Song of the Day

Last Flowers - Radiohead.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Jigsaw falling out of place.

Just as I grab your attention,
Just as you write my number down,
Just as our drinks arrive,
Just as they play your favorite song,
Just as I read your book,
Just as you read mine,
Just as you pay attention,
Just as you hold my hand,
Just as you light your cigarette,
Just as you want to kiss me right here right now,
Just as you think you touched me,
Before we pretend we’re there,
Before you get bored,
Before you hang up on me,
Before you run away,
Before I get lost between the notes,
Just as I dance,
Before you hurt my eye balls,
Before we pretend our lives are great,
Before we lie to each other,
Before you glance back,
Before I pretend I don’t,
Just as I dance, dance, dance,
Come on, let it out – not just once, not just twice,
Just as the beat goes round and round and round,
Pay attention… jigsaw falling out of place.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

My second blog.

Check out my second blog :)

About Me.

Sometimes I make love to Thom Yorke.

Monday, October 13, 2008

زيارات عشتار

لا أفقه كثيرا فى الطب النفسى... ولكنه مهنتى التى أجبرت عليها وورثتها أبا عن جد... لا أشعر بشئ تجاه أى من زوارى المرضى... ولا أشعر بالشفقة... فى ما عدا واحدة...

تزورنى عشتار حوالى ثلاث مرات شهريا... تدخل من باب مكتبى وتنظر الى سريعا وتحيينى... ولكن لا تحيينى بيدها.... تجلس على الكرسى أمامى وتنظر الى الأرض من خلال شباك سيقانها... أحيانا تشعل سيجارة... ومعظم الوقت لا تبكى... تشكو عشتار من حياتها العاطفية... والجنسية... تشكو من الوحدة ومن الاحباطات التى تنهال عليها...

تجبرنى عشتار على أن ابتكر لها حلول ونصائح فى كل زيارة لها... وأشعر أنها تعلم أنى أغير منها أحيانا وأحبها أحيانا أخرى... منذ اسبوعين أعلنت لى عشتار كم حبها لموسيقى جو كوكر... فنصتحها فى أن لا تخلع قبعتها أبدا...

أما هذه المرة... فنصحتها أن تستمر فى ارتداء نظاراتها...

:)

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Push Thy Glasses.

Mothers wear glasses. They can’t formulate full sentences either. Thus, the mother walks on the school’s playground with steady steps, as if her high heels don’t sink in the sand or anything. She is too impatient and bothered about why she had to go pick up her daughter, who was detained, for reasons that weren’t revealed on the phone.

Mrs. Madelene also wears glasses. She can formulate long full sentences, for she is the English teacher. Her sentences are grammatically correct too. Mrs. Madelene isn’t as fashionable as the lady with the steady steps walking on the playground who is approaching her. Mrs. Madelene usually pushes up her glasses with her middle finger.

The daughter doesn’t wear glasses. She doesn’t formulate sentences at all. She has hair of equal length and no waves. She has straight lips with no curvatures or smiles. She also has blank eyes that blink mechanically. The daughter sits in a room not so far from the playground, and bets Mrs. Madelene is pushing up her glasses using her middle finger.

The English teacher smiles at the mother. The mother returns the smile coldly. Time seems to stroll slower and slower to the mother, as Madelene starts speaking of weird issues that the mother doesn’t seem to comprehend at all. Weird issues include her daughter’s odd behavior, isolation, silence, insecurities, skepticism and a whole lot of other words that only English teachers say and understand.

Daughters don’t speak to mothers, especially fashionable mothers. There is something about a fashionable mother that turns off the tongue of a little girl, as if it’s a locked door that has a “Do Not Disturb” sign. Fashionable mothers pity English teachers with vast sweaters and short manly hair. They constantly steal looks at their watches in presence of them, teachers.

Mrs. Madelene may be an English teacher, but she still is smart. She spots the mother’s boredom and impatience towards their conversation. She may be an English teacher, but she oddly has temper. She scolded the mother in a rough tone about how she should spend more time talking to her daughter versus her hairdresser.

Fashionable mothers are mean and weak. After demeaning Mrs. Madelene and taking her daughter into the car, she thinks about what the teacher told her. It doesn’t make much difference if the mother screwed the teacher over; she still knew she had a point.

“But nobody wants to play with me…” the daughter replied, as she pushed her mother’s glasses up her nose using her middle finger.


Drawing by Bashir M. Wagih

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Prisoners don`t make love.

There are doors. Doors usually have knobs, sometimes a glass window that is not so see-through. Some doors have only knobs from the outside, those are prison doors. Prison doors usually have an opening at the bottom that closes and opens also from the outside. Prisoners cocoon behind prison doors. Prisoners sometimes sit, sometimes pee in a rusty stinky toilet that is in the very same cell. The toilet doesn’t have a mirror hanging somewhere near it. Prisoners sometimes sleep like embryos, sometimes they graffiti using their scratchy finger nails. Prisoners don’t make love. They don’t wear watches. They definitely don’t know what day is today either. Free citizens make love. Free citizens plan vacations. Free citizens save money for their phone bill to have romantic phone calls at night. They pity prisoners. Prisoners pity them back. Prisoners don’t want to be free citizens and they don’t want to hear anything about their activities.

There are prison personnel. Prison personnel have gruff voices. They have big bellies. Prison personnel use very bad vocabulary. They slip plates through the openings at the bottom of prison doors for the prisoners. Prisoners never want those plates, but the opening only opens from the outside as previously mentioned. The plates are persistent. Plates will contain news about American elections. They will tell prisoners about Sarah Palin’s new sex toys and the phone number of her hairdresser. Prisoners don’t have hair. The plates tell prisoners that, a 100-years later, it is 1929 all over again. The plates will tell prisoners, who do not eat, that they will starve and their families will starve and their children, yet to come, will starve too. Prisoners don’t make love. Plates are honest; they will tell prisoners they look ugly, old and cocooned. Prisoners never have a mirror. Prisoners never understand why they are forced their plates each day… for all they need is to sleep like embryos.

Prisoners pretend to sleep like embryos, hoping plates will grow empty.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

1- "If I go down the street to buy a pack of smokes..."

There are a lot of things that I hear and I really think how much I want to be put in a situation where I can say such utterances. This "Put On My Lips" series focuses on this list.

1- "If I go down the street to buy a pack of smokes, I'll walk into nine men you've fucked."

The Boondock Saints.