30 Sep 2005


everything stays the same.

I came back from somewhere only to find many changes on the blogsphere. From bloggers moving out, to another going to stand at new dimension; from a new bride having an abnormal nervous system activity to finding the best medicine in his arms; from donkey sink saw to rose babbling; from rubbing mint to rubbing aganist her worn self; from the wise changing his heart to me trying to overcome a tensed night aftermath; from liberating Sania while playing squash to liberating himself from a dense void; from struggling with time to wanting to be recognized through her days; from having God on her 'mind' to attempting to having a job on her mind; from Bergo's shoes selling protocols to our zionist cousin's protocols; from gharbeiya lana at kefaya to the same old bullshit.

What else is new? I guess nothing.

27 Sep 2005


'Eye donkey sink saw'

Stolen from the usual time dimension. Boarders & boundaries collapsed back then. Check points recognized. Rivers flow. Rich silence enveloped the scene. Nervous smiles. Naughty laughs filled the air. Trembling happiness. Complete easiness. Bad food. Childish choices. Everyone was leaving when we entered. Shared food. Shared hidden thoughts. Unspoken promises. Mutual recognition of something developing. Wished time would freeze. Wished we would have stayed more before we both had to go. Said goodbye. Eyes flickered. My hair smelled like your car. Didn't sleep that night. Remembered the little kiss. Felt it and kept asking Why. Told me to just feel it. I did. Do not ruin the moment. I loved the moment. Put your mind to rest. It didn't exist. I was happy. Something told me this would be the last happy night. And it was really.

Next time was not the same. My little mind starved to duplicate what we had that other night. Our efforts failed. Everything failed. Puzzled. We both were. Not sure what that night was. Still remember it. Will eventually forget it. Replace it with the tensed night that followed. Replace it with the feeling of my shocked tears and cry. Replace it with the following week total collapse of communication. Replace it with our stubborness that followed. Does not have to be 'stubborness'. Could be something else. I don't know it now though. Stolen moments! From whom? I just don't understand the word 'No'. I am just pissed now. But I choose to postpone this feeling. I do not have to worry about it. Maybe later. For sure later. Things come and go. Everything comes and goes. Only if THAT NIGHT meant something. Remember it.

Just bored I guess from the collapse of time. Bored from the inability to cross over this collapsed space. Bored from not able to step into the new space. Fear. Complications. Not trusting. Maybe no one is really worth the effort. Not even me. Not even him. Maybe just too curious. Too wild. Too intimidating. Too easy. Too complicated. Too demanding. Sure. But I still believe in fun. Wished you could have given it a real shot. Wished I was just simple. Like you? It is your claim.

من المستحيل انك
تبعد حبيب عنك
حبيب لءي منك
كل الي يتمناه
من المستحيل تهرب
ارتاح باءه و ارب
اصل الي بيحبك
معرفعش كلمة لا


21 Sep 2005


I feel a total mental and spiritual blockage. Can't think. Yawning. Tired. Sleepy. Bored. Want to just sit somewhere and space out. Think about nothing. Talk about nothing. Have a nice company next to me with whom I do the talking with the eyes. Nice music. Nice movie. Nice musical or theatrical play. Something to wake me up. To inflict passion in me of any sort. I am dead. Like my Nietzsche I guess.

15 Sep 2005


Place: 40th floor lounge. Grand Hyatt. One of those comfortable coaches.

Time: 10:30 till 12:30 am, Wednesday.

State: Full after dinner upstairs.

Ambiance: Relaxing except of some loud voice and not a so professional piano player. Smell of cuban cigar, intentionally blown in my face. I love the smell but can't smoke them.

Event: Dinner & Cigar night out.

13 Sep 2005


I just realized that I have changed my Friday routine for four succeeding weeks so far. It is not a 'routine' in the boring sense of the word, but the 'calm', 'relaxing' side that a routine can bring to one's state.

I don't remember how I came about to invent the new routine, but it happened. One place pulled the other and they all fall in place with no effort or planning on my part. They fit perfectly that I found myself leaving Cilantro, naturally going to Diwan and then normally still walking to the Deals pasta place. All three places are in the same area. 2 minutes away from one another forming a triangle with Deals being their pivot. It feels like the three places are from the same family each running his own business. The harmony between them, of course as I personally experience it, is interesting. In fact, I actually see familiar faces doing the same routine. Not particularly the exact cylce or order, but bits and pieces of it. Half of it at times. Reversed orders. We stumble upon one another. Raise our eyes in recognition. Draw a small smile that, 'hey. Weren't youin ...? Yes yes. Ok.' It is usually fun. One after the other we rotate around eachother in what seems like a musical chair game. The only difference is that we are not in competition, and the only similarity is our sincere attempt to find a place for ourselves where we can just sit and not make someone else stand.

I don't remember my previous Fridays, the formative stage of the new routine but I remember this last one. I did because I enjoyed myself so much that I yearned to do that again, only to realized that I have been doing this for 3 weeks already. Could also be that last Friday I was not interrupted with W. and V. continous urge to drag me to the movies at 3 O'clock and then go have supper. Could also be that I left home at 10 in the morning and only came back at 5 and did not realize that all the time inbetween had passed unnoticed and I was not bored. Could be that Cilantro and Diwan were very interesting, each for its absolutely different reasons that sure fit their nature, that got me consumed and entertained to the maximum.

That day, I stayed at Cilantro for 2 hours. I was mainly reading newspapers. Ahram weekly was awesome that day. Full of tons of great articles. I hardly find it there, or maybe because I never seeked it out. It took me almost 45 minutes to finish what I thought was interesting. Daily star and Herald something are cool too. I got a french newspaper from Ahmed, half price because it is last's week. So this took care of most of the time.

But what was more interesting was the family that joined me on the same table. Parents with their daughter and her husband and her little kid, Marmar or something. They were going to the church after that and they were just doing some shopping at MM. The father actually bought a cool shoes, 70% off, in case anyone wants to go catch the good bargin. What interests me about the family is the simplicity in dealing with one another in public. They were all very calm. The daughter was seated on the loosely screwed table and she was jumping up and down, making all the coffee cups dance and spill the coffee. My cup of coffee was among the dancers too. Splashing here and there. I just looked up, cleaned the coffee and continued reading the paper. Then Marmar would do it again. OK Marmoura, would you stop it. No. She won't. Would grandpa tell her to do so. No. Mommy? No. GrandMa? No still. Papa? No no! Me? No. Sounds like they enjoyed her so much, and certainly I wont dare tell her to stop. Not because of any reason other than I was just enjoying the family. But would their ever be an end to this spoiled behaviour? Well, yes. Well, No.

They got her a Hot choclait. It was huge and COLD. ICED. The girl, by the way we are talking about a 5 years old kiddo here, took a huge swallow of the drink, find it too cold, and instead of swallowing it, she simply splashed it in her father's face. Papa would get mad? No. He just took a tissue cleaned his glasses and the only thing he worried about was Marmar's new dress that was now all stained with choclate. The mother was calm. Just sitting infront of me, sipping her drink and didnt raise a finger. Very calm mom, but those who drive me personally crazy.

On the other side of me, sat this Absolutely beautiful girl. A little 6 year old, tanned skinned girl, brownish eyes, curly frizzy hair combed into two 'dafayer', pinkish drink, wonderful smile. She was with her father, drinking her juice and flipping through a magazine. She was absolutely cute. Calm. Naughty. On her own. All subtle. What a personality? I have seen this couple (father and daughter) the last 2 times I was at cilantro. Oh, well, this is my type of girl. If I ever had a girl I would love her to be like that. The attitude at the very least. If the face too, I will be more than thankful. She is Adorable. Well, seeing this girl just put me in the mood I guess.

I left Cilantro and walked to Diwan. I had no intention to stay for long there. I browsed through the Islam section, got a cool book by Espisito, 'Islam straight path' and looked through it. A good book actually for a moderate overview about Islamic teaching and goes into the current situation. A brief, simple version of Armstrong's book, the battle for God. I browsed through it, read what I wanted. Jotted down some notes in my notebook and placed it back.

I went to the new arrivals stand and was teeming with Edward Sai'd books and collections. Oh, no. I picked a huge book of his, a collection of articles he had written on many topics. From philosophy, politics, music, islam, religion, artists, personal....Lovely book. I stood up reading some article I found interesting, then sat on the floor, than got cold so I ran to my house got a jacket and came back, picked the book and literally spaced out for at least 2 hours. Edward, you are just absolutely amazing.

He had a wonderful debate between Nietzsche book, 'the will to power', the title I named my blog after, because this book inspired me at some point, and another philosopher, Conard or cornard (dont know him). Ed's analysis of how each one defined his audience was absolutely beautiful. Simple still. I could not help but write down a whole page. Beautiful how he talks about music, value of words, depth of communication, real listening and comprehending, debating, arguments, controversy topics and selective listening. Very touching more than anything. Touching because it is very human not because it is an analysis of 'what you should do', but an analysis of 'who we are' and 'what shapes us', and more accurately, 'what happened to us.' Couldn't help but remember my friend H. who was telling me the other day about how Galal Amin spoke about 'making music and writing for the Mass' and how this affected the music, the movies and our media. Yes, we so much degraded our taste and senses and everyone is contributing in it. Everyone talks about anything. No depth of knowledge, no depth of thoughts, no passion to explore and challenge oneself. Just a media created from fear and lazyness to see beyond, listen underneath and taste within.

There was other beautiful section. One I re-read about Tahya Karioka, my forever dancer. Another fellow scorpio! It is a great book. Expensive. Hopefully will get it sometime or ask for it on my birthday.

After I finished reading, I just had this plain look on my face. I was still in this silent mood. Took my stuff and automatically walked to Deals. I cleared my throat. Collected my brain and ordered a Lasagne. Changed the order to salad. Then back to Lasagne again. Changed my seat. From the small table. To the stool. To another table. The lasagne was great. I finished the whole plate. I guess I was super hungry. But, again, it is a nice place for any who like pasta's. Sure better and quieter than Dido's. It was not crowded except of couple of students from AUC. I finished my dish. Paid. And was walking out when I met W., V. and R. They have been attempting to call me but I had my cell on silent. Oh well. I asked them to come to my place after they finish eating and we can watch a movie. They did later. And it was fun actually.

So here is Nietzshe, fuck the snobbish maniac if you dont get what he is talking about, but please don't call him a Kafir boy, 'One doesn't only wish to be understood when one writes; one wishes as surely not to be understood. It is not an obligation to a book when anyone finds it impossible to understand. Perhaps that was part of the author's intention. He didnt want to be understood by just 'anybody'. All the nobler spirits and tastes select their audience when they wish to communicate; and choosing that, one at the same time erects barriers aganist others. All the more subtle laws of any style have their origin at this point: they at the same time keep away, create distance, forbid 'entrance', understanding--while they open ears of those whose ears are like ours.'

7 Sep 2005


Sayyid Qutb invoked the concept of human nature, Fitrah, as an essential component of his discourse. Unlike early 19th century modernist thinkers who viewed human nature negatively, Qutb considered it a positive source of energy that could possibly lead to happiness. He believed that man is a privileged human, gifted with a Fitrah that is fundamentally good and constructive on the condition that his actions confirms with the pure nature of his Fitrah. Should ‘man’ respect his Fitrah’s impulses, it would guide him to a balanced and sustained state of happiness. However, what is the relation between man and his knowledge of his Fitrah.

Man’s sole and only guidance to understanding his Fitrah is through divine intervention. According to Qutb philosophy, between Fitrah and the natural order obtains a divinely ordained harmony; between man and the natural order may obtain happiness and harmony, or misery and discord depending on how man chooses to act. Between man and his Fitrah, there is ignorance of man to knowing his Fitrah without divine mediation. Thus, Qutb argues that man possesses very little knowledge to reach on his own any useful degree of understanding of that Fitrah. Man’s only source of guidance regarding what conforms to Fitrah and what violates it resides in what God has chosen to tell him through his word, the Koran, and the Sunnah of the Prophet. Therefore, if man desires to act in conformity with Fitrah, there must exist a willingness by man to receive the guidance offered by the Creator, God.

*Based on Qutb's book, Milestone

6 Sep 2005


Is it a relation with an object? Is it an act of pleasure driven from repetition, familiarity with the known, the 'joy of routine'? Or there is something else.

Sex can be done when we are feeling bored. Probably? A substitute feeling just to replace the boredom we are feeling. Something like eating or drinking while watching a boring seires that we have seen zillion times on television. We have nothign else to do, so why not just watch it again, in this case, have sex again. Better than nothing. A substitute? Probably, again?

Probably will continue!

Interesting post at Zoss's on a book by Rebecca Goldstein.
*The great Alberto Moravia novel, 'Boredom'