Heretical Madness!

In her interviews, my Mom often reminds her fans that her childhood dreams were often about being a queen or a butterfly, that is, about being an object of beauty and envy. An object of beauty and envy.

What an interesting thing to be. To be an object that will forever stimulate the instinct for acquisition inside everyone. Or worse, the instinct for revenge and defilement, which could come to play whenever acquisition proves impossible while the desire for it is all too strong and overwhelming. Continue reading “Heretical Madness!” →

Anxious Moments!

My Khawla is in Lebanon these days scouting for a new home. Lebanon remains our best bet for a potential refuge at this stage, for all the angst it is going through. Yet, better share in the angst of birth, than in that of death.

Meanwhile, our local friends continue that delicate dance where each graceful move puts that much more distance between them and us, at least emotionally. For in times like these, when doom is in the air, no one really owes anyone enough to stay close, to share the same fate.

The Heretic and the Noose!

“So, you believe in American democracy eh, – the democracy of torture and fucking as we can clearly see from Abu Ghraib and Guatemala [sic]?” exclaimed the interrogator.

“Pardon me, but did you say Guatemala?” The heretic inquired ever so innocently. “I see. Can I be interrogated by someone higher up the fuck chain?” He pleaded.

The heretic got his wish, and he seems to have made the right call indeed. For the higher fuck was a bit more “sophisticated,” for the lack of a better word, and the interrogation went somewhat smoothly from then on. Continue reading “The Heretic and the Noose!” →

Another Evening to Forget!

It’s been a while since I had such an outing with Mom. Indeed, we used to attend many of these functions together – receptions prepared by embassies to commemorate their national days, parties arranged by some production company to celebrate the successful end of a series, and celebrations arranged by Syria’s public TV, Theater, Radio, or the Artists Guild itself (as indeed was the case this time around) meant to commemorate some event or other. Continue reading →