ذا لاي ان اول اوف اس

"The person you think you are, the person people think you are, the person you really are, and the person you want to be.
That's life pretty much summed up right there, and I'm here to do you a favour. In telling you that none of them exist. They're four parts to the simplest of complications that can have no function due to the unforgiving fact that they can never hold value to ever constitute variables added to equate a changing consequence accordingly. If they all did exist, that would make you a hypocrite. But if they don't exist, which take my word for it, they don't; then you're shit out of luck and wasting everybody's space and time.
Lovers? Husbands? Wives? Family? Friends? Sure, if that's what you want to call them. Reality would contend that, inside, they know just as well as you do that you're all merely in mutual agreement on not to call each other out on the lies you live by.
Consider. You had it all mixed up all these years. Enemies are indeed your best friends since they're the only reminder you recieve that you can't fool everybody with juggling between the four potentials. Way I see it, you don't hate your enemies because they don't like you. You hate your enemies because you can't have what they have: seeing you for who you really are: fractions of an unexisting entity. Challenging the sheer consideration of presence, let alone memories and experience.
There is nothing to be proven. It is already known. It's just a matter of how brutally honest one can really be with an imaginative oneself. Consider. The only reason you hold on to all your convictions of the validity and right of a single you, who and what you are, as if you are holding on to dear life, is because you are in fact holding on to dear life. Perspective-based, that is. Hence, reality is a notion that never actually realized in itself."


غرووّنق أب أن-تايملي

Tip of the side of your eyes, to the border of the temple, there goes the first thing which sort of levels when you lose something. A curve of inclination retracts, and fades, a subdued hint of an approaching nose-dive-like parameter of your lips appears. Only thing separating it from a complete utter frown is the tension you have in the back of your jaw, stretching out your cheeks in a ghostly manner, yet still showcases the epitome of basic human emotions. Feeling loss is one thing you can both alter to what extent affects you, or to what consequence it ensues based on how you deal with it. But that's about all you can really do. With sharper eyes, perfect horizontal symmetry of the mouth blurring any attempt at smiles, a locked jaw to the lower set of your teeth, and a slightly more apparent slanted nose because you forget to take your breath every couple of seconds since you're too busy dwelling in memories. When you lose something, there's nothing you can do about looking the part. When you lose your mother, you are the fucking part.


المتر جم يطق؟

Things that tend to get on my nerve and almost always get me into trouble when discussing. But then again that may be due to the fact that I don't dis-anything, and tend to do a lot of the cussing:

  • Self-claimed liberals iterating their disapproval of the activities held by self-claimed islamists that are directed at the youth (camps and what not). As they spend, you spend. And no, dinners 3ala sharaf eflaan ely tawah rad mn el3elaaj don't count, nor do the news conferences held as a reaction to something self-claimed islamists originally threw in the field begging you to hold a conference in reaction to. Conclusion: disapproving the outcome of what others initiate does not hinder the continuance of similar initiations in the future, nor does it undo the effect it has already founded for you to see and comment on in the outcome. Initiate something other than insisting on kissing the lady's cheek when you greet her eb jam3eyat elkhereejeen o enshala mako ela kel khair.
  • A girl gaining extra points on the Hot or Not scale depending on the brands she's wearing, or the car she's driving. So I'm just gonna come out and say it since I'm sporting the 18+ icon up there on the screen: I don't get the attraction in wanting to fuck a Miu Miu bag, nor the behind of a new Maserati. What ever happened to being sort of an old school, more of a legs kinda guy.
  • People insisting on telling me things like: "carbohydrates are the reason why i'm not losing weight, so i cut them down from my diet" when we talk working out routines and nutrition; and then as an alternative to cutting down carbs, they order 20 chicken nuggets from Themanya o Thimaneen (peeling the skin off before eating, in their defense) with their reasoning being: "bet3alem dr 7sain dashti ya3ni?". Eeh wala ba3alma shlon ya3ni, khal yedig 3alay ..
  • The thesis: "ent e7mid rabik, 3ayish a7san 3eesha belkwait, kelshay metwafir lek fa lateg3ad te6la3ly eb sowalef demogra6eya o majlis ma majlis, khal ye7elona o neftak mara wa lel abad". Mofo, the one thing making us 'na7mid rabna ena 3aysheen belkwait' is whatever rights issued by default to yourself and I (as citizens or otherwise) in the constitution.Tabi talqi elmajlis, talqi eldistoor. Talqi eldistoor, talqi the rights given to you that make in turn enek 'ta7mid rabik' laish 3ayesh belkwait. *blank*
  • Idolizing politicians. Be it on the grounds of their long history in the field (read: a7mad ilse3doun), or their newly known stances on certain issues which happen to coincide with how you feel/think. In both short term and long, the only thing idolizing politicians will do is just weaken your arguments. Appreciate, but nothing more.
  • Just as much: expressing unrelenting animosity and hostility towards the other politicians who bat for the other team (that came out wrong). Same reason as afore mentioned.
  • Whining about the Kuwait stock exchange as lacking this or that, and only being suitable for eflaan o falantaan. All it is is incompetence on your part when it comes to understanding/researching the: what, when, and who. 3ashaw rab3 elsoug..
  • You studied abroad, you graduated, you came back, and now you are stunned from the state your country is in. No harm done. But stop acknowledging the problems, and start addressing them. Otherwise, shut the fuck up if you can't initiate an argument without basing it on anything different than "ayam kent bamreeka ..", "lama kena bebrai6anya ..", "we7na shella eb faransa .."
I conclude with saying something that has just occured to me o kelesh malah sheghel bely foug abad: new meaning can be added to one's understanding of guilt when one makes a baby cry. And new found purpose can be found in one's life when one makes a baby clap and sing (as far as 'singing' for a baby goes)


سبعتعش ربيع الأول إن أدفانس

A few days-early-a-post depending on the way I swing, but thought I would (share and) focus on this part of a poem I read just now nonetheless. Says a lot of things about a lot of things if you make the connection.

البعض يزعم ان عيدك بدعة
ونفوسهم بقيامه لم تسعد
والاحتفال به يعد تجاوزا
وجوازه في الدين غير مؤكد
حتى الزيارة لا يجوز أداؤها
لك بل يتم أداؤها للمسجد
هذا لعمري فعل كل مكابر
ظهر الجفاء بنهجه المتجمد
لولاه لم تك للمساجد حرمة
أو أشرقت سبل الهدى لموحد
لكنه الجهل المقيت لأنفس
جبلت على أغوار معدنها الصدي

قصيدة للعم علي المتروك

Because this is a dear celebration and I would not mind bringing it home early, and since I admire the poet, here is the rest of the poem as published bel Qabas on April 2nd, 2007 with my own colouring (bedoon la 'a6alli3 bara') for an easier read and following of verse.

قالت عرفتك للقريض مرددا
فعلام صمتك يوم عيد المولد
إني عهدتك للقوافي مالكا
تنساب بين يديك كالغصن الندي
ما غيرت منك الليالي خافقا
شغفا بآل محمد ومحمد
فتعال ننشد يوم أشرق نوره
فلكم يطيب به النشيد لمنشد
فالعيد لطف الله نحو عباده
بدر يضيء بنوره المتوقد
العيد آيات تنور دربنا
ومبادئ غراء لم تستورد
والعيد وحدانية وعبادة
وبشارة للخاشعين السجد

إيه قوافي الشعر كيف لشاعر
أن يهتدي سبل المديح بمنجد
والله جل جلاله أسرى به
وهو المشفع بالخلائق في غد

فإذا صمت تهيبا عن مدحه
لعظيم هيبة مجده المتفرد
وإذا شدوت تيمنا وتبركا
لا مادحا في عيد مولد أحمد
حبي لآل المصطفى والمصطفى
نهج أدين به وفيه تعبدي

ولدته آمنة فضجت حولها
الأملاك بالبشرى تروح وتغتدي
أرخت عليه ستائرا قدسية
لتعده يوما لأنبل مقصد
جاء المسيح مبشرا بقدومه
والكون أشرق بانتظار الموعد
فتعال ننهل من صفاء معينه
نبعا صفا رقراقه كالعسجد
عم السرور بطاح مكة فارتدت
ثوبا قشيبا مثله لم ترتد
خمدت به النيران وازدهت الربا
وعلا سناء فوق هام الفرقد

ذاك اليتيم فلا نظير لمجده
بهداه كل بني الخليقة تهتدي
وبنور طلعته ينير طريقها
فلطالما عاشت بليل سرمد
كانت دياجير الظلام تلفهم
والجهل يغرقهم بليل أنكد
لا الفكر يجمعهم ليحزم أمرهم
ويقود ركبهم لرأي مرشد
متخاصمون تذيبهم أحقادهم
كالنار يذكيها لهيب الموقد
فإذا بهم بعد الهداية أمة
تهفو إلى سبل العلا والسؤدد
دانت لهم أمم وقامت دولة
كانت بفضل الدين أعظم مرصد

البعض يزعم ان عيدك بدعة
ونفوسهم بقيامه لم تسعد
والاحتفال به يعد تجاوزا
وجوازه في الدين غير مؤكد
حتى الزيارة لا يجوز أداؤها
لك بل يتم أداؤها للمسجد
هذا لعمري فعل كل مكابر
ظهر الجفاء بنهجه المتجمد
لولاه لم تك للمساجد حرمة
أو أشرقت سبل الهدى لموحد
لكنه الجهل المقيت لأنفس
جبلت على أغوار معدنها الصدي

Ta7therny abyaat elshaa3ir 7asaan Bn Thaabit:

أحسن منك لم تر قط عيني وخير منك لم تلد النساء
خلقت مبرأ من كل عيب كأنك قد خلقت كما تشاء


In So Many Words

"As has been learnt as of late, that indeed what does not live nor last for longer than a fraction of whatever words I may utter, echoes everlastingly in the now vast emptiness of your heart. For that, I am compelled to at last attempt at accepting blame for my actions foreknowingly aware that such will only deepen hurts long gone and worsen the chance for a truce in the future.
Thoughts best described as impure, and intentions far less evil if settled for being called dishonorable, that is what I commit myself to now to describe what I have had towards you. Not that you did not have your suspicions, but a man would like to think that he would go far further distances under the pretense of having led, than of having to follow. A love abused that which obviously has meant everything to you except for the one thing it meant to myself. Nothing. Even in my current state of being consciously attached to the history of who we are and under the liberty I have taken to guess the fondness you had thinking of what we were, I feel nothing. A little bit of shame, perhaps. But not sorrow. A hint of compassion, of course. But not mercy. Fairest is to say things have been the same despite your absence. A dent forever engraved in my being is something which I assume to be for you of unfortune that I report has not occured. Scents, whispers, and touches have meant a lot more.
I believe a woman can go from undying love to absolute hate towards the one who she at a point in time sees clearly was never too fond of her for the same set of reasons she would have rather been appreciated for. With it, comes closure. For that, I write to you this letter sincerely believing that it is a much easier route taken than living with an unattended heart forever," I wrote her back.



"To hell with all the poetry, and too bad for the self claimed trying to put into words a description of the explanation for the state they're in in attempt to sell it for anything but what it truly is; misery. Fuck everything and everyone in between. It's not that complicated nor is it even second to your personal declaration of the non satisfaction you don't get from rapidly extsinguishing the juice of and for your aging process from all the bullshit that got you addicted to living in the first place. Trust, loyalty, honesty deprived. Everyone who ever tried to capture its essence was instead desperately trying to account for all the things immediately lost upon the act of using the single most powerful, certainly most popular drug and excuse of all time. No one ever said it wasn't real. It's just taken for granted. Surely may indeed be a reason for a lot of things that make you feel the world just stopped spinning, taking notice of your glee, that kodak moment only now it's frozen in thought in your drugged out mind for that passing shifting second. But it sure as hell is the one single undisputed reigning force making the planet turn round its axis pushing for all the things the world could do without. Love is freebasing life."


واتس ان أه بلين

"Life's a lot like being on an airplane. You get to be seated in a shuffle if you don't make something happen for yourself in the form of a request via being connected at the counter. Think of it this way, whoever issues your boarding pass may just as well be those who issue your existence in the first place. I know. And who you sit next to is just as interesting as your chances of winning that new BMW KFC had on promotion - not quite. But the most striking thing about life and being on an airplane are the passengers in First Class. If you haven't been on first class, then that just proves my point - some people made it. Some people didn't. Most even won't. Upon landing at our destination, and if I'm flying First Class, I can take 30 minutes to ponder over the question of whether I should make the decision of finishing this rant, or having the mindless courtesy of stopping and getting up to pack my laptop and bag and leave. For all the sad pricks in Traveller, they just have to wait. They "can't touch this".
If I decide I wanted to take a picture with the stewardess with the nice ass I've been eyeing all trip long just as the plane halts, what can the people in Traveller even do when they don't even know? There's a lot of symbolism in being on a plane, I'll say. Sitting by the aisle, or sitting by the window. What's better. For one thing, if this is Business we're talking about, then it doesn't really matter. People with money to spare tend to kick it off fairly well. So one idiot wouldn't mind budging for the other idiot to pass from or to the aisle. But if you're stuck with crying babies and toddlers who think it's cute that they run up and down, then you're fucked at being on the aisle. Except.
Except if you're one of those guys with arms the size of melons. Being on a plane, or trodding down the journey of life, you're still going to get noticed. People apologize when they bump into you, girls bump into you on purpose, guys try to bump into you to redeem their self esteem. Yeah. Some goes for if you're one of those tiny-waisted, long-legged, wide-eyed young ladies. With emphasis on young. Not so much the other parts.
Then again, everybody gets screwed on the plane just as everybody gets screwed in life. Cabin pressure knows no ticket bearer. Food doesn't taste better the nearer you sit to the front exit. Flight delays happen. In the end, everybody's got to be working for somebody, right?
If you really put your mind to it, planes are the devil. You make the decision you want to get on one, but you can't turn around if you change your mind. You don't choose what you want when you want it. You just take what's given. No matter how much some airliners try to give you the illusion of choice, you're still bound to the number of choices they decided you were worthy of being given. Where you take yourself in life is the same as where you decide to go on a plane. People around you change accordingly, and so do the people who serve you. It's a done deal, really. You just don't know it yet because you haven't come to the conviction that you're in the possession of a one-way ticket either way you look at it."