Things will never be the same

Eid for a lot of people in Egypt is a family-oriented, habit ridden event; Sometimes that which is uncomfortable or inconvenient. Always slightly uncomfortable but never completely inconvenient, I actually do enjoy Eid. It's a time where travelling is a major break in the routine, staying in Cairo is an excellent driving experience, and national television becomes a folkloric and traditional extravaganza that is worth anthropological attention. A particular song that is incessantly played over and over on TV is Safa Abou El Souood's little shindig "El Eid Far-ha". An overly excited Abou El Souood belts out, accompanied by disturbingly happy children, how Eid is in fact a far-ha (happiness). A specific verse in the song where she sings "El Eid Far-ha we agmal far-ha...saa'dina biha, biykhalina, nor2os we nifrah a7la far-ha", or something to that respect, is special (This post falls flat for anyone who is unable to speak or transliterate in Arabic).
Why is it special? For me, the verse mentions the Bonnie and Clyde of festivities, the Tom & Katie of celebratory joy, the BrAngelina of Eid: the quintessential Egyptian couple, Sa3d & Nabiha. Little did I know that they in fact did not exist. I can't express how this broke my heart (more so than the theft of "Fox": See last post). The realization that they existed only in my mind was as devastating as when some schmuck told me that the moon does not in fact become a crescent, explaining it as a ball the has light shown on it at different angles, thereby ridding me from seeing the moon as an honest crescent, ever again.
The names Sa3d & Nabiha are actually saa'dina biha, a verb rather than a noun. Poof went the image of my prefect Egyptian couple, and along with it a myriad of memories and hopes. Ever since- and I've discovered this ground-breaking piece of information last year- Eid has been bitter sweet.
Kol Sana wento Tayibeen.


Photograph courtesy of Fotografia Reflex.

I've met my match

I usually use the word "Fox" quite extensively in reference to, well, pretty much anything. Depending on the tone of voice used as I say it, I use it either in praise (to compliment someone, usually male: on their swagger, performance at a task or the success of an outift they're wearing), to ridicule (to make fun of someone, usually male: on their inability to swagger, mediocre performance at a task or the failure of an outift they're wearing) or just at times of exclamation (no particular reference: Just whenever the usage of the word would draw attention to me when I'm craving it).
I used to think that I was one of the few people who regularly use this word. I'm aware that it isn't mine, but I would've never thought that anyone could so violently jolt me in their quest to selfishly own the word exclusively. However it has happened: Through a random friend request on Facebook. It needs to be said that the friend request was not in fact sent to me personally, but to M. Bey, who so kindly forwarded this picture (He is fully aware of my affinity to the word 'Fox', as do all my close friends).
Please notice the greedy monopolization: The word is Registered, Copyrighted and TradeMarked. I mean, seriously.

About writing

I've been having quite the writer's block when it comes to this blog, which was in fact created to keep me writing all time thereby aiding to reduce my writer blocks. It's not proving terribly effective in so far the reason of its' conception is concerned.
I've heard a dialogue however, that somehow illustrated why I'm having trouble blogging. It was between the likable loser protagonist of the TV series Californication, Hank Moody, and Radio DJ Henry Rollins. The following is its transcript:



Hank Moody: People seem to be getting dumber and dumber, you know. We have all this amazing technology yet computers have turned into basically 4 figure wank machines. The internet was supposed to set us free, to democratize us, but all its really given us is Howard Dean's aborted candidacy and 24 hour a day access to kiddy porn. People don't write anymore, they blog. Instead of talking, they text: No punctuation, no grammar. "LOL" this and "LMFAO" that. It just seems to me that it's a bunch of stupid people pseudo communicating with a bunch of other stupid people in a proto-language that resembles more of what the cavemen used to speak than the King's English.
Henry Rollins: Yet you're part of the problem; You're out there blogging with the best of them.
Hank moody: Hence my self-loathing.
(Episode 5, Californication).

A pastime to consider

Facebook needs to expand on the "It's complicated" option in the relationship status. There needs to be enough room for every person to spill their insides in regards to their predicament when it comes to their significant- or no longer so- other, because the personal status can only take so much. And we, as voyeurs and avid Facebook status checkers would like- nay, NEED- more information. It's only fair. It's one of the very few things that would keep us fasting folk from quenching our thirst with our own sweat in this humid, sweltering Ramadan. Yeah.

They did it again

You must watch Gnarls Barkely's brilliant new video: "Who's gonna save my soul now?" Not only is the song excellent but the video's perfection. Written and directed by Chris Milk.

Funny man

My best friend, Platypus, is a fantastic artist. When he came across this blog, ("came across" isn't quite right; he was virtually dragged by myself to check it out) he felt obliged to draw the above piece for me, aptly titled "Fear" . Did I also mention that Platypus happens to be a stand up comedian? No? Well that's probably because he's not very funny.

What's up, doc?

Painting by Artist Bethany Marchman.

I have an unusual and perhaps irrational fear of rabbits. They scare me shitless. I cringe at just the thought of them and I have no desire in psychoanalysing my mating habits (or lack thereof) to get to the bottom of this. I've always thought that it was a quirky disposition, much like the fear of clowns. Admittedly, a clown is significantly scarier than a rabbit for the obvious reason of it being a human covered in sinister, primary coloured makeup which forces a smile at all times. (Speaking of a forced smile, Heath Ledger did a fantastic job of the Joker in "The Dark Knight". Absolutely brilliant; totally swamped Christian Bale's performance as Batman. I'm a Tim Burton chick when it comes to the Batman movies but the latest Joker was just perfect, no disrespect to the original Jack Nicholson of course. But damn was Heath Ledger good).
A clown is repression personified at it's most colourful. A rabbit, on the other hand, is a furry little animal that's deemed "cute" by most. But some of those fuckers have red eyes. And they multiply rapidly. In fact, they do everything rapidly: Chew, skip, hop, breathe. They're like those creatures in Francis Lawrence's interpretation of "I am Legend": Agitated, frenzied and soulless.
This fear became blatantly apparent when I began to feel physically ill at the thought of going to Le Pasha boat in Zamalek for dinner. For some absurd reason there happens to be an enclosed area with almost a hundred rabbits (& counting) frantically chewing away at cucumbers and carrots. Why on earth is that, I ask? Are they trying to give me a stroke? Is it even hygienic? Screw hygiene, what's the idea behind it? There's nothing rabbit related anywhere near the boat so why have these gnawing, slithery creatures at the entrance of a complex full of restaurants, upon both entering and exiting I get sick to my stomach? Why?
Staying true to my contradicting self, and despite having realized that my fear has almost become a socially limiting characteristic (I'm beginning to doubt my love for both L'Asiatique and the friends who suggest dining there), I'm very much intrigued by people, artists in particular, who find rabbits as freaky as I do. There is something sinister & grotesque about them (See: Donnie Darko) and artists have always been intrigued by the grotesque. I personally love the Grotesque, written an entire 8000 word chapter on the Grotesque in my MA thesis & will continue to point out its existence every chance I get, but I will never like a rabbit. I will never digest them as a concept, never mind with Molokhiya, and I will forever respect those who find them as awful and creepy as I do.

The Launch

I have realized that I am addicted to blogs. It's been easily a few months now since a day has passed without me reading an article/piece of writing referred to, posted or written by a blogger. I enjoy this habit-one that has cost me signifcant eye strain-immensely, so I've decided to have my own blog. Now I'm aware that reading blogs doesn't necessarily mean that you'd have an interesting one yourself, but I'm sure as hell going to give it a shot. Worse case scenario I'll just delete it, as I do many of many of the dates I've been on.