110%

I have had the privilege of being around...I have met people from all walks of life, all classes, all nationalities, all backgrounds, all cultures...

It is a double edge sword. Why a sword ? Because it is a sword that cuts across politics, borders, geography, nationalities and passports. It is a sword which by cutting, unites...

I have met some wonderful people. True they were rare and far in between. True, one had to dig for them...and sometimes they were presented as a gift, a gift from a hazardous meeting, a coincidence...

These people had no nationality, they had no passport, they had no race...

They came from: China, Cuba, Russia, Italy, Mali, France, England, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Lebanon, Spain, Greece, Syria, Germany, France, Switzerland, Czechoslovakia, Senegal, Sudan, Bulgaria, USA (Bradley Manning only) Australia (Julian Assange) Yugoslavia, India, Ireland...

Some countries/nationalities have been omitted or not fully covered. It's not because there are no 110% there, with "it"...it's simply because I have not met them yet.

You Can't Win Them All.

That's a Truth. Unless of course you want to become a doormat and please everyone with everything you've got.

Reality is that some people will love you, some will hate you, some will like you, some will dislike you and some will be totally indifferent to you. And that's fine.

If I live the rest of my life trying to be liked or loved by others, I will be missing out on a lot of more important stuff - namely being true to myself.

I am not interested in winning them all, am interested in winning only those who are worth being won.

No Tolerance.

Today I took the time to actually write down in full the shit I can't tolerate.

This is no chronological order.

I can't tolerate :

- Bullshitting / dishonesty. If you can say the Truth about yourself, you need not lie. Have some fucking guts.

- Pettiness, Shallowness: These people not only bore me to tears, I just feel they are wasting their lives with all this pettiness.

- Twisted/ crooked people: that goes under bullshitting/dishonesty.

- Opportunism : I hate people who are opportunistic. I find them low, with no backbone, cheap grabbers. I hate all kinds of opportunism ranging from political, to sexual, financial, and other...have some fucking Dignity.

- Abusers : I can deal with violent people they don't scare me at all, they are empty hot air. Weaklings. And I have had some training in martial arts. Have not learned to use a gun yet...would not be a bad idea though. What I can't stand are the users...the sly ones. I guess abusing and opportunism fall under the same category.

In any case, a kick in the balls can't do no harm...either literally or symbolically.

That's all for right now, am sure will find more to add.
Thought about some more shit I can't tolerate.

- bad personal hygiene. I assume once anyone has easy access to water and a bar of soap there is NO excuse not to wash DAILY. Not washing is lack of respect for others. Unless you want to sit and rot away alone in your hole, and no one has to smell your stink.

may add some more later on...

Faux Culs.

Vous êtes des FAUX CULS.

Moi par contre j'aime les vrais culs.

Toute la philosophie s'y retrouve dans ces deux lignes.

Random Thoughts After Midnight. 1

Attachment and Separation

I am avoiding writing...am blocking it like a dam that stops the flow of water...sometimes I have too much to say and I feel paralyzed...and I say nothing...or I avoid saying what needs to be said...I procrastinate on Truth...my here and now Truth.

It takes more courage to write from the guts than to engage in analysis...analysis is presented objectively, the I, the you is not involved...

Writing from the guts on the other hand is like digging a thorny wet, damp earth with bare hands...

There lies all the difference.

Been thinking about attachment and loss for the past days...I've lost several people who are very dear to my heart, young and not so young...some were part of me and others less so...yet each time it felt as if my heart was ripped apart...and a piece of me gone with them and a piece of them stayed on with me...

Maybe we are made of others...and we don't like to admit it to ourselves, but when loss of the other hits you, then you realize how deeply interconnected you've always been...

Maybe we are our mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, grandparents, brothers, sisters, lovers, husbands, wives...and we know it not...but only realize it when that mother, father, daughter, son, grandparent, husband, wife, sister, brother is gone...

Of course if we dare not get attached, we protect ourselves from loss...the more you love, the more you grieve...

Maybe after all, love is nothing but attachment...and maybe after all, all love is a form of dependency...yes I think that is it...Love is a dependent attachment, and all the rest, all the other stuff said about love is nothing but illusory rationalizations for emotional independence, autonomy, individuation...

I suppose we live in a culture that demands we must be independent...we must not get attached...hence we grieve our loss behind closed doors and swallow our tears with our anti depressants...

After all we are survivors of the fittest, the strong race, the productive ones, strong willed, knowing what we want, what we don't want, aware of our choices, mature adults, so we are told...adults don't get attached...they get stoic with time...they become philosophers and thinkers instead.

Bawling your eyes out in public, tearing your clothes, pulling your hair out from grief is not acceptable...wailing, throwing earth on yourself, in an effort to join that dust that has taken up, swallowed your loved one is not acceptable...you need to remain calm, together, in one piece...unless you want to be the object of scrutiny for Western anthropologists who find your case "culturally interesting".

Crying out to heaven, to God, and cursing the day is not acceptable...your rage must be turned inwards, silently gnawing at you...eating you up like the worms that are devouring the body of your loved one...

So you go to visit cemeteries and hug the cold marble instead...imagining it to be the hands of your child, the shoulders of your parent, the arms of your lover...you hug cold marble...and clean the place around it, placing a few flowers...with Rest in Peace...murmured on your cold lips, when you know there is no peace...with that kind of separation, with that kind of loss.

They tell you to accept and move on...but they don't tell where to move on to, how to accept and your are left to struggle alone with "Destiny"...with "Fate", with "Life"...Move on...you've got to move on...so you move on, blocking that water flow with a dam...

So you sit after midnight, with your random thoughts...seated next to you, thoughts of them, hoping the thoughts will turn into ghosts and will talk back to you, with the familiar voice that you miss so much.

Men O Pause or the Age of Despair

Was watching a program this evening on some Arabic TV channel - was called "Kalam Nawa'em" - i.e conversations of the "softer ones" i.e the weaker sex, i.e Women.

The subject matter revolved around a taboo subject - Sex, women and Menopause.

This is a first on Arabic TV. How can anyone dare talk of menopausal women and sex ?

After all in the Arabic language Menopause is called "sen al ya'ss" meaning the age of Despair.

This implies that any woman whose menses have stopped is in an age of Despair. Despair about what?

Despair that she will not get pregnant. The age of post procreation desperation. The post bleeding uterine blues...

This implies that women's only mission in this life is to procreate.

Which means that women who don't bleed in the age of Desperation and Despair are not entitled to anything...

Sex, sensuality, pleasure, intimacy and joy are no longer their rights...

She's either the mother of so and so, or the un-fuckable spinster...and anyone in the Eastern mentality beyond the age of 30, is un-fuckable...she reminds him of his mother. He can't help it.

You see our men like them (preferably) untouched, young and fresh...Chinese virginity kits can come in handy. And they only cost 15$ on the black market.

The first question is - are you a virgin and the second is can you procreate? Of course, our men will never ask it point blank even though some do, they will allude to the subject...indirectly.

Lots is at stake - name, inheritance, and of course honor...

So back to this o'so daring program.

One woman admitted o'so courageously that she was over 40, everyone applauded her bravery. Oh wow, a woman actually saying she's over 40 on air ?!

The Eastern male psyche will not be able to handle that. He that is so used to plastic, siliconized women from Rotana Video clips, he who spends long hours checking youtube Arab celebrities and the latest porn positions...he, whose world has always centered around his royal (and only) weapon stuffed with Viagra at age of 40, receding with his hair line and secretly wishing it will protrude beyond his pot belly...

Oh yes the age of despair...you must know all about it.

Why is Men O Pause such a curse after all ?!

The Impossible Four Hours

How is it possible for any man to talk ceaselessly about himself for 4 hours non stop. Like NON STOP.

There is so much narcissism anyone can hold but 4 hours ?!!! Four hours of my life gone to waste listening to some dick head praising himself...4 hours. I could have done so much in 4 hours instead of listening to Mr.Beau yapping endlessly about his little self...Mercy!

At one point I felt the whole world disintegrate into a vacuum, a sort of black hole and there was no one but him, him and his voice talking, talking, talking...

The prospects of having my whole world shrink to him and his speech filled me with a sense of doom...

The funniest bit is after four fucking hours he said - I find you intriguing.

No shit?! Of course you find me intriguing I could not place a word sideways in four hours. I'd find anyone who was silent for four hours most intriguing as well...

When will men learn ?

I want to go and crawl under a rock and stay there till the whole world collapses. I can't take this bullshit anymore.

Men are raving idiots...

This is my third post for tonight...

I can't get over the fact that men are raving idiots. All the women I meet tell me so...

I know so too.

Men are so fucking easy...they're a piece of cake...

You just need to mix the right ingredients

Had I wanted a recipe...a sure recipe, I would have turned to my cookbooks

Or maybe I should.

Bored...

Am so fucking bored with men...I really am. Conversations always end up with their dick...directly indirectly...does not matter...

Dick this and dick that...how come I make no issue of what's between my legs ?

How come my perineum, vulva, vagina, clitoris are not the center of the conversation ?

How come I don't allude to it, seriously, jokingly, socially, religiously ?

How come when I meet you I don't think through my legs ?

How come I open my ears, heart and read betwen your lines ?

Are my lines like my vulva ? folds of skin like rose petals in an anonymous poem?

Am bored...

Am bored with your ways

I know them by heart...

Predictable...

People don't need to say much...however sophisticated they make come across...
Once you learn the game, the rest is a piece of cake.
The game being - what makes people tick.
You get hold of that one...and all of the puzzle fits.

Chewing Gum...

I don't know if I've ever mentioned that, but am totally allergic to Chewing Gum. It's not the gum am allergic to, it's the fucking chewing that drives me raving mad...

In public Chewing Gum should be PROHIBITED. Seriously, I know it sounds terribly dictatorial, but I care not...I can no longer tolerate ruminating cows and chewing camels in my face...that's it - I've had it !

It's ugly, vulgar, cheap, unaesthetic, crude and unrefined. And some people are so proficient at making noise, bubbles, whatever you care to call it... when they are chewing, therefore it is also very bothersome, irksome, irritating, and annoying.

And trust me -- chewing "Ladies" and "Gents" (although women seem to be chewing experts compared to men) you look hideous when that jaw keeps moving senselessly...

So do us all a favor, if you want to chew, do it in the privacy of your own home, do not subject the rest of us to your maxillary motions.

Besides, bubble gum is so fucking American, help us beat this tacky culture.

Discretion & Discernment

I really have ZERO respect for people who are not discreet. Discretion is the foundation of credibility and trust.

Discretion and discernment - i.e to use sense of judgement amount to the same.

Judgement is based on timing, place and events - i.e context. Anything out of context loses its value and hence its credibility.

There is a time and place for everything...there is a context for everything.

Blind power is force that transgresses limits, and Real power is always wise.

Claustrophobia...or Hell revisited.

The classical definition of claustrophobia is - fear of closed spaces.
This is a very limited, reductionist, simplistic, skewed definition of the term.

Claustrophobia has nothing to do with closed spaces, but it has everything to do with confinement.

When you find yourselves confined you become claustrophobic.

Confined is an interesting word - for me it means being limited, bound, restrained, held within certain parameters...

For some people claustrophobia can be an actual physical place, for others the parameters imposed by a relationship and for others it can be the familiar that is imprisoning.

Bearing the above definitions in mind, I guess am claustrophobic. I do not have fear of closed space, nor do I fear relationships, but the familiarity of human interaction makes me want to take a flight...

What do I mean by familiarity of human interaction ?

I mean patterns that repeat themselves. I mean the kind of people that are too predictable in their outcome, I mean the little detail that gives away a whole picture that you know by heart, I mean the revisited hell of something you have known, I mean when your radars go up and your alarms start ringing like church bells, I mean ---hell anyone who has an iota of sensitivity knows what I mean.

So really it's not claustrophobia after all...it's just your inner operating system that tells you --- watch out, hell is very near - again.

Magic of Idiots...

I am daily, constantly confronted with Idiocy...I have come to believe that the village idiot is not the odd one out, but the whole mass is...

We are actually populated by the magic of Idiocy...This is the new ideology. Really am not kidding. Idiots are in vogue.

Sure you can't write - professional idiot - on your CV. You need to make it a little more flowery...beautify it with words...but really if you need to land anything these days - from job to lover -- be an idiot.

Idiocy pays in the new world order of things, in the new world order of Idiots. You know why ? Because that's the prevailing ideology, in whatever form or color it takes. So do join the bandwagon, you might make it, last minute...

The culture of Idiots is the culture of Mediocrity in the full sense of the word.

Of course if you're not mediocre, you will not understand it. It's like a foreign language to you...take my advice - learn it.

It's not that complicated once you get the hang of it...you just need to fulfill the role of Dumb and that's about gets you there.

You see, Mediocrity is an intolerant motherfucker...It can't stand anything that is not like it.

It's like a parasite that feeds on its own for its own survival...

If you become Mediocre you will survive...I promise you that.

Darwin was an asshole...he did not understand the concept of Idiocy and its correlative Mediocrity. Had he done so...he would have called it the survival of the mediocre.

Our societies, our systems are designed to take a - or a + but nothing beyond or above...

Conformity is another word for mediocrity.

There are parameters laid before you - stating - there's so much we can take, we can accept or tolerate. Anything outside these parameters are an infringement.

Some of you react to this, without even knowing it...you go neurotic, phobic, and ultimately insane...

Others are happy to work within the parameters..they find in them comfort, familiarity, security...

Security is for idiots.

Why ?

Because security provides the ultimate illusion that things remain as they are...the same.

And only an idiot can believe that.

Short of Words...

It feels as if I have not posted in ages...
Am too taken by some sectarian Shia shit who's harassing me - deliberate evil on his part for no reason...for no objective reason except maybe because I am a non Shiite Iraqi- well yeah I don't like shit nor the smell of it...that's a good enough reason I suppose.
Anyways...seen too much so far. Fucking Mercy where are you ?
Guess I've got to go through another episode of the Sunni Witch Hunt...keep the motions going until the awaited Mahdi lands...somewhere in Mesopotamia.
Do nudge me when he does...got a chalice filled with fresh blood to offer him.


In the meantime...until...I am going to listen to songs.

I like this one, understand nothing of the words...but no matter. I understand it all.

Censorship Rap.

I keep ranting...what the fuck ? This is my space and I can rant, rave, rap as much as I like.

Don't tell I have to be censored at home, in my country, in my exile, be politically correct and not allowed to rant...

At every corner I turn, I see a Sheikh, a Mullah, a soldier and a politically correct cunt trying to censor me...a liberal, an Islamist, a feminist, a republican, a democrat, a progressive, a race relation coordinator, an Arab, a Jew, a Christian....all - want you to say what they like to hear.

Fuck them all. I got my story on each...I got my story to tell.

Oh and I don't like anally retentive folks either...just fucking add them to my list.

These motherfuckers spring out of nowhere...don't say this, don't say that, be this, be that...
Kess emkon ala em abokon, Get the fuck out of my space.

DUMB.

Really, truly, the most dumb people I have ever come across in my 40 + years, are the Americans.

It never fails to baffle me how much congenital stupidity a "people" can contain. Honestly, am not trying to be nasty, mean or anything like that...even though I have every good reason to be...

But really, I mean really...Americans are such a fucking stupid lot.

It's pathetic.

My only "worry" not sure it's the right term - is that Arabs living in America are becoming even dumber than the locals.

For me that's an Armageddon - the Apocalypse.

We're nearly there.

No, we're actually there.

Tyranny.

Did you notice something ? Everyone is trying to tell you how to be.

New age Gurus, swamis, priests, sheikhs, therapists, politicians, fashion designers, weight watchers, advertisers, school teachers, parents, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, bosses, governments, doctors, lawyers, your tradition, your culture, your nation, your...the whole fucking works...

Everyone is telling you how to be...and like a good girl and a good boy you do what you're told...even when rebelling or having the illusions of rebelling, you're still doing the exact opposite of what you're told - hence asserting what you're told.

Too fucking boring.

You're still a yo yo, you're still a puppet, you're still someone else's...injunctions.

Throw that damn package aside and take time and think...contemplate...redefine...re-engineer...reconstruct...who you want to become...who you want to truly be.

Pillows and Keyboard...

I have been trying to sleep for the past hour and a half to no avail. I remember what Walid once told me, he said : if you can't fall asleep in the first 15 mn, get out of bed. I dragged it on a little longer than 15 mn. I went for 45 mn and now am here, exchanged my pillow for my keyboard.

Walid added that day : get married, that will put you to sleep. I laughed and replied - or maybe exacerbate my insomnia.

I am not sure if he meant it in a positive way or not. Knowing Walid, he probably meant you'll be so bored, you're sure to fall asleep with no hassle...the famous " not tonight darling - I have a headache " kind of sleepy boredom.

Well, I really don't know if a shared pillow works better than a sleeping pill or not...probably not. Let's face it, most guys in their 40's and 50's snore...so I'd be getting a double whammy - sleepy boredom and inability to snooze because of snoring symphonies - in my ear and down my neck...

Mind you I can always opt for chambre à part - that would be the most civilized thing to do. Each one will have his own sleeping quarters and we'll meet in the courtyard or something...where a bell, a dingy little clochette will be conveniently placed -- ding ding, time for a quickie dear.

Seriously, I need to look at this whole thing positively, I'd still get to keep my keyboard in my own bed.

Autumn...Fall...Falling Leaves.

I love Autumn. They say leaves die in red and gold, so we can enjoy their beauty...

So to celebrate the beauty of Autumn and the love that has been gathered like dead leaves...I am going to post some of my favorite versions of Autumn Leaves or Feuilles Mortes. The Original text is based on a French poem by Prevert.

I would have loved to upload all the videos here, am greedy, holding on to Falling Leaves, but I can't do that...I simply have to let them go...

There is no chronological order of preferences - each leaf is beautiful in itself...(almost always).

Autumn Leaves, Falling Leaves, Feuilles Mortes.

Edith Piaf ( France - Eternal Love)

Yves Montand (France - Masculine Love)

Juliette Greco (France- Love Fatale)

Françoise Hardy (France- Minimalistic Love)

Patricia Kaas (France - Yearning Love)

Dalida (Italy, Egypt, France - Sultry Love)

Andrea Bocelli (Italy - Exuberant Love)

Enrique Guzman ( Venezuela/Mexico - Sentimental Love)

Paschalis  (Greece - Philosophical Love)

Nana Mouskouri  (Greece/France - Proper/Clean Love)

Fairuz  (Lebanon - Mythical Love)

Ilham Al-Madfai (Iraq -  Destroyed Forgotten Love )

Tony Kaldas (Egypt/Lebanon - Lost Promised Love)

Warda Al-Jazeaeria (Algeria/Egypt - Warm Love)

Melis Bilen  (Turkey - Idealized Love)

Helena Velikanova  (USSR - Red Nostalgic Love)

Vigdis Wisur  (Norway - Timid Love)

Shiina Ringo (Japan - Measured Love)

Tom Jones ( England - Predator Love)

Joan Baez (USA- Limpid Love)

Eva Cassidy (USA- Broken Hearted Love)

Doris Day (USA - Naive Love)

Grace Jones (USA/Jamaica - Unconventional Love)

Iggy Pop (USA - Hard/Soft Punk Love)

Nat King Cole (USA - Hopeful Love)

John Mathis (USA - Unrecognized Love)

Frank Sinatra (USA - Illusory Love)

Pat Boone (USA - Limp Love)

Barbara Streisand (USA - Constipated Love)

Sarah Vaughan (USA - Wild Love)

Cannonball Adderley with Miles Davis (USA - Magical Jazzy Love)

Chet Baker with Paul Desmond (USA - No Nonsense Love)

Keith Jarret  (USA - Sophisticated Love)

Bill Evans Trio  (USA - Pragmatic,Punctual  Love)

Oscar Peterson & Dizzy Gillespie (Canada/USA - Suave, Rich Love)

Stan Getz (Brazil - Smooth Sensual Love)


As autumns leaves begin to fall.........


A special Thanks to my Twitter fellows, who helped me pick a few leaves on the way...

Thought of the Day 1.10.2010

Times flies...literally.

I can't believe it's already October. In a few months, a New Year...a blink of an eye.

It's kind of strange - when I was in my teens, I felt time to move so slow, and now I can't catch up with it...

I find myself in a bind - if I hurry my steps, I might not enjoy it and if I don't, it might pass me by....

The ideal situation would be to freeze it -- short of that, I guess I will just stop thinking of about it.

Thought of the Day 30.9.2010

Self Importance...

It starts with self importance, narcissism and ends with megalomania...the natural trajectory of a self gone wild...knowing no boundaries and no limits.

I want to write about the starting point - self importance.

Every single person is important by virtue of them being created by the Great Intelligence and Power - which I choose to call Allah.

But for me there is a difference between; the importance conferred by the act and status of being a creation of Allah i.e "human" and that of self importance.

Self importance is really quite ugly - it wears many masks. From outright self centeredness, to pedantic "intellectual" airs, masquerading as "intellectual sophistication" - hot balloons of nothing, to believing that one is the pivotal source of everything and everyone, to airs of superiority and snobbery, to self involvement to the point of being unable to be present to the Other or others, to total self absorption to the point of melancholia, to excessive focus on self to the detriment of surroundings --nature and society -- ie. to what is, to believing that one is totally extra special - terribly unique and above it all...so on and so forth...all ultimately leading to a malignant form of individualism in which, unfortunately, many stay very stuck; degenerating into a permanent pathological state.

In fact -- when I come to think of it, the line is very thin between living with one self and getting to know it and remaining stuck there for ever...

My Thought for the Day 28.9.2010

Myths and more myths...

In an age of instant coffee, instant love, instant sex, instant passion, instant wealth, instant connections, instant ignitions, instant communication, instant wash, instant dry, instant baking, instant cooking, instant managing, instant enlightenment; instant gratification...every one secretly expects instant Happiness.

There is no instant Happiness but there are instances of Happiness. And the minute one says Happiness one calls on its flip side. The minute one calls on Joy, one also calls on Pain.

Pain is inevitable...

The whole life trip is to alleviate the Suffering - so one can experience the Happiness/Joy that hides on the flip side of Pain.

And that's basically It.

Signs of Piety..

I miss writing on this blog...I really do. I am wasting too much time on Twitter and it is sapping my energy. I also realized that I have this incredible knack to make enemies across the board...that is the price to pay for speaking up, speaking one's mind and sticking to Truth, even though am fully aware no one has monopoly over the Truth.

Well tonight is no exception - I am going to make more enemies...I know it.

Tonight I want to write about external signs of piety. By external signs I mean external signs.
External signs that need to show affiliation to a certain religious group. Turbans, beards, veils, niqabs, kippa, synthetic wigs, scarves, shawls, hassidic hats, side curls, robes, cloaks, weird looking hats, long chains with gold crucifixes...you know, the whole works.

Now I have absolutely nothing against religion. Nothing at all. But somehow these external signs of "piousness" make me question...

I've been brought up in a religious atmosphere, in school. Being taught by nuns and priests was the most traumatic thing anyone can inflict on a child. Maybe the Christian clergy has evolved from the dark ages of my childhood but I can't be that sure. Corporal punishment was the norm so were the daily humiliations. In retrospect, I see that what I experienced and witnessed was nothing but pure Sadism. A bunch of very frustrated, sexually repressed people taking it out on their subordinates - the children. The fact that I came from a Muslim family did not help matters too much. I was also put down for that. Going to school every morning was like torture - physical torture. At 12/13 I threatened to put an end to my life if I was not removed from this Abu Ghraib of my childhood. And I meant it.

I came to associate all the nuns and priests black robes and aprons with Torture. We had a small chapel in the school, I used to escape there and pray to God. I can still remember that chapel. Small, dark, and cold. I felt claustrophobic, but not as claustrophobic as in the rest of the building. So I'd kneel and implore God - who was represented by Jesus nailed to a cross - to save me from there. One day I remember getting cross with that statue. I said - How can you save me when you are nailed the way you are ?! - that day I gave up hope.

Thankfully I was transferred to another school...and years later, I made it a point to visit the grounds of that school. An assistant greeted me with - how can I help you ? I said I have one question - are the nuns still frustrated sadistic bitches or have they evolved since ? She was shocked and started stammering something or the other and started telling to me of the love of Christ. I spat on the grounds and told her - I am gracing and blessing your school - turned my back and walked away...

I did not stop holding love and esteem for Jesus, quite the contrary -- but I understood that a man nailed to a cross cannot save me...in my memory --all I wanted was to save him. And I also decided that NO clergy was spokesperson, representative or had monopoly over the Truth.

Years passed, Time attenuated my first traumatic encounter with God's representatives on Earth...or so I had hoped.

All this quickly evaporated when I witnessed the several Jewish violent and barbaric wars, incursions and the rest...a rest that has not stopped. Men with kippas, side curls, star of David, shawls and weird hats frothing at the mouth with joy, exalted over the killings of innocents -- while their jets were flying over our heads - dropping bomb after bomb in the name of their God, put a quick end to my hope. I started detesting their external attire of piety and associated and still associate it with brutality, vindictiveness coming from a mean, nasty, vengeful God - their representation of God.

But I did not lose hope...I kept a secret wish somewhere...deep down, that maybe I will come across a person who dresses, speaks and acts with congruence. I suppose I was secretly hoping to meet a "representative of God" with some moral and spiritual integrity.

I started frequenting the Masjids - Mosques -- hoping to find a human "authority" to emulate.
During that period, the Muslim clergy had no such power, as there is no Clergy in Islam as such --definitely not like today. But following the advent of Khomeinism, I started noticing more and more people believing that Clerics can save them and Clerics or "men of God" became the living incorporation of the Divine on earth. This trend got exacerbated with the occupation of Iraq and the unleashing by the Americans of dark obscure forces in black Turbans and Chadors. Forces who did the unthinkable in the name of their God - from mutilation, to drills, to rape, to sodomy...you name it, they do it...Ironically those dark forces of the power of the Clergy collaborated with the Crusaders who invaded in the name of Jesus. My nightmare was far from over from the day of those priests and nuns dressed in black. It was now inflicted on a whole collectivity.

I also noticed that more and more men and women started embracing those external signs of piety. Apart from the turbans, you had veils, chadors, niquabs, beards etc...

I thought to myself, who am I to judge - I, the "sinner" - am in no position to judge those pious people who have finally "embraced God". So I kept an open mind...and I let a few of them into my life...wannabe preachers, pious veiled women, men with beards and rosaries...I let them into my life not politically, because politically I can never follow anyone, but on a social friendly basis - I kept the door open. None of them were political extremists either...they hardly had any interest in politics...their main interest was preaching and judging...I found them to be intolerant, judgmental, gossipy, back biting, slanderous, opportunistic, two faced, ignorant, rigid and hypocritical...and some were outright deceptive liars -- very much like the rest of the "pious" people I met from other religions.

In conclusion, all I wanted to say was -- what you wear on the outside is no guarantee of purity, cleanliness, honesty, goodness or love on the inside.

But then you knew that already...or did you ?

Virtue - less.

It is absolutely clear in my mind that virtuous characters cannot be meat for writing. I am really talking about fictional characters here.

A book full of virtues is no longer a story, it becomes a treatise in Ethics and Morality. And treatises of that sort, are not what novels are made of.

Surely, if one restrains oneself from delving in the underworld of the bad and the ugly, who will give birth to anything - for is not birth made of tearing, blood and pain ?

Virtuous characters cannot be redeemed, there is no redemption for them. They are born saints, forsaking all their human aspects - they are fit to be icons of worship.

And is not tapping into the dark, and willing to plunge in it, a way of expiating oneself on one's way to Sainthood, to Virtue ?

Surely when the pages are blackened with the human element in all of its decadence, impulses, bestiality, shadows - can the flip side be revealed.

Warped Minds...

I write this post with a sense of urgency...not that it is a matter of life and death, not quite, but stemming more from not wanting to lose the thread of an insight, something that has dawned on me with full force. Not that I was unaware of it before, but awareness has many levels, and each time a new level reveals itself when the "student" is ready.

From my limited or maybe not so limited experience in life, from my dealings with people, of various backgrounds, nationalities and cultures, I can say without wanting to sound too pompous, that I have a little knowledge about people...

My being "middle aged" helps a great deal, along with a keen sense of wanting to know, to understand...and to give meaning to experience...Futility is not a word I have fondness for - hence my ceaseless quest...

Again, the subject matter will touch upon the Eastern male - by Eastern I mean the Oriental male. Al Rajul Al Sharqi as we call him in Arabic. I am in this context referring not so much to the male gender in his purely biological dimension, but to the culture of the male gender. I use the word culture short of a better word, trusting that the appropriate term will break through those lines as they unfold on this page.

From my dealings with women in general and Arab (Eastern and I will use those two terms interchangeably for convenience sake, bearing in mind that this is no treatise but a blog post),
I realize that a woman reveals herself in her intimacy, in her intimate parts to two "authorities" - her partner (husband) and her doctor (gynecologist in particular). These two "authorities" are the ones who are made most privy to her intimate parts - not just physical parts but also mental parts.

As a matter of fact, a woman might even share more with her doctor than her husband, when it comes to intimate matters, (not necessarily limited to the sexual sphere). Both fields in the medical profession - Gynecology and Psychiatry are the domains where women reveal the most.

I have many medical acquaintances, colleagues who share with me stories mostly males...

And I could not help but notice something pertinent - in both these medical professions, both gynecology and psychiatry, the male gender is extremely uncomfortable (to say the least) to discuss anything pertaining to the intimate problematics of their female patients beyond the obvious. The obvious meaning "something that needs to be promptly fixed." (an infection, a pregnancy that needs attention, a phobia, a depression, etc...)

The above is made much easier if the woman is married. The doctors in question are less reticent to discuss with the female patient any problematic that may be lurking beyond the surface and which might be indirectly related to the immediate issue at hand.

I shall give a very simple example : A woman presenting herself with a Salpingitis will be treated differently conditional upon whether she is married or not. That does not mean that both women will not be given the appropriate treatment but it does mean that the unmarried woman who presents herself to a gynecologist with an fallopian tube infection will cause a stir in the doctor's mind. To put it very simply - he will judge her. Here is a woman not married, who obviously had a sexual relation and is here in his clinic.

The same goes for a psychiatrist treating unmarried women. A psychiatrist is very much likely to be more open and less judgmental if the woman in front of him is married than if a woman is not. In particular if the underlying reason for this woman's visit is related to the area of relationship with the opposite sex and touches upon her sexuality either indirectly or directly.

The reason for this "stigma" from both these medical professions, stems from the fact that despite all the "scientific" knowledge these doctors possess (and female doctors are not excluded here either), in their minds, in their psyche - woman as sexual being per se is unfathomable. Meaning that a woman's sexuality (in the large sense of the word) can only find expression within well delineated parameters - marriage. Anything short of that is not well received at all. Open mindedness in the Eastern world - in particular the Arab world stops at the perineum. At the doors of the vagina.

I am presenting this by using examples derived from the medical profession and I do so purposely. Because if the medical profession is so uptight about this female area, can you imagine what the rest of the society looks like ?!

The consequences are vast and in some instances very serious.

An unmarried woman with an unwanted pregnancy will most likely be aborted by a quack, an unmarried woman who has been sexually abused, raped or simply has a problem on that front that she would like to explore will refrain from seeking help and if she does will not be totally open about it, an unmarried woman who has a gynecological problem will pretend that she is married so as to avoid judgement and unnecessary questions, so on and so forth...

I am sure there might be some in the medical professions who have moved beyond...but am not quite sure if they are many of them around and if their moving beyond is not prompted by financial considerations - like the doctor who is known to charge exorbitant prices for an abortion or for restoring lost hymens.

But really the crux of this post is not to have a go at the medical profession in the Arab world, it is simply to use those examples as a yardstick by which one can measure...to have a feel for the issue that I am trying to explore in those brief lines...

Bearing this in mind, it comes as no surprise that women have become proficient at hiding their "secrets" even from themselves.

This post is by no means conclusive nor is it meant to be...

On Cruelty...

Cruelty is not given much thought, nor much reflection, maybe because Cruelty is a given, a commonality, a fait accompli, a fact, an intrinsic part of being "Human".

I don't find animals cruel, at least not deliberately so...but humans can be and some are and deliberately so...

I always believe in what I call the primary intention. Of course only the "actor" i.e the one who inflicts cruelty knows what his (I will use the He for convenience sake but the She is also applicable) primary intention is - no one else does.

Cruelty as opposed to hostility or anger is premeditated, always. People don't ponder enough on that word "premeditated" - to meditate before, this is what it means. To meditate before means to ponder something beforehand, to plan something before carrying out an act - act here can be verbal, physical or both.

The notion of premeditation is a giveaway, because it reveals what the primary intention was/is all about.

Having said that, if find cruel people terribly pathetic. Yes granted, their acts may have terrible consequences on others, but in themselves, cruel people are pathetically stupid.

Their stupidity derives from the "grand illusion" of their own powers. Inflicting deliberate harm on someone else, gives them that illusion. Also the fact that they premeditate their acts gives them another illusion - that of smartness, intelligence. Mistaking deviousness and viciousness for Intelligence is pretty stupid, no ?

They place themselves in a position of power/authority, and that insignificant ego of theirs can finally take up the space...In fact cruel people, when you unmask them, have no space of their own...deep down, their existential insignificance is really what troubles them...they have no center and no core self, they are in fact a mass of instincts held captive by their own demons.

They are pathetically stupid precisely because of that.

A Homage to M.

One hour ago, I learned that M. passed away.

Had not seen him in ages. Last time we met, there was him, another friend and me. We went out for dinner, and talked late into the night...

M. was/is a writer. I say is because M. left a legacy, a piece of his soul, imagination and mind behind. He wrote scripts, plays, novels, films...as far as I can remember, M. was always writing. Writing was his life and life was all about writing...

M. was also an avid reader, he'd finish 3-4 books per week, cover to cover...he was into literature, poetry and philosophy. He was also religious, in a liberal kind of way. He observed the ritual prayers and fasted Ramadan.

After his wife's death many years ago, M. remarried twice. Each time the relationship did not withstand the test of time. He ended up single, with grown up kids who had a life of their own.

I was told tonight that M. was always thinking about Death, even contemplating it - as in suicide. But his religiosity forbade him from carrying out the act of putting an end to his life.

He had grown more and more disillusioned with life and people, and the more he immersed himself in writing and reading -- the greater his isolation from others.

This feeling of Isolation comes with age regardless, but it is even more pronounced for an intellectual and M. was one in the pure sense of the word.

Even though his writings were well known, he never sought fame or the limelight, he did not go out of his way to seek recognition, he was very devoted to his art, to his passion, and the outside world of celebrities, he shunned away from...focusing on an inner world where he could escape the mediocrity...

And even though M. was growing more aloof, he never lost his kindness for he was basically a very kind and sensitive person...the world had gotten too tight for him.

I remember one of our discussions, we agreed that the culture of Mediocrity is the prevailing culture worldwide...and there was not much place left for Brilliance - the more mediocre you were the more you excelled in this machine called the world... he then laughed it all off, by saying people who refused mediocrity will end up as drunkards, lost in alcohol vapor...living on the streets...

M. did not drink though...but he saw where he was heading...with or without alcohol...

M. did not commit suicide. He rose for the Fajr prayer, stumbled as he lifted himself from his prayer mat, fell and hit the floor. There was no one around to help him. He crawled to the main door of his tiny apartment trying to call for some help. Help did arrive. It was suggested that he be transported to a hospital or have a doctor pay him a visit. He refused. His son said - My father knew he was going to die and he wanted it that way.

The following day, M. was found dead in his bed.

He said goodbye to the world of mediocrity in which he refused to carve himself a place.

You will be missed M. but you gave it all...

Life is precarious, fragile, vulnerable...and hard, tough, cruel and gut wrenching at the same time...

Or maybe it is Man who is...

In Peace.

A Short Retreat...

I realize I haven't been blogging much, actually not at all...it feels fine, I miss it somehow, but not enough to resume it...I have not given up on writing though...I write elsewhere, with total freedom, not worrying about the neurotically politically correct and those whose knickers/panties (for the dumbs yankees) who get them in a twist...I am free in my writing and in my blasphemy...I take on whatever persona I choose and still denounce your filth under a 10000 different pseudos...I may be late in my spring cleaning...but a cleaning metamorphosis it is...I see it as fall bearing the fruits of hard labor...immune to the retarded reader's comprehension or lack of comprehension...a revolution within, not the western/american feminist (puke) type - Gloria neurotic Steinem style...oh no, another type of revolution...the anti-filth revolution...the anti-slime revolution, the anti-shit revolution...that kind of revolution...and it feels like a new world order is about to be established...

Et voilà for those who have been wondering...

P.S. I still maintain Fuck America and American "culture"....but I say it with more profundity than usual...the new tone feels more - hmmm, how to say it ? Totally harmonious.

Knots...

Nearly all the people I know who have tied the knot - who are married - complain all the time...like ALL the time...either the man complains or the woman complains or they both complain long and hard enough in front of the courts...
As if problems are embedded in any marital/couple relationship. It is endless...the woes, the disappointments, the deception, the lies, the confusion, the misunderstandings, all of that is endless...

When I sit, watch and listen, I feel am in a war zone...literally. And it is during those moments, which are more often than not, that I feel an extreme sense of gratitude for being single...I personally cannot handle all this daily emotional and psychological upheaval. Aren't relationships supposed to give one a sense of security somewhere ? All I witness is the opposite. I see people staying together out of HABIT rather than security..I see people sticking together and breaking at the seams..I see people developing all kinds of somatic illnesses because it sucks being in that family, in that relationship...yet they stay together...not always, but most of the time they live it through, sail it through, I am not sure they ever make it to some safe haven, but they stick together...

This is what I call staying power...I am not sure I possess that though...actually I am not sure I have met any man with whom I felt it was worth developing that staying power...am great at running for the door...first exit, no left or right turn, straight ahead and away...

I can't handle mental and emotional war zones...I am too scarred as is. I can't handle narcissistic men and 99.9% of Eastern men, in particular Arab men are grossly narcissistic, and I find them impossible to deal with let alone live with...besides I don't have the time, nor the age nor the energy to cater for their endless needs for adulation, attention, constant praise, comforting and other self centered activities...I no longer have the patience for it nor the tolerance required and the endless hours of listening to long boring monologues about who else but themselves...These men need a nurse, a therapist or some Geisha girl, they don't need a partner...

I feel on that front I've paid my dues, over paid actually...heavily taxed more like it...I've given enough, more than enough of my attention, time, energy, affection, love, listening, understanding and the rest...and frankly when I look back, I see I did not get much in return...I just fulfilled my role the way I was taught...and I got crumbs in exchange...I felt I was stuck in some zone that can only be qualified as mediocre, at best.

And some years back, I decided the wheel had to turn, change had to take place...I tied the knot, untied it, after finding myself in a thousand knots...and said to myself - ENOUGH!

I will no longer tolerate anything below MY STANDARDS anymore...I made my life much simpler that way...everything became clear to me, including who is worthy of my time and who is not...

So yes I feel enormous gratitude...I live a life that is in line with what I believe in, it might not be the exact life that I had hoped for, but it still is in line with what I believe in....it has congruence and coherence -- and if I ever let anyone in again, in any serious way, then I expect that person to share the same standards and values as I and who strives to live by them...

Only then would I consider sticking it through....knowing full well, that there will always be knots to untie...

Stop the Damage.

I've stopped believing quite some time ago, that we can change the world, am just hoping we can stop the damage...because radical damage has been done for sure...
And it seems to me we're not even capable of that - of stopping the damage, let alone conducting revolutions... and that is why I take all these ideas of revolutions with a huge grain of salt...
Yeah they're nice to get your adrenaline going...gives you a little high, like some drug...

Stop the damage - that would probably be the most revolutionary thing anyone can do.

to be continued...

July 28th, 2010.

This is a variation on the same theme and I shall continue where I left off...

Too many people are caught up with their little lives...little lives that keep shrinking and shrinking...I see them all living in boxes..despite their illusions of freedom and free choice...I hear it around me daily...

Life becomes reduced to kids, husbands, wives, families, in laws, weekends, diapers, feeding, cooking, cleaning, showing up at the office, who said what to who, who did what, who bought what, who cheated who, who divorced who, who married who, deaths in the family, friendships gone sour, marital problems, financial problems, health problems, relationship problems...and it goes on and on...and on..and on...and the world shrinks some more...and the lives shrink some more...

Caught up in life...or what they think is life...caught up in family, making a living, getting married, raising kids, and the whole circus...because a circus it is...every problem becomes blown out of proportions, all that matters is -- us, that unit,that family, that circle, that clan, that tribe and all the rest can stop, all the rest no longer exists...and each one believes his problem is the only problem, his family is the only family, his relationship is the only relationship...s/he shrunk her life and complains that there is not more to life...

What a bind! Caught up in a vicious circle of nonsense, and most of it is nonsense, avoidable nonsense -- had people actually bothered to communicate openly and honestly in all matters...but no -- the lies get thicker, the masks denser, and the whirlpool becomes a tight rope of stagnating water...and each believes s/he is drowning...

Having forsaken everything else for that little box of a life, s/he drowns in it...melodrama, tragedy , pettiness and angst...and the rest passes by...the rest being the other stuff - outside the box - the rest being other people, collectivities, societies, nations, countries...the rest being the world at large...and they sit and watch the damage and they don't even flinch...they are beyond hope of anything, let alone stopping it...they just sit in that box, completely self absorbed, and in moments of great despair pray for salvation....when they have not even moved an inch to save anyone else...

What do humans beings really expect ? They expect to keep behaving, thinking, acting, believing the same crap and hope for different results  or what ?!  They hope that their lives turn around when they can't even be bothered to turn anything ?!  They wish that all their problems will be instantly solved when they are adamant about not looking within and see how they contributed to their creation ?!  What the fuck is wrong with people ?!!!!

I see it around me all the time...all the fucking time...I saw it in the West, I see it in the East...hardly anyone is willing to take responsibility, to become responsible...I see it in everything...in relations, in love, in sex, in politics, in everything...everything...

Full of themselves, full of ego, full of every single crap thing that not only immobilizes them but immobilizes those around them....and this cuts across class, race, gender, nationality, country ---you name it...

And more damage is done, individually, collectively, internationally....

So instead of trying to make revolutions....just stop the fucking damage...STOP it. Whatever it is you are doing that is contributing to harming the other, be it person,  nature, people, countries or whatever it is ---whatever it is ---just STOP IT. Make a DECISION to STOP IT.

Space & Place....

I always feel I never have enough space...I need space. I need space to breathe...I need space to re-arrange things, to give them their due place...

Space and place are synonymous in my head. Ever since I lost my place, I have lost my space...

Ever since I lost my place, I find I need more and more space...I also noticed that I've crammed the space in order not to feel the loss of the place...and I find myself fighting for space, hoping to turn it into some place...

Only few will understand that...not many...that's okay. The important thing is that I understand it.

They say there's a time and place for everything. But what if you've lost one or both ? what happens then ?

What if you happen to be suspended in some space...with no place - what happens then ?

Well it's totally logical - when you lose your physical place, you need space to make up for it...

The non physical space becomes your place...which you inhabit, it becomes your new home...and with some luck your garden...where you can plant just about anything you want...but still no guarantee that it will sprout...

They say woman is earth...earth is all about place and space no ?

It's the land, the house, the home - your place...and what if you've lost all of them ? Where is your earth ?

So you invent space...

Space is abstract...it's somewhere out there and you need to furnish it all over again...space is void and you need to fill it up, trying to re-recreate some earth, some place...

Of course, you can become very Zen about the whole thing - and become a terrible tyrannical minimalist. But Zen is all about choice, about choosing to give up the place so as to find the space. Zen is not about constraint...

That is why the Other will never understand...unless s/he has been there...in that place...

And when suspended in that space, where you lost all references, all anchors, all flags, all place...you realize, apart from the fact that it's imperative that you construct something again, bring it down to some physical form, to some physical place...you realize on some inner level, that space and place are one...

How to explain that ?

Take sorrow or grief for instance...sorrow takes up all the space, all the place...

I've always wondered why people need to know where their beloved ones are buried...they need to know the place, so the grief takes up the delimited space inside of them...so it does not overtake all of them...

Buried as in anything buried and dead...I play with words...so many levels...

And in that space inside, there are compartmentalized places for every experience, for every buried one...like some graveyard, you will occasionally visit...

But people are a bit/very stupid...they always exclaim - this is so weird, where did this come from ? --- forgetting that that inner space is nothing but yet another place...

Managing space has become an obsession for me...how much to give for each ? who takes what place ? It may be because I live in tight surroundings...and I've filled up the space...or it may be because I have shun from giving the right amount of space for each...maybe am too scared...too scared that they will take over the little space I have left, having lost my place...maybe am too scared to realize who it was that really made me lose my place...or maybe am too scared to acknowledge that my place was never really a place...

If all is construct --- then I can construct anything, everything....anew, again...

Except for the graveyard inside...

Yes, just as I thought; my story -- my place and Iraq's are one...

Or as we say in Arabic - Ma fee mafar - There is no escape.

A Sweet Evening...

Every now and then Destiny, Fate has it that one comes across some rare beings...
At first sight, they look totally ordinary, but if one is curious which I am and is open to listening - then one realizes that quite a few ordinary people are not so ordinary and many of them live the ordinary life in an extraordinary way...

The man I encountered tonight is one of those people...A humble, jovial, simple man, he must be in his early 70's or so, but there was something very young about him, it was his curiosity and his passion, more like tender love for what he liked best - botany, ecology, and rearing bees...

When I started out the day, I had absolutely no idea I was going to meet anyone, who will capture my full attention for over 2 hours with one story after another about plants, trees, insects, bees, recycling of waste, solar panels, ...you name it he could talk about it...his love was nature and its conservation...

Just by listening to him I felt re-connected to nature and its principles...I learned so much tonight and for that I am very grateful...

This is how it all started...

L and I met up for a drink at our usual place, she wanted to talk as usual, the same old boring subject - her relation with the male gender - in my opinion she had pretty exhausted the subject, but she went on and on...it was a cul-de-sac, a no-winner as far I was concerned...it was a no-winner because the initial premise from which she operated was faulty to start with...I tried explaining that to her, but L, is the kind of woman that just needs to vent for the sake of venting and is not really interested in change...because she is not interested in learning something new about herself...

So I just let her be...after all it is not my business to change anyone...but it is my business how much time I am willing to invest and spend in listening to the same old broken record...

For me, faulty premises give birth to faulty relations. It's very much like planting...how can one expect anything to grow if the land is infertile to start with ?

So I let her vent, it did not really matter if I listened or not, she was going to talk her way into her old self all over again...

And it is in these moments of desperate boredom that the small miracles happen...and that small tiny miracle was this man who was visiting and who taught me all I needed to know for today about plants, flowers, bees and the rest...

I learned for instance that bees are on their way to near extinction. They have been genetically modified by who else but the bloody Americans - who mixed two different kinds of bee types, thus rendering the new "product" bee vulnerable to all sorts of parasites, hence shortening its life span by nearly half. Today the world bee population has decreased by 60%.

I also learned that it takes about 6'000 to 10'000 bees in one hive to produce 12 layers of honeycomb which in turn produce about half a pot of honey each.

I learned about all the different types of honey - honey made of flowers, honey made of trees, honey made of herbs...I also learned why the wasp's sting could be deadly - the wasp can feed on garbage and carcasses...I also learned all about acacias trees, their origins, their life span, did you know that there are real acacias trees and pseudo-acacias trees ? The real ones give birth to pink and yellow flowers, the pseudo ones bear only white ones...and all acacias trees originated in Yemen...

I learned about solar panels, and the difficulty in recycling them...hence not all green is really green. I learned about the cancerogenic dust particles produced by the friction of car tires and asphalt...and much more...

I listened to this man with eyes wide open...he had so much knowledge about nature, a walking encyclopedia...

So I asked him - I said to him the amount of knowledge you possess is formidable, how did you acquire all of that ?

And in the same simple tone in which he spoke, he replied - I don't have a TV so I read a lot and nature is my passion...

L. was getting restless...this man did not capture her attention not one bit...but for me, he made the whole evening worthwhile...

And as I headed home, I pondered how many people who have honey every morning actually know how it is produced...and I pondered some more and thought all of the things we ingest, use, daily...and we never stop and think about them...

How many hours have gone into their production, what did it take, how was it designed, what is their source, how is it affecting us, them...and I could go on for hours...

All these ordinary things, all these ordinary people that we take for granted....until, a sweet evening opens our eyes....

Psychotic, Suicidal ? No and Fuck You !

THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR REPRODUCTION - REPUBLISHING

You know something, I get quite a few emails from "sober, leveled, balanced, sane " individuals, mostly Americans, who are terribly worried about my psychological state...

Honestly, I have received many emails from so called "well wishers" wondering when is my ultimate psychotic episode, my ultimate psychotic breakdown - for, according to them, I am in some pre-psychotic limbo, and there is just one trigger, for which they are earnestly waiting for to happen, before I sink into a full psychosis. This is how they perceive it...and this is what they are waiting for...hoping for...

But you see this is the typical American way - pointing the finger outwards, always...the other person is psychotic...but "we've got nothing to do with it "....

I can assure you, I am far from being psychotic...I am actually very lucid, in full control, very aware, and very much tuned in into your shit without being affected by it...

You see -- the invader, government and people -- will inflict the worst of the worst, and will sit on the sidelines and wait for you to crumble...and you don't...keeping your sanity becomes your ultimate resistance...

They want to drive you mad...They know, these sons of whores, how their actions will drive anyone insane and this what they keep hoping for...for you to become insane... to break down...to split, to disintegrate, to eventually beg...

Who said torture is only physical ?

If you are on the path, if you say the Truth, if you tingle, tease, those little end nerves of theirs...trust me...trust me...they will go for your jugular...

Oh sure, you can be polite and logical all you want..that is fine...but don't hit the raw nerve...RAW NERVE.

You can only hit at the raw nerve because you are raw yourself...right ?

And this is when the battle becomes interesting...

You can write, talk, pontificate as much as you like -- using logic...no one gives a fuck about that...logic is in vogue, it keeps you within the wanted, acceptable parameters...

Hit the raw nerve...and sit back and watch...

Raw nerves are all about survival, sanity and madness aren't they ?

Sure they are...

This is how the son of a bitch thinks; he/she will eventually break down...take away his family, his livelihood, his home, - make him vulnerable, if he resists you, torture him, rape him, threaten him---if he resists you some more, kill him and if you cannot kill him physically, if you cannot finish him off, then kill him morally...turn him/her into a moral vegetable...let him be ruled by Fear, and nothing but Fear...

Fear is the basis of all psychosis...of all suicides...hidden under many layers of other things, of other rationalizations...

They will make you so fearful that you will want to escape, take a trip into psychosis...

They will try everything ---I am not exaggerating and believe me when I say to you they will try everything...

They will go for your most vulnerable self. Your family, your loved ones, your children, your private parts, your secrets, your intimacy...to everything and anything you hold dear and that gives you a sense of being here, a sense of belonging, a sense of protection, a sense of cover and they will want to kill it...obliterate it...

But you hold on...you hold on, and hold on some more...and this is your Resistance.

This is your soul resisting, and not you...this is your soul resisting because you have surrendered to something much greater...You have surrendered to something that holds your soul and theirs by the tips of His fingers...and you know, you know, that all of you, are puppets held by a string...

And it becomes your turn to sit and watch...Just sit and watch...


P.S : The above is also applicable to the personal...away from "Politics".

Drawing Lessons from Zacharia...

Today is the 5th of of Sha'aban  i.e the 1st Sunday of the Islamic month preceding the month of Ramadan (month when the message was revealed and when Fasting takes place) in the Hijri (Hijra means exile) Islamic calendar.

There is NO other country in the Middle East, Arab or Muslim world that celebrates this date, except in Iraq.

I am not quite sure if Shias or Christians celebrate it or not, but as far as I can remember my family has always done so - we call it simply Zacharia (in reference to the prophet Zacharia). And I distinctly remember that all our family, sect and religion confounded, Sunnis, Shias, Christians would gather at my grandmother's place on the 1st Sunday of Sha'ban at sunset for the celebration.

My mother and aunts in turn - upheld the tradition and they never fail to commemorate the prophet Zacharia.

For me, it has always been a very special event. Something mystical about it. Some members of the family fast from food and drink, some fast from talking from dawn to sunset. I tried that a couple of times, fasting from talking - it was dead easy...I don't speak much anyways...I guess that does not count as fasting then. I am not sure if writing would be considered breaking the fast, since writing is also a form of speech - I suppose.

Zacharia is very special to me, ever since I was a child. First, I love the candles burning for the occasion. Each person present, lights a candle and makes a wish. If their wish comes true, they are to organize a Zacharia celebration the following year. I usually light several candles, for all the people I love and care about and I even light one for my enemies- actually my mother suggested that one. She said pray for their guidance, because if they are guided they will get off our backs...Since 1990, I have always lit a special candle just for Iraq, its people, its land, its women, men and children.

The wish you make has to remain a secret until it materializes...and I have lit many candles since the 90's...

The other thing I love about Zacharia is the food prepared. It is not any kind of food, there's a typical Zacharia menu so to speak. A mixture of salty and sweet.

In my family, the salty stuff is usually the following :

Dolma also called Dolmades in Greek. OK let's get this straight. Dolma is NOT a Turkish dish nor a Greek one. I have studied the matter closely and according to archeologists, the first to cook DOLMA and encrypt it cuneiforms were the Mesopotamians. Sumerians and Co. were the FIRST people to encrypt their recipes on cuneiforms and one of the recipes was DOLMAS. So NO arguing here about the origins of Dolma.

So what is Dolma? It basically consists of stuffed vegetables namely - wine leaves, bell peppers, onions, courgettes, aubergines and tomatoes. Stuffed with spicy minced meat and rice or you can have it just plain vegetarian with rice alone.

Then another traditional salty dish is "khobz orog" - bread from Uruk. Homemade flat bread, baked with a little minced meat, parsley, spices and the distinct yellow of Turmeric. There is also another "orog - uruk" prepared which consists of fried flattened out spicy meat balls.

Also, there must always be some leafy green on the table. Usually reeshad - something akin to parsley that you are to eat as some piece of communion along with the bread...

As for the sweet stuff - it is most definitely distinct and only prepared for this particular occasion :

- Zarda - Haleeb is one of them. Zarda-Haleeb is basically 2 rice puddings. One cooked in date syrup *black and the other cooked in milk *white -- with the wonderful aroma of rose and orange flower water

and last but not least, Simsim - grilled sesame seeds grounded with sugar.

Just writing about it, I can now understand why Zacharia is a typical Iraqi tradition with its "orog - Uruk" food of Dolma and the rest...the black and white...

The other most distinctive feature of Zacharia is candles. You are to adorn preferably white candles with green branches and only light them once the sun sets...and when you light your candle, you make your wish and pray and then eat in remembrance of Zacharia's answered prayer...

I am curious, I want to understand why prophet Zacharia out of all prophets...

So I turned to the Koran and read Surat Maryam - where Zacharia, Jacob, John the Baptist, (Yahya in Arabic, Hanna in Aramaic), the Blessed Mary (Maryam) and Issa (Jesus) are mentioned...

They are all mentioned in this Surat- Surat Maryam.

So I read it...Zacharia asks the Lord for what seems to be the impossible. The Lord answers his prayers and gives him John the Baptist - Yahya. Yahya in Arabic means the one who resurrects...

In that Surat, Allah says - peace be upon Yahya the day he is born, the day he dies and the day he is resurrected again. The sentence is in the present tense. I could not help but notice that.

Then the Surat talks of Maryam and the virgin Birth of Issa.

I will focus on prophet Zacharia's prayer and how it is answered - John the Baptist, or Yahya or as the Arab Christians call him - Yohanna al Ma'madani.

I am not sure if there is an equivalent figure to John the Baptist in Mesopotamian mythology, someone to be born in the most impossible of circumstances...something that would explain only why Iraqis celebrate the day of Zacharia with their "orog - uruk"...I am not that knowledgeable in ancient history to make draw correlations but am very curious...

So when am that curious, I follow things through with the little knowledge I have...

The first thing that comes to mind is the Sabaeans of Iraq. (if you click on that link, you will see a picture of a Sabaean boy and notice a green leaf stuck out from a white cloth. White candles are used in Zacharia and green leaves are stuck to them - a detail. Also do check out the other pictures and commentaries).

What I do know is that the Sabaeans of Iraq are the followers of St John the Baptist. And that they were an integral part of the Iraqi mosaic of sect and religious affiliations before that mosaic crumbled into a thousand pieces with our "liberation" - our Evangelical American Liberation. A side note - according to the statistics available, there were over 70'000 Sabaeans-Mandaeans in Iraq up to 2003. Today, in 2010 there are only 7'000 left of them!

So my curiosity drove me to research more and I fell upon the Holy text of the Sabeans Mandeans called the Ginza Rba.

From the little I read, I was phased...and I must admit this is the first time I take a close look at their Holy Scriptures.

I see the mention of Buddhas (those who attain enlightenment), I see some absolutely wondrous stuff like this opening line - Verse 1-In the Names of the Great, First, Foreign LIFE. From High Light Worlds transcending all struggle, let healing, vicariousness and purity be given me

Then verse 33 - No wailing of the dead is in that place, nor barrenness of beings. No dragging of the dead before one, for it is not contaminated by the dead ones.

And some more verses...can't quote them all but do click on the link above - and for those who are so inclined they must be read - they are absolutely amazing and are so much in line with the spirit of the Koran even though there are centuries dividing them apart...Incidentally, the Sabaeans are considered as people of the Book (along with the Christians and Jews)

I will quote some more...

109. To you my chosen I say, to you my believer I explain: Fast the great fast, not the fast from food and drink in the world.
110. Fast with your eyes from winking and gawking and do nothing evil.
111. Fast with your ears from listening at doors which are not your own.
112. Fast with your mouth from sacrilegious lies and love not falsehoods and gossip.
113. Fast with your heart from bad intentions, and hate, jealousy and breach it not with your hearts. One who tends toward jealousy is not called a perfect one.
114. Fast with your hands from the act of murder and commit no theft.
115. Fast with your body from the wives that are not your own.
116. Fast from kneeling to adore Satan and kneel not before deceitful icons.
117. Fast with your feet from cunning paths toward things that are not yours...


and verse 121-My chosen, have no confidence on the kings and potentates and the unyeildingness of this world, nor on armies, weapons, fighting, crowds, which are enwrapped and entangled in her, and those who are brought together in this world for the sake of gold or silver...

and it goes on and ends with - And Life is victorious over all struggles!

For a short synopsis on Sabaeans-Mandaeans you can also check this link.

I don't know what to make out of all of this...I see a thread connecting it all.. Mohamed, Zacharia, St John the Baptist, Maryam, Issa...-- they all resurrect today for they have never died --- today on that special occasion, together, always as One.

Picture of Zacharia celebration in Baghdad - Courtesy from Baghdad_page/Twitter.

Insects...

God only knows how often I've used that word - filth, dirt - before...

God only knows how many times I wrote about it, inundating the pages with my nausea, with my vomit of human dirt...of human filth.

I can't stand filthy people...no, no, am not talking of physical hygiene here (even though this is one level), am talking of human dirt, human filth...that filth that corrupts the soul...or maybe it's the other way round, the soul that filthies everything it touches...

Good Lord, how much filth I have seen in my life! It is fucking amazing, that I am not in the garbage dump too. Now -- this is a miracle in itself.

I must be doing something right somewhere...or maybe it's just this seed, this nausea seed planted in me...that makes me want to vomit each time I come across another piece of filth...

Filth is human corruption...you need to have been around to be a witness of it...

It's the mites that eat away at the fabric...it's the worm that gnaws away at the self...it's the caterpillar that never metamorphoses into a butterfly and keeps crawling like vermin, it's the spider that weaves one lie after another, it's the cockroach that raises its head from the sewage pipe, from the shit gutter, it's the mosquito that feeds off your blood, it's the fly that sticks to your sweet skin like glue, it's the parasite that eats away at your intestines...

And here you are, defending yourself, protecting yourself from all this pest--- you spray, you clean, you neutralize, you splash detergents, you scrub, you polish, you wipe, you sweep, you dust, you disinfect, you...

Yes, it must be a miracle, definitely is a miracle...

Broken Pieces...& Freedom

Just discovered this new Greek Band called Children of the Revolution. This track is called Broken Pieces or Ragizi Apopse from their album/CD --Life, Love and Guantanamo Bay.

I don't understand Greek, if anyone can translate just little bits from the Broken Pieces I would be most grateful.

I love you Greece.




Below --another great fusion song by the same group with Balkan, Greek and Middle Eastern tunes called Eleftheria meaning Freedom.

I love that song but frankly I don't care much for the American troops,as the lead singer said his heart goes out to them --- there is a Genocide going on in Iraq, and American and English nuclear waste is running in our bloodstream...mixed with our blood...this is how the American troops won our hearts and minds...

But I shall retain the original lyrics away from the American Greek bullshit introduction - I shall retain

I don't want to live in Darkness, I will never die in Chains...

There is no Peace without Justice. Get it !

From South Lebanon to Sadr City...

THIS POST IS NOT FOR REPRODUCTION OR REPUBLISHING.

Must have been around the turn of the century, maybe the 15th century...the medieval ages of Ze Lebanon - despite its shining flashy modern stylish plastic...it's mass production of sun dried bullshit, elevated into monuments of reverence...

Never really liked Ze Lebanese, apart from a handful, like one handful, it's a small country with a small people...each Lebanese is one big fish in a tiny putrid pond...and boy does it stink.

Don't get me wrong, the country itself is beautiful, well sort of - sea, mountains, tall pine trees and the occasional good plate of hummus and falafel, but then Ze Lebanese are not the inventors of any of it --some they inherited from way back and the rest - nature, belongs to God alone.

I am not too sure how this had come about - it just popped in my head and I remember it all too well...I am not sure why it has resurfaced to my memory, I who had believed it to be long dead and well buried...

Yes it was in Ze Lebanon, somewhere outside its ravaged, trying hard to revamp itself capital...a capital torn apart by the same mass producers of sun dried bullshit.

Yes it was there, somewhere South...

Why have the dead re-surfaced ? They have nothing more to tell me, they said it all ...but maybe I have something to tell them, because I have not said it all...as a matter of fact I had said very little...and now they will hear it just as it was and just as it is supposed to be. I owe it to myself, having given it my best shots in Ze Lebanon...

She greeted me, with a solemn look, dressed in black...it must have been Ashura, I heard much shouting and chest and head beatings on my way to the village...some village lost in the 15th century...

I assumed she wore black because she was mourning Ashura - I paid no attention, these things were unimportant to me...

After all half of my family was married to their sect. It was never an issue, we never thought along those lines...

But now in retrospect, it seems that they did all along...maybe not so in Iraq, not before 2003, and definitely not before 1991...but not so in Ze Lebanon, they are still ideological virgins refusing to sleep except with the ideologically turbaned ones...this I later found out...

I was unaware of the extent of their clan, tribe, sect-like mentality...later on I discovered how Jewish-like they were, are...

Later it made all the more sense why the Jews, politics confounded, were supporters of the Shiites in Iraq....they belonged to the same tribe...they belonged to the same closed system of caste and sect, they shared a common complex, a common inferiority/superiority complex, a common paranoia, a common neurosis of persecution that they would relieve themselves from and absolve by either self flagellation, self tormenting and lamentations or by inflicting their own mental sickness, their mental disease and lash it out on others...

But first I had to experience it, first hand...a preliminary taste of it, virgin like, in Ze Lebanon at the turn of the 15th century... and only later on, have a full taste of it, in Iraq ...but by then I had lost my (ideological) virginity...

Yes, it must have been in this village, that looked so peaceful when everyone was asleep...that looked so peaceful when the electricity would go out and all would fall back into silence, except maybe for an odd gasoline lamp or an old candle burning in the obscurity to the sound of crickets...

It could have been a pleasant village to stay longer in...maybe set up some form of residence...grow a couple of roots, un pied à terre in the Lebanese hills...had it not been for the black...the black clad women...and what they hid beneath their veils...

She opened the door, and stood there...a bulky round faced woman, with small narrow piercing eyes. I felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me through...as if to tell me "greet her respectfully, in awe, just the way I do..." I put my hand out and seeing that she did not take it, I moved closer and gave her the traditional two kisses on the cheek...her cheeks felt cold, despite the Summer heat...

So it's you, she said...
Yes it is me I replied...
You chose well... she added - referring to her son...

By then, I was not sure anymore, if I had chosen well...by then I knew in my heart of hearts that it was a big mistake...a monumental error, but what I had not known is that it was just a foretaste of what was to unfold later on in my life...

Step in with your right foot - she said, it was almost like an order...and she looked down at my feet making sure I followed her orders...I stepped in with my left.

I entered the living room, it was parsimoniously furnished, all the shutters were down - we keep them down, we don't want the neighbors prying she said...we are well known in the village. The place felt like a tomb...is this where I was going to be eventually buried, I thought to myself...

She disappeared for a long time, as if to mull over her next steps...her next "domesticate her into her place" steps...

He took on the voice of his mother, and said with firmness - go and change, you should have never worn this dress, your arms are bare...

This time I was taken aback...I had not foreseen this coming...there was nothing in the time that I knew him that indicated any of this....

I am fine in this dress
Go and change
Later, there's no one around here, now


I guess I was hoping that someone be around here now, a savior of some sort...

I sipped my coffee silently, felt it like mud stuck in my throat, I gulped the glass of water, the only freshness available...

The mother hardly spoke, she looked as if she was attending a funeral...my white printed dress contrasted with her black...the son was silent too.  Someone, something  must have died...

Take her to her bedroom - he complied.

The floor cracked, the walls were thin, and the door hardly closed...it had to stay open...at least a little...enough for...

The bedroom, what a bedroom. -- a double bed and that's it. I looked at the double bed, bare, surrounded by nothing, it looked like a hospital room for two, more like a large bunk bed in a prison cell...

I was taken by this strong urge to wash myself...I had already taken a shower a couple of hours earlier, but I need to step into water...into something alive...

I went back to the bedroom, opened the shutters and looked at the green hills, I spotted an Israeli plane hovering above -- a common occurrence, it left a white trail of smoke as if it was inscribing something in Hebrew in the sky above, next to God...

Further down, I saw a well, and kids playing around it...they were catching beetles, tying its legs and flying it around like colored kites...

I sat on the bed, held my head in my hands and started pondering a way out...like a prisoner examining every crack in the prison's wall and devising a way of escape...

It was time for lunch, I was hungry, I needed nourishment, any live food, anything to pacify that hollow pit in my stomach...

I walked towards the kitchen, I overheard her say to him :

Is that all you could come up with after all these years of absence, a Sunni ! A Jew would have been easier on me...

I froze mid way...he said nothing.

His brothers were married to foreigners, one was French, the other American, none of them converted to Islam, none of them spoke Arabic or even tried to learn it, and none of them wanted to visit that dump of a country called Ze Lebanon...

I remember meeting one of his brothers - he was like a poodle with his Western wife...she ordered him about like a dog, like a donkey, and he loved it...maybe she reminded him of his mother...without the black...

I pretended I heard nothing...after all I was cut off from the world in this black village, adorned with pictures of turbaned creeps and black and yellow flags...

I guess my mistake I was born a Sunni instead of a Jew in that village of South Lebanon.

I could hardly swallow anything...the hollow pit in my stomach felt suddenly full...filled with ze Lebanese sun dried shit from the South...

I needed to kill time...the day seemed so long, again like in a prisoner's cell...and again like a prisoner I killed time, by forcing myself to sleep...that was my last escape...my last resort...

After sunset, it must have been 7 or 8 pm, he nudges me...

Wake up, my mother wants you
Give me time to change
No, she wants you now.

I was wearing some white cotton slacks and a t.shirt...the slacks were slightly transparent, so was the t.shirt. After all I was in "my" bedroom...

I dragged myself out of bed, as if going to an interrogation session...it was hot and humid and I felt my throat scorching dry, as if I had just crossed the desert...

The sparely furnished living room was pitch black, another electricity cut, and the shutters were still down...I saw nothing, except her black shadow...

Her voice sounded different though...she sounded a little nicer...the kind of nice that gives goose bumps, the kind of slimy nice...

Come and sit her dear - she said,
I could not see her face, but I felt as if she was feigning a smile through clenched teeth...

Here where ? I see nothing, it's too dark...

I felt his grip on my wrist leading me to a chair, a plastic chair...

There was total silence...I felt fear gripping me, gripping my legs, my stomach...I sat in that chair, held on to it, placed my feet firmly on the floor, and breathed deeply...waiting for my final verdict...

Suddenly, a neon lamp, operated by batteries, was flashed at me...the first thing I noticed is that the tacky white plastic chair was placed in the center of the room...and I was sitting on it...

I rubbed my eyes from the intensity of the light, I had just gotten out of bed, my hair was all over the place, my clothes see through, and there was this light flashing on me...

Then I heard her imperious mtawleh voice (accent from South Lebanon)

Here she is, have a look at her...

I heard a few giggles coming from the far end of the room...another battery operated lamp was lit, and I saw a circle of women, there must have been around 20 of them, seated around me, but far away, and here I was in the center, in the middle...on that white plastic interrogation chair.

They were all veiled, all dressed in black, apart from one or two, who wore colored veils. I remember one, it was a dirty beige with bottle green flowers, as tacky at the chair I was seated on...

Every single cousin, aunt, relative, neighbor came to check me out -- check that Sunni...

A strange calm fell over me, the calm of the dead..I looked around me and saw the sneering faces...I understood then, that this was all planned in advance ...to humiliate me and make sure I never set foot in South Lebanon ever again...

Years passed...the same happened all over again, but on a much grander and uglier scale...everything was planned to make sure I never set foot in Iraq, ever again....

Last 24 hours.

Much has happened in the last 24 hours...many lessons to be learned and distilled...one never graduates - alive.

I don't wish to sound macabre or morbid but really, I mean REALLY, the only guarantee you can extract from life is that you are going to die - one day, sooner, later...you have no control over that...none whatsoever. Whatever illusions of control you may harbor, are just illusions - your own way to overcome the fear of the Unknown...

In my opinion, how one lives determines to a great extent how one dies - not so much as in the cause of death - and as we say in Arabic - the causes are many but Death is One. But more in the legacy one leaves behind. What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind ?

I believe that pondering about Death, and our ultimate physical finiteness must be made compulsory, a part of some educational syllabus. I am not joking. Am damn serious about that. I frankly don't understand how come the only thing one is sure about to happen is given so little attention...

I think of the Prophet's saying - Prepare for your death as if you will die tomorrow and live your life as if you have eternity.

Very profound saying if you think about it deeply...

Life here on a earth is a transit place - a bit like an airport hall where you sit and wait to change planes... We are all transit passengers...ALL OF US are transit Passengers.

Life on Earth is temporal and ephemeral. No matter who you are, what you are, what you own, where you've been, what you've experienced ---you are still a transit passenger.

Whether one believes in Life after Death or not is also immaterial at this stage - what is not immaterial is the transient nature of all things, including you.

That you, that big you, that -- I, me and myself...that too will go.

In Islam, we have no coffins - when someone dies he/she is washed and shrouded in a white piece of cloth, he/she comes naked and goes naked...

The first thing one does when a baby is born is to cover him/her in something, the last thing one does when that same person goes is to cover him/her with something...That's about it...

Imagine all your so called accomplishments, achievements, theories, ideas, acts, deeds, discoveries - everything you did, everything you sought, everything you thought, everything you felt -- stops. It just stops and they cover you, shed some tears and off you go...back to the belly of the Earth from which you were initially made....ashes, dust, clay...whatever you call it -- you're it.

The only people who will remember you, are the ones who got attached to you. They may have been positively or negatively attached. They could have been attached through love or through hate. You in most likelihood made their lives very smooth or very difficult...

Your acts did. You probably hurt them badly, cheated them, betrayed them, stole from them, robbed them, lied to them, destroyed them, killed them or you probably embellished their lives with your love, care, understanding, compassion, strength....or probably a mix of both...

Some people care about how they are remembered...some people don't...and how and by what you are remembered is your legacy. There is none other.

Remembering Death is the sure antidote for Arrogance, Haughtiness, Greed, Deceit, Lies, Betrayal, Envy, Spite and the rest...

It is the best antidote against taking things and people for granted, it is an ego minimizer, it is a slap from Reality, from Truth into Wakefulness....

These last 24 hours, this day, this hour, this minute, this second, may be your last...You have no control over it...

That is the Truth, that is the only true Reality, that is the only Thing you can be absolutely sure of...that is your Guarantee...you who have sought so many guarantees for invincibility, for immortality, for eternity...

Well got news for you they do not exist. Once you're gone you're back to the Source...a drop in an Ocean...but then it is no longer you...