Of all elaborate plans

One more day and it will be another milestone birthday. This seems to be the worst. It is not that the destination is a source for all that is depressing, yet it is the uneventful, unremarkable, torturously bland journey by which I have arrived at this milestone that rankles me so.

As my friend IBJ insists, it is but another number, one that can be played or repainted on or molded into another shape to view as wondrous or insignificant as we please. He actually used more readily repeatable words of “Broa, shut-up. It’s just a number.” However the gist is just as memorable, I can’t focus on the number, but a milestone is reached non-the-less and for my memory being waned or failing I am unable to claim many goals attained by this passing day.

{Each New Year is another year gone for me, some say it is one of those false birthdates listed by immigrants, but whether it be January 1st or July 4th, an other year passes despite, in spite}

It is not so much the day, more the past days. What have I found along this journey, what will be found in my continued quest, and what is my final destination? My journey began more remarkable than it ends, with the obligatory marks set at college degree, employment, marriage, children and the like. Sure there was the brief stint on an illuminated trail, but no revelation, no discovery, no history and worst, no dreams realized. On the eve of a new year, my friend comments that you either are who you want to be or were never meant to be that person. Troubling words. As cryptic as they may be, they will haunt me. What am I? Who was I to be? Is this all? What determines who you are?

Is it even a question of quality of journey verses a value of destination, where is the emphasis? And if the destination is lacking in luster, will the journey fade in brilliance? Conversely, is a miserable trek rewarded? Surely in an after life, but will it in this?

By being who I am now at this stage in my life, it seems that this is exactly who I was meant to be. Or have I missed some turn? Optimistically, the journey has not ended, yet. There may be another turn up ahead. Pessimistically, I will fail to recognize it once more, or be reluctant to take it leading to a far more eventful journey. Then I may be who I was meant to be.

That story can still be filmed,
That book can still be written,
This life can still be extinguished before that turn appears.
Well, another number awaits my arrival, happy birthday to me.

another holiday passing

sorry I can only create strange, unappealing greeting cards, but the main point is may you and you families be granted joy.

37 factors of a rut

1. Got downsized.
2. Got new job that i don't like. same department. very strange how corporations work these days.
3. Lebanon is bracing for another Izraeli invasion. The economy is at a standstill again, former war-lords are still playing games with our lives.
4. The world is still against Palestine, in policy and rhetoric. no human rights for those who need them most.
5. There are so many wars and injustices that i tend to forget a few of them, and it seems others do the same so that those injustices remain.
5. Bush is trying to launch another unjust war, even though the case for is falling apart. They're not even working on their lies anymore, soon they'd say "we're taking over the world, deal with it."
6. Karl Rove has been trying to push blame for the Iraq war on the dumb democrats. This is the craziest use of warped logic ever.
7. Emotionally, socially, politically, environmentally, economically, culturally, humanistically, these are the worst days i've ever witnessed. More so since the knowledge and ability exists for a utopia.
8. The only person i knew who practiced love and justice passed away last year.
9. I don't ever see myself going back home.
10. I no longer see myself as a filmaker.
12. There is so much to think about that I end up crippled doing nothing.
13. I had a vision of my own demise and it isn't pretty, but is it changeable?
14. I have a problem, I know when people lie. But even when they know I've caught them, they lie more. Is that some sort of reconstructed human condition? For me to survive, I have to ignore the lies. That is painful, especially when some of those people are close.
15. there are 37 but I only have the energy to write 14. and missed # 11.

congratulations, welcome to the team

Well, these past couple of months I've been out of touch with a lot of people and of course the blog.
My department at work has been going through re-structuring. We knew we would lose our jobs and have to apply for new ones in the new department.

I survived.
I pretty much have the same job with a bit of change in focus at a different location.

The last thing I wanted when I chose a career as a video producer was to work for a large corporation with goals different from my creative goals, but that is where I find myself years later. I like my work yet working in a corporate environment is torture.

As the old saying goes "at least you have a job" That should not be an end all ambition. The economy in Michigan these days has lead people to believe that any employment is good. Of course, I'm thankful, but am no longer content, no longer loyal, no longer will I put in that extra effort. I will coast as everyone around me has been for years. And save my creativity for where its appreciated. The hell with it all.

There are no advancement opportunities. Life in Michigan is a dead end (without the dead part). "At least I'm alive"

Well now that the agony of waiting months just to see if I would survive this change is finally over, back to life I go.

maybe even more blogging.

I often wonder about the loss of hope while struggling to find any remnant of the promised, any sliver of light escaping from a shattered beacon.

As time stumbles by along a cold and desolate swampy existence my guide to aspire deliberately and purposefully commits to a self-induced suffocation of will.

Now where do I turn? A friend turns and a partner gives way; an occupation becomes a struggle to survive and a peaceful room comes to torture my thoughts.

What once was innocent and removed from this world’s devilish state stages daily coups to torment and giggle along the others humiliating betrayals.

It ends in a foreign place and a foreign state. I’ll leave nothing, not a journal nor a legacy. One more stumble of a crippled limb. One more strike by a smiling man.

As I looked for the moon, I noticed my son looking through my binoculars through the camera, this is what I assume he saw, so I took a shot of it as he may have seen it. This rendition appears like a celestial body, so I suppose he found the moon.

mourn the innocent peculiarity

He imprecisely ventured past the wrought iron gates of his parent’s home in a futile quest of a more comforting haven, one that offered rest for his tumultuous mind. He laid all his weary parts and worry thoughts upon a steel track not far from the childhood euphoria that had been lost now hiding in the brush, mocking his every plea. The track only offers cold awkward musings to tease as the rumbling sound nears. He sleeps believing a setting sun, and a serene judgeless thicket as the rumbling sound nears.

Conversations

The only careless social delve I commit is a direct effect of the lure of captivating conversation.
These images are an attempted conversation with my life’s inspiration.



The timid, circling approach of an unknown destination:


The lack of quantitative response and failed repartee:





The rejective mock injuring mercilessly:




inspiration has seized to lay claim

I'd pray for peace but my Mosque is about to be demolished.

Another racist and Islamphobic U.S. Representative or Congressman has made comments that just plain scare me.
Rep. Peter King (R-NY) who is the ranking Republican on the House Homeland Security Committee said, "Unfortunately, we have too many mosques in this country. There are too many people who are sympathetic to radical Islam. We should be looking at them more carefully. We should be finding out how we can infiltrate. […] King added, "I think there's been a lack of full cooperation from too many people in the Muslim community. And it's a real threat here in this country."

Great, that’s how you get cooperation, by bashing the people you need help from. I’d be scared to talk to such a person. And what type of cooperation does he want? Why is it ok for him to assume there is something wrong at my mosque? Does he want me to stand at the door of my mosque and point a finger at my innocent brothers as he tears down the place I worship? Would the world’s problems go away if there weren’t any mosques? Or would they go away if there weren’t any hate-mongers like Rep. King? These guys only want us to be informant citizens without voicing any concerns or opposing views. If we speak up we will go to jail, get tazered, have our assets frozen, or even get killed by some of his gung-ho, beer-drinking, flag-wearing, ignorant constituents. While we’re at it, who do I talk to about the hate crimes against my mosque and it’s congregation?

BTW, does anyone remember who other than Presidential Candidate Tom Tancerdo wants to bomb Mecca? (I’m planning on going to Haj this year, I’d like to know what’s coming)



To watch the King interview see: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMydUdKtA_Q&;


From an ADC alert:
Rep. King has a history of racism and bigotry toward Arab and Muslim Americans. In the past, he has said, Muslims are "an enemy living amongst us." He has also called for ethnic and racial profiling of Arabs and Muslims. It should be noted that Rep. King also serves as a top advisor to presidential hopeful Rudy Guiliani alongside leading Islamophobe Daniel Pipes. Pipes also serves on the board of coalition which tried to derail the opening of the Khalil Gibran International Academy in Brooklyn, New York. For more information see: http://www.adc.org/index.php?id=3157

Slumbering a Silent September

Some thought on this month:

Tragedy struck on the first, but I kept quite and unaffected. I've been through so much, that shock holds no value any longer.

On the 11th, I was reminded of what constitutes this country. On the anniversary of one of the biggest tragedies this country has experienced, the average joe was as ignorant as ever. People at work, oddly enough, knew we were still at war but couldn't remember why, even on Sept 11th.

Sept 11th is a bizarre day for me, not only for the tragedy and the events that followed but for the day it could never be. Sept 11th is my oldest son's birthday. Although we celebrate it at home, he can never feel comfortable celebrating with his friends, since in 2001, as he was excitedly announcing his birthday at school and ready to pass cupcakes to his class, the teacher announced to the class that they will be picked up by their parents early because "some bad people killed all those people in the two buildings with an airplane". A five-year-old at the time, he came home confused and shocked and that was the first he ever heard of death. and death is ever linked to his birthday. And he, unlike some of my coworkers, will never forget. I wanted to talk to him about death when he was older, I didn't want an angry teacher to tell him. This was almost as bad as when she brought in baby Jesus to class to teach the Muslim kids about Christ.

Side note: I found it difficult to teach me child about some realities when they were non-existant in school. I told him about Palestine, but it took a while for him to believe me since the teachers told him there was no such country, he couldn't find it on the maps or globe. I bought my own globe and drew it in, and he and I created our own flag and pasted it on a poster of world flags.

On with September; Then Ramadan began and I started noticing all the calendars with all the Jewish, Christian, African and even Canadian holidays, but no Muslim holidays. Even worse, after seven years in the same office, I'm still explaining the concept of Ramadan and our dietary restrictions, I'm tired of being polite.

This has been the most bizarre Ramadan yet. It seems idle, calm, sleepy. I am staggering through it like it was a hallucination. I keep waiting for some monstrous calamity. perhaps this is my last one.

It used to be Ramadan was my most productive month, when I would stay awake 22 out of 24 hours with the day spent working since there is no food, coffee or cigarette breaks and the night was a glorious time of spirituality and creativity.
Now only a groggy stumble through one unproductive day after another. Something is missing and I can't figure out what.

my lazy Ramadan greeting card

An article on Others

Here is an article on our Other Art Collective and the scene in Detroit.



read it here:
As-safir

Find out more here:
www.otherart.org

Let me know what you think...
(really, let me know, I don't read Arabic)

Pain procured for Palestinian progeny

When is it o.k., even cheered to kill a child? When that child is Palestinian and the world continues to reward Israel for their ethnic-cleansing.


Three Palestinian children in the Gaza Strip were killed when an Israeli tank opened fire on the Jabaliya refugee camp which is located in the north of Gaza. According to media reports, two children, 10 and 12 years-old, were killed immediately. Their cousin, a 12 year-old girl, was pronounced dead after efforts to save her life failed. This brings the number of Palestinian children killed during this week, as a result of Israeli military operations, to nine.

And it is all o.k. Silence makes it so....



This is nothing new…

A Jewish settler who clubbed a Palestinian child to death with a rifle butt was sentenced to six months' community service.

Soldiers from the Israeli Defence Force fired live ammunition repeatedly on a 12 year-old Palestinian boy. The IDF stated that it is not their policy to harm women and children.

As a 13 year-old Palestinian schoolgirl was walking home, A soldier cautioned his commander shouting, "Don't shoot. It's a little girl". The company commander, as the soldiers testifies, "approached her, shot two bullets into her [head], walked back towards the force, turned back to her, switched his weapon to automatic and emptied his entire magazine into her." An army investigation later cleared him of any "unethical conduct"

Three Palestinian school children were "accidentally" shot while in their classroom by Israeli soldiers. The troop commander said they were on routine patrol when they thought they saw a gun through a school window. They fired without warning killing the three children.

Three other Palestinian children were shot and killed by Israel. The children were targeted and killed as collective punishment for a local militia’s activity.

and it goes on, and on...

You killed a Palestinian child today.

They shuffle their feet in inches over hours as the metal barriers coral their frail bodies toward death. Destined for an agonizing demise, they can only hope that today is not their last day on this small swatch of stripped and stolen land. These were the people the world turned away from. These were children branded insignificant. These are the children being picked off by Israeli bullets while walking to school, while sleeping, while playing, while waiting for hours to cross a prison-like check point to go from home to school, these are children being picked off by Israeli bullets.

And it is all o.k.

silence makes it so.

finally found peace

it was hidden past the megastructures and the highways and the malls



it was a long trial to blaze



but it's there

August 13th is left handed day?

Today, I've just learned, is the 11th annual Left-Hander's Day. Sound's pretty bizzare to me. Why would there be such a day? To torture left-handers more than they have been? Is this like those scissors they made for lefties?



left handed myths

.luftnevenuefilsihtmaedshtolcgninruomnismrotsgninrawretfaecnelisdetcepxenu niemocllahshtaedyM

The backstory

I am Transient: part one…

As a journalist,
reporting on events and uncovering the truth as well as representing the voiceless were important ventures in my life.
I never new of the challenges I’d face in simply doing my job. Politics played a role in everything. Money controlled
everything. Gaining power meant more than human rights. Alliances meant more than human dignity. And I knew
journalism was dead. I gave it up, telling my publisher to “take this job and shove it.” From the pundits and the news for
hire to the corporate influence to the hidden foreign agendas one would be hard pressed to locate journalistic integrity.
All the rules were broken.

But just when I thought the situation was as dire as it could be
an event occurred that would highjack journalism and reshape it into something sophisticatedly evil. The 1992 Gulf war
ushered in a new era. Instant feedback of pics, stories and video meant everything had to be censored before the event.

The rise of technology is meant to serve us, yet it has derailed our thoughts and sedated our logic.

And then it got worse.
The events of 9/11 and the subsequent fear pedaling altered reality further.

In the post 9/11 era
it is important to represent yourself and your own voice since as I believe 9/11 was the final nail in journalism’s coffin. Our
voice has been mutilated and everything from our culture to our history to our image and the very words that come from
our mouths had been altered.

Not sure when
but in terms of my blogging experience and those around me, the 2006 war on Lebanon launched many bloggers and
many more readers. It was a treasure of information, counter opinion and visual evidence. The Arab Blogoshpeare did
wonders to lift spirits that had given up hope of truth’s survival.

My first blog
After the loss of my younger brother I gave up writing. After his burial, as I returned to the US, the war started. The
frustration with traditional media, the need to vent and the need for an outlet of emotion led me to my first blog. At first, I
blogged about the war by recounting my relatives’ experiences, then followed with stats about the war, artwork and
various political statements. I settled in after the war with everything from politics to poetry. I began to notice other
bloggers doing the same; it was at that point that I realized the real worth of an Arab on-line presence.

The Arab voice could be heard
in a crisp, concise manner. The beauty of it all is that I learned more about Arab dynamic and the complexity and diversity of what is an Arab than any TV show or book I’ve read or from the limited experiences of a hyphenated soul stuck in transit. I was sure many non-arabs were getting the same lessons. The interactions of people online seemed honest and stripped of the political correctness that conceals the stabbing knife.

Now the rise of technology serves us as it was meant to do.
The advent of cheaper technology and it’s ubiquity assured that you can’t censor or silent everyone. Since anyone could
send video to millions of people to witness events for them selves to combat reports to the contrary, everyone with a
camcorder or a digital camera or a blog or even just an email address could act as a reporter.

Sites I frequent vary from the hard-core political to artists to peacenik philosophers to Arab sites that can not be categorized. They all have their time and value in making the Arab Blogosphere instrumental in regaining our stolen voice. Perhaps there is hope after all.

"No End In Sight"

An insiders film about the war on Iraq and the military planning, preparation and preparedness, in theatres July 27th.



http://www.noendinsightmovie.com/

Not that anything will change, but...

check out this report from the ADC on Israel's war crimes from last year's war on Lebanon. http://www.adc.org/PDF/Lebrep.pdf



It's been a year, people are already expecting the sequel.

five ramblings of a textured stone

As the wind swiftly crashed the tent around me leaving my flesh exposed to piercing droplets of acidic rain, I woke stumbling a lethargic grog trying to catch up to the half-spent night. I always lament the incomplete dream halted by necessitated waking hours not longing for longer sleep, but an urge to see a vision through that hints a path of my future battles is turned away.

I walk. As though not accustomed to limbs carrying this burdening weight, I stagger my pace into tree limbs for stability. Losing control is not as devastating as I had once feared.

The fear comes in exciting doses of shifting concerns rushing in increasing intervals till time mashes all to one overwhelming isolation. The laboring rain is gone. Even the trees are gone.

I’m left to roam a parched earth weary of my steps. I can not float. Perhaps the vision is meant to abandon. As a child I witnessed my impending doom. This was a vision I could grasp. As an adult the vision alarms into an aim broader with me surviving for moments longer to serve. I remain idle.

As the wind reshapes my forgotten face into guiltless smirks that keep suspicious strangers from attacking, I seek coyly a silent cave trying to pray a solution, waiting for sleep to recapture a wondering mind urging a vision complete.

Sans Islam?

So Yusuf Islam continues on his comeback to pop culture with a new album "An Other Cup" (first in 28yrs, released last year) and by performing during Live Earth Concert at Hamburg. Leading up to the concert Fox News ran a special attacking Islam, portraying the man as a terrorist, a US hater and claimed that he is on a "watch" list and "no fly" list. He is not on any list. Why is the man with numerous peace awards being attacked so much? and are these attacks influential enough to have his stage name shortened to just Yusuf? He has been misquoted and bullied into making comments he does not support. Regardless of what the West makes him out to be, his music is classic. Just listen to Peace Train. PBS aired a documentary that clears the air and calls any allegations against him comical. Good program, but I can't find it anywhere. (if you know of it let me know).

Well, I'm certain there is a lot that could be made about him, his music, his life and statements, I don't think hes' a "great" man but a good man and deserving of some peace like the rest of us, but forget all that and listen to his music, it's less stressful.

4th of July in Dearborn...do you still miss it?

sure this looks like a professional display of some 4th of July fireworks in a large park somewhere

but this is in my neighborhood! The entire neighborhood was lit up by kids firing their extensive stash. The streets filled with empty shells and the air was smokey for hours. I can still hear them going off at 1:38 in the morning. I also saw the Dearborn police patrolling with no action taken, perhaps they were happy with the display of patriotism.

Get off of my Cloud!

“If left to their own means, the Lebanese would destroy Lebanon,” said Hilal Khashan, professor of political sciences at the American University of Beirut. But “There is an international decision that Lebanon be maintained.”

I wonder who's paying this guy.

If Lebanon would be left to the Lebanese, it would be heaven on Earth.
The problem with Arab nations is not the people, it is with all the people who want to run each nation, or destroy it, or create a "civil war" or instill a dictator.

If each Arab nation would be left for the people, the people would be happy and more importantly, Alive.

Lebanon's leading Chirstian, Sunni and Shiite clergy all said pretty much the same thing, all of Lebanon's sects want, can and will live together in peace and harmony, if not for all this outside agitation by powers looking out for their personal gain, where Lebanon is a proving ground, a test facility, a target, a battle ground to settle old scores, a lamb sacrificed for a glutinous gorge by perverted tastes. of course most of this could not happen without a couple of crackheads who are in government selling their constituancy and power for a chance to party with condi.

I've heard every theory and every excuse and every blame, but hell...just leave Lebanon the hell alone, they'll fend for themselves and they'll thrive in peace.

Anyone who thinks otherwise is being paid to think so.

Ignorance is Bliss?

Today, I realized I've been living a lie.
Living in denial.
Living in fear.
Today I realized that what's important to me,
is in conflict with what's important to me.
What's important is a lie.
Everything around me has been built to perpetuate a lie.
And I believed it most, because I believed I knew what the lie was and what the truth was.
And that's the lie.

But it's about to change

convergence

A week ago I heard my phone ring. I chose to fall asleep rather than answer. In my sleep I did answer, it was my friend telling me to take him to the hospital. He was having a heart attack. I ignored him. The next day, I decide to call him. His brother had taken him to the hospital in the middle of the night. It wasn't a heart attack but he felt he had one. I didn't tell him about my dream.

A couple of days ago I woke up from a dream violently due to its last action. I dreamt chronologically, a rare occurrence. Playing out like an opening sequence of a surreal film, it was quite and erie. I was driving. At an intersection by my house I heard a loud revving of an engine, I was stopped in the left lane. A motorcycle swerved around the corner hit my driver side and crashed, the rider landed in the intersection in the path of oncoming traffic. His head was crushed by an oncoming car.
After I woke up, I thought nothing of it. I got dressed and headed for work. I stopped at an intersection by my house. As I was stopping in the left lane, I heard a voice say "Right" so I took the right lane. Then I heard the loud revving of an engine, the motorcycle swerved a bit less then in my dream and didn't have my car there to hit, he missed the oncoming traffic and rode off.

This morning as I was gardening, I gave my son a simple task of bagging some yard waste, I thought I was making a mistake leaving him alone in the back yard alone while I was in the front. Then a vision popped into my head of him running to me screaming with his head bleeding. I ignored it and went back to work. ten minutes later, I heard a scream. My son came running with his hand on his ear crying. His little brother hit him with the rake. Luckily it was a minor flesh wound.

After a long day of gardening I decided to sit in the back yard quietly with my coffee and smokes. I was shocked by an instance of violence and what appeared to be a bullet coming straight for me, there was no bullet...
as of this writing, I'm still alive.

well my friend is back home, surviving a small scare and a couple of days in the hospital. Thanks to those who prayed for him.

I can't believe it has been a year.
I never thought that I'd be able to live a year without my brother or be able to function or get back into the routine.
I never thought I'd be able to let life take over again. I always thought life or time or I would just stop when the person I loved most in life died, but it didn't , the world didn't stop. It kept going and even faster, unrecognizably.
I can't believe it's been a year.
I often catch myself in a normal everyday situation and wonder how it is possible to be normal, how is it possible for me to do alone the things we used to do together, how is it possible to laugh with his children without him, how is it possible for me to live after the realization of the fear that haunted me since his birth.
How is it possible that it has been a year.
My son says he feels like his uncle is not dead, but more like on a long vacation and he expects him to come through the door any minute, all he can remember is his smile. I remember more, more of the pain and know more about death than I care to.
My friend lost his son as he came to mourn my brother, my brother-in-law lost his father before my brother, then his mother shortly after. I lost a friend in the war and then a couple of relatives, then more friends. A family friend lost in the hospital where my brother's blood had not yet dried, then another. My grandfather lived longer than most, then he too joined them, I lost another loved one.
I can't believe its been a year, I can't believe this year.

Now my best friend is in the hospital. All I can hope is that the trend is over.

all too familiar...the distance

“what information should I transmit and how?”

"Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't"

The strangest part of the latest violent events in Lebanon is the military assistance Lebanon has been "offered" by the Arab League and by the U.S.

Most Arab countries turned their back on Lebanon last year when Izrael attacked and cowardly backed the Izraelis. The U.S. offered the limited, half-hearted humanitarian aid, while suppling the Izraelis the bulk of their weapons and political support. Now, they are offering ammunition to Lebanon?

What sort of sick game is this? I know it has been going on for decades, but really, who is buying all this as sincere?

The elements that are plaguing Lebanon are external. There is no doubt that there is a sinister plot developing. The militia in the North appear to be invited guests of some unnamed Western governments via a cocaine addicted Lebanese politician.

Sounds simple enough, introduce an untamable element, hostile to your biggest rival, then use the situation to bulk up in the region in order to eleminate your challengers. In the media, this seems like an extension of the war on terror, but this is a war on every sovergn country not in the Western line. If Lebanon was truely a friend, then you would not have helped distroy it last year. This is far worse than appears. If Lebanon continues on its path of gullability, then we are all in danger.

Lebanon's military has always been weak, leaving room for others to control Lebanon with claims of aiding the nation against its enemies, but this has never been successful, and there has never been support when Lebanon has been attacked or invaded. Lebanon continues to be a pawn and the power hungry politicians of Lebanon don't seem to care since they are easily divided.

I used to think that Lebanon can take care of itself if left alone, but it is becoming more clear that some politicians do not want to be left alone and allow the people to control their own fate since it would certainly mean the loss of power.
Some would rather be president of a dependant, chaotic war-torn mess of a country, than be an average citizen in a vibrant, progressive one.

Sure there are elements inside of Lebanon that need to be weeded out, but just be cautious of who helps you do the weeding. It would be like poisoning your drinking water to kill those weeds, sooner or later even those on golden thrones need a drink.

For the record: at this point the losers are the Palestinian refugees, who now must flee again and are the majority of those killed. I hope that noone confuses the militia with the Palestinian or Lebanese people. Fatah-Al-Islam seems like everyone's enemy, but the curiosity is where they came from and who is offering to rid Lebanon of them. People should question everything now more than ever.

Surviving an Arab writer's conference

It was only two days, yet my legs are left angry, complaining of walking for what seemed like a week and a few hours. It must have been my nervous cyclical circling of tables and groups chatting seeking a way in. I paced unevenly between the various discussions and paneled my interest with smiles and smirk filled nods as that odd incoherent question to a hero who I couldn’t release unquestioned.

Few knew who I was or am or who I may be or become, a fact truer than my knowledge of that fact or current fiction, And who I was seemed to come forth and drown who I thought I was becoming because of what I lacked. I left too wide a slit in the door for that not to occur. I was a timid awkward geek who feared too much.

A poet read and I paced the distance she had traveled here. When would my legs carry me close enough to…to…I wasn’t quite certain of why I was hoping to get close? I knew I would babble and I walked on as the woman with the blue Marcel-style scarf looked at my passing with pity, not pity that I couldn’t approach but pity to a man who seemed relieved in failure and she took my spot and shook hands with the poet. I didn’t need an autograph or expected her to know my name the next year we meet, I needed to meet.

As Wadsworth and Keats wrestled over my use of I, I prepared for my presentation. It was a last minute drool with no time for revision as was my style. I was looking at the few who sacrificed sleep to attend and do their best to present an interested face, giving them loosely linked words. The interest didn’t seem that contrived the more I went on. Perhaps I was making some sense. If only I could listen to my own words instead of those voices of imprisoned grappling writers who mocked me and undermined any coherent proclamation. The poet came to me as destiny rehearsing her game. Surely she couldn’t have meant that my presentation was as fantastic as she announced. Was it just the product of the customary congratulatory comment native to conference camaraderie? She smiled again to confirm her delight and promised to visit my blog. My blog? This triviality?

The conference broke for lunch. Feeling a bit more confident that I would not suffer any bites, I gave my legs some rest and struck limited conversation with the woman sharing my table. Although I felt it her table by the way in which she snuck a wondering peak of “why is this awkward unpublished man here?”
She did her best to politely end the conversation and I worried. As I saw her the next day, I sent a passing greeting as casually as I could to avert any awkwardness and misrepresentation. Her uneasy smile damned me back to 9th grade.

Marching into a peaceful exercise unarmed rendered me battle worn.

And I was an outsider again. The second day felt like a sentence of no performable tasks giving demons exercise. What venture undertook me?
My desire to become what each of them has become, a published Arab writer, kept me confined comfortless.

The two-day self-inflicted anguish ended, but I had questions left unasked and heroes unapproached. I survived…regretfully.

Allahyirhamak ya Sayed

(Jiddi with my uncle during a dinner in his honor in March)

My grandfather has passed after a long and difficult battle in the hospital. He came to the U.S. when few Arabs lived here, and raised his children without compromising traditions or faith. He survived two world wars as a child and a soldier. After gaining in years he returned home to Tibnine. He missed his children and their children and wanted to see their children's children and play and tell them stories. So he returned to the U.S. in early spring this year. My grandmother was stuck behind and never had the chance to say good-bye. He was 99 years-old. Alhamdullilah he lived a long, productive, clean life. He was a good, religious man who raised nine families. He leaves behind wonderful memories and enough great-grand children to tell his stories for generations to come. I just wish I could have been with him a bit longer to hear one more story.

May Allah grant you his mercy

RAWI this weekend

RAWI 2nd National Conference at the Arab American National Museum May 17 - 20-- Please join us! Check out our schedule at www.rawi.org REGISTRATION AND TICKETS Full registration $120-includes one year membershipStudent registration $75-includes one year membership1 Day Pass $35-includes panels and lunch Thursday Night Reading $10Friday Night Reading $10Friday Night Party $10Saturday Azouma & Awards Night $35

I'll be part of a panel Fri 9am

May the chips lay where they fall.

So, if it wasn't enough to be teased by co-workers endlessly about what we Muslims can and can not eat, now we discover that that list is growing. Say Kosher and everyone understands and is supportive, but say Halal and you get confused looks and ignorant statements. I don't mind the ignorance as much as the deck being stacked against us. It becomes more and more apparent that this world is oblivious to our concerns.

Perhaps that is the way Allah created it, we are constantly tested. Certainly the concern of a few food products not being Halal is trivial compared to the wars being waged and the daily oppression millions face, but it is a concern none-the-less, especially when you have children.

The reason for this topic is because I keep getting emails about a new popular food that is now found to be Haram. I've heard of McDonald's fries (beef flavoring), then Wrigley's gum (animal based gelatin) , then Altoids (pork based flavor crystals), then Doritos and other chips (pork based seasoning) and even recently about Burger King and their practise of frying Fish in the same fryer as pork and other meats. The list goes on and on. The crazy part is that you won't find this information from reading the ingredients and that is the part the gets me mad the most. Burger King says they fry in vegetable oil, but said nothing about using the same fryer as pork and other meats. McDonald's says they fry in vegetable oil but didn't say the fries are seasoned with beef. I'm slightly concerned about not being able to eat most of the chips made by Frito-Lay anymore, but I'll live.

The products that I'm most concern with are products like Advil, Tylenol and Motrin, they use a pork based coating of all things. Now that's the three most popular pain killers. (only Advil relieves my headache) Where will Muslims turn in that department? Anyone have alternatives?

I won't list every product I've found, there are sites that do this. I'm just frustrated. I expect companies to use whatever product makes their food taste addictive and cost less. I can't blame them for doing so, but can blame them if they hide these products as McDonald's did for years. Right now I'm not sure if this is worth an uproar, I'll just have to be more careful and less trusting (with corporations).

Anyone want to recommend sites that track this issue?

What about alternative products?

Am I wrong about any of these?

Spread the word

First Boston Palestine Film Festival coming this fall.

Make plans to attend and pass along to filmakers.

Call for Entries 2007
http://www.bostonpalestinefilmfest.org
The Boston Palestine Film Festival (BPFF) is now accepting entries for its first annual festival to be held in September-October 2007.

Criticisim of Contemporary Arab Society or Just a Divergent Rant

The drive, the evolution, the creativity, the progress is all at a standstill. A stagnant existence cripples us like a drug addiction.

It seems the Arab masses have rested too long. We have developed an aura of arrogance based on our previous historical accomplishments. We have contributed nothing of value in the past century other than sitting on oil. All we have become is the purveyors of perpetual pop.

Sure we can say things like we invented the numbering system, algebra, the two-stroke engine and the torpedo 800 years ago, the ice cream cone or whatever, but what has been our contribution lately is a knack for mimicking. The strive is long dead and we didn’t even mourn since we are in denial. To be like others and to blend seems to be only saving us from temporary destruction. We quickly give up the things that make us who we are.

This is not meant as an attack on our society (and by no means is this an academic work) rather, a venting in hopes of sparking some revival within myself and others.

There are several issues I have on our perception, our reputation and our future.

The perception is that we are special. Others' perception of us is disturbingly negative.
Why such a chasm? Is there something we don't see or is this a product of years of propaganda purposing a divergence of truth staging our demise? It appears to be a combination of both.
We see our selves above all with no fault, resting on the weight of past glory. And we are victim to centuries of unjust attacks. Our reputation is a violent and decadent one, certainly unjustified to the extent propagated, yet clearly we have lost our way. This is not to say that we all are guilty but when there is this grim cloud covering our movement we all suffer, therefore we all need to act to reignite our evolution into a perpetual positive progression. The future is not bright by any means, in fact the reality is that we are headed into our darkest hour since the time before Prophet Mohammad. And there may not be a recovery. There is a correlation between the rise of Islam and the dawn of a great Arab civilization, one which rescued vital ideas of justice and philosophy. Now it is believed that most of Europe's advancements were merely inventions copied from the Arab world centuries earlier. I mentioned the torpedo, but weapons of destruction aside, there was the creation of the library, university and hospital. And the advancements in irrigation and the time piece and so on.

Where is that knowledge now? I'm assuming it all went into the abyss to replace the oil that was drawn out. the majority of Arabs do not have oil but this has cursed us all, since the powerful have taken us down with them. There is no shining light leader to bring us back up. and we wallow in a mucky swamp of pop culture imitation trying to fit into a new society. We graze the diseased fields like sheep. And like sheep we find ourselves behind fences and walls. To what end, a violent catastrophic one?

When do we take control of our own lives, lead ourselves, create our own track, represent ourselves, draw our own boarders, embrace our own culture, protect our brothers and sister and not kill them to serve others?

I'm not sure I even had any coherency or direction in this, but I am tired and frustrated and unwilling to go on in this present state.

A wall is a barrier, a form of oppression, just ask the Palestinians.

Iraq It seems that Iraqis don't want a wall after all. after the US military started building a wall to divide Sinni and Shi3a neighborhoods based on "granting the Iraqi's wishes" They protested and stopped the wall...for now. There will be other ways to divide and conquer.

Palestine

Mexico

An Interview with Marcel Khalife

An interview on the state of music today with Marcel Khalife from the Arab International Festival in 2002. Interview by Transient and IBJ
(Sorry audio is low, don't forget to turn off music at bottom of page)

Fire them all

Radio Idiot Don Imus was fired for his racial remarks.
Ok, this sounds good; people held responsible for thier actions and their racist words.
But why only him, and why not until now?
Shouldn't he have been fired directly after those remarks, did his employers have to wait until they were threatened? or until the sponsors started pulling their money?
And why wasn't he fired years ago after many racist statements about others?
The claim that this firing is the right thing to do is BS.

Why isn't every post-911 journalist, reporter, shock-jock, pundit, news anchor, TV host, and so on fired, since almost every single person with an audience has made inflamitory, derogatory, racist, stereotypically bold statements about Muslims and or Arabs since 911. They should all have been fired, or are Muslims and Arabs not due the same respect and dignity as other human beings?

The problem is, Imus could call me a terrorist or any thing else he like and not one person would call for his job. If he says "nappy-headed hos" he gets fired. Both are bad, but being called a ho may not hurt you, stereotyping Arabs and Muslims makes them targets.

You'd think that this double-standard is bad enough.
Then the thought of this being a racist country that uses money as a moral guide sounds a bigger alarm. I am under the belief that not one person would defend what's right if the price was too high.

So, why have there not been any firings after much worse remarks aimed at Arabs and Muslims? There have been arrests, firings, deportations and violence towards Arabs and Muslims as a direct result of some of these comments, and not one media member has been fired. Why is this? Is it because the sponsors believe in the same aniti-Arab and Muslim agenda as people like Bill O'Rielly, Don Imus, Howard Stern, Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter and so on? Or are they the ones who dictate what should be said?

Either way the issue of racism in this country cannot be solved with one firing and a diversity session, especially when the biggest target is left unprotected.

(Minor lines found along the way in my writing while writhing of words in search of that story I long to hear)




Either, other, or, no not me.
I am sentenced here to pleasing demons,
rising fire-winged from the depths of my ill remorseful soul,
bleeding my heart into submission,
taking no care in banishing my identity into the abyss of that dark sea I over flew many decades ago.
The wide sea tears away at the flesh of my being as crashing waves crash endlessly about for my self-lost identity.






By the light of improbability
The other stakes the claim of passion in verse as stakes pluck his eyes.
Seeing by not seeing, as now truly has light shone his way and all things clear,
a vision of what's to come. Let me be blind to this world and hence traverse
the endless wild of being.

For when my others falter,
I sit sipping my muddied drink and swirl the smoke taken in and taken out.
By lit darkness my eyes swell a tear or two, one from the smoke that infests my lungs
and the other for the days that should have come.
The studio creaks out its asbestos skin as it lay silent.
No strokes brush the coarse canvas with their customary passionate hues.
No voices break with laughter the silence that becomes my days ever more.
The doors must close a final time and I sit longing for the days that should have come.

by now the road is narrow and baleful is the passing

Marcel Khalife in Detroit

I've been a fan of Marcel ever since I heard the first song, for obvious reasons. Other than being the premiere Lebanese folk singer, composer, musician, he just seems to represent everything I hope for in an artist; integrity, progress, creativity, ethics, human concerns, political awareness and so on. many people hear his songs or his music and get transported to a better time or place where nostalgia overtakes the melancholy. There is the sound of a timid hopefulness that most Arab's hear and it goes on long after the song.



The concert at Orchestra Hall was good, but it did seem a bit odd. He wasn't with his usual ensemble or Al Mayadine or Omayma or anyone else you'd recognize. He was playing with Kristjan Jarvi's Absolute Ensemble. They were pretty good, but it seemed that Marcel was their guest and it was not his concert. He only sang one full song, three total.



The Hall was not as posh as I thought and the sound engineering seemed lazily prepped for the concert. The acoustics seemed pretty bad as well. It could have been just my perception, and my one faulty ear, but it didn't sound right.
And the energy was not there as if it was a dress rehearsal and Marcel was going through the motions. Sure he was still great and the ensemble was very good at times, but not what I expected. Maybe it was his age...or maybe it was mine.



Perhaps it was the latest controversy that surrounded his music, or maybe even the extensive travel burdens and being detained at every port. Whatever the reasons for this being less magical than past performances, it was magical none-the-less and I'm glad to have been able to see him again.