..so im planting olives in BCD

I am not particularly the volunteer-work buff, making the world a better place, for other people. But now, a little place behind my testicle just showed me the light. Yes, be surprised; I allow you. I have made it a habit to plant olives in the beirut central district, on my way to and/or from work everyday. There is this little shop that happens to make pseudo-yum labneh sandwiches that I impose on myself to fancy. This little shop is one of those who believe in holistic issues. He looks devout, very. He has very big ketchup bottles, and uses seeded olives in his sandwiches. At first, I was appalled, I viciously spat the seed on the 234 Tala Beige Jordanian Stone of Beirut Central District Sidewalk and cursed via his mother's clitoris... But later, around bite #2 or #3, I noticed my missed opportunities and their impotent trees. This place has no real food, bite this shit.. suckle this olive, spit seed into plantholder.
Why this is genius: they have people to take care of my seeds
ehm, Let's all do this, I love apples - so this project could start later. I am covering the Fouad Chehab > Testicle > Riad el Solh > Synagogue route in principle.

1. beware, orchestrate arm in such a way not to imply bomb inflictions, you'll die
2. act natural
3. enjoy your sandwich
4. work in task-oriented groups

Long Live Procreation
Sincerely,
r

so, i am producing a heart

and they tell me of ventricles. ok, ventricles. i have to have a right one and a left one, but all i seem to preoccupy myself with is a wrong one. i miss one, ventricle. i miss one. so i have to have a right one and a left one, i can try - as i suck up my inferiority ino a superior vena cava, that does not relate but to my stupid triscupid intermissions of projections of past beats, i cannot respire; i want to produce a heart, that feels nothing. aorta. pass the aorta, please. i am producing my heart, so do not interrupt. i weave. i weave. i weave. i weave.
it is pulmonary, too common, for me to allow blood in this new heart of mine. but i wont. because i will not make a scene when it bursts, for i know it might. so no blood. i weave. i weave. i weave. i weave the valve. i will not let you in, and you wont let me out, so i'll weave. i'll weave. i'll weave in that artery, i'll weave. i'll weave. i'll weave that vein.
in vain, i weave. i weave. i weave. i weave, until things become more clear, more obscene, more useless, more raw, more naked - already slit open, thank you - i place my produce - inside, as i weave. i weave. i weave. i weave it in, in front of me - still, i won't let you in, but you won't let me out, and my produce, made to be blind, silent mute, voluntary - involuntarily, it beats. it beats. it beats. it beats

on color

i have been working on a little pseudo-possible-documentary on the river in tripoli (which is becoming a non-river), so i thought that it would be nice to video-tape it an produce a piece for my hypothetical grandchildren...for at the rate of social catastrofuck, this slit of a river will be no more.
so, after a couple of rounds of shooting, getting lost in vessels of pedestrian conduct, little alleys of this and that - smells, i think - scentractions of mapmarks and insinuated direction, i noticed - that this city is no more. i grew up here, for a while - although i don't consider myself a local. i dont see myself suitable for this concept, ..''local'' - i spent more time in my head..on paper, or something else introverted .. relating myself to nothing but myself, for safe anchor - and this is why.

i see myself drifting to the collection of little things, to pickle things, because i can't push them forward. it is becoming a defense, while all i need to do is offend this streaming system of absurd irrelevance. i criticize, but i think i do nothing, a blurred goal, a blurred relevance, a blurred everything - for i set no base, no anchor, but myself - this self losing interest in its obsessions, fleeting obsessions, no control over. no more, at least.

a video

http://vimeo.com/5489132

System Failure from Leen Sadder on Vimeo.

Leen Sadder's final year animation project at the American University of Beirut (AUB). Using stop motion animation, collage and Adobe After Effects, she managed to create her own imaginary world inside her computer screen.

lationship, re

relationship
i am not going to try to define it (oum kolthoum said that el 7obb keda) and the rest, ok - i trust her/it.
but relationship-
s based on poetry, i think do not work - too bad, they make sense
other people - some people inter-people..
things do not make sense to me anymore, but it makes it interesting
i say
i think i lie
am lying, that is
will lie more, if it gets me where i want to be
although i lie, that i wont lie - i hope that i dont
but to get to you - i think. .

*of course this is an abstract excerpt and means nothing and is addressed to no one and is worth your shoe - discard plz*

أرض

dear basma,

i must insist, that whatever i may comment might come off as completely irrelevant - but this is not the point, it has never been - relevance, in itself, on its own - is completely irrelevant - it is, believe me - or don't, at least - acknowledge
now, to your status, i feel the need to translate - translation rips the essence of things - mutilates them, but makes them more and less understandable - and this ...i shall use

{damn a nation, overflowing with sects and lacking religion}

--damn a nation--

in general, damn a nation. damn the nation. damn our nation(s).
(s) - what is our nation to begin with
1.pan arabia, my orgasm
2.play lines of dead politicians...republics/kingdoms

when talking about 1.
if considering pan-A, it exists only in the head - and if it does, this whole thing become irrelevant - if it exists in the head, we are all fine - but i dont think it does, to most people - sometimes it is better to un-think of it, as a young thing, i used to draw my own playlines - around the borders of arabia, and just .. color the whole thing as one - and i think - in my lifetime, some atlases will be printed as such - and after i die, many will, but i'm not sure if it would still be arabia, damn it.
when talking about 2.
then this in itself is a damnation, why would countries sharing history, religion*, blood, babies, households, food have boundaries (ask dead polititians when reading al-fati7a on respective graves) -- (or not)..(or don't read al-fati7a).. anyways, since defining the boundaies lies at the core of introverted mentality, simply - damn the nation, the concept of such nation - damn sects that call themselves nations, damn religion* altogether

--overflowing with sects--

define sects? no. wikipedia is too interesting, too interesting, use it. based on the prior /damn the nation/ protocol, i must insist, that
1. nations are sects
2.religion/sect+sect

let's talk about 2.
what is religion? we can all agree that utopia does not exist, platonia is too boring, yet still - irrealistic, so why bother. so the almighty decides to tickle us with a piece of information:
find utopia
i think it's a joke, depeche mode too.. i mean,
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/depeche+mode/blasphemous+rumours_20039337.html
anyways, beside blashpemous rumors - -
to me, religion is the ultimate political dream, why? because god said so - angry? exactly.
so screw it, if you want to pray, pray at home - you want to masturbate with otello, at home too, you want to suck pencils, please do - at home. nations are not built on sentiment, they must build sentiment..but not on residues of the latter. hence, religion only exists on the fault between two sects - religion, in eqation is always less that sects - this would work better with a diagram, so look:


excuse the quality (phone pic)

so, this is hyperoptimism... religion::sect = 1::4
so again, damn a nation becomes a postulate according to
{damn a nation, overflowing with sects and lacking religion}

--and lacking religion--

alone, this is music to my ears, but in context, it makes no sense - because it is an utter statement of the conclusive obvious - yes, sects exist as majority to religion in any way or form - if not at moment of initiation, then at moment of perception.
and because this is a populative equation i.e.

1 religion = 1+ sect = x...

let's lack religion, a sect antidote - to maybe undamn a "nation", let's not call ourselves ..nationals - with a "nation", until i find another more appropriate name for us (never), let's enjoy being nothing extra - nothing more than producers and consumers - more tangible, i wouldn't mind being called a consumerist, when i buy a farroukh album, collaborate on spatial development or buy a decent newspaper everyday...maybe drinking home-brewed coffee.. am i ending this another quote, basma?

ويل لأمة تلبس مما لا تنسج

im not into ويلin general, so - i cannot agree with quotes, in general - anyways,
yes...i'll make myself some coffee,

much love

BLACK CELEBRATION

Celebrate the dark side of the 80's at Electro Mecanique with a great selection of tracks by Joy division, The cure, New Order, Cabaret Voltaire, Depeche mode, Siouxsie&the Banshees,sex pistols, the clash and many others
revisited by DJ MOUKA

event page on facefuck:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=164670386859#/event.php?eid=164670386859

METROPOLIS cinema | semaine ARTE

who's st.john?

i dont care, he's got good taste, thank you mr. st.john

have you seen a butterfly crawling?

i have.

i think it was looking for moth blasphemy, everyone is looking for moth blasphemy - or things for them to get caught - things never to come up - moth blasphemy - rumors of concubines and trinkets, probably naked incidents, behind frames with no doors, the shadows of footprints - behind imaginary outsides

it could have flied, if it needed to mate, but it crawled, for moth blasphemy - in places where no one knows it, him and her - it crawled, looks timid - it lurks to lead - for it thinks of its gradients to be more superior

have you seen a butterfly crawling?
when it touches your toes, it flutters of its reflection off your opaque floor..

,i have

got these by mail* handala a l'iranien