The Ragdoll Speaks

"Should" is the operative term here.

2009-08-31T21:51:00.004+03:00

Probably the worst word you can say if you have a speech impediment. Well, make that the second worst word after "impediment", if you suffer from it.

There's always something significantly more interesting to do than what you should be doing. Somehow, everything I've ever wanted to look up in my entire life comes crashing in the minute I decide to sit at my laptop and finally get my Phd Proposal done. Nothing, and I mean nothing, matches watching the soon to be critiqued crappy romantic comedy still being filmed at Apple trailers.com when you in fact should be looking up definitions of critical theory for the thesis you ideally should be proposing. When else- you tell me- can I possibly work on my triceps with those 2kg purple dumbbells I just bought? When? After the proposal's done? Well that would take the sweat right out of it, wouldn't it?

But then I come to thinking as I procrastinate, why do we procrastinate? It has been said that those who procrastinate are in fact perfectionists, but I think that's bullshit really. Perfectionists worry after they've done the task, not procrastinate about doing it (I base these findings on one person, my best friend, an anally retentive perfectionist extraordinaire, and I consider these findings to be totally conclusive). I'm more inclined to be believe that it's about fear, which definitely applies to yours truly.

Dr. Piers Steel, psychologist at the University of Calgary has research that states that people are more likely to procrastinate if the task is less urgent, less appealing or daunting to the person facing the task. He also says, quite intelligently, that "other factors may be involved." Yeah. Finally, he ends his discussion on procrastination by saying that "more research is needed and the sooner it is collected, the better." So. What's HE doing then?

I'll end this little procrastinatory session with a quote by good ol' Monty Python that should get me working: "Procrastination is like masturbation. At first it feels good, but in the end you're only screwing yourself. "

It would taste like heaven.

2009-07-07T14:01:00.004+03:00

[about a painting]
Hank Moody: What the fuck is that?
Bill Lewis: Oh, you like it? I could have bought a car instead.
Hank Moody: I think you should still buy the car and then run over whoever created that turd.

I can only hope that one day I can practice this level of simon cowell-ness in art, music and film critque. In writing. It has to be in writing, so that criticisms (of the constructive kind, naturally) can be read over and over and over again. Sublime.

Loss

2009-05-27T18:46:00.001+03:00

I've been hearing a lot of these comments lately- random yet somehow related- and I thought I'd share.

Professional boxers tell you that a punch hurts less if you saw it coming; A surprise undercut could lose you a game. Like death, one will forever mourn the actual happening but if what led to it was a persevering battle with cancer it would've given the mourners some time to habituate the possibility of a loss, versus a random car accident for example. Similarly, and on a less morbid note, is the situation with break ups. If you saw it coming, it would hurt less.

I think, with all due respect to those who have these beliefs and/or have expressed them to me, that these statements are somewhat full of shit.

It hurts all the same.

Stop that man.

2009-05-27T10:05:00.010+03:00

I haven't written here in quite a while, primarily because I've been writing elsewhere (putting my proverbial pen to pages that actually pay). It seems that I always get back here when I'm awfully provoked by an event about which I desperately need to bitch and have no one to vent to. So I blog.

The latest little irritation was a movie I saw last night: "Dukkan Shehata" by Khaled Yousef. It was his usual: All the problems that have ever happened in Egypt, particularly within the last 2 years, jammed unnecessarily in a shallow story filled with characters that somehow refuse to develop or learn from their mistakes. Mind you, I wasn't exactly expecting cinematic brilliance when I decided to watch it. From the writer of movies such as "Khiaana mashro3a", "Ouija", "Al Akhar" and director of "Heya Fawda", one can barely expect a heightened sense of mediocrity from Khaled Yousef.
It was more irritation than disappointment. The irritation of an itch placed somewhere just a scratch away from your most extended reach.

The first half hour was quick and somewhat painless. It was actually alright: funny, upbeat and somewhat engaging. Mahmoud Hemeda did a good performance as a kind and loving yet firm father, but nothing to write home about. Hemeda's acting abilities far surpass anything he has exhibited in this movie, so his ho hum performance here is best attributed to either a shallow script or linear directing. Or both.

Two actors whose performances were brilliant were Amr Abdel Geleel and Ghada Abdel Razek. They did a fantastic job of portraying their otherwise fairly limited characters. Of both, it was Amr Adel Geleel who pretty much carried the movie through, providing absurd moments of comic relief throughout the dreary two and some hours of the Khaled Yousef's drama-queen drama. He performed exactly the same function in Yousef's equally melodramatic gatna-neela-fi-7azena-el-hibab production "7een Maysara", and anyone who has seen that would perceive Amr Abdel Geleel's performance as an alarming deja vu.

Enter the lead hero, Khaled Yousef's muse and Shehata himself: Amr Saeed. He can act, but just barely. The myriad of monologues and abundance of I-can-see-up-his-nostrils close ups that have been laid out in this movie as a tempting canvas for his thespian skills is almost excessive. Yet he didn't quite wow anyone with his performance. He was very predictable. And no, it was not part of his kind-hearted & forgiving character; it was simply shallow acting. He had, to be honest, a few moments where he eerily looked and sounded like Ahmed Zaky- a huge accomplishment in itself, whether or not it was intentional on his part- but sadly they weren't enough to leave any memory of his character or his skills.

Uncharacteristically, I have left the worst for last. Haifa Wahbi, the reason why many people even bothered to go to the movie to begin with, was simply exhausting. In the first and most bearable half hour of the movie, she was passable, pulling off the oblivious sex kitten attitude we have become so accustomed to in her music videos. She was, it needs to be said, not vulgar nor obnoxious in these first scenes, but rather somewhat cute. Cute with a "ق".

However for the remaining part of the movie, watching Haifa Wahbi act, cry and wail was akin to having paper cuts systematically sliced into your eyeballs. Her attempts at drama were a bizarre mixture of epileptic seizures and her performance in her "Boos el wawa" video. There was a lot of unnecessary whining and unsexy moaning in her every single utterance that one could only just hold back barely digested Casper & Gambini lunch eaten an hour earlier. It was so awful that it was funny. One would think that if she had intentionally tried to act badly she wouldn't have done it so well. It was terrific.

This disaster of a movie, this shallowness masquerading in the shape of deep social/political commentary of a drama, leads us to ask one solid question. What was it exactly, that scarred Khaled Yousef so much? Was it a disturbed childhood? Prison? Working as Yousef Chahine's underdog? Sodomy? His bleak, dark & simply terrible perception of his society is awfully annoying & whiny. It's not completely realistic either. He has, with the most naive of direction, stuffed every possible negative aspect of living in Egypt into a 2 hour monster of a production and not one single positive note. Not one. Reality is not that awful, it's his mind that is.

So I suggest that a capable person out there create a spoof of Khaled Yousef's shindigs to expose the ridiculousness of his work. It'd be a shame to not publicly piss on the work of a man who takes his warped vision so terribly seriously. If that's too much of a hassle, how about we send him a package of anti-depression pills? Maybe some upbeat drugs like E pills or at least a handful of pot? Something, anything, to get his head out of his ass.

If this were a proper review of the movie, I'd advise to whoever had enough free time to read this, to not see this movie. If at least not to encourage Khalid Yousef to slap us with another one next year. There are a ton of terrible points (art direction, excessive violence, terrible costumes, irregular editing-to name a few) that I haven't mentioned here. Yet if you are curious to watch it for yourself, then focus on Haifa Wahbi's performance and grant yourself a laugh or two in the midst of all the wailing drama. May God be with you.

Things will never be the same

2008-12-06T15:40:00.004+03:00

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

2008-12-03T16:33:00.003+03:00

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

2008-11-30T16:49:00.006+03:00

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

2008-08-31T15:17:00.003+03:00

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

2008-08-06T13:34:00.006+03:00

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

2008-08-05T10:09:00.004+03:00

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?

2008-07-30T13:57:00.009+03:00

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

2008-07-29T16:18:00.000+03:00

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.