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