An Arab Woman Blues - Reflections in a sealed bottle...

A Deep Malaise... Here is this Insomniac, with yet another cup of bitter coffee, overtaken by a deep malaise. As I made sure, my mom was in her bed and not slouching on the sofa, I was reflecting on how difficult old age must be. Then one thought took me to another...first the elderly, a very neglected group worldwide, more than children, also a group who suffers much taunting and different forms of abuse, from psychological to physical either by caretakers, in hospices, in hospitals, in pensioners homes, in "mouroirs" ....and obviously in war zones, victims of violence, brutality, loss, displacement and endless grief. And another thought took me to another .. from how difficult it is to become old and fragile, vulnerable, to the difficulty of living in general. I see it on people's faces, in what they fail, omit to say, in their sighs, in the brave fronts they put up, in their escapism, in their outbursts, in their withheld rage, in their pleas, in their race t...

Homecoming - Split in Two. Hello Blog, long time, been two years, did not miss you much, missed Iraq though, the Iraq of my memories, niched somewhere refusing to be forgotten. I do not miss the current Iraq, it's gone to the dogs, split in two, three and maybe even four. Talking about splits. Remember that thing I devoted a whole post in its "honor". if you click on the link, you will get to see its "beautiful face". Anyway I received this from it dated 8 July 2016 (here is its 2 minutes of online fame) "I hope someone sticks in sword in your rotten vagina and splits you in two.  Ive decided that its been a while since you have been degraded . I plan for you an online equivalent of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo all rolled in one ....stay tuned." What better way to write again, without this lovely invitation ? Not that I wish to beef up that t hing , beef up the inexistent part , that need beefing up and sexing up  to use Tony Blai...

Hello Blogger my old friend... Hello darkness my old friend,I  came to talk with you again...because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping and the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains, within the sound of silence. I came to disturb the sound of silence. I love disturbing people...I was always told that I was a nuisance. I lived up to the expectations of me. Silence as a cancer grow... I can assure you, you have tumors growing in you, the size of grapefruits... Why you hate grapefruits ? I was told am a nuisance...I just love annoying you...in between the soda and popcorn breaks... What ? am I to announce my own funeral -so you can rest in peace ? Would you like to see the last living one of us signing her own death warrant ? Am sure you would, in between breaks of soda and popcorn... I love the way my words pop don't you ? I love popping them like corn on a hot stove Just to remind you of the sound of silence.

I am breaking my silence with ruins....this is a wound that will never heal, not even in my afterlife. I need not explain much, as I have already explained much in the past. You  are the ones who will be doing much explanation on the Day of Reckoning. You don't have to watch the testimonies of the living,  if you don't want to, if you can't spare your precious empty time, a time devoid of substance... But you are being watched, observed....and all is transcribed, noted down,  recorded...all.  And even if your consciences are dead, there is the One that is Alive and never dies.

I am a terribly disorganized female...I find order in chaos...I am not structured, nor methodic...am a willow...a weeping willow... I bend, yield, like bamboo that seeks growth in mud water...that's my nature. I also lose passwords in the mud...trying to survive the mud. You must have a password...or you can't get through...I have a password and I keep loosing it, or it keeps being changed. I am told to write, when my muse left me in the mud...I am told -- write anyway... tell them, while bent, about willow trees...weeping willows and weeping widows... tell them about orphaned girls tell them about the severity of life and the severity of survival... tell them, for they are a people living in satin like...illusions. Tell them...and dig stories out of your old ragged sack tell them when it is not satin nor velvet tell them...for passwords are meant for all.

Today is Valentine's and this is the sectarian Shiite government of Maliki demonstration of love for the Iraqi people. This is a rushed translation. I have translated the gist. An Iraqi man with his family, has his home bombed destroyed. including all electrical outlets, (electricity is still a big deal in Iraq 11 years on and to get electricity you have to invest much in terms of money and ingenuity to get an electrical current). Furthermore this man has disabled children - he points to the wheel chair. His house is now unlivable, he has to leave - exiled within his own country. Here is the translation : Maliki - you coward, may God debase you. Today is Friday, you destroyed our electricity, why,   what have we done to you, you burnt our electrical outlet, we are also muslims. You coward, you unbeliever, you Farissi (Persian), you apostate. I have disabled children , this is her wheelchair, you exiled us, may God exile you in Hell. This is my...

The Feminine is considered a "recipient", you know, that womb, uterus that will carry, bear it and endure...labor pangs and all....sacrifice, self effacement, selflessness for the "greater good". The Feminine, the land that is "toiled" like a field...the earth, the ground where you plant seeds that sprout... The Feminine - The dumping ground ? Seems it is so. I liken Iraq to the Feminine, in its rather simplistic and vulgar definition as in above...This is where all the syphilitic vultures dump their violence. Today, a female TV presenter was shot dead in Mosul, she was just reporting... Yesterday, the day before yesterday and the months before yesterday and the years before yesterday, Iraqi women have been the "recipient" of Violence, male violence. Whether this violence came in the form of a US missile, an AK47, a gun, a knife, a cane or an actual penis, it does not really matter, it is all Phallic violence. One Iraqi woman...