Author's Signature

    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
View Profile

Enter your Email

Last posts


Tapping at my chamber door

In 2008, I'll Get Me A Shotgun

I will also:
2. Get closer to
Job hunt some more.
4. Get closer to my
5. Learn a new language.
Finish at least one screenplay.
Lose the extra weight.
8. Get a
driver's license. I will not buy a car.
9. I will
rule my world.
10. I will have my

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Am I ready?

I don’t know.

I’m feeling… numb.

I asked my parents out tonight; took them to see a movie. I haven’t done so in a while. My mother chose the film. She chose a horror movie. It was another cliché of every horror film they’ve produced for the past twenty years. A group of teenagers, a psycho killer. What the film makers do is they get you to like the characters the first half of the film. You dwell on the suspense that something horrifying is going to happen with the fast editing, the sudden moves, the closet doors shutting, and O the sound effects. The second half revolves around all the people you’ve fallen in love with falling… one… by… one.
The main character always lives… who’s usually the second hottest chick in the film. The hottest one dies first… usually during a make-up session or sex.

I was fine the first fifteen minutes of the film. Then I saw it coming. A couple… reminded me of what could have been. O how I wish I was built differently. I wish I never cared about many things… but I do. I stared in awe at that couple and thought to myself this could have been us.
But there’s no us anymore, is there?

There is no first time I ask her for a dance, no first bouquet, no first kiss, no P room… no more I’m smilings. I wanted to tell her to forget about all our differences, to forget about what they have been telling her… to remember the good times we had and to… take a chance, to jump…
But I didn’t… because right there, I realized that it’s pointless, because there was nothing there anymore. I have become a stranger again.
Nevertheless, I’m fine. I know how to move on. I have my ways.
I’ve made changes, obviously. I’ve even started a new blog page. For those of you who stuck with me in 2006 when I moved to this place, please forgive me. It’s time.
The bells are tolling again.

Right now, however, I’m too afraid of uncovering it. Will the day come for me to unleash that page like the unmasking of the elephant man buried behind the curtains? I’d say yes. I need courage.

I know the day will come when I say Behold… the freak show is on. Enjoy. Entertain yourselves with my words. Judge me. Hate me. Feel sorry for me. Love my pain. Laugh at my batteekh. Touch my chains and breathe my smoke.
For people to gasp in amazement as I unveil my wrinkling, hideous being as they Oooh and Aaaah all over my body;
As I silently beg them to look away.

Am I ready?
I am not ready.
What do I do to stop feeling this way?
What do I do to stop feeling?

Nevertheless, I’m fine. I am fine because I have tasted the sweet and now… I can hate the sour even more. I am fine because I am strong in nature. Because right here… I can fall. I can get down on my knees and cry. I can fucking melt. Right here… where my words never once let me down, I can express fully how I feel.

Right here… I can let go.

I feel like moving out of home… every inch of this page I built with my bare hands. The red shade that covered my words, the links, the subscription link, the wall paint, the floor tiles I picked, the dark corner, the party hall, my purple rose. I’ll miss you. I had it all… but it no longer feels like home. I’m being kicked out. I don’t suit this place anymore. They don’t want me here… for I am no longer this.

Arrivederci, dear stangers. Stick around…

the frrrrreak show’s yet to begin.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Move over... There's a climax coming my way

It’s like driving a car in the middle of a storm, and even though you can’t see it, you know you’re gonna hit something. You know for sure that you should probably stop the car and hide from the pouring skies and the blinding light.

I’ve never been here before. I feel like I’m at the bottom of a high mountain. Two years ago, I wrote about a headache that struck me around September. It stayed with me for over six months. It begins with my left ear then it slides on to cover my neck, the back of my head, my nape. It’s back now to haunt me… Like I needed it. Not now please… do not raise my blood pressure. I need to be calm for whatever I’m about to endure. I need my physical strength.

I’m sliding downhill. On the professional level, I’m fucked… but that I can rectify; that I can change. On the personal level… I’m scared. I’ve never felt this weak before. I always assumed that I was unbreakable. I hardly ever get sick. I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. Come to think of it, I’ve never been in a relationship before. The truth is… I’ve always had a standard dream for the woman whom I want to spend the rest of my life with… but then…

Standard and Stranded… hmm!

You know when it hits you? You know when you realize that it ain’t exactly like shopping. Don’t we all wish that we could input whatever characteristics we want in a person into a simulating software that would produce that person instantly?

But then again, we’re all foolish. That doesn’t happen. As Homo Sapiens, we’ve grown apart so much. One can only hope for a person for whom you’d straight away realize that, I know I can compromise no matter what. Because at the end of the day, nobody’s perfect. I know I’m far away from being perfect even though my dark prince keeps telling me otherwise. Because eventually, it’s not just about love. It’s about life. It’s about wanting to merge with that person’s soul. It’s about wanting them to be happy, to be the cause of their happiness. You say that you’re a cause of my disappointment? Ask my readers, ask my friends. Have I ever been this happy? All my readers think that I’m suicidal. I believe some reader once offered to help me therapeutically. If anything… you, being you… Oh sweetheart, I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never ever appeared to the rest of the world to be all fruitcaky and mushy… but I don’t care.

Would they understand if I did this or if I said that? Would they tolerate it?
I know I have a lot to learn. I am brand new at this.

Why am I writing this? Why is this one of those blah nights? With the hardening headache, the fear, the anger at myself, the I can’t stand to look at myself, the fear… the crumbling sensation of fear, the longing for her… I can’t help but stare aimlessly at the screen and type my heart out.

I should have kissed her hand. I should have cherished those moments, all of them. I never realized the illusion of abundance of time until she left me at the airport. I pushed my luggage cart back outside the gates, wishing that she’d be there, but she wasn’t. I am new at this… all I know is how I feel. I know how to say it.

Baby, I told you… with you, I am learning how to express my feelings. I am a shy and frequent self-judger.
I also told you to bear with me… You said you would. Have you borne too much? Have you experienced too much of my flaws? Were my soul and my mind that ugly in person?

I feel shattered. The truth is, sweetheart, in the midst of us talking about disappointment, I was only disappointed of myself…

I hated to see that gentleman picture you had of me get crumbled down the walls of my fort.

And it saddens me that… khalas… Strike Three. I’m Out.

More than ever, I wish I had a time machine. I don’t have enough . I joined commerce, majored in accounting (the most boring of all)… should have joined Science. Kan zamany khlest. :P

I have learned more about myself being with you than I have in a lifetime. I never regretted anything in my life el 7amdulellah; maybe a thing or two in the past, but never wished to change them cos it’s only in the tragedies and disappointments that we get shaped into who we are right now.

I fear…

It scares me that now that I know that it could be over, that I don’t mind not having children for seven years, that I don’t mind karaoke, that I don’t mind many things… and I’m fine with all of that. Because, sweetheart… I miss your smile. Ya Allah… I so do. The thought of me not seeing it again is killing me.

I am also new with owning a lap top. Blogging in the living room, surrounded by family members… is risky… especially when your sight gets tainted with wet drops of fear…

Fear that I won’t be able to duet with you on a karaoke song; that I won’t sing to you on our wedding night, that I won’t ask you to dance with everybody watching. Fuck the flowers… the wedding full blown kiss was my surprise…

But then again we both hate surprises don’t we love?

I feel confident when I’m with you. I feel unbreakable.

I hate you seeing me this weak.

Let me be your reason like you are mine.

I feel the climax of fragility climbing under my skin now.

I feel the skies falling, pouring cats and dogs… raining on my mind… and I feel the lightening shaking my soul. This storm is scary… I know, sweetheart. I’ll protect you.

What if… what if you keep driving through the storm, then you realize that the sky’s clearing out, that the storm’s over… that you’ve reached your destination safe and sound?

What if all it takes is a little faith, a little strength… the willingness to strive for something stunning?

Ya 7abebty…

Ya Rab..

Sunday, May 11, 2008


I once came across a quote by someone that went around the lines of there will always be reasons to wait; but at the end of the day, there are only two things in life, reasons and results… and reasons don’t count.
I do not fully agree with that saying, but waiting can sometimes hold a calm pain.

Sitting there, in front of Gate 15, waiting, reflecting… One week that went in a blink. Like I had my eyes shut and dreamt. I, the dreamer of them all, I enjoy the moment right before I fall asleep. My sleeps are often dreamless. I have a bad memory. I block out all the details and I don’t know why. I enjoy waking up on an off day, knowing that I still have so much to do.
I have plans of my own. I have dreams. I am working on fulfilling them, but the days lack baraka and so I’ve learned to prioritize. I learned how to give ranks to things that matter into a list of ten items or less. Anything else doesn’t matter.
But you know that by now, don’t you.
I do not add to my screenplays anymore ever since I met her. I am taking driving lessons, so that should count for something. I did travel when I had a reason to.
I need a reason… I long for a result.

So I’m sitting there, wondering, begging… if this is indeed a dream, could you not wake me up? Could I stay here, asleep, away from all the tension, from all the politics? Do you think I smother the joyful kid inside? Do you think I over analyze? Well, here’s the kicker. I only over analyze myself. I only judge myself. I’ve been like that ever since I was 14. I’ve judged myself too much that now I’ve set a very high throne for myself and now that I’m up there. I am lonely. I feel better than many. I am the lonely king of all. I do not judge people. I only judge myself. I judge my decisions. I keep throwing what ifs all around me until it suffocates me. I am my own critic. I hate myself… and that is why I try too hard.
I need a break.

Please don’t wake me up.
Let me have this week. Let me have it played back over and over like a broken record. Let me enjoy this sweetness. Allow me the honor of being in her presence, in her void. Allow me the life. Allow me the sentiency of acceptance, of becoming one with all, with life.
Why can’t my job wait for me? Why can’t my parents never age? Why can’t you allow me to cast a lock, one insignificant lock on everything, freeze everything around me so I can just be there?
Talk about a journey of self discovery. Talk about a long distance call that changed everything, that grabbed me out of my handmade 100% dry oblivion. Would I offend her if I labeled her a boat? Would I offend her if I stared at her for a few hundred years?
Oh well, I would probably freak out if I had someone stare at me… maybe even give them the finger, especially if they were a one year old baby.
Don’t ask.
I’m already there. I’m freaking out at how much you’ve pulled out of me. Who are you?

Should I miss my flight, pretend that I was late, pretend that I have a bomb on board?
Should I forget about seeing my old place, my old school, the street that raised me, my best friend, my lady and love?
Should I assume that it all didn’t happen, that I never met her?
That is was all one big dream?
Should I go on pretending?

Dear God, I am speechless… and I fear the things that I may say.
Dear God, I fear my thoughts. I fear my gravitating emptiness. I fear the winds of fury and the waves of rage that I feel are coming my way.
Dear God, protect me from all that is dark within me. Grant me the wisdom. Bring me the serenity.
Dear God, guide me, guide her.
Dear God, inject me with faith and patience. Imbibe me with courage and love for all no matter what.
Dear God, save me. I need faith.
I need faith.
I… need… faith.

Dear God… don’t let me let you down.

Now I’m on board. It’s already been forever. I can tell that it’s going to be a long day… a very long day; a long ride. I can’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. I’m hungry. I got my zen, my laptop, my book, a 40 channel TV sticking out of some dude’s back on a four hour flight. I don’t want any of it.
I just want to feel like… tranquility.
I love that word.
They picked the aisle seat for me. I hate aisle seats. It always happens that I’m the first one there and hence I have to get up at least twice for people to get in to their seats. You don’t get to see the view out the window and all you’re left with is a personal screen that shows a downward view of the landscape down there so you’ll see the pilot if he chutes him out.
I can’t read. Music doesn’t feed me right now. My phone is off. I need to hear her voice. I need to smoke.
I need to burn something dear.

Long flight.
Can I just ask them to fly me back?
Oh well…

Some dude with a beard calls the flight attendant, asks her about what he thinks is a crack in his window. He tells her that if it breaks then we’re all going to die. He freaks everybody out. It’s -45 degrees out there it’s only frost, she says; but alas, he does not listen. Stereotypically, he’s the hijacker of the day. He’s the reason why everybody’s hissing and whispering and wondering if this is it. That’s when the turbulence hit the fan literally. That’s when the plane starts throwing us right and left.
That was the moment I felt closest. Was that the end of the pattern I’ve been following, the end of the million signs I’ve been gathering; like my very own stamp collection that in five hundred years are still gonna be worthless to the keen collectors. Me? Signs make me. I believe.

Airline food sucks. I ask the flight attendant for chocolate. I’m not a big fan, but I needed it.

Why am I writing this?
Why am I posting this?

I fail to grasp the fact that I’m back here.
This can’t be home.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Swallowing the sea

O endless stream... O endless stream.
Where O where do you take me?

I can not swim. She knows that about me. She loves that about me. I can not ski.

Growing up, I've always been a quiet kid, pretty much like the way I am today as a man. I find excitement and entertainment in the weirdest of things. I search for joy with my eyes. I find beauty in the last place to look.

Today... I knew for sure. I don't want her to read this. I know she will. She will question me later.

I don't want her to. Baby... please look away.

I spent all day walking next to you, and while you were checking out that ceiling and that boat, all I did was admire your face.

There is something to you; breathtaking you. There's something about your eyes that captivate my every thought, how they look so sleepy when you're waiting for an answer to a serious question, how they twinkle and curl when you smile. There's something about those teeth and that smile. It lifts my heart. You make me forget all the bad and you talk to me about all the good. Why me? Who sent you to me? Why me?

Your nose... O you have no idea how majestic it looks with its downward slide, like a crosshair for your eyes to use to target a holy quest.

The truth is... honey, no matter what happens. I do know for sure, deep down? that I don't deserve you, that you deserve someone better; that that someone better is just around the corner.

What do I do to hold on to you?
Whose head to bear and what brand to wear to get to you? I'll do it all. I'll bear it all.
I don't fucking care. I know, deep down, that I'll love ever bit of work that needs to be done to get to you.
The many times I just wanted to slide my arm on your shoulder, to hold your hand..
and all that other gay shit. lol
I don't care. You brought me something beautiful.

What we've been through tonight... that's just a few sea water waves that we've swallowed. Made us sick, but we're still afloat. A little salt wouldn't kill ya.. it'll get our blood rate up a bit, bit it won't kill us.

Let's talk.
Let's settle everything, from top to bottom. Let's even talk wall paint and baby names. Let's talk about the song we're gonna dance to on our wedding night.

I wanna dance with you, sweetheart.

Do you still feel like dancing with me?

PS Ibn Battouta was a Pisces. :P

Recently Judged

Links, links & links

Blog Directory & Search engine