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.