And the Winner is......

Me!

I received five Telly Awards this year.

Feels good to be recognized. My department won 19 altogether ( I was involved in all)

My son is now a blogger (i feel old)

Is that good or bad? I can't tell yet, but it meant I had to give him an email. I'm not sure if this opens up the evil of technology or the benefit, either way, it had to be done. I'll just keep a close eye. (it also means I'm older than i thought i was)

Anyway check out his blog and post something nice (he's only a kid).
he love math games and riddles.

www.bibosite.blogspot.com

and calls himself the mathmagician.

"The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." - W.S.

There was this lingering image of happiness, now lost...

I loved going to the Fox Theater with my father to catch the latest Kung Fu film. The days you thought you'd have forever and take for granted are gone. Now it will host Nancy 3jram (but i appreceite them re-modeling)

I miss the Pandora theater, before cable or satelitte when they showed an Arabic film, that made the immigrant collective laugh from joy and cry from longing. ( I loved watching Ghawar, even if I couldn't understand him and remember my father and his friends talking about the "good ole days". Now it's an office building.)

I hate my friend for turning my childhood movie house into a grocery store. (bastard, sorry J...yeah, I know people gotta live) The Camelot was a bit of heavenly escape that was just down the street. Watched my first Bruce Lee flick there, got into my first fight after such flick.

Can't even remember the name of the dirty, smoke-filled dive in Lebanon that I was told was destroyed in the war. I film on the 3eid for khams 2roush was a delight.

I saw my first horror film at the Ford-Wyoming Drive-In (this one is still there, it even expanded)

A Little Spring Cleaning

This post is about getting some lingering thoughts out of my head and onto this blog. there is no rhyme or reason nor relation or relevence to these thoughts. The random order is required.


#1. Have you seen the living conditions in Iraq? Have you seen the occupiers teasing the people? it makes Lebanon look like a garden party.

#2. Hunker Down Emiraties! Haliburton is moving into your little patch of glitter filled desert. This makes me worry that the Apocalypse is days away.

#3. The owner of one of my favorite sports teams (Detroit Pistons) is a major doner to Izrael. Well it always has been a bit of hipocracy paying taxes and living in a land that hates you and supports your killers.

#4. The film "300" supports my propaganda theory. Iran has condemned the film as being a slanderous portrail of Persians. Hollywood did not disagree.

#5. Olmert admits that Izrael has been planning the war on Lebanon as the resistance has stated. Where is the outcry? Where is the appology to the Hizb? Where is the...never mind. (sidenote: Japan had already surrendered before the attack on Hiroshima, Truman bombed them anyway, and then again)

#6. Izraeli companies are selling property and housing in settlements stolen from Palestinians. They are selling in New Jersey. more info: http://www.adc.org/index.php?id=3067

#7. Passing for Normal posted a pic of a clothing label that included an appology for having Bush as the president. I wonder how long that company will last.

#8. I heard that the US is passing a law that would guarantee the Izraeli right to Return to Arab countries. What??? Who has this info? Where can I read it?

#9. The state of the world today makes me think that the Apocalypse is right around the corner, the signs are there. But perhaps we ignore it. When was the last time there was Peace on Earth? Has that ever happened?

#10. Children in Lebanon are still being blown up by Izraeli bombs. Remember they sprayed the country with tens of thousands of grenades before leaving.

#10. I'm sure you've seen this pic before, but it seems like Lebanon has gone through several states of love and hate in this past year or so. What a volatile country with a schizophrenic identity that you can't help but love.

#12. Sure i know this is trivial but Blogger hates me. It will not let me switch to the new blogger and I always have trouble leaving comments among other issues.

#13. I received a rejection letter for my poetry that was submitted for an Arab anthology. OK so my stuff is not great, but to get that in a formal letter is painful.

#14. Why do I have 1,000 visits from the Manitoba area but no comments? Why do I have comments from places that do not exist?

#15. Why is everyone moving to Dubai? For some reason, I feel like if I try it I'd turn into a pillar of salt.

#16. There are about 376 more thoughts to clear out, some more important than the ones i got to, but I've run out of time.

Ignore this post

Twisting thoughts ransacked my mind through the night.
Six a.m. not a wink was batted.
Struggling passions tatter my heart and soul in their fight.
Next day no work mattered.
“I hate you!” to both you and you, I cried.
Make me choose between passion and peace.
By you the truth was told, I lied.
Take my chances with poverty and pain.

Peculated passion I steal
Progressive pain I sooth
Peaceful pandemonium I skill
Prosperous possibilities I see
Pity politics I sneak
Paralyzed pansy I subsist
Peaceful poverty I suture
Pious pessimism I swear
Pathetic pondering I surmise
Putrid potential I save
Pampered pardon I salvage
Partisan pacts I sell
Parental pageantry I seek
Pale panache I show
Parlayed pendulum I slave
Pacified perception I stick
Personal perdition I seize
Pestering pestilence I sense

And I sleep with death’s final call

serving up the night

Hunched over bistro tables rolling the cigarette about in a dance of deceitful defiance, convincing my cup to remain full of coffee, I reach for another match.

They walk in with a traditionally late strut, nodding their greeting. I didn’t care to move as their usual demeanor of artist’s arrogance didn’t move me. They sat after an emphatic plop of their pens and notes and I was to read every last one.

Somewhere along the night interest waned, passing by the black silken mud infested with a creamy swirl, an insistence of those too timid to venture.

Again another night ends its reign at the coffee house, this time there are people I’ve never seen and Abbas. He smokes his damned clove cigarettes that clog your senses with a musky stench that bullies the finest of sweet fragrances into submission.

I’ve drunk maybe five cups of my usual ghastly drug, before their arrival, my mind wrestles with beans and memories. Then she came to fill their cups. Before I could motion the waitress “I’ve had my fill”, my cup is filled again as I reach for another match in a cyclical habit that is regretfully undying. The clove scent just dissipated by the charm of the aroma she drew along, moving my loss of thought. They noticed her. I noticed her. My reasons were not as obvious. Although my appreciation for beauty is intact, I found her approach uneven for her position. She was in need of something not found at an all-night café. I knew her. Not by name but by stance.

Just as my thoughts shifted to her presence she stopped, retracting the pot in a slow manner careful not to scold and looked.
Feeling the stare, I looked up, she knew I had the answers but knew I couldn’t help. And she returned to her uncomfortable routine.

Then I began to read the notes of failed writers and the moves of an unfortunate woman. Sometime before she landed here, her cascading black Bedouin hair brushed her shoulder a time too many and identified her all too often. She couldn’t hack at it with enough haste.

That gave her limits notice and she began her journey. Her approach to our table was a unique variance to her exit. Coming, she was confident, charged, and powerfully live. Leaving she was morbidly tame.

Her walk wore her down as the tally of the night and the weight of those ancient accessories took their toll. That tired smile ventured on in spite of the challenges befallen her. The read was shorter than I anticipated; that stance didn’t have the legs for long stories.

Her one attempt to escape was cut short, a guilt-ridden run-away from home. Delicately worn hands showed me the timeline. It was painful, but just a mild step on the road to come. Her days were ahead as she realizes there was power in the attempt. After her shift she gathers notes on napkins to merge into stories.

She will be the writer she had always hoped to be. As for those who infest their coffee, those days may never come.

An anomaly, an apparition, and another abnormality

I'm packing my bags and moving to the Jabal. I will make films of absurd meaningless visions that I project on the barks of neglected trees for me and the animals to see. Each morning I will rise with my daily primordial scream of pain mixed ecstasy as the bites of large insects blood-let my putrid whitened body and I will be darkened by the revolving suns and by dried blood and will be smirking happy expressions to pass the day till the night lets me project again those ominous yet trivial cells that inlet curious or accidental passer being into the dreary soul of a trite and out of focus man.





I'm packing my bags and moving to the Nahur. I will sculpt monstrous reflections of demonized memories to let stand as dams for the neighboring constructionist mammals. Each night I will give to slumber by the warmth of the drying clay that plasters its weight upon me and sooth my doubt with membrance of the cuddled days I spent on the moon and will pass this night by the water's conversing rise and fall adding rhythm to my dreams until the morning crashes of dying trees unearthing clay to sculpt into the shapes of idols lost by a trite and shapeless man.





I'm packing my bags and moving to the Wadi... I will sketch sarcastic shadows that darken the passing clouds casting memories on my captive hills to use as barriers. Each new moon I will sacrifice another dream as a child of my past regretfully wanders the tomb of hope carved from the mountain by enslaved lost hands that I stare with apathy as the last drop takes with it the last breath and there is no turning back for a trite and putrid man.

Massari

watch the video, leave a comment on the state of the world today or don't, at this point i don't give a damn!

Steven Wright comedy

for those who need a laugh just about now. (turn off music on bottom of page first)

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