Wednesday, August 31, 2011

excerpt

"[...] I’ll be smoking a cigarette pretending I don’t care, so you make you more interesting, slowly more plastic as I regain interest – aesthetically.

I don’t know how things start.
It was a windy day by the sea in Beirut. I was playing with your hair before you bald. I was poking the foam off my cappuccino with your finger. You were pouring me some coffee before sunrise so I can write more about you. [...]" 

Monday, August 15, 2011

a 'bright' new bleug*

"because the pictures were horrifying, we forgot our history"
- http://beirutnomad.tumblr.com/




Monday, August 8, 2011

impossible is everything,

but possibility is not a parameter of action anyways. nothing is. it will take me forever to show you what i have in my pocket, it will take you forever to convince me you're not interested. but interest is not a parameter of action anyways. nothing is.
fixes neck in corner, holds one hand behind back - lets the other free - metaphoric sodomy - fixes eyes on other, holds one hand back - demands the other - as the other, never a parameter of action anyways. i am.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Soapkills - وديع

وديع تعا نلعب سوا لعبة 


غير الكلام ما النا شي   
حكلي سر ما تخبر حدا
الله نايم وشوشني بكير 

sniffs wholegrain flour off toilet seat with a 20.000 bill - party - beirut city -


he was never a know-it-all. he would come off as such.. he was an argue-it-all. it just didn't make sense. fact didn't make sense. the concept of factual evidence was beyond him. he was probably an idiot. he thought he was a genius. it's okay, no one cared. he could be a genius if he wanted too. and he was.. according to himself, a genius. he was a misfit. he did not like having sex. puberty was lonely. he liked the stars. he liked how they - in his present - are dead projections of theirs, their present. he had dead friends. the stars were ghosts. he had ghosts as friends. ghosts always beat flesh. everyone knew that. they still do actually, everyone knows that. everyone was never a parameter of normal to him. he thought everyone was stupid, as a chunk. it's ok. they all thought he was stupid, so it was mutually de-beneficial. but really, no one cared. some people called him gay. he googled it. it wasn't that bad. he just didn't like sex in general. others called him asexual. he googled that. it wasn't as bad as they made it sound. he thought he was sexual though, he just didn't like having sex. the act. he didn't like the other. the first time he came hands-free was when he stuck a cucumber up his hole. he tried being fucked. it was too painful. his partner was a jerk. it was okay, nothing new. he did not like having sex. every now and then, he remembered puberty. he drew portraits of it. talked to it. not knowing much about it yet. faked scenarios to cum to himself in constructed mirrors. he liked himself. he couldn't believe anyone else. he couldn't trust anyone else. he only came to trust. slowly, he taught himself to doubt himself. more and more, he lost taste of his jerking hand. more and more, his interest faded in his aging body. he was empty. he was empty, hyper in a beirut toilet cubicle - the music loud as fuck - men fucking in the cubicle on his right. men fucking in the cubicle on his left. in his cubicle, one man rolling a 20.000 bill, lining brown powder on the toilet seat.
"trust me, i'm not in it for the.. "
and it was almost, just almost - all fine

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

http://tinyurl.com/3sgf8fx (copy paste this link to download good music) OR i want to listen to spiders


what will be the biggest mistake of your life.. of course, as i say you - i'm talking to me.. you are not that important. in this context that is.. *come, gimme a kiss* with all the fuck ups you've done, your biggest are yet to come -- you think, ok - contingency .. mitigation, impartial frowns to temptations or lacks thereof -- what will be the biggest mistake of your life? is it that you will leave your lover waiting forever or is it that you've never met him .. is it time? is that your issue? time?
what will be the biggest mistake of your life *as you refuse it existed* with all the fuck ups you've done, will it be you accepting 'the time that remains' .. will it be you enjoying pseudo-epitomous success? will it be you grabbing self-proclaimed opportunity? will it be you, slowly chamfering past ego, past life, past excitement, past juvenile smiles at empty skies, into a gravity possessed  present, very tangible, very here, very impotent, seemingly fertile, what will be the biggest mistake of your life? will it be you, talking to yourself in third person type instead of being fucked saneless ..elsewhere.

Monday, August 1, 2011

poop is priceless, and so are 'you' - this doesn't make you any more interesting


SUBJECT: “It’s been a while since you’ve blogged anything philosophical” ..

BODY: Liquor. I need more liquor. It’s funny, everything. This is not going to be a philo. post, but it’s somewhere close. Actually it’s not. You see, I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t see where this is going. I don’t see where to ground it. I never wanted to ground it, but I’m impotent. My brain is impotent. I am stupid. My flesh is stupid. Severe lack of harmony between matter and not. Mass and not. I don’t get it. I don’t see the link between being and nothingness, and yes – I’m using the title of his book because I like how it sounds..not because it may mean anything in particular. You exist, right? You do. You stroll along existence. You look for things. You like things. Then if you think about it, you really don’t. You can like other things just as much. Then you will think about those, and dislike them. And then comes God in shining armor, the answer to it all, the unquestionable undeniable almighty head-wrapper that can’t even show you it’s face. Fuck it. I used to hate fiction. Fiction meant nothing. Nothing, now, is all-encompassing. It is everything. Vice versa. I want to live in fiction. All of you don’t exist..except sometimes in tutus. For all of you, I’ll fake personas I need. For our sake, play along.

EPILOGUE: Exists not,

SPONSORS: Marlboro reds

2.39

all these years, i got my info from fictional sources. i still do. the only difference is that now, i'm aware that i know nothing at all