Sacred Nicotine

I wrote this early Saturday at work... I hate Saturdays.

What is it that is so appealing about a cigarette for a depressed man?
I guess it is that he sees in the burning, the slow burning of the paper cylinder engulfing the aromatic shredded tobacco, a living picture of himself being burnt slowly by the never-ending trials and miseries of life. If cigarettes were known to Hamlet, I believe he would have been smoking throughout his speech eventually deciding "to sleep" rather than "take arms against a sea of troubles", for he will see better through the burning and the falling ashes of the cigarette that "by opposing them" he will never "end them".

Have we ourselves lit this cigarette? Yes, I believe is the answer. Only cowards believe not. But are not we all cowards for lighting that cigarette? Then I believe that some of us are braver than the others; a coward still, yet relatively more courageous than a coward who decided that it is not worth confronting oneself with the truth about who lit the cigarette... the truth about themselves. Cowards and in that they are dead till a Jesus raises them from the dead. A Jesus they find in the streets of their miserable everyday life; a fight, a joke or a picture of the sun falling in the sea. Shall we then build a church in us and pray for a Jesus who died for everyone else but us? A new Jesus, not crucified but bedridden, dying of cancer.

Is it the stimulant in these holy leaves that makes us extra conscious of our lives' wrinkled face? why is it then addictive? Why then, If it brings to our senses the unbearable excruciating pains of (waiting for) life (to end), do we smoke them still?
Is it confrontational? If it is then I take back what I said about smokers being cowards. Could it be that we are courageous in that new meaning we found for courage?
Courageous then are the antiheroes who flee the confrontation with the actual events of life to confront an enemy in themselves who oppresses and torments them. In that they are heroic antiheroes.

Zuhour Hussain (? - 1964) زهور حسين

خاف درد الله و عذابه
حملوني هموم حبهم
ما چنت أدري الخلايق


من صخر
صاير قلبهم

yalda

يلدا

(من أصلٍ سرياني)

الميلاد

happy birthday Narcissus
happy birthday antihero

(1984 - 2006)

طريق فيصل بن عبدالعزيز

Smoking starts as a mistake. I remember how I started smoking. Two mistakes not just one!

When I started smoking I must've been at least 14 or 15 years old, a highschool freshman. I just couldn't help but think that smoking would add to an appearance of masculinity or rather machoism to be specific. However up until I was 18, I never really smoked. I was merely puffing the smoke out; I never inhaled!
Now with my first year in Kuwait University.. I made the second mistake of inhaling. I wasn't a smoker then.. I mean I never inhaled before so I wasn't addicted to it. So I became a smoker.

It starts as a mistake, but when it becomes a habit it's no longer a mistake but rather a part of your daily life that you grew accustomed to eventually. I personally need to have a cigarette in my mouth when I'm depressed, happy, tired or energetic. When I'm relaxing in a cafe reading a book, I cannot imagine the taste of coffee or tea without a good inhale from a good marlboro. When I mean I can't.. I actually mean I can't.

I remember I once turned the lights of my room off, and sat next to my window which overlooks the neon-lit street. I couldn't imagine a cigarette could have a better taste than that of a depressed man overlooking a neon-lit street.

I'm in Iranian music season now. I began accessing the Iranian Music folder in "My Music". Looking in the Windows Media Players library for the many CD's I ripped and forgot about. One CD I love is The Tree of Life, a collection of instrumentals by the best of the best masters of Iranian music. I should leave in less than an hour to run some errands then I'm heading to Salmiyya to buy some Iranian CDs. I can't hold it.. I want more music! Shahram Nazeri, Asghar Bahari and maybe Shajarian. Problem is... I HATE THE SALESMAN.. he keeps insisting that I listen to what he recommends of stupid modernized traditional music. I know why I'm here.. I'm here to buy so-and-so and that's it! I once spent a whole hour listening to music I don't like.. he was abit annoyed to find that I, after an hour of listening to almost every CD in the store, decided still to buy the one I came in to buy in the first place. But he never stops!

What do you think...
How come streets in Kuwait are named after every royalty in a neighboring country?

I'm not into pop-culture politics.. like the Orange thing going around. But if those people would change that about Kuwait.. I'm Orange!
When I can drive in streets named after people whom I respect. When I see that everyone despite their financial, social or political state are as respectful of the law as those who "ma 3nduhum '6ahar".

my decapitalized i

... loves you.

تنگي مي لعل خواهم و ديواني
سد رمقي بايد و نصف ناني
و انگه من و تو نشسته در و يراني

خوشتر بود از مملكت سلطاني

Ommar Khayyam (1048 - 1131) عمر خيام

و بحسبي تحت أغصانٍ رطاب

زقُ خمر و رغيف و كتاب

و تغنينَ , فيرتد اليباب

مثلَ همّي من فراديس رغاب

Translated into Arabic by
Ibrahim Al-Mazeni (1890 - 1949) إبراهيم المازني

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

Translated into English by
Edward Fitzgerald (1809 - 1883)

The Sitting Woman (Saki)
Unknown artist
15th century
Shahid Motahari School of Higher Education

of course the last line of the quatrain is not properly translated in english or arabic, though in other arabic translation it is. But I chose this one for it conveys the image better and has a calmer music than the others. The last line of the original Farsi quatrain roughly translates into "(that) is then better than the (magnificent) demense of any Sultan"

97

وعن كتاب دعائم الاسلام انّ رسول الله (صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم) كان يطوي فراشه ويشدّ مئزره للعبادة في العشر الاواخر من شهر رمضان، وكان يوقظ أهله ليلة ثلاث وعشرين، وكان يرشّ وجوه النّيام بالماء في تلك اللّيلة وكانت فاطمة صلوات الله عليها لا تدع أهلها ينامون في تلك اللّيلة وتعالجهم بقلّة الطّعام وتتأهّب لها من النّهار، أي كانت تأمرهم بالنّوم نهاراً لئلاّ يغلب عليهم النّعاس ليلاً، وتقول: محروم من حرم خيرها

من مفاتيح الجنان

97

الليلة التاسعة عشر

قال : إني رأيت الساعة رسول الله (صلى الله عليه وآله) في منامي وهو يقول لي: يا أبا الحسن إنك قادم إلينا عن قريب، يجيء إليك أشقاها فيخضب شيبتك من دم رأسك، وأنا والله مشتاق إليك، وإنك عندنا في العشر الأواخر من شهر رمضان، فهلمّ إلينا فما عندنا خير لك وأبقى

...

...

فقام الشقي ابن ملجم وأقبل مسرعاً يمشي حتى وقف بإزاء الأسطوانة التي كان الإمام يصلي عندها، فأمهله حتى صلى الركعة الأولى وسجد السجدة الأولى ورفع رأسه منها وشد عليه اللعين ابن ملجم فضرب الإمام على رأسه فشقه نصفين، فوقع يخور في دمه وهو يقول: بسم الله وبالله وعلى ملة رسول الله؛ ثم صاح الإمام

* فزت ورب الكعبة

السلام على أبي الأئمة و خليل النبوة و المخصوص بالأخوة , السلام علي يعسوب الدين و الإيمان و كلمة الرحمن , السلام على ميزان الأعمال و مُقَلـِّب الأحوال و سيف ذي الجلال و ساقي السلسبيل الزلال , السلام على صالح المؤمنين و وارث علم النبيين و الحاكم يوم الدين , السلام على شجرة التقوى و سامع السر و النجوى , السلام على حجة الله البالغة و نعمته السابغة و نقمته الدامغة , السلام على الصراط الواضح و النجم اللائح و الإمام الناصح و الزناد القادح و رحمة الله و بركاته *

من "مقتل الإمام أمير المؤمنين" للشيخ عبدالرضا معاش
من " بحار الأنوار" - الجزء 97 , للعلامة المجلسي

good advice

So I prepared for the weekend. When you work all week long, you'll realize that two days at the end of the week are so valuable and irreplaceable. So, in preperation, I went on Tuesday to Sultan Center carefully selecting a fattening companion for my irreplaceable weekend nights.

I bought XXL size of everything.. and I realized that Twix, cheese dip and sour cream onion potato chips... do not go well together. But a bottle of good grape juice would take the confusing taste off.

I got myself the Egyptian version of Scarface, starring Ahmad Zaki. Very good Egyptianizing! it was very successful and almost flawless. But leave that film aside.. I'm going to talk to you about acting!

I was watching -for the second time- Dog Day Afternoon. Al Pacino and John Cazale. The performance of these two gods of theatre brought me to tears. Its not the story... its out of my appreciation of beauty and great performance that I cannot bear watch so much beauty. In the movie, you could see the fear in the eyes of John Cazale so brilliantly performed you'd think you're watching a reality show. Not excessive; just right.

John Cazale as Salvatore Naturile
Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

After I left the acting workshop I always thought I could not cope with the stress and hard work that it requires to live a character and do it. But as I was watching Dog Day Afternoon I realized I miss those days. Nothing matches the reaction you get from the audience as you astound them with words or actions or even your dress. Nothing matches the great experience of being somebody else on stage. I played Nils Krogstad in a production of act III from Ibsen's A Doll's House, I was into the character very much (at least I thought so). I did come short on the sudden acceptance of Kristine's explanation. Nevertheless I loved it, his pains were mine... I love antiheroes.. I am the history of antiheroes!

When I saw Al Pacino shouting "Attica! Attica! Attica!" I was almost brought to tears for his great performance if I may call it so. I so want to act again. I found out that in my acting I become my real self. While in real life I am acting all the time.

In the office I'm acting nice and polite when all I want to do is spit in their faces or crush their necks with my bare hands (the rude inconsiderate bastards). I act when I'm home, telling them I'm fine and that I am "a little" annoyed by work but that's it. I act around people to show them that I have great respect for whatever they do when I am surronded by wannabes. Back in KU I never told my teachers that they suck and that their PhD is worth nothing for they have stopped learning and their teaching techniques are utterly stupid (They wouldn't believe me anyway.. its hard to be a loveable teacher and yet a good one.. thought we have good examples, yet I'm critical of their methods). When I explode in someone's face to tell them about the real me... the feeling I get from that explosion matches the feeling I have on stage. Its really me.

I love Dilbert! It was so funny back then.. and now.. its even funnier!