Fuck it, I had to take a break from the other blog, only to land on this one...
I have held so much grief inside for so long...I was bursting like a dam, like a water flow suffocating in a given, well delineated current... I could not even finish that post on Iraqi antiquities...
I have compartmentalized my grief - welcome ladies and gentlemen, why don't you look around and see for yourselves....You know, like when you're checking into a hotel, and you ask to check the place first, so they show you around...or maybe when you are visiting an old palace and your tour guides takes you on a round...ladies and gentlemen here was the main bedroom, here the living quarters, here the study....
So is my grief...
I compartmentalized it into "living" quarters, into rooms, into departments, into sections...
It is maybe because my loss has been so great...so multifaceted -- that breaking it down into quarters would help ease the pain...one quarter at a time...
OK I need to switch off again...this is too hard...
I was surfing to forget...I actually turned down a dinner invitation, am not interested...it's not that I prefer surfing....but something has been transformed inside of me and maybe that new "it" needs new surroundings...a new earth, like a new root, a new plant, a new flower...and hanging with the old and the familiar does not cut it anymore...
My soul cannot be confined in quarters, even though my grief is...
So I was surfing and as I was opening my mail box, I saw the headline news...from America...I laughed hard when I saw the headlines...because these people are as stupid as anyone can be...they are so stupid they are pitiful...
The first page of the news headlines was about Sandra Bollocks (bollocks in England means balls by the way) and her discovering her hubby's affair and how much she is getting support from her fans...
Hahahahaha, what a fucked up culture and what a fucked up people...
Am I supposed to feel empathy towards Sandra Bollox now, because her husband fucked another woman ?!
And when I think that these "people" have caused so much destruction to the extent of my compartmentalizing my grief - so I will not drown in a sea of grief -- I feel like sticking my fist in every fucked dirty American face I come across...
But then I will be sticking my fist in a pile of talking, walking, dressed garbage, my fist into a pile of shit....my fist will get dirty...will I be able to handle the Dirt now that I have "handled" the Grief ?
Painting : Iraqi female artist, Betool Fekaiki.
