw it, why couldn't they ?
I don't think am particularly intelligent. As a matter of fact I scored below average, or just average in the famous IQ test. To my great disappointment, it was a further confirmation, to me, that I simply did not fit in.
Later on, I decided that IQ tests were simply faulty, too. So I devised my own, instead.
Being a Semite, I was told that Semites smelled things in advance - hence their long noses. Not that I have a particularly long nose, but that sense of smell has been genetically relegated to me, by default. So I smelled instead -- making up for my lousy IQ scores.
I am not sure why my olfactory sense took up a political twist with the years...
With the years is an understatement. I understood from very early on that everything was political. But I also understood that there are things that can be moved beyond politics...
That sense of beyond used to and still pushes me forth...
When I smell the scent of Jasmin, or Rose...I am reminded that there is a world beyond. Fragrances have this effect on me. They transport me to another world, where Truth does not need to prove itself. It just is.
The same applies to colors. Colors are the most amazing things, but we take them for granted. Nature is colored. A way to remind us to distinguish the different shades...
Harmony of colors are primordial to me. I am totally obsessed with colors. I suppose that derives from my sense of not fitting in. And trying to achieve harmony through patterns and colors is my own way of creating the "place."
Place, a place, my place...
Have you ever wondered when someone says - "Hey, this is MY place!"
We are all trying to find a place or recuperate one. Imaginary or real.
It can be a "place" in politics, an idea, a higher belief, a home, a family, a relationship, a country...
Some go through life feeling out of place. I know the feeling, until I created my own. Until I espoused it...
Exile - I have known exile. Exile is a very hard thing. How can I describe it to you in words ? It's like your fibers know, but your body does not/cannot follow...
Exile -- if prolonged and if you can't find/return to your "element" - it degenerates into Nostalgia...and Nostalgia if left "untreated" through accommodation, acculturation (my, all those fancy words!) degenerates into a chronic pathological quest...
The biggest mind fuck becomes -- what is the quest all about ?
Then you become obsessed with fragrances, colors and places -- creating, re-creating or finding your own...
Painting : Iraqi female artist, Widad Al-Orfali, 2002.
Iraqis are totally fucked up, messed up. Ditto for the Arabs. And spare me the Yankees, they are a subhuman race, up to their necks in lies. They are beyond salvation.
Am sure if Jesus reappears, he will just shake his head in disbelief and give up. Opting instead, to sit in some cafe, smoking a hubbly-bubbly...He'd probably say "Fuck it, they are not worth it. I've paid my dues." And I'd probably join him and we would just suck on our Arghileh waiting for further instructions from above, from within...
By then, God would also be totally out of it too. And He'd just order some natural disaster and wham ! Mission accomplished.
Then we can all truly relax and be done with it. Things and people will finally fall into their natural order, into their natural place...
Re-reading that first introductory paragraph, one would automatically assume that the writer - Moi - is on the brink of some major nervous breakdown. Far from it. I'm just too lucid, that's all.
I remember once reading some Egyptian writer and as usual can't remember his name, he said to the effect - people drink because they can't handle a faulty reality and they can't handle facts.
I hardly drink, I just settle for a wishful apocalyptic "deliverance" scenario, instead.
I have moved beyond anger, beyond grief, beyond sadness, beyond fear...I am in a place that has no name. I just walk around with a startled expression of disbelief, occasionally punctuated with what may sound like a hysterical outburst, when in fact it nothing but an encounter with a very faulty reality.
I think, I am beyond, behind, out of my times...Some faulty reincarnation, where the pre-incorporation, negotiation process, went sour...
In other words, I never felt I fitted in from the very beginning.
It feels like as if I was ushered into something I was not ready for, or knowing in advance, the tragic-comedy - I had hoped I'd be spared the plot.
Since then - I suppose it was my day of birth, I kept wondering what the fuck am I doing here ?
I remember as a child, looking on at the adults surrounding me and thinking to myself - How can they be so stupid ?! I believed that everything was way too obvious, but it was not to them. Hell, I saw it, why couldn't they ?
I don't think am particularly intelligent. As a matter of fact I scored below average, or just average in the famous IQ test. To my great disappointment, it was a further confirmation, to me, that I simply did not fit in.
Later on, I decided that IQ tests were simply faulty, too. So I devised my own, instead.
Being a Semite, I was told that Semites smelled things in advance - hence their long noses. Not that I have a particularly long nose, but that sense of smell has been genetically relegated to me, by default. So I smelled instead -- making up for my lousy IQ scores.
I am not sure why my olfactory sense took up a political twist with the years...
With the years is an understatement. I understood from very early on that everything was political. But I also understood that there are things that can be moved beyond politics...
That sense of beyond used to and still pushes me forth...
When I smell the scent of Jasmin, or Rose...I am reminded that there is a world beyond. Fragrances have this effect on me. They transport me to another world, where Truth does not need to prove itself. It just is.
The same applies to colors. Colors are the most amazing things, but we take them for granted. Nature is colored. A way to remind us to distinguish the different shades...
Harmony of colors are primordial to me. I am totally obsessed with colors. I suppose that derives from my sense of not fitting in. And trying to achieve harmony through patterns and colors is my own way of creating the "place."
Place, a place, my place...
Have you ever wondered when someone says - "Hey, this is MY place!"
We are all trying to find a place or recuperate one. Imaginary or real.
It can be a "place" in politics, an idea, a higher belief, a home, a family, a relationship, a country...
Some go through life feeling out of place. I know the feeling, until I created my own. Until I espoused it...
Exile - I have known exile. Exile is a very hard thing. How can I describe it to you in words ? It's like your fibers know, but your body does not/cannot follow...
Exile -- if prolonged and if you can't find/return to your "element" - it degenerates into Nostalgia...and Nostalgia if left "untreated" through accommodation, acculturation (my, all those fancy words!) degenerates into a chronic pathological quest...
The biggest mind fuck becomes -- what is the quest all about ?
Then you become obsessed with fragrances, colors and places -- creating, re-creating or finding your own...
Painting : Iraqi female artist, Widad Al-Orfali, 2002.
