Insomniac’s Log

12:18am finally they are leaving. Not that I don't like them, I love people, but they have a knack for leaving you alone when you need them and staying with you when you need to be alone. I need to be alone; I need rest. I can't sleep haven't been able to in three days. I was sleepy last night, but she decided to chat, until 6:32am. Wonder why she couldn't sleep? Why was she asking questions that she didn't want answered?

12:32am I wonder if I hurt anyone's feelings? All evening I was sitting watching my guests, not sharing in the conversation. I'm a rude host sometimes. J was just sitting in the corner quietly sipping his bitter sludge too solemn to ask for sugar. L was discussing her career choices and I sensed regret. H was stuck in a dead end job 3,427miles from his birthplace and he didn't know how to get back. I had the answers but chose not to share. I had my own problems.

1:18am I tried to sleep

1:18:32 I failed. The seconds kept on ticking and I watched the seconds hand stutter around the face of the clock. I could hear the click and the gear driving, clicking and the spring snapping about inside one second after the next in a hopeless cycle; tick tocking my existence, slipping a second or two back every hour as did i.

1:38am got up to incur exhaustion watched my show on TV. I love that DVR, I can stop time. The show was good, too good. Made me think even more.

2:13am reading news gets me drowsy, I turned on the laptop. More people die as elitists die their hair, hate the news.

2:16am she logged on. I ignored her, she didn't know. She asked about her artwork and I ignored her. Her art sucked. She asked me and I had to answer "your art sucks" but then put that sophomoric smiley face after my comment and told her we'll look at it tomorrow, I need sleep.

2:19am still can't sleep. But I must admit it is difficult when I'm still on the computer. I surfed my favorite blogs. No one had posted in several days. Where'd everyone go? Do they have lives that they are enjoying? Why can't I? And why am I talking to myself as if to have a conversation with a third person? I already know the answers. Am I schizophrenic? Can't be I wouldn't be aware of such a thing.

2:23am the thoughts attack me, riding the energy of the moon's lure as waves crashing my fragile shore. and my mind deteriorates. severe vengeful thoughts...
how many years lost?
what am i doing here?
why have i cursed the woman i love with indecision?
will i be damned to raise children in a place i don't beleive in?
have i given up on the studio too soon?
should i have taken that job?
why are these nasty nightmares recurring? is that why i can't sleep?
too many deaths this year. too many loved ones lost.
did he die because of me?
why is that bird on my car every morning talking to me waiting for an answer?
too many thoughts spin endlessly into a web of confusion
and the spider laughs at my pain.

2:48am if I don't sleep now, I never will, shouldn't have put that thought into my mind.

2:56am Sleepy, sleepy, no. tossing and turning too many times, it's the pain, the pain just keeps on growing. I focus on it and try to stop it. If I can see it, I can bid it's movement. So I scratch the surface, digging, into my skin as if pealing old lead paint off walls flaking off swatches of bad experiences tearing away until the flesh is exposed and there is only raw muscle. A single cell scurries about a lower vein identifying the source and is searching the path to my brain. It will signal to tell of more pain. I must stop it, I focus on it but it wouldn't hear my commands it can just do its duty to deliver the news. The response is immediate and sleep has escaped me. I wish I could short circuit the node to eliminate the response.

1:56am 1:56am? Damn it! Time slipped back one hour. I hate that. I gain an hour of restlessness, and worse I lost an hour of my life, I'm older and no more tired, just older and helpless, I couldn't take advantage of this hour. Why doesn't the slip happen when I really need it, like when I make a mistake.

2:19am i reach for some relief, into the medicine cabinet i dove as if sure salvation was there. What's this bottle with the label worn off, expired? Can't tell, there is nothing there to help, nothing there because i hate medicine and never bought anything.

3:17am back online. Getting too many invites for chats, damned MSN, never should have installed it. Then California logs on. Long lost friend chasing Hollywood dream. Talked chatted for minutes, promised to visit and so on. Made me want to work on my script.

3:29am script sucks, I deleted it, then regretted it. I decided to search for jobs in dubai. Having family and newly relocated friends their, I think I'll try it. But I kept getting pop-up messages of the evils of the U.A.E. and i can't justify from ghourbi to ghourbi. gotta sleep on that one.

4:12am try again. She's already sleeping, has been for hours. I turn and see her. Her eyes are softly shut. I wonder if she lies about her dreams. She must have dreams as I do. Have I been as supportive as she has? Did I do all I could to help her achieve them? This is a bad time to wake her. I just know I haven't sacrificed for her. She'll never tell me.

4:17am now I'm restless and guilty.

5:27am still too many thoughts, too many unsolved mysteries, too many issues race inside my head for supremacy.

6:11am third night in a row I notice the time at the same point.

6:30am she gets up for work. I pretend to have slept, she doesn't have time this early for my problems.

7:01am I stop talking to myself and sleep...

7:02am alarm goes off. Who sets the alarm for 7:02am. Damn, I did.
I set it to remind my of a story idea. I hate writing.

Off to work, I'll sleep while driving. my car has learned the roads of mondanity

Lost Transient of Temporal Disturbance

It was a full mewn. No the mewn was broken,
fragmented
Everyone here was massacred and doubly replaced
But they didn’t know it
They all looked at their faces, their faces
and couldn’t recognize
Who they were
My cigarette stopped burning
The remaining smoke slithered down my arm
forming text I couldn’t understand
Light another
And another
And an other
The studio is different while keeping everything in place
I am not stoned, I am pulverized

Goddard and Darwich visited our studio today
I think they just came to fuck with our heads.
Jean Luc made a pot of coffee swirling with drab colors
While Mahmoud laughed uncontrollably at my tears
I suffered many longing days expectant of the visit
I regret ever longing

The exit at Addison is strewn with shattered glass, always
Today it was swept clean in preparation
Of what, I don’t know.
There was an electric scurry of preparation
And I had to get out of the city
Cars of all races jocked their position
Black cars, brown cars, white cars jocked
And the Arab riding along in my car sat unsuspecting
What preparation
What was the mewn commanding happen
I knew I would not survive, this my last night on earth
I knew
My last night on Earth
My breath got shorter as this brilliant stroke occupied my heart
Now I can feel
And I know
But how to know how to wake the next day
Who would I be then
To wake I must transform
into being

Death comes with a smile

as i was producing a show last night, a guest arrived for an interview.
i recognized him, but didn't know from where.
he was a doctor.
i've seen him before.
we talked and he began to remember.
then i remembered.
he was the doctor who first saw my brother the night before he died.
my mind stiffened not allowing me to continue the conversation.
he didn’t seem like a bad man, he was nice and smiled. he even came to the house to offer condolences.
but he was also the man who didn’t recognize what was wrong with my brother.
he was the man who sent him home mistreated and in agony. he was the E.R. doctor who worked with my brother, an E.R. nurse.
as he sat in the guest chair, i checked the lighting and saw his face close up.
i saw the same smirk that was hovering over my brother in his last moments.
i saw the pain, the struggle, the white bloodless face of my brother as the doctor’s face smirked nothing wrong.
it wasn’t the doctor, it was the flashbacks that made me leave the studio shaken.
it was death coming with a smile to take my little brother and all I could do was be polite and trust him and the doctors.
i trusted them when they said “he’s one of us, we will do everything in our power, trust us.”
i trusted modern medicine with million dollar machines, ten-acre hospitals, and an educated staff.
but death came regardless and he wore a smile.

















F.I.H.1975-2006 (alfatiha 3rou7u)

Triumphant Transient's Reveled Return

Finally I have conquered the virus of Abbas and regained my blog. Rejoice fellow bloggers. The hybrid high-jacker is no more.

For my friends I apologize if his tactics were less than pleasant. (sorry dareen)
This was merely an exercise.
To those who believed it was really transient in disguise (mone), I say HA!, his poetry can not compare to mine :) as you will soon see.

Anyway if you were not offended and liked Abbas's style please visit his newly launched blog.

The Lawrence Tree

http://tthebbc.blogspot.com/

BTW I did like his poem he has created a style of uniquely murky amalgamation.

painting by jean-michel basquiat

I am the deliberate intrusion: Abbas.
I am as the hated morning disliked and resisted.
I have taken over this blog with the intent to post a poem. The poem that has been posted is a lament about the night. I was always one who loved the night, but now with a new career in the horizon--my dear night has been lost. This untitled poem laments you, my dear night; you, who had always froze time and diluted its realities, brining near the taste of eternity before the morning sun.

The poem is untitled but numbered—because I removed it from its mother’s nest— and I must return this egg soon enough before the mother cobra counts the poems, discovers one missing, and comes looking for me in my dreams as I sleep.

Please feel free to post comments—preferably in those sacredly blind AM HOURS—ambiguities will be cleared away as soon as I wake up.





#2

You know what you should practice?

The sucker punch—It ‘s bad.

The Dark night walks in on violence and desires to remain blind until morning beats it to sleep.
Then is when you will see it with powerful sun eyes.

High as a criminal.

And his breathing animal cage.

Survive dear beast.

Being put here—I can speak for you.

But…I chose to occupy the middle where good gives me depth
And bad gives me somber depth.

The color some say about here is grey.

But I see the assassin in the hills—I see him spotting you cold
He’s dressed in black and green remains the shield.

Above—Jupiter—Exploding—Red—Storms.

But you see me as bottomless black.

But Void inside you is room for a spider’s sac of eggs,
Occupying you next.

Hours later you will see

I’ll return and you will see.



Abbas Bazzi December 2006.

Didn't make it

Well I didn't make it to the cabin
got lost
gotta a flat tire
no one to take over my workload so took it with me
got stopped on the Canadian border
held for six hours
lost food rations on side of highway
got into an altercation with local poachers
got shot at
found cabin
lost keys
dug keys out of snow
then turned around and walked home
not bad for a 24hour day.

now I come back and my blog is highjacked by some strange hybrid of an Arab writer who doesn't care about clarity, spelling, grammar, or my ordeal. gotta find a way to take it back. Hopefully I can sneak this one post in before I'm locked out.

That's it, I'm out of here.

Time to leave all this behind.
To hell with work,
politics,
money,
people,
etc.
and to hell with technology.........

I'll be at the cabin.

A Modest Proposal

FOR PREVENTING THE CHILDREN OF FREE BIRTHING ARABS IN MIDDLE EAST FROM BEING A THREAT TO THEIR ISRAELI NEIGHBORS OR WESTERN IDEAL, AND FOR MAKING THEM FINANCIALY PROFITABLE IN A FREE MARKET SOCIETY

IT IS a melancholy object to those who walk through this encased civilization, when they see the market place, the groves, and the dirt play fields, crowded with olive skinned natives to this holiest of lands, followed by three, four, or six children, all with rags on their heads. These parents, hair on blanked faces, crowd prime real estate, not realizing the value they trample.
Instead of idle hands on idle street, need some semblance of modernity. Precious time wastes in caring for multiples of offspring. These offspring will in turn, having neither hope of structured education nor a future of promissory employment, transform frustration into violence and the fine democracy of Israel will suffer. The numbers gain, the population soon may burden not only Israel but also the whole of the Arab world, so much so that a downward spiral of spite leading to action and reaction will spin the region into chaos.

To save this great parcel of strategic plain, I implore you this consideration, on the heels of too many military escalations due to too many unresolved grievances, of a proposal; a proposal that must implement the salvation of our peoples at the cost of few minors. I, as many scholars and politicians wrestled for decades with the notion of the swiftest and fairest of all operations. This that follows is my assessment, in light of new technologies made possible via the Hiram Dydromulator, named after its inventor Hiram Balm. The Dydromulator works to extract water from various objects. It has been tested extensively in South Africa and has recently been awarded a U.S. patent.
This invention is a great problem solver; one, it extracts water a resource in great need and of short supply; two, it will proceed to solve our primary issue of the former mention above.

Given that the human body consists of anywhere from 68-89% water, that number slightly varies in youth, and the average weight of an Arab youth being 87lbs,the Dydromulator can extract roughly 60liters of water. Of course, the water must then be filtered for drinking (giving a lesser yield) and the youth will seize to exist; yet the results would be astounding. Given the large ever increasing number of Arab births, the supply of drinkable water will solve many issues. And the possible resolutions from this sole proposal is an exponential gift.

My intention is very far from being confined to resolving the issues my Zionist strategists struggle with, the result will in no doubt benefit the Arab parent as they primarily will be rid of the burden of having to raise a youth in a world stacked against them, no education, no employment, no hope, no property, no attainable dreams, no peaceful resolutions. This will give the parents freedom and in turn freedom to explore the Western ideals. The compensation will be substantial, yet far less costly than building walls, tanks and a public relations army. The parents may use that newfound wealth as opportunity to join the modern society, rich with capitalistic potential. Luxuries such as Starbucks, a Whopper and an iPod are now within reach. Moreover, more land will be vacated; the population ratios will balance and eventually favor the right, leaving less possibility for conflict.

As many would only naturally wonder, what backlash would arise? This is a noble concern; however, given that the core of this plan deals with decreasing the mass of Arab populous and with limited numbers of future generations as well as the fate of those capable of concern leaning to extinguish due to age, the uproar would be eventually become negligible. Lest we forget the older generation having sold their young would be enjoying the benefits of commercialism and have less need for quarral.

As a concerned citizen of the region, a scientist, and a man who has given great care to the study of this situation, I humbly present this most modest of proposals for debate and consideration.

---Dr. Mafishi Beid

Cool Upcoming Events in Brotown (Dearborn area)

www.galeriecamille.com

MARCH 16-31
at the Arab American Museum www.arabamericanmuseum.org
Adnan Charara: JUXTAPOSED

Adnan Charara (friend and neighbor to otherart.org) exhibits his unique art.
The exhibit features new artwork that explores the challenges of immigrating to the United States, and the process of becoming American. Drawing upon the firsthand experiences of an immigrant artist, this work will reflect upon the ways in which people retain their traditions while assimilating to a new culture, and how these traditions contribute to a broader American identity. These themes speak not only to the Arab American experience, but also to the experiences of a number of immigrant communities in America.

www.elff.com
www.detroitunleaded.com
MARCH 21-29
East Lansing Film Festival & the Lake Michigan Film Competition

Schedule is not yet announced but if you’re in the area check out the LMFC for my good friend Rola Nashef’s entry and the best short around Detroit Unleaded

www.arabamericanmuseum.org

MARCH 29-APRIL 1st
DIWAN: A Forum for the Arts

Annual artists conference at the Arab museum I was part of it last year, now I’ll just relax and enjoy it
Diwan unites Arab-American artists, scholars and performers from throughout the United States, representing myriad academic fields and artistic genres. Activities include presentation of new research into Arab-American arts; poetry and prose readings; film screenings, and musical performances. This three-day dialogue reinforces AANM’s commitment to providing a place for community members and artists to meet, exchange ideas and exhibit their work. It also encourages audiences to explore the boundaries of art in addressing social and cultural issues related to Arab Americans and to the community at large.

www.marcelkhalife.com
APRIL 5th
Global Thursdays: Marcel Khalife with Absolute Ensemble

My fifth Marcel concert going with about 20 friends. This one may already be sold out.
Orchestra Hall at the Max M. Fisher Music Center
One night only! Global Thursdays moves to the Max M. Fisher Music Center as AANM and the Detroit Symphony Orchestra present Marcel Khalife with Absolute Ensemble at Orchestra Hall. Khalife is renowned for his signature blend of poetry and lyricism, while Absolute has made a career of crossing musical boundaries.

www.rawi.org
MAY 17-20
RAWI 2nd National Conference

I’ll be speaking on a panel there. Arab writers, my kind of group, I think I’ll join. the Radius of Arab American Writers, Inc. - is organizing its second national conference in Dearborn, Michigan on May 17-20, 2007 at the Arab American National Museum. The conference welcomes RAWI members and others who are interested in engaging in the Arab American literary community. The conference will provide a venue to present our writings and ideas to one another and to the Detroit and Arab communities. Our gathering will offer an opportunity for colleagues to share strategies for publishing and circulating our work and also for confronting academic, community, and political barriers.

JUNE 22-24

www.alliedmediaconference.com
9th Annual Allied Media Conference
Otherart.org participated last year at Bowling Green, now it’s on our turf, should be great. Tower was designed by a fellow Otherite Joe Namy www.olivetones.com
The Allied Media Conference is an annual, weekend-long gathering of influential alternative media-makers and committed social justice activists, a unique cross-section of media workers, community organizers, daring filmmakers, ambitious radio producers, serious publishers, skilled web designers, and artists whose work makes revolution irresistible. This year's theme focuses on participatory media that transforms the producer and receiver, "Breaking Silence, Building Movements."

www.americanarab.com

JUNE 15-17
12th Annual Arab International Festival

I’ve covered this event every year, it’s exhausting. But you’ll see people from all over the world and reunite with old friends.
The estimated number of visitors is 300,000 filling about a mile of Warren Ave. for three days. The usual festival atmosphere with an Arab-America flare.

pics for above posted events

The Clash

Why didn't Lebanon invade Israel and bomb the hell out of them after this border
clash? Is that defence reserved only for Israel? Well thankfully, it ended rather quietly; however this is only a minor tease compared to past Israeli incursions and violations. Past, more severe, violations have been brushed aside with no accountability. I guess, there shouldn't be any surprise, It's not like there is a peace keeping force on the border. What is the UN anyway?

Don't know what to make of it

I got the news that my Grandparents are coming back to the US from Lebanon. Even though excited to see them, I found it strange that they would visit in the middle of a Midwestern winter, also strange that they would leave there village now after they were so set on staying during the war. (an Izraeli missle just missed their car as they were leaving their bombed Tibneen neighborhood for Beirut).

Well, it gets more confusing to me, now is seems that my frail 97 year-old grandfather is on his way without my grandmother. She did not get a visa. It seems that even thought my grandfather has a US citizenship and they both had been living in the US for decades, and raised several children, grandkids, and great grandkids, my grandmother never recieved her citizenship. But why wouldn't the US give her a visa? With the exception of my mom (who she's staying with in Tyr) her whole family is here, half her life has been here, her husband, a US citizen, is coming here. Why would they refuse her a visa?

so I'm worried. What would make my grandfather leave his wife of 70 or more years behind now, when he didn't when he was healthy, during the war or at any other time in his life? I can only think of one thing, and its not good.


[this is where she is now, apart from 8 of her 9 children, grandkids, great grandkids, great-great-grandkids and of course husband]

pic was before the war, I'm not sure what's there now. maybe just the Brazilian flag

And now for something completely different!

Everyone needs a good laugh now and again.

Monty Python: Spam

Vortex of Pain

What can you do when there’s nothing you want to do?
How can shut it all down without ending your life?
How can you escape without being absent?
Or turn it all off without hurting the people who rely on you?
Where do you go?
I’ve tried time travel, tried geographic shifts and even treks into alternate universes.
Hell, I’ve even tried meditation and prayer.
And there is just nothing to bring on idle weightlessness. Nothing to silence the voices or bring to halt the twitching. Nothing to drown the thoughts or place them in a cryogenic state until the cure. There is nothing and nothing more.
But not the nothing I seek, this one has the incessant buzz of a low voltage leak hunting the first compromise of the shield to leap out onto my unsuspecting twitching hands attempting only relief and the fix but finding the sting of electric shock to toss me back into the cycle of cyclical thought un resolving my conflict yet compounding into a diseased strand to merge with past strands into a strain of incurable parasitic mind razors which lead me to forget what original thought thought of this torment .
And I want to shut it all down.
How do you shut it down without ending your life?
How can you escape without being absent?
How can you just turn it off before you’re the one who’s hurt?

"End Israeli Apartheid" Week

go to this site for all the info and more
http://www.endisraeliapartheid.net/

The real tragedy of death is the lives that it leaves behind
and the calculating continuation of life,
not allowing a stop not even a pause
and you must keep pace or be run right over.
You think everything ends or every thing must stop after the death.
It doesn't, it doesn't slow down or offer you a choice.
you try to stop, to ignore reality, to mourn in solitude, to remember, to think, to breath, to run, to escape, to hide, to cry, to scream, to breath, just to breath….
six months later you find yourself forgetting how to breath
then someone with a hand on your shoulder assures you that life goes on.