Thursday, January 26, 2006

Unpublished NY Post


Too busy to write anything of purpose to you, suffice to say that I am undergoing major personal changes in my life and is feeling too awestruck to organize my newfound feelings into ordered sentences.

So, in return for your dedication , I shall give you the first of my two unpublished NY posts, which got omitted for technical reasons.
More details about NY and my new life later, but very soon.

This post was supposed to be published by Eid, but due to tech probs it didn't get there on time.

I woke up. It was cold. The room felt small, decided to sniff out some air in the backyard.
I got out, if I smoked, I would have taken out a cigarette at this point.I looked around, I might as well have stepped in Wak Wak Islands.

'What shall I do now?' The knife in his hand was dirty, but its tip looked effective. He looked at her flexingly with an uneasy will to please.'There are four of them,' I looked around to check - four, all right not knowning what's coming to them, after all they don't speak the language -
'this one is weak - spare it for the last' She said.
'Your words are orders' and with that, he knelt down to slaughter like he's born with a dirty spitshined knife in hand, his face grim and determined, working silently - he held the first from where the hair would be, and passed the knife along the throat easily, blood responded and oozed on the green grass, he kept thrashing, here, there, left, right, center, until there was nothing left to gnash at. I watched curiously as a living thing is being transformed right in front of my eyes into so much strawberry jam, amongst other things.

It was horrible ; He looked at her at last.
'That will do' She observed, with grim satisfaction.
In general, I was unimpressed, I left the garden and went for a wash-up.
She was my grandmother, the four were sheep.


Eid Al Adha is the celebration of the fulfillment of the pilgrimige season, Much to the dismay of Bridgette Bardout, one of the Eid's favorite islamic customs is to slaughter a sheep and distriubte the meat on your relatives and the poor people around u. My grandmother slaughtered four sheep, one for her, the other three for my uncles living abroad, who felt that the meat should reach the people who really need it in disaster-stricken Iraq.
Many of my friends didn't slaughter anything, I myself wasn't a very big fan of anything slaughter-wise. But the meat tasted wonderful when i rolled it into my traditional khubuz (bread) and bit into a tasty kebab.
Other than that, it's the usual so & so day in Post-Saddam Iraq (Iran?)

I was in Palestine Street today, it was filled with people, their faces maintained the social distance of a passerby, but look closely and u shall see a hidden will to live and enjoy life at any cost, despite everyone's conspiracy to the opposite. If the carbomb hit u, u r a martyr, if not, u thank god and walk away. THat's how most Iraqis managed to survive the unbearable conditions...

'Saddam is the manhole cover, and once he has been removed, the sewers have flooded'
- My Grandmother

Saddam held the Iraqi by the throat and kept punching him with quick jabs left and right in an everlasting boxing round until the world felt numb and funny ; under the anasethesia of continous delirium ; it is no wonder that we can stand the conditions - they get blacker and blacker and no-one really complains...
all of a sudden, people started to scuttle inside their shops and cars- not from a nearby explosion like u usually see them run away from but this time away from the rainbullets of God. I felt a yellow happiness seep inside me at the sight, rain has come down to wash away the blood that has smeared the sad capital of Al Rasheed. It's tragic that very little of that blood is sheepish in origin.

Happy Eid.

Saturday, January 14, 2006


I've put my email on display, you can email me now if u like.



Monday, January 09, 2006

The Kid meets The Rebel

'Blogging, makes the people, come together...
Blogging, makes the konfusedee, and the rebel....'

- Kid, singing karaoke for Madonna

it all started on the day before elections day :

konfused_kid : hi man
iraqi_rebel : hi
konfused_kid : great blog man! u fucked them all up...
iraqi_rebel : thanks a lot dude...
konfused_kid : u present a no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners twist on the mundane Iraqi Blog...kudoskinda like me....
iraqi_rebel : yeah, baby
konfused_kid : sure baby, so r u gonna vote tomorrow?
iraqi_rebel : yeah, but i don't wanna come out too early cuz our area is somehow dangerous
kk: why, where do ya live?
ir : (tells him)
kk: huh...that's...where i live u know where so and so is located?
ir : hell no! that's like so close to where i live! tell me more...
kk : (tells him)
ir: well, u're not really next door, but close enough.
kk: so care to meet? i'd really love to see what u'd look like in real life.
ir: um...i guess there's no harm in ya...
kk: c ya tomorrow.

i didn't go tomorrow cuz...well...i don't know...i'm just a kid full of farts.

so a month later, and just short of Eid, i find myself somewhere near Rebel's home....i'm thinking what the heck, i dail in his mobile phone (which he gave me for better reference)

ir: hello
kk: hey, is this Dayez
ir: speaking
kk: it's me, kiddo, i'm at your front door, come outside

and he did, 10 minutes later and full of smoke.

The Rebel was somehow a surprise when i first met him, on his site, he sounded like a torn-jeans long-hair skirthound, but in real life - nothing could be farther from the speculation - Dayez is a very studied, contained man with spectacles, an intelligent face full of potholes and pale green eyes that shone under balding yellow/brown hair. He reminded me a little of an intellectually reclusive, all-powerful villian. his features were made tougher with all the holes, which strangely enough gave him character.

Dayez didn't know me at first, since i was standing at the house next door, and with me was Fawaz, bassist in our no-particular-place-to-go heavy metal band.

I recognized the searching look in the man, and immediately thrust out a hand

'It's good to finally meet ya man'
'Yeah, baby. (laughs)' his voice a bass.

I returned Fawaz home and went for a quick chat with my virtual-now-reallife buddy. Real nice fellow, we talked everything from blogs, politics, girls, music, u name it.

i finally convinced him to take a pic and it was quite a good one too...look down, don't get pumped up though, no naked chicks in there....

but the biggest surprise of all was when he revealed to me that he had previously ran a famous blog that had grown too annoying so he ditched it and decided to do the Rebel one to try and spark some controversy -

If u want to know what that blog was, all u have to do is spell his name backwards....

Rebel, all i have to say to u is please do not give up on ur newborn blog, it smokes! write about anything interesting whatsoever...cuz all u wrote so far is fresh, interesting and innovative upon the sad political closed-circuits of The de facto iraqi blogs....

we need someone like u very much now...

oh, and happy eid to all of ya muslim dudes - though i can't really see where the happy lies.

Ever Wisecracking Kiddo