As It Ought To Be

As It Ought To Be
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As It Ought To Be

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Thank you. Good-Bye.

This blog is officially closed. You may read my older posts, but unfortunately, many of the pictures will not be there.

Naked

Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I ever heard.

This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell.

This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called “The Better ‘Ole” that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, “Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?”

“Nah I had to go relieve myself.”

After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time.

Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in-curving hooks and started eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him: “It’s you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat and shit.”

After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpole’s tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous — (did you know there is a condition occurs in parts of Africa and only among Negroes where the little toe amputates spontaneously?) — except for the eyes you dig. Thats one thing the asshole couldn’t do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eyes on the end of a stalk.

From Naked Lunch
By William S. Burroughs

1914-1997

i 1

we were walking when
he called me crazy
for taking pictures of a dead cat
what have I done?
he was kidding; but he wasn't kidding
when he moved on and left me alone in the street
taking pictures of a dead cat, he laughed at me
it was nothing.
hit by a car when it was walking by the side of the road
or maybe moved by somebody to the side of the road

I took two pictures of a dead cat
its eyes on the street
literally.

My friend majored in science in high-school
I left my school to another; far from home
for a major I loved; english

When I applied for a scholarship to the US to do my Bachelor's in Teaching English as a Second Language; I was rejected. He is going to graduate next year or the year after.. a doctor from some university in UK. with new words like "Rammat" (the kuwaiti verb of "to have a roommate")

I studied English Literature to no avail
what have I done
A lousy collection of classic cheap books, a number of CDs, and a room I share with heaps of cheap clothes, books and VHS tapes and DVDs. what have I, my friend, done?


I had a surgery once; a cosmetic one and I thought; if I were to die today

what have I done
but you know
you're a doctor you should know
one could die during any surgery
even a stupid one like this

Will my parents, siblings or relatives listen to "careful with that axe, Eugene" in that attractive pink floyd CD and remember me when they listen to the weird sounds. what have I done

Friend
I was by your side all the way
True I was not there when they bullied you in school
I am more bullied now

Are you bullying me now?
what have I done


I was down, there
you were not
I remember enemies were there once or twice or thrice

when you come to the world in a white coat again
a happy marriage
four kids, maybe five.. or maybe because you're a doctor
only two and a big car

I will be single
writing in newspapers about things no one understands
except my friends whom I digged from stories by Franz Kafka some of them are as angry as the characters in Poe's stories or maybe as passionate and nuts

I will not be married
because the woman I loved was born before me in years
I will be too afraid to have children; because maybe they will be bullied
and maybe if I raise them keeping in mind they should not be bullied; protecting them against bullies; they will become bullies; inconsiderate insensitive children of a crazy writer

maybe one day they will become the people who hit, on the side of the road, cats with their big cars
I will maybe get out of my house
to take pictures of a dead cat
its eyes on the street
literally.

tell me friend
what have I done, its not a question
what have I done. Its a statement.


I took pictures of a dead cat
when a friend called me crazy
or a friend called me crazy
when I took pictures of a dead cat

You know what? I think I am not going to be your friend anymore. The text messages I sent to you were only to arrange for one of your brothers to give me the book that you got from Iran for my father from his friend in Mashhad. I will not talk to you again; not the way I used to anyway. You know I swore at you, I made fun of you.. you made fun of me and swore at me too... that is the appearance we chose for our friendship... like little boys, brothers who fear to show their emotions to each other. I write this knowing you are not reading it.. maybe you do read blogs, but certainly you are not going to stumble upon mine.
Maybe it was the dead cat
or maybe it is the fact that everyone knew the time and date of your flight back to whatever city in the UK... except I. You know how I sounded to this guy when I asked him if you're in his Diwaniya and he told me your flight was just 5 minutes ago?

or maybe it was the dead cat.
I took pictures of a dead cat
its eyes on the street
literally

Tomorrow, or maybe the day after
I will buy a camera, I've decided, Nikon D40x, with which I will take pictures of
dead cats.

The written above is the first in a series about me
I will first talk about friends in my life
Doctor A. is the first friend I had.

the tarot

I'm sitting in a cafe writing this and I see a couple of meters away the largest convention of nerds. One with a large jaw and he does not try to hide it out of his unawareness of it; stating that I cannot see beyond my dreams of knowing more about computers. The second one looks good, he looks like Tobey Maguire; an unmasked spiderman, but he's far more nerdy than any of the group members, he looks like he's preaching the great principles of the old nerds that lived in the 60s and 70s. The one next to him seems to know to be in love with this great leader he keeps having little conversations with the one in front of him yet every while and then he looks to his left to see if his beloved leader is still there glowing over him with love and nerdiness. The rest I can only see their backs but it says alot about who they are. The one with the big jaw... oh God. I just noticed this; he's got one of those phone accessories... the phone holster on his belt. nerd.

I just stopped the music so to listen to their loud conversation. The above was described over a loud music that I usually play when using my laptop in crowded cafes. I listened to a few minutes and decided to listen to Luri music instead. Their conversation as I heard it the moment I came into the cafe 15 minutes ago is still revolving around computers and its accessories. The handsome nerd is still leading the conversation and amazing the little nerds into believing his teachings. My God even their jokes are far beyond being vague and too technical. One of them I can only see he's bearded wearing a dishdasha... his voice is high-pitched and like the nerd character of The Simpsons.

They have a computer in the middle put so that all of them can see its screen. I'm back to listening to music so I can't hear their conversation anymore but its still going on about computers. I'm interested in many subjects one could be the most important to me; but when in a gathering I'm sure to change from one subject to another naturally...

Some of the nerds sitting there are celebrity nerds; I know I've seen some of them in Kuwait University. God bless you boys, they all look so familiar and I'm sure they've been ridiculed and made fun of by almost everybody who saw them. They should be proud to be in the center of attention to all Kuwait University students. God bless them. Although I think the head-nerd is one who studies abroad... he seems to be outstanding in everything he knows and shocks them always with his experience.

The one next to the leader... he seems to have a great crush on the leader, but shame on him. He is trying his best to look hip. His legs are extended in a manner that states how he's carefree. His gestures and where he looks.. everything in him is screaming "I want out". It might be an unconscious thing.. but he's the furthest from the center. Its like he's trying to get out even from the position of his seat in the gathering. The closest to the door.

Finally they're out... now I can talk about other things

I'm reading "I was a Communist" a collection of articles published in 1959 by Iraqi poet Bader Shaker Al-Sayyab. The history presented from the point of view of a great poet is priceless yet I stand amazed at the hatred showed in his writings for Iranians and Iraqis of Iranian origins.

The hatred between Persians and Arabs is as old as the existence of both. I see and hear Iranians and Arab discuss their hatred for the others so openly and justify it too. I defend neither.

I haven't been posting for a good reason. The phonelines in my area were screwed up. And I'm in Cafe's every night using the good wifi connection; converting to wifi speed from dial-up means only that I'm going to be spending hours exploring youtube and downloading stuff off limewire. Thus I have been busy watching all sorts of musical performances, comedies and weird historical documentaries on youtube that I have neglected my blog all this time. Never liked embedding a video on my blog... although I'm tempted to share with you the amazing music of Luristan. But oh well... what makes me think that people would listen to these things?

Kuwaitis love hating the government and its institutions.
I have worked in both the private and government sectors. I found that the two sectors have their own justified bureaucratic ways. In the private sector I have found stupid managers and directors leading their teams to embarrassment sure yet that the employees are forgiving. Their mistakes are re-worded by Marketing.

Sometimes people themselves do not accept what is logically sound. People expect too much for so little.People come to me and say... you used to work there? in that ministry?
They tell stories of so-called bureaucracy. What's wrong with asking for 500 fils stamp? To some its bureaucratic. Why this and why not that?

I never asked my country to give me. I want to give.
It has given me alot. What more do I need as a Kuwaiti? I pay no taxes. My health service is for free. I had a cosmetic surgery that costs 3000 to 5000 dollars in the US, for free! I only had to pay KD10 for something I don't recall what really. If you think Kuwait's education is bad? why do we see intelligent people graduating from Kuwait's public schools? Nothing can change the fact that you've got a stupid kid... so live with it. My two friends studying medicine in the UK said clearly that whatever we had in Kuwaiti public schools is taught in English here (speaking about the foundation programs in British universities). I graduated and I didn't have to apply for jobs... I got a job a month later.. I rejected it.. two weeks later I was offered another... rejected it and was offered another a month later. Even if you do wait on the Civil Service Commision to find you a job... you will be paid for waiting.

I ask you one question though
What are you giving back to Kuwait?

Liberals, Islamists and whoeverists... want to give Kuwait the rotten fruits of their ideologies rather than give it more than just mere philosophies and ideal solutions made for far nations.

If you think the government is corrupt..
why don't you change it? Have you stopped voting for the Isms in the elections? Have you stopped asking for Was6a? Have you admitted to having problems that the Kuwaitis themselves have caused? You are the corruption.

You hold orange, blue or pink flags waving slogans you know are going to be for a certain group of people only. You hold orange, blue or pink flags to paint a home that is going to collapse soon. How is a color going to change the state of the foundation of this home of ours?

I may support what some of those flags stand for, but I never held one. For I never supported an "ism" imported to a neighborhood so peaceful like mine.

Marilyn Manson
An Artist

The Golden Age 35
Marilyn Manson
Photographed by: Gottfried Helnwein

Death is policeman
Death is the priest
Death is the stereo
Death is a TV

Death is the Tarot
Death is an angel and
Death is our God

killing us all

أسرى بعبده

لو قال لي تِيهاً : قِف على جمر الغَضا
لوَقفت مُمتثلاً و لم أتوقفِ

أو كان من يرضى ، بخدّي ، مَوْطِئاً

لوَضَعته أرضاً و لم أستَنكِفِ

إبن الفارض
(1181 - 1235)

و الله يا محمد
في وجهك النعيم



سلّم على محمد ... في مكة الحجر
سعى إلى محمد ... يوم نادى الشجر
و انشق يا محمد ... لحسنك القمر

و لا بالمحبين مثلي

unread piles of papers remain untouched

that they became part of the furniture.

One of my worst habits is that I cannot easily finish reading a book. The books I have in my little library.. however I just can't finish reading any. I mean I did finish reading some, but life is a bitch. Long ago I used to have the time but I got easily bored and couldn't commit myself to do one thing. I had almost 2 years of practically doing nothing with my life.. and now that I've got a demanding time-consuming job... I regret every little minute I wasted not reading, not writing, not keeping in touch with old friends, not having any of the fun that I desperately need now.

I guess that I am better reading encyclopedias though. I've got many encyclopedias in addition to encyclopediac books in terms of content. I read on wikipedia almost anything and everything.. I click on "random article" and start reading. I remember long time ago when I would be looking for something in my father's old books, I'd accidently stop by an interesting line and read it and the line after... and thus forgetting what I was looking for in the first place when I realize I had a different reason for being there. I could spend hours doing that.

Dictionaries too, these days dictionaries are as interesting as encyclopedia if you're a big fan. I read an old copy of the American Heritage dictionary.. probably an early 80s edition or late 70s. The dictionary of literary terms is fun to read too.. its like a pocket literary encyclopedia... in your pocket.. like a pocketbook. But slightly bigger than a pocketbook; but relatively similar in size.
In relation to other pocketbooks.
Books are rottening by my bedside.. and I can't do anything about it. However I'm doing good reading "My Name is Red" by Orhan Pamuk.

I bought a book a couple of months ago. Its supposed to be in Arabic but its printed left to right; you rarely read a coherent sentence just jumbled words with lots of terrible spelling mistakes. I do not mention grammar for it does not exist there. However... the book is meant to document the massacres the PKK have committed against innocent defenseless Turkish villagers. Its mostly pictures of burned, deformed bodies or remains of bodies.
The beauty lies in the ability to see the human behind all deformities challenging everything to be simply human. It might be sick to some; but to me its sick to admire such pictures for the idea that they have been killed this way. To me I see it as a way to look into the vulnerability of the human kind; to see how extreme evil to contrast it with beauty.

I would've loved to share some pictures but I decided it wouldn't be appropriate... I wanted to though to show you how every dead body had one human look that is just soooooo human. They all looked up.

As much as it breaks my heart to watch war documentaries; as much as I like watching them for this idea. I love observing the "human" in every aspect.

I bought a book from Dar Dawoud for 250 fils. It was an old copy of a novel by Naguib Mahfouz... So I thought it might be the first edition of this novel. I was so excited, I got back home to check.. and true. The novel was published in the 40s under a title... then published again in 1953 under a different title. Thus I do have an antique book... to an extent. I'm thinking I should sell it on eBay.. but I'm attached to it already. I never let go of my father's old book... appreciating their value. Although I could get good money out of them.
I told almost everybody I know about this great find..

Dhahi bin Wulaid (1895 - 1941) ضاحي بن وليد

قالت وصالك
لا
فلا
عندي مُحال

ما يطيعو يبيحوني أهلي



غير لا يفهم أبوي و أهلي ذا المقال





شايهمّو بقتلك و قتلي؟