Gorgeous Alien

The tablecloth is damp. No matter..sit outside and enjoy the smell of rain on freshly cut grass..lose at virtual poker and run out of games to play..look up sewing classes..don't book any..you know you're never going to actually sew, don't you?..stare into your cinnamon tea for an eternity, witness it get cold, colder, then really cold..reminisce on the taste of sugar..take a deep breath..wet grass smells like watermelon from your balcony..it always has...
Reassess, it's a favorite pastime..revisit your bank account, anonymous donations aren't unheard of..daydream, at night;it's important..donate some of the fake donation you just received, get rid of your virtual guilt..and now travel.
Travel without bags, with no emotional luggage..go to mars and meet a gorgeous alien..forget about men with fake yellow teeth who dare disappoint you..audacity..what a fab word! Savor it..roll it onto your tongue and enjoy it, just like you enjoy all words..you keep running from words but words keep following you..what an adventure..the thrill of a chase and the volatility of an abstraction..you recently even had a dream complete with a word to explain it..even your dreams now come with a title, with a label, with the utter stupidity of confinement..inescapable confinement..you've tried, but you are confined..the less you say it, the more pressured you feel to admit it..the past is just not easy to escape..a horrendous task with no aids, none in your present anyway..
Tidy up your living room, it's said to lift up spirits..go back to your balcony and light your cig...look up to the sky, witness the passage of a machine..pretend it's a shooting star and wish for mars, for your gorgeous alien and his pearly teeth..

A Place In My Heart For Dubai

I am not sure where to start to describe this trip. It wasn’t planned, it was bordering messy even, but aren’t all the best endeavors a result of spontaneity and impulsiveness?

It all began with a silly FB comment I made in February in which I told my friend who is residing in Dubai that it simply isn’t fair for her to get the chance to see Julio Iglesias’s concert without me, and since it was almost my birthday, my good friend decided that my gift would be a ticket to attend the concert with her!

And thus hasty preparations were on the way as I looked for the cheapest ticket possible and put the visa’s acquiring in the hands of the travel agent while I busied myself with extra work to go on the trip with a clear head and a clearer conscience.

I had been longing for a vacation for quite a while, and saw this trip as my opportunity to finally do it, and so I decided I better save my money to indulge in my shopping there, but as usual, whilst the intentions were there, the goal remained unattainable in my case; I mean what did you expect? Lebanon was on sale in February and I simply couldn’t help squandering my earnings here and there. I did a more refined job saving in March though and went to Dubai ready to shop!

Enough introductions already! Long story short, I made it there after a long, and I mean long work shift and a car breakdown. I slept throughout the entire plane trip, except for the little hassle caused by the 50 something year old passenger sitting next to me as she kept hovering over me to look at the nothing beneath us from the window.

Dubai at first glance wowed me. I looked in awe at the skyscrapers towering above me, and saw the modernity of the architecture all around me with wonder. All the buildings on both sides of Cheikh Zayed’s highway made the skyscrapers’ district in Qatar look like a small, far away oasis compared to the majesty of Dubai.

My 6 days and 5 nights spent as my friends’ guest were packed with shopping and culinary experiences by day and clubbing by night. My feet asked for mercy after pacing twice through the classic Ibn Battouta mall and later ached while restlessly wandering inside the luxurious Dubai mall. Souk el Bahar also proved to be an excellent place to shop for souvenirs and trinkets.

Along with the shopping came the sightseeing, the restaurants and the coffee breaks which were all marvelous and worth the while; Burj Khalifa and Burj el Arab, the fountain show, and of course, Jumeirah with its various outlets to name a few.

During the nights, I came to see the other face of that beautiful city. Dubai offered me a wide range of choices when it came to nightlife, and each club I tried had a unique feel and a distinguished ambiance to it. 360, Barasti, the Belgium Beer Café, Trader Vic’s and People all were up to the standards if not above them. The mix of nationalities only increased the glamor of these places, and the obvious over enjoyment painted on everybody’s face made these venues all the more appealing.

Julio’s concert was magical, whimsical and touchy. I felt suspended in time as I listened to his legendary voice serenading me with my childhood’s poetry. It was a concert to remember with a pinch in the heart as my beloved idol poured all of his sentimentality in song, tango and poignant anecdotes. I feel lucky for having been able to witness such greatness in my lifetime.

The beach experience was also fulfilling as I plunged my toes in the white clean sand and tanned under the blazing sun between dips in the clear blue water. It was a very relaxing excursion and one I will yearn for dearly, as such splendor is hard to find.

In between plans, I spent a good part of my time there sitting peacefully on the yard bench with my coffee mug and Davidoff cigarettes. It helped me gather my thoughts and gave me the opportunity to enjoy a lot of quality time with my friend, to whom I wish to repeat my endless thanks.

All in all, it was a trip that I will look back to with longing for a long time. I shall always remember it with fondness, and nostalgia of course, as it is a feeling I find hard to shake regardless the topic.

Dubai, you will be missed…

Wanderings

I opened my eyes and for the very first time, I truly understood the essence of magic. For the very first time, I felt bewildered, swept off to a land far, far away. I felt submerged in rivers of honey. My hair soaked with heavy drops of sweet cocoa and my nostrils widened to the smell of exotic flowers, of raw nature and of weightless air.

Golden shades flickered all around and bright glittering sparkles surrounded me. I swam effortlessly in the thin air and flew between tall flamboyant trees in search of nothing.

I encountered many faces I never knew and few that have forever been encrusted in my memory, since the beginning of time, since the shaping of nothing, since the molding of emptiness, of frugality, of thoughtlessness.

In the light of shimmering, void stars, I instinctively drew my way. I used imaginary silky brushes and satiny wonderful palettes of colors never discovered.

Unripe, beautiful fruits fell off barren trees and gathered around me, pinning me down to rest with their ever so soft stems. Beds of feathery flowers welcomed me in the comfort of their illusion and the sweet breeze whispered lies of no language into my ears.

My eyes thrived to open up, to succumb to the magic, to see the wonders all around, to swallow the sweetness of dreams and the end of what was never there, what was never here, what will never be.

Tremendous was the word that kept occurring to the safety of what was left of my shaky, shady consciousness. Ts and Rs and S's kept rolling on my heavy tongue until the vowels left me and joined the shiny birds chirping over me.

I heard a sound so peculiar, so sincere. I strove to retain it, but the birdlike creatures kept hovering over it, collecting the vowels and stealing the truth.

I closed my eyes again and concentrated on the only glimpse of the already thrifty image I had of you. I concentrated, I focused so hard, but that ferociously friendly wolf that brought me here kept draining you away. It kept digging into my soul, into the roots of my evil, into the very branches of my existence. He dug sweetly, yet fully. He enchanted me with more glitter, with more tall trees, with more honey, until I felt one with the flowing stream, until I took the rising trunks as my shelter and collected sparkles in the hems of my imaginary dress.

My hands surrendered and stopped chasing volatile vowels as Bs and Rs and Ls voluntarily left me while my heavy breath tried to say bring me back, leave me alone.

My unconscious now belongs to a beautiful wolf, living against all odds in the driest of deserts, only drinking honey from the rivers of my imagination. This is how it tastes to succumb to the sweetest yielding, to the magic of the best charlatans and to the will of the way, leading to nothing.

The All Smiles Chapter

As usual, I have nothing in particular to talk about. This is mainly because I have so much energy right now and I am terribly unsure of what to do with it; I figured maybe the urge would leave me once I typed, and typed, and typed. I shall update you at the end of this post.

Till then, let us yap a bit.

What a fabulous month it has been! The only month I could link this one to would probably be February 2009. A lot, and I mean a lot has changed since then; but the vibe this December is generating reminds me of 09, of that particular month. I think what I am feeling is called happiness. I don’t believe I have ever been able to fully grasp that feeling, but February 09 and December 2012 may be the closest I have come to experience it on any scale.

I can’t even begin to describe what tremendous warmth it gives me to be surrounded by my friends. Life tends to separate us often, to send us each to a different corner of the world in pursuit of a future so hazy that it makes us sometimes wonder, what are we really after? But then comes the rare reunion, the ever so far apart get-togethers, and something suddenly makes sense, even if it is just for a fleeting moment. Maybe what we so harshly deem as unfair is deep down the only thing that will ever make sense.

Maybe I am being too optimistic - I know I am being a lot more optimistic than usual at any rate – but maybe I am simply being realistic – which I rarely am. Too philosophical? perhaps. In any case, I am having a rare moment of clarity, the kind of moment one wishes would never go away, would be forever encrusted in one’s psyche. It has something to do with understanding why one shouldn’t party every night or else it wouldn’t make one merrier every time. It has something to do with swallowing the fact that we only get paid once every month. It perfectly explains why I can’t listen to music every day, why I can’t watch a movie every night, why I am ever so rarely happy – or close to experiencing the feeling. It is about the wait, about the anticipation, and about the downsizing of expectations before becoming completely apt and totally ready to savor a moment.

I have come to realize that I cannot enjoy anything unless I had previously been deprived of it one way or another. One way or another… that is a song, one of many that need to be enjoyed every now and then.  Enough with parentheses though. One of the many things pacing my little brain tonight is how to apply my oh-so-deep theories to my actual life. Abstract relationships aside, I suck at applying any of the above. I am the champion of failure when it comes to depriving myself of dinner once every 12 months, let alone depriving myself of a cigarette or a drink even.

When does one reach some level of perfection, or equilibrium to be more down to earth? The word I am looking for here might be harmony. It feels as if I will never get anywhere unless I achieve harmony, one way or another. That is a song by the way, or did I mention that already?

I could be wrong though, I keep contradicting myself tonight. Because if I were to be correct with all of the above yapping, it can only mean one thing and one thing only: I have been preaching nothing but crap for the past 26 years.

And what if I was? And who really cares? And who cares about the new theory? Not me that is for sure. I am just writing for the sake of typing, of releasing mixed energies.

Will I ever look back at this article and wonder? Will you? Perhaps yes. Probably not.

Part of me feels like wrapping this up, getting dressed, joining the party, getting filthy drunk and losing my job tomorrow. The other part feels like…Well let us just say I still have a rational part left in my silly little brain. I am not sure which part I hate the most and which I hold the dearest to my heart. And since we are at it, what I despise above all is the fact that one part always wins and the balance is never achieved.

Is it obvious how happy I was when I started this and how miserable I became afterwards? It wasn’t intentional. It was influential. Call me nuts but I think I just managed to absorb some of a pretty boy’s melancholic vibes. Maybe I am hoping he will reciprocate one day, some day, under the stars of a silky raining sky, overlooking the lights of an ever so luring city, when the wait is over, when the anticipation has reached its peak, and when the expectations have simply ceased to exist.

The Summer of Dom Perignon

Or should I call it the summer of Moet Et Chandon? It is hard to tell which brand I indulged myself with more this summer. And I know you must be wondering why I am still talking about summer when it is almost Christmas. The answer is both simple and complicated. Simple because I started writing this at the end of the summer – yes, I know I only wrote two sentences then, and complicated because I was writing it when I thought it was the end of an era – and yes, it now is.

It is the end of the free champagne era for me, for now at least. Champagne was in fact the highlight of my 2012. I attended so many openings, met so many people, interviewed some, had a crush on others, and hated the rest. The job was worthless money wise, experience wise even, but it offered so many perks on the social front.

I am not sure anymore what I wanted to say when I started writing this, but I am pretty certain I wanted to vent on something or the other. I am an innate nagger, as you must have already noticed by now. I can’t really find it in me to pester tonight though, shocking I know!

Well anyway, long story short, I have started a new job, a more challenging one on all levels so far. It is time to get serious, time to get busy and time to try and leave behind my semi bohemian life. Somehow it feels good to have so much to do. It is startling how much I didn’t know and how big is the stack of things I have never experienced before. Bye bye champagne and aloha social misery. So long two hours work days and 4 days off a week, and hello 24/7 marathon. That makes it sound a bit frustrating, but what isn’t? I have always been an extremist in any case, why change now?

I am excited. I am anxious. I am worried. I am already tired. But I want to make a plan. I want to stick to it too for once. I am even considering trying out a diet again. Useless I know; hopeless maybe. But I have to confess it has crossed my mind. I want to benefit from the situation, turn it around to fit me in all ways, as much as I can. I want to buy a car. I want to travel. I want to be independent. I want to live.

I want to live. I do. I may not have much time for it with the crazy schedule, but I promise to try. I hereby promise that should the plan work, I am going to live. I am going to have champagne with my friends for a change. I want to enjoy it. I want to pop it and smear it all over the place. I want to get into pillow fights with my girls. I want to leave the crust behind and feel fresh and energetic. Most of all, I want to get away from the coffee shop, to step away from my routine, to shake myself to do more, to feel more,  to be more.

It felt like a cinematic moment when I left the old office for the last time. I felt pretty wearing that smile around and offering it to strangers. The wind blowing through my hair and my scarf gave me a shiver, not one of cold though, but one of pride. Been a while since I felt happy, or proud, let alone both together.

As always, I shall treasure the friends I made along the way and cherish the memories, the experience and the mistakes. All of it will just fill me with more of something I already hold plenty of: nostalgia. Days that will never repeat themselves no matter how hard we try, moments that we might never be able to grasp again no matter how badly we want to, and people who leave such a mark in us that it becomes impossible not to attempt to find it in the rest of the human race. So here is to a summer that despite its trouble will remain, like all the ones that preceded it, and all the ones that will hopefully follow it, a memorable one. Rain is washing it out tonight, trying to steal its stickiness from my mind, and the winter lover in me feels like leaving my chair and walking under it, feels like getting wet, like embracing the most beautiful season of all, the most powerful of all, the most empowering of all. May those heavenly clouds accompany me and protect me in my new endeavor; may they guide my path towards the new era, the latest opportunity and the divine blessing.

Ya Mijana!

My dear smug compatriots, I have been meaning to sneer at you about this for a while now. I shall skip unnecessary introductions and get right to the point. Arabic music is my chosen subject for tonight. I am sure 90% of you will have stopped reading already.

For those who haven’t, get ready to be taunted. Let me put it this way: have you ever been to a night club in Europe that plays Majida el Roumi or Amro Diab? Have you ever encountered a driver blasting Wael Kfoury or Najwa Karam in his car in South America? I bet you haven’t, or even if you have, then what a rare opportunity you have witnessed, an envious experience even!

People, my message here is simple: Get over yourselves and give some respect to your origins. I am not saying you should quit listening to foreign songs, I am not saying the Beatles were a fart or Bob Marley was an idiot. I am not asking you to delete Red Hot Chili Peppers from your iPods nor am I urging you to laugh at an indeed laughable Britney Spears. I am just trying to make you try and relate to a music that reeks of you although you keep trying to brush it off your shoulders as if it were dandruff.

Compadres, don’t get me wrong. This is not a shout for you to start enjoying Ali el Dik’s duo with Dominique Hourani. I am definitely not recommending petty, disgusting, or even insulting tunes. I am aware that Arabic music has been undergoing some serious damages lately, it has been stained by too many imbeciles and has been gradually - not to say totally - declining, but that doesn’t mean that our own oldies for instance, much like foreign oldies - to a difference, don’t remain actual pieces of art to this day.

What I actually have a problem with is your attitude towards Arabic music. It feels to me as if you have an internal buzzer that switches on the second you hear a Oud note or something. You are, plainly put, funny to me. You make me giggle at your poorly founded opinions and tastes.

It goes on without saying that I don’t listen to Ragheb Alama and Nancy Ajram from dusk till dawn, yet I don’t flinch at the thought of hearing their voices. Their songs are part of a popular culture I belong to, no matter how much I would have preferred belonging to another.

Try and enjoy the beauty of songs that speak of us, even though we deny our reflected identity through them. Music is the representative of cultures, and like it or not, you distinguishably make part of this culture. You don’t fancy our music as it is? Then do something about it, revolutionize it, don’t just heartily despise it.

Oh and a footnote for those of you who will feel unconcerned with the subject since they already listen to those 20 Arabic Jazz tracks we have in our repertoire, get over yourselves as well. Ziad el Rahbani, although I casually enjoy his music from time to time, is not the master.