whose egoًًٌُ

You're Extraordinary

2008-06-06T21:05:00.006+03:00

Nobody else is here.
I'm alone in this.

What do i make of this instinctive overwhelming urge to run?
I'd make a Great Escape, if i only could.
I have nowhere to hide, but also no one to hide from, other than myself, and this truth.
No enemies.
No monsters.
Only myself and this mighty Great Truth.
I have nowhere to hide, cause Great Truths just can not be fled.

It's expecting me to live up to its own greatness, to grow and flourish on it.
I'm expecting it to bestow its greatness on me.
To make me e x t r a o r d i n a r y.

Well.
In a way it's a relief that Great Truths, pretty much like Great Lies, feed on their own momentum, then in time become merely trivia.

O, the stuff of nightmares.

2008-05-15T04:53:00.003+03:00

Sometimes it seems to me that the road to understanding is paved with a lot of.... misunderstandings.

Sour Grapes

2008-05-11T14:13:00.002+03:00

I poured us a drink and raised the glass to us.
As i brought it back to my mouth, it was miraculously empty.
Who stole my toast?
Who drank my glory?
The clinking of the crystal glasses was deafening music in my ears.
I did not sulk.
I licked your lips for a taste in content......

* Originally Posted on Tuesday, April 27, 2006

Ordinary Love Story IX

2008-05-07T02:55:00.004+03:00

All those years, silent still.
He thought he was invincible.

2008-05-05T10:07:00.014+03:00

This is not Maxxed. This is "The Superiority".

The Superiority is back

I am talking to you.
Now feel privileged and bow.

I took over this blog. I took over the world. The World is mine. you are mine. Its all mine.
Mine alone. I own you. I control you. I am provoking you now, aren't I?
Purple is the color of royalty. I am royalty.
Yellow is the color of imbeciles. you do the maths.

وأم اللي مش عاجبو

I vs. I

2008-04-28T15:22:00.010+03:00

The solitary man only truly exists in a thought of his own creation.
His monochrome world of inflexibility and unyielding mental shortcomings usually takes a hefty toll on his hungry heart.
Sometimes, a special someone steps into his retreat with a new thought that brings him warmth and a sense of companionship, of living.
A new-found taste for colors.
And for a while he ceases to perceive only in terms of "I".
And he's no longer alone at heart.
But try to take the solitude out of his mind, that would be like trying to take the black out of the crow.....

محاشى

2008-04-13T00:59:00.003+02:00

مزكوم
مش عارف أشم أى حاجه
باكل محشى
مش حاسس بطعمه خالص
بس أنا فاكر ان طعمه لذيذ
و انى باحبه أوى
فباكل كتير
و أعمل أصوات

يام يام يام

بأمتل انى مستمتع
...........................................

In Black Ink

2008-04-10T22:03:00.006+02:00

When i write i use black ink, because it's subtle, unassuming, rational and mundanely -yet evidently- substantial.
However, when i open my mouth to speak, my words are a completely different story.
Needy.
Clumsy.
Unkind and uncouth (Look it up. I know you want to.).

So i hereby wish i could exclusively communicate in post-its.
Small square yellow post-its, adorned with black ink.
I'd hand her a post-it, with a piece of my mind.
I'd slave to come up with original elaborate ways for the most basic of them feelings.
But i'd fail miserably, cause i guess someone, somewhere, at some point, have said it all.
And she had felt it all before. And more.
So while being sincere may be my thing, being novel remains a rare commodity.
Therefore, my post-its would always come stripped to the core, but drenched to the bone.
A very simple man, i am. Pathetic really.

Reading:
"i need"
"i do"
"i wish"
"i am"
"i miss"
"i hope"
"i regret"
"i fear"
"i melt"
"i apologize"
"i dream"
and on a good day, "i love".

And i'd mean them.
Cause in a way that's not just what love has made out of me.
But it's also what i've made out of love.
Those perfect eligible two-words sentences.
They go round and round and round.
Perpetually.
And there's no escaping. No, there isn't.

But is it really possible to write about love in black ink?

Anyways.
She'd always have one reply:
"Feel me."

Well i do. But do you?

2008-04-10T14:37:00.002+02:00

This is NOT maxxed. This is a person who is way cooler than maxxed.
This is my first post, This a mighty post, a powerful post, a divine post. The strongest of all posts.
Do you know why?
I am sure you are wondering why
But you will not be granted such a blessing.

Written by: The Superiority.

On Winding Spring

2008-03-27T22:09:00.013+02:00

God created us in his infinite goodness, then evil came and perverted everything.

Things happen and your plans change.

In the year 46BC, Gaius Julius Caesar added a total of 90 days to the calendar just to make sure that the Spring comes on time.
Time was at odds with the well-being of Mother Nature.
So time had to change, and its sanctity did not spare it.
The human kind just had to adjust accordingly....

There's no scheme.

Nothing is concrete. Nothing is sacred.

Accept change.
Adapt or spend a lifetime spitting into the wind.

God created us in his infinite goodness, then evil came and perverted everything.
I don't see God dwelling, so learn from the Master.

Heart-Shaped Life

2008-03-23T11:04:00.013+02:00

Think of life in terms of geometrical shapes.

Square-shaped life. Triangular-shaped life. Circular-shaped life. Rectangular-shaped life.

Now, just like in a toddler's toy, try to fit each shape in its corresponding hole.
Square-shaped hole.
Triangular-shaped hole.
Circular-shaped hole.
Rectangular-shaped hole.

The learning process is very demanding, exhausting and intimidating.
Very frustrating at times, cause it's based on trial and failure.
But also very rewarding when finally mastered, when each of our many lives perfectly fits in its matching hole.
When each of our feelings is handled with the healthy amount of care and obsession, not more, not less.
When each of our words is directed towards its rightful owner.
When each of our efforts is channeled into a meaningful endeavor.
And i learned that whatever shape of life i'm having to deal with, the secret to happiness and composure lies in locating the right hole for it.

Only then life would really come to place.

However, easier said than done.

Sometimes it all gets overwhelming.
The shapes are all mingled up.
The hole always seems a tad too big, a tad too small, a tad too long, a tad too short, a tad too round, or a tad too sharp around the edges.
So confusion arises.
And we walk vain distances in our wide holes.
And we limp in our tight ones.
And we become the misfits.

Sometimes a person walks into our life, and touches us in unprecedented manners.
Wakes up dormant instincts.
Resurrects long gone emotions.

Then he walks away.

And leaves a person-shaped void inside us.
Very empty and hollow.
Very sad.
Very sorry.

A heart-shaped hole, that had been a house for many misfits over the years, but seemingly only him have succeeded in making a home out of it.

In fear of being a love-cliché, i'll refrain from stating that only this person would be able to fill up this hole, if ever again.
To give me this sense of wholeness and fulfillment again, this cozy warmth of a home.

Even if it sure feels this way now, in fear of slipping into the pit-less crevice of self-pity and obsession, i'll refrain from making that statement, that seems to be undeniably evident now, yet, in my optimistic approach to calamity, was never credible.

"Optimistic approach?" i hear you say.

Yes.
Right now i'm in the process of locating the appropriate sorrow-shaped hole.

2008-03-23T09:45:00.013+02:00

I haven't blogged in ages.

I was happy, genuine spotless happiness.
The kind of happiness that encapsulates your senses and throws you into life in a melancholy-proof bubble.
Owns up to your whole being and claims it.

I was happy and i had nothing to add to it, nothing to say about it, nor did i have the urge to come up with something.

I was happy.
And that was enough.

Now that my bubble has burst, observing in retrospective, i find it rather stupid how i had not bothered to keep a record or a thought-log of nearly 3 months that will most likely prove to be one of the most joyful awe-inspiring eras of my life.

I find it rather sad
how happiness
does/did
(not)
inspire me..............

Ordinary Love Story VIII

2008-01-23T14:53:00.000+02:00

Such a primitive animal.

Willing, but dismantled.
Faithful, but not destined.

Apt for love, but not quite designed for it.....

The Greatest Story

2008-01-11T07:42:00.000+02:00

It's nothing but idle chatter and clatter.

We slave to make ourselves heard, but we fail.
All our talk is nothing but idle chatter and clatter.
Fate is a wicked rehearsed laugh that scares the doves away: It shall prevail.

All living things must eventually submit to the three divine daughters of Zeus and Themis:
Klotho spins the thread of life.
Lakhesis determines the length of the thread.
Atropos cuts the thread when the proper time has come for death.

Then a capricious someone decides to spin the wheel of time backwards.
And now we're stuck in reverse down the time line.
A flock of Jay-birds flying rearwards at baffling speeds skillfully avoids alps and mountain peaks, they have no eyes in the back of their heads.
Anthems are sung backwards, no long practice was needed.
A man lives a full prosperous life before being reduced to a fetus and stuffed up a mother's womb, assumably to die.
The sun still dies a pious punctual death, in the east.
We color before we draw.
We rot in penitence over sins we are yet to commit.

To be able to tell The Greatest Story, one needs space and time for validation.
And free will for credibility.

"Melancholy" is probably the most beautiful word in the human book, the most felt.
But she didn't know "Melancholy". She had to look it up.

"Sadness or depression of the spirits; gloom"

She read me the definition aloud, but nothing got through.

Like i said.

It's nothing but idle chatter and clatter.

Ordinary Love Story VII

2007-12-03T23:03:00.000+02:00

2007-11-28T00:21:00.000+02:00

When i was a kid i used to steal gum.
A LOT OF GUM.

Cheesehound Dog

2007-11-22T21:46:00.000+02:00

Why is everyone and everything so damn CHEESY to me.
What the hell is wrong with me?!

2007-10-30T01:12:00.000+02:00

I need a secretary.

Someone presentable, clean, well-mannered, and knows her way around Word and Excel.
Fair English is a plus.

Any help?!

Dead Space

2007-10-19T13:27:00.000+02:00

The cat trots around the room coquettishly, her furry tail projected vertically out of her ass and propelled assertively into the air like an antenna, insistently swatting invisible flies.

I'm slouching on the couch, my legs stretched on the opposing table.
As our paths cross, her tail brushes against the back of my bare thighs and tickles me.
I don't mind.
Neither does she.

I call her nothing.
I call her Cat.

On her 1st day over, i had to lure her out of her hiding with slices of Emmental cheese and Persian delicacies.
I'd go down on all fours to collect her frail body from underneath chairs and sofas.
She was a lump hardly the size of a fist, as needy and delicate as a dust bunny.
Now look at her, prancing around at such a pompous gait, parading her immaculate body to let me know who owns the room.

It's the 19th of October 2007, I write in my diary:

"If i died and my body went undiscovered for four days, this cat would consequently run out of food supplies. She'd meow for two days and sniff me for two more, then eventually she'll dig into my corpse with her horny claws and feast on my guts, nibbling and taking her sweet time. When the smell of decay finally alarms the neighbors, the police would break in and find her in the corner flossing her canines with my finger nails!
Oh- What a sad lad, the officer in charge would exclaim, killed by his own pet cat.
And the accompanying force would heartedly approve."

"Never trust a milky white cat, on a diet of Kiri, turned peachy orange for no obvious reasons." My Mama once told me.

Cat now stares at me with defiant squinting eyes, fiery yellow oculi in which swim, non-chalantly, dome-shaped pitch black corneas.
Her gaze dissects me and probes me to the marrow.
She knows.
She knows.
She balances her sleek body on her claws.
Her back arches up and her stomach contracts into a thin foil of intestines with a double crust of flesh and fur.
She sways her body backwards, allowing her back limbs to bend under its weight.
I expect the feline beast to dive across the room and land on my face at any moment.

"O, the blood bath." I calculate.

I feel like a tamer who's lost his cat-o'-nine-tails in a circular circus ring with nowhere to hide.
The herd of lions, now sensing their superiority, has amassed to have the final laugh.
Cat's jaws part ways at a pace so slow yet evidently tangible.
I can almost hear their cogs engage.
I await a raging roar to come blow me out of my slumber, but instead, a docile purr comes staggering out.
So swift and easy, it amounted to nothing but a gentle waft, like air through air, and in my head that was the oddness of it, how such a mighty gesture could bear nothing but such a small pleadable sound.
And i reckon that was probably also the beauty of it, that a sound so small and trivial could prove to be so shattering, so deafening, and even if not to negotiate with matter and substance, then to holily fade in dead space upon dead space.

The Bitter (Do I Hear Sweet?) End

2007-10-05T04:29:00.000+02:00

+++ He knew in his heart those woods bore no carrots+++

<-------- -shes; ...................................................................................
..................................................................... through treeS and bu- ------>
wear ~~~~~~ I ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ly .....
..... jostled his ......................................... way ....................
....................................................................... raBBit ......................................
.................................................. the dysphoric .............................................
..... and ........................................................... eeeee e V er y night.........
..................................................... Ev- ........... Ev-.......... Everyday .................
....................................................... Ev- ...............................................................

Email-me your one-line story, i'll make sthg out of it.

2007-09-20T04:42:00.000+02:00

مسكت الورقه البيضا و القلم
و تنحت

معرفتس أكتب ايه
أو اكتبه لمين
أو اكتبه ازاى

تنحت كتير
و بدأت أشخبط
رسمت راجل من خط واحد من غير مارفع القلم عن الورقه
و رسمت زرافه
بس كانت النسب بين رجليها و رقبتها غير متناسقه
و رسمت كرسى
و عملت سهم و كتبت بين قوسين كرسى
بعدين مضيت
و أرخت
و عملت الورقه طياره
رمبتها من الشباك بس ماطارتش
لفت و رجعتلى
و وقعت تحت رجلى

زعلت أوى
اتخنقت
أخدت نفس عميق
نفس واحد بس.... عشان الهوا يكفى الكل
بعدين ساورنى احساس مقبض
و تملكنى شك فظيع
ان الهوا اللى بدخله صدرى كل يوم... كل لحظه
هوا مشموم قبل كده

كحيت جامد
طلعت كل النفس اللى لسه واخده
و طلع معاه جزء من النفس اللى قبله
و سبته يروح لصاحب النصيب
و قلبت الطياره مركبه
و مليت البانيو و حطيتها
و نزلت على ركبى ألعب
و حمدت ربنا على نعمة العقل
.........................................................

Random Fact

2007-09-06T01:25:00.000+03:00

My Granma is crazier than yours

People Are Strange

2007-08-29T02:25:00.000+03:00

People log on to msn, promptly change their status to "away" and ignore me (thank God), then literally one minute later -while we're both still on msn, mind ya- move to my Facebook wall to go on and on and on about how they miss the bejesus outta me.

I shake my head and rub my eyes in disbelief:
"But i'm one click away. Look. That's my nick there. "كاف" . I'm right there people. RIGHT FOOKIN' THERE."

I'll never get people.
People are weird weird weird creatures.
Weird i tell ya.

أرخميدس

2007-08-26T03:09:00.000+03:00

تعجِبُنى
أنت تشخبط فى الكراس و تعجِبُنى
أنت تعرف الألوان و تعجِبُنى
أنت تقفز فى الهواء و تعجِبُنى
أنت تنبض بالحياة و تعجِبُنى
أحاول استدراكك لسماعِ ملحمتى حتى نهايتها
حتماً سأفشل
تستدركنى أنت و نقفز معاً فى المسبح
نستسلم لسطوة المياه
أتعجب لمقدرة جسدك على البقاء طافياً
أسألك و لكنك لا تعرف السبب
أنت لم تسمع قط بأرخميدس
أنت لا تبالى بأرخميدس ... (أو على الأقل هكذا تدّعى)

أحاول استدراكك لسماع ملحمتى حتى نهايتها
حتماً سأفشل
أتعجب لمقدرة جسدك على البقاء طافياً
و لشخبطك فى الكراس
و لمعرفتك للألوان
و لقفزاتك فى الهواء
فأنت تنبض بالحياة و تعجِبُنى

تعجِبُنى. تعجِبُنى. توحَشًنى

أضغاث أحلام

2007-08-19T02:20:00.000+03:00

نفسى أحفر فى الجنينه فى مارينا و ألاقى الكنز المدفون
أو أنزل الصبح بدرى بالحله و المنخل و أنقب عن تراب الذهب فى البحيره المستديره
و تتحل كل مشاكلى و أبقى غنى و أعيش بقية عمري آكل الكعك و المقانق فى سلام
و أشجع الزمالك لغاية ما يجيلى بله حيسي.....
لكن حتى الخيالات دى بقت رجعيه و متخلفه و غير مشروعه
من ساعة ما مجلة ميكى طالتها أيدى ماما سوزان
و "سوبر ميكى" بقت بخمسه جنيه
و "مجلد ميكى" بيتجاب بالتقسيط على فيزا البنك الأهلى (القراءه للجميع برضه)
و بقت بطه بتبيع فطايرها فى كارفور
و دهب بيستثمر أمواله فى "إعمار"
.......
تعبت من الجرى , و ياريتنى هاوصل