Song of the Day

Last Flowers - Radiohead.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Trentemoller`s Moan.

There are not a lot of things I do for distractions - that is because I don’t do distractions. Yet there are those who master wars of silence and magical powers of killing you with their detachment. Those people exist, and they consume you and eat you out and ruin your day.

One of them actually pushed me to do distractions today. My first trial was Jack White – knowing me, and how all my friends are named Jack. I asked him to wake Meg up and meet me down their alley. It wasn’t long before we were in London, exchanging roles to play Jack’s favorite Bleeding-on-Red-Stripes shooting thing on dull forsaken rooftops. He killed me twice and I confused Meg for having her period several times too.


After lunch in Paris and coffee in Rome, we had the afternoon stroll in Prague. I was walking next to Jack and we were not holding hands, he wasn’t putting his hand on my shoulder and I wasn’t putting my arm around his back. In fact, we weren’t physical at all – knowing me and how odd that is with all my Jacks. He asked me if I was as ugly as he is and I expressed how relieved I was with the fact that he was Meg’s brother, and how this way, I can be comfortably and intensely attracted to both of them – be manipulated by them, enslaved by them, enslaving and sexualizing them with all possible permutations of 3. He let out a brief grin and called for Meg – who was a bit ahead of us. She walked side by side with him, he put his hand on her shoulder and she put her arm around his back.

Meg asked if I talked to Heath today, she didn’t even glance at me as she asked – which made me think her words were drumsticks on my ear drums. I had to disappoint Meg soon and tell her how the person I thought was Heath was only a fake bastard – but I chose not to, I only replied;

“Heath Ledger is dead. He’s expecting us in a few.”

She let out a comfortable rare smile of hers and I thought I heard her say “Okay.”

I went back home to find the fake Heath eaten out by an army of white ants that happens to live under my bed. It made me happy and I kissed the ants one by one because I don’t need to do any distractions anymore. However, I thought I’d still give the Whites a call in a couple of days – after all, I was wearing Meg’s bra.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

raison d`etre.

you do it as if it’s natural,
like the puff following the drag,
or the breath following the dive.
you do it as if it’s unnoticeable,
you can even speak in the background,
look around, glance and smile.
you do it and you’re unaware.
you are completely unaware,
that when your finger runs on my skin,
the world stops,
time pauses - my heart stops - my breath stops.
your touch is natural,
like an e. e. cummings poem.
it is my raison d`etre,
yet you are completely unaware.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

شو غريب الشكل باياك

- طب وشو قالت أمك؟
- ولا شئ... راحت اشترت حجاب وما بدها تلبس كم قصير
- شو عم تحكى؟
- تعرف شو كمان قال؟ قال المسرح حرام... والسينما حرام... والروك أن رول موسيقى خلاعية.
- شو يعنى خلاعية؟
- يعنى السيكس. وموسيقى السيكس من عمل الشيطان. خد بقى.
- هلا بول أنكا صار عميل للشيطان؟ شو غريب الشكل باياك... طب شو قال عن الموسيقى العربية؟
- قاللى أم كلثوم معلهش.
- أم كلثوم؟؟ ما أم كلثوم ما بتغنى الا السيكس.... عن جد، شو غريب الشكل باياك.