"To the impartial eye, the world not only seems an unlikely one-off phenomenon, but a constant strain on reason. If reason exists, that is, if a neutral reason exists. So speaks the voice from within. So speaks Joker's voice." - Jostein Gaarder

Saturday, May 26, 2007

The presidential referendum...


We say No,
Gottfried Stutz!

Sunday, May 20, 2007

وهناك أشياء كثيرة كان يمكن أن يتحدث عنها المرء...

When I close my eyes, and see in the back of my head, images of Palestinians fighting against eachother, of a stateless people dragging themselves into a civil war.
No one can describe this utter feeling of helplessness you feel when you see one of the most genuinely painful Human causes, disintegrating.

I go back to Saadallah Wannous, and quote him, "There are many things that one can talk about..."

Since the first time I watched this movie, and until today, everytime I go back to it, or coincidentally catch a scene of that interview, or just get a flash back of the his voice, everytime I think we have reached a bottom... I realize we are still in descent.

Saadallah Wannous' testimony in that movie makes your teeth clinch no matter how many times you've seen it. It's a testimony of half a century of disappointments... thats our legacy, thats what our fathers handed us, and, most probably thats what we will be handing our children...

I uploaded the movie on Rapidshare for everyone who wants to download it...
Part 1,
Part 2,
Part 3,
Part 4.

It is by far, the most impressive work of Omar Amiralay I had a chance to watch.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Passive Agressive State of Mind

I am living out my own passive aggressive phase of life, admittedly i would've preferred having it sometime other than my prime 20s.

Did I experience anything worth chronicling during these 7 months?

Well, depends, on how u identify experience... I have definitely changed many lanes, I have been in and out of many situations, and had chances to meet brilliant people, and communicate with individuals who have been idols for me throughout my life. I've started a real university life again, I am handling Ghurbeh on my own, I have written many comments and taken part in many debates, I have laughed a few times, I have danced till my legs literally gave up on me many many times, I've thrown up tequila shots many more times than I can remember, I've read some of my favorite literature so far... yet.... I still come back to this futon everynight, and stare at my laptop with expressionless eyes.

How much did all these experiences change me? how much did they push me forward or backwards? not a single inch, I am still at the same place I was at a certain moment 7 months ago. It's like I am frozen in time.

Maybe I should add that to my definition of Frustration.

It's not even that, it's not even that I am frustrated or unhappy, I am just, at this moment, utterly Nothing.

I feel like my own biological clock is slowing down day by day.

This blog has been a mirror of this pathetic state of mind, with the most repetitive, boring and meaningless posts I've ever written. I look back and I realize I haven't written anything worth reading for more than 7 months now.
This blog was, at some point, one of the many faces of me exploring the extremes, in their extremity... It was the place where I wrote the most boring story ever, it was where I cried out my insides time and time again. Now it's just like my insides, just like my GV Roundups, just like my Syria, just like my Absolutes, frozen, with a passive aggressive look on its forehead.

Why am I writing these thoughts?

Because, for the first time in a long while, I felt real pain this week. The kind of pain that paralyzes you, and in the same time electrifies ur brain, it has been a while since I admitted to myself a painful thought.
What happened last week in Syria, brought back so many flashbacks and thoughts, dreams and hopes, so many friends, and so many slogans, so many nights we spent on the streets, walking and laughing, and making plans for our Syria, days that seem so distant now.
Flashbacks of when my vitals mattered, of when I was able to taste food, of when I enjoyed a good meal, of when vodka was not just another alcohol. Of when I wrote passionately about me, about life, about everything, when writing used to fire up bottled emotions, when they'd make all these bubbles explode inside of, with a hysterical cry, laughter, or simple exhaustion, when I used to write about love... of days when I loved with every instinct I had, whether it's a beautiful city or a gorgeous lady, a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean or the taste of freshly baked warm bread at 5am, whether waking up at 4pm and staying in bed until 7pm, or waking up at 6am and watch sleepy Latakia wake up little by little... whether Fairouz, Ziad, Radiohead or just a random MTV show buzzing in the background, I miss the small details I used to fall in love with.

I miss the days when we were allowed to hope for a new Syria. I miss the rush that used to run through me when I walked through the streets of Damascus, not even paying the slightest attention to all the ugliness surrounding me, because it was simply, temporary, my country had a chance to be reborn.

I will go through my passive phase, but who will bring back my home? who will bring back my eternity? and who will bring back Summer 2004 in Latakia, and Summer 2005 in Damascus, and Summer 2006 in Cairo... who will bring back my Syria?

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Labwani, 12 years in jail... and Assad for 7 years in Kassioun.

The verdict was announced as President Bashar al-Assad was addressing the Syrian parliament.

He said Damascus would not co-operate with a UN-backed tribunal to try suspects in the killing of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri if it would undermine Syrian sovereignty.

"The abandonment of sovereignty means that Syrian law no longer protects Syrian citizens," Mr Assad said in the televised address.

Because that's what syrian laws do, they protect their citizens.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

How many people have to die, how many generations have to live in utter humiliation...

حين فرغت من رواية عبد الرحمن منيف الجديدة, أحسست حلقي جافاً, وغمرني شعور ذاهل بالعار. كيف نعيش حياتنا اليومية ونساكن هذا الرعب الذي يتربص بنا هنا... والآن؟ أي صملاخ بليد يحجب عن أسماعنا الصراخ والأنين, كي نواصل نومنا كل ليلة! أي ذاكرة مثقوبة تلك التي تتيح لنا أن نتناسى الآلاف الذين يهترئون في السجون هنا... والآن! هذا عار يكاد يلامس التواطؤ. من خوفنا, وغفلتنا, وصمتنا يغزل الجلاد سياطه. ومن خوفنا, وغفلتنا, وصمتنا تغصّ بنا السجون, تغدو الحياة هنا والآن كابوساَ من الجنون والرعب.
إن رواية عبد الرحمن منيف تمزق الصمت, وتعلن الفضيحة. هذه الأوطان - السجون الفضيحة, وهؤلاء المواطنون - المساجين فضيحة, وهذا التاريخ الشرق أوسطي معتقل يستنقع في الفضيحة. ورغم أن الرواية لا تلاحق هذه الفضيحة بتنوعاتها القطرية, وتعدد مستوياتها, فإنها تتعمد أن تظل قولاً ناقصاً, قولاً لا يكتمل إلا إذا أضاف القارئ عليه موقفاً أو فعلاً.
وبين التعرية والتحريض, وبين النمنمة الفنية والوعي التاريخي, يبني عبد الرحمن منيف رواية -شهادة, لن نستطيع الاستغناء عنها إذا أردنا أن نعرف الــ الآن... وهنا, وإذا أردنا أن نغير الــ هنا... والآن أيضاً.
سعد الله ونوس

You tell Saad Allah Wannous how can we sleep at night? Again and again and again and again and again...