get a clue

- "what shall I do to make you happy?
- "Just smile".

Oil is running out

Many experts in the field of oil and mining and also Geology assure that the oil is now reaching its highest point of production and that by 2012 it will begin to decrease gradually and then by the end of 2017 it will fall suddenly and quickly. Some think that by the end of 2050 there might be no oil in the whole world.
This is a terrible statistics for nearly nothing we do nowadays doesn't depend a way or another on oil. that means that industry my stop, factories will close and the most important there won't be wars. We will get back to become primitive societies again.
That makes me happy and makes me sad as well. Happy for the ghost of the western occupation of the east may cease when no more oil is to be there in the east. and sad, chiefly because i dont want to get back but to go forward.
But actually we pass very difficult and unprecedented moments in our age. Oil in itself, with the greed of the industrial nations upon it forms nearly half of the tragedy the world lives today. America knows well that the Oil of the world is running out and so the
Business-man-president and oil engineer George W. Bush with the group of assholes around him are doing their best to fuck the world up and get the Oil. Here he comes to assure that his war on Iraq is now harvesting its fruit.
According to my revolutionary nature I think that Arab Peoples should form a party called the Anti Oil Party.

أين أنت في عيد الحب؟ فأنا أحبك

تفر مني الكلمات الآن، مجتمعة كلها في رأسي ويأبى القلب أن يحيطها بالبيان. لكن لماذا؟ أهوذلك الخوف القديم من افتضاح السر؟ ألن تتحرر تلك الروح المسجونة ولو لمرة واحدة تستنشق هواء القلم الحر الذي صار يخيفني كلما أمسكت به؟ أريد أن أحكيها حكايتي... يصيح بي القلم: هئنذا ملك مشيئتك !! أكتب أيها الجبان. تخلص من الرعب في داخلك وحطم قيود القهر التي سيجت بها نفسك؛ بملئ إرادتك. أكتب .. لم يخجل الأولون ولا الأخرون، لم تخجل النساء ولا الرجال، لم يوجل العارفون فضلا عن الجاهلين.. لم يخجل أحد. قم وانفض عنك التراب، انهض وحط عن جلدك الرخو بلل العرق المتصبب من حمرة الخجل وصفرة الوجل

لكنني لم أستمع إلى صرخاته التعسة ولم أستجب إلى النداءات المتكررة، وظللت طوال عمري أقول ما أريد عندما يأتي المساء. حينما أطيل الرقاد بين بين. وأحكي على مسامع الصمت كل الحكاية.. أحكي الحكاية كل ليل.. وفي الصباح أنسي الذي كنت أحكي و أظل أنتظر المساء. وكلما جاء المساء أقول سوف أكتبها في الليلة القادمة؛ ومرت ألف ليلة ، لآ أذكر أم ألف ألف ليلة، وما زالت حكايتي في داخلى تقطع أحشائي. تنبثق بين الضلوع وأحس حشرجة أنفاسي في صدري وقلبي لم يزل يوصد بابا تلو الآخر ، يصر على أن يبعث بالظلام في أرجاء كهفي الذي كلما مر الزمن ازداد انعتاقا وانكماشا واختفاء.

أنا لم أرد ياربي أن أقول.. لم أجترئ يوما أن أعترف أني لم أنحني بعدك إلا لهذا العشق الذي أدماني وأفتك بي ثم ضاع

إذا كان ذنبي أن حبك سيدي فكل ليالي العاشقين ذنوب

أتوب إلى ربي وإني لمرة يسامحني ربي.. إليك أتوب

أنت دائما معي .. أراك في وجوه المارة في الطرقات .. أذكرك كلما دخلت حجرتي ؛ في يقظتي والمنام، وأرى لفتة جيدك تأسرني في وحدتي عندما يأتي قطار الليل

أخاف من الحكاية لو كتبتها ، لو حررتها لفقدت معها حبي السجين في طياتها. أخاف أن يضيع الحب.. أخاف أن يضيع.. و انت دائما تضيعين

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Listening to Sahret 7ob By "The Voice": Fairouz

I Won't Bring Them Here..!!

"When u reach the age of 60 u'll feel it".. he said it quickly and unintentionally as he stepped out of the room. His remark kept me in the seat unable to move, to listen or to see anything. It's just the idea that controlled me entirely. these questions were the only possible paasers by my mind:
Why after 60?
Why not now?

And after sixty everything will be quite dreadful. our shapes will never be the same. I will be more inclined or unified with death. Yeah I believe we come here to die. I can't imagine how quickly time goes on, and every moment goes by brings me nearer to something dreadful. I don't want to marry. It's a cooperation towards failure. I dont want to have children; why do I bring to this merciless life another innocent human without asking him/her if [s]he'd like to come or not.
I dont want to go for sixty years, I dont want to be older than this moment. I dont want to see myself at the age of sixty looking back at my past life and wonder or regret. I dont want to repeat the tragedy again with children that r supposed to be mine. I dont want them to come then die; I will be a killer, arent I?

But when I imagine how dreadful it is to live alone, how meaningless it is when no woman comes to shine in the dark cave of my soul, how hard and cruel it is when one dies and no sons or daughters come to put some flowers on my grave; when no son remembers me and prays for me; when I'm totally forgotten in the underworld deaf and blind, I say to myself: well, it's ok to marry and have children. But then I remember that what we do in our youth we might not realize its fruit unless we grow old, and very old indeed.

Then I ask myself how will I bring up my children. What are the criteria; what is the ideology? what kind of education shall i be giving them? ON which principles shall i bring them up? How am i going to deal with their sexuality and how to direct him or her? Or Should I be leaving them to know everything by experience? or what or what or what?

I dont want them to come here. I'm not sure they will be happy. I'm not sure I will be able to help them bear the curses of just being alive in the 21st century. They won't bear being muslims easterners, and egyptians in our age. They will curse their fate. I will keep them in the world of darkness. It is better, isn't it?

أيها النافر الغريب

أيها المفرد
أيها المتواري في صفاتك
كن شريرا-
مزعجا
عدواني الحواس كما يليق
كن ماكرا
مجازفا
مشدود الساقين
كما ينبغي
أحب نفسك حتى الغرور
لا تفسر نواياك
أو غموض خطاك
لاتفسر رضاك
ستحتاج إلى عمرين كاملين
كي ترضي عابسا واحدا
وحين تلام-
خذ طعنة اللوم بابتسامة قوية-
ذكرهم بما قاله الطاووس:
أنا لا أنكر
أنا لم أنكر أيها السادة
؟لكن ماذا عن غرور الجرذ
كن موجودا مستترا-
ككهرباء بين غيمتين
كن صلبا ، مراوغا
شيطاني الحيلة
لأنك أيها النافر الغريب
احتراما لروحك
لا بد أن تكذب على هذا العالم

من قصيدة منتصف الليل للشاعر
مريد البرغوثي

To The Crying Generation To Which I Belong

I've been around to many blogs though it was not long ago to happen to know that there is something called "blog" which may be due to my dislike of technology however I know I'm not right. But what really attracted my attention is that most of these blogs as well as the newspapers of our time do nothing but crying. I dont ecxclude myself -if I'm ablogger aslan- but actually we belong to the crying generation. we came after the revolutionists of both the 19th and 2oth century who developed their thoughts gradually from protesting against stagnant norms and habits and made their way to erupting revolutions in many fields and of many forms. They warred against poverty, tyranny and inequity; they also warred against the propagandists of religion that lead the masses away from the true instructions of religion. they also had a great contribution to freeing women from the patriarchal hold which lasted since the dawn of history; and their wars were fruitful.

Everything starts with a word. first we say it then we dream of achieving it and finally work hard to bring it into being. That's what has been made through history and among different races. But first there must be the word.

And we, where is our word? what is our ambition? do we dream of achieving it? And how do we work it out?

What i noticed is simply that we treat the ideas of our predecessors by which they managed to squeeze through the narrow openning of light and achieve their revolutions, but for another purpose if ever we have a purpose, for shouting and crying.
I pity us. We are stuck in the twist of a futuristic hazy picture and an over-demanding past, and after all a present that offers no heading.

I belive as no specific one in revolution. Talking about egypt, we suffer from many many problems; social, political or cultural. The main social problem i stumble by in the blogs, newspapers, fiction or diaries is the problem of "LOVE" - which I may like to call it the problem of "MARRIAGE" - and the main cause of it is poverty that increased because of the failure of some institutions -such as the educational institution and the employment institution and others- to find solutions for it besides the negative habits of our society that stike the young couples in the face. This is a brief sample for the mytaphysical poblem of marriage. our cultural problems are more mytaphysical since they were brought about by millions of factors of which someone like me is totally incapable of any suggestions. The same also applies to our political problems which are the result of our cultural instability.

What I have a word on now is the problem of marriage. And what I dream of now is a revolution made by the young people who are deprived from that divine right because of a sort of nonsense. I wish I could see the lovers who are spread through the streets of cairo, in cafe's and clubs carrying out a sit-in or if they have courage, making a revolution threatening of either getting married or not going home agian or marrying each other in the street.

Actually I'm not kidding, but I see that if we learn how to marry, we will learn how to bring up children and so our cultural attitude will be an attitude of individuals who are able to make use of all the past generation's contributions and employ them the way they suit us.

The problem of marriage is not only a problem of unemployment or bad financial conditions, but it also has other dimensions on many levels. The most occurring to my mind now is the problem of women who are sold and bought to who is going to pay more. The problem of marriage also has its drastic implication on the children who live as parentless because of a failed marriage. It brings to our world a whole heap of generations who are not aware of their role in life or their cultural responsibility.. and it is a responsibility and everyone of us must reconsider his/her qualifications and what he or she has to produce.

لا أدري

كيف لكلمتنا أن تعبر عن تجربة تفيض عنها؟...عفوا جيل الصراخ.. ! .1