'Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see God in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God, are hat-wearing Muslims.'
- Life of Pi by Yann Martel.

Step From The Road To The Sea To The Sky.

Life Lesson #262: I honestly believe that the reason why people have intimacy issues is because they take the word 'implicated' way too seriously. People don't like it when they have somebody standing there going all: "I got your heeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy ooooohhhhhhhhh, now listen what i saaaaay ooooooh." They want their 'hey oh' back, and they want it back now.

Life Lesson #263: What doesn't kill you gets you high. Look at it this way, if dying is floating way way up there beyond the reach of radio waves and rocket missiles, then a failed suicide attempt should be something like an earthbound missile, goes up high enough then loses momentum and gets a metaphysical erectile dysfunction and jams back into earth. However, you'll enjoy a high that not even Lil Wayne can phrase. It's amazing how a little change of perspective can make anything look trivial and everybody look replaceable. So by all means kill yourself people! Nothing and nobody will matter anymore, and the amount of shit you'll not give anymore will have you constipated. So my advice is, don't get gastric lavage, but go with it and jam back headfirst into earth; because it's fun, and life is short. Apparently tho, life is also that clingy ex that wouldn't leave you alone. It won't go without a fight, that is if the fight worked at all. Dying, as much it's easy, isn't very easy to get to; because hell, you can't get everything, can you?

Life Lesson #264: 'Come to believe that I better not leave before I get my chance to ride. When it's killing me, what do I really need; All that I need is to look inside.'

Life Lesson #265: 'And step over quietly, because we're not committing suicide, it's a revolutionary act.' Or is it?

Life Lesson #266: When you have the ability to mindfuck people and be able to sell anything to anyone, it's a little scary to be alone, because you don't know what your head might get you to do, now do you? I scare myself sometimes. I scare myself because i have no idea what i might do next. And i love it.

Life Lesson #267: 'Montag felt his hands might wither, turn over on their sides and never be shocked to life again. They would be buried for the rest of his life in his sleeves, forgotten. For these were the hands that acted on their own, no part of him. Here was where the conscience first manifested itself.' - Fahrenheit 451

Life Lesson #268: Faith is not feeling the need to ask why anymore, or to know why not. Faith is to be a sucker for things that you cannot explain, knowing that you can never explain them and not minding that anymore. And who would want that? Who wouldn't? Ray Bradbury said it better than i ever can: 'The folly of mistaking a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself as an oracle, is inborn within us all.'

Life Lesson #269: How am i not dead again?

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy oooooooooooh

Of Smoothies & Idiots.

Sometimes, and I should be one to admit this once and for all for irony’s sake; she has to bask in glory at my expense every once in a while, patterns are there for a reason. Even if they’re not very functional, they sometimes prove less dysfunctional than others and are settled on as a compromise to save face and make everybody happy. There are unwritten codes that everybody seems to know about and follow, and those who break the code aren’t always graced with a fairytale ending, because odds are 99 to 1 that you’re not an exception. You think that having the balls to do something and breaking the pattern will actually be the magic pill that solves everything because nobody else thought of it now did they? How naïve can one person get? There’s a pattern, and the pattern is there for a reason, some people are graced by the pattern. Others, well, not so much. And a handful really get their nuts in a vice holding the shortest end of the bargain with their pride running off and disowning them for the nearest shrub, reincarnating as a mug of coffee that’s always there till people need it, and it knows deep down that people will inevitably want it because, hell, who can live without coffee man? Coffee is the ultimate smooth-talker; it’s so smooth it doesn’t even have to talk.

You’re not really supposed to get this, or maybe you will, trick is, you’ll never know if you got it or not now will you?

Patterns are there for a reason. Those who break the pattern are there to prove that the pattern exists for a reason, because in their mortification lies the pattern’s true essence. Their experience does the pattern’s job most of the time, and the pattern lives on because those who were bold enough to break it were not unbreakable themselves.
Naïve? Maybe. Bold? Definitely. Invincible? I beg to differ.

Karma thrives on patterns, and since Karma is a bitch, she doesn’t like to be crossed. However, since she’s also a bitch, she can get biased sometimes, fall for somebody here and there. Keep the illusion alive. The illusion that feeds the pattern that feeds her. It couldn’t have worked out better for Karma now, could it? It all fits in perfectly.

Everybody loves a rebel, but how many times have you seen a rebel get what he wants? How many times have you actually seen a surviving salmon that swam against the flow? If they swim with the flow, the current will eventually lead them to the place bears wait for food to arrive like a cozy couple that have already reserved, ordered, broken the ice and are waiting for food to come, to them, almost voluntarily, in a restaurant as they talk out everything that they think they control but really don’t; they’d stop talking as soon as the food comes, won’t they? They can’t control everything, they can control when the food might come; because with credit comes control. Any sort of credit and any sort of control. I wouldn’t see somebody expect the food to come in time if they’re known for their bouncing checks. And they can’t expect the food to come in time if they’re used to having rain checks. On a similar note, not a lot of salmon survives the immigration, but then again how many salmons have you heard of that survived because they didn’t feel like immigrating this year?

People who call patterns a cycle are those who’ve been in it long enough to know what a cycle feels like and have given up on trying to feel anything different out of it, or those who’ve never followed it for the adrenaline rush of knowing, if just for a second, that it may or may not change. But what they don’t know is that not following the pattern is a pattern in itself, which Karma inevitably controls. You can’t find a loophole in the laws of nature. That’s just how it is. You’d be naïve to think that you can change, bend, or even put a tiny little dent in the pattern. Because hell, it’s more elaborate than you think it is, little fellow.

Social codes exist for a reason. Somebody got stupid way too many times and decided to put some ground rules. Unwritten codes are unwritten for a reason, that stupid person would never have documented how stupid they were. How would they gain enough credibility to get people to listen to them by admitting they’ve done everything they had in the list of no-no’s?

The pattern was made by stupid people who never wanted to be stupid again and ended up wronging the stupid people by making them even more distinct against those who supposedly have it in them. They’ve outlined their own stretch marks and mapped out all the mirrors and video cameras, but guess who got to use the video cameras, zoom in and put them for display in fluorescent lighting? That’s right, the Smoothies. The coffee mugs of the setting. Those who have the spreadsheet pre-installed in their system. The arachno genesis that inherited all the information without ever having to learn them by experience.

You learn not to be stupid from idiots, then what’s there to save if you’re an idiot? Good luck with the invisible cape, hero. Everybody is gonna feed off of you and nobody will ever know you even existed.

'Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me, it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You'd find life under the glass streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more 'literary' you are. That's my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail.

The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time whe flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality.'

Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

But The Only Miracle Is That People Keep Believing.

Everything is gonna be alright.

What A Shame; To Judge A Life That You Can’t Change.

‘There’s a hard life for every silver spoon, there’s a touch of gray for every shade of blue, that’s the way that i see life; if there was nothing wrong then there’d be nothing right.

What a shame, what a shame, to judge a life that you can't change. The choir sings, the church bells ring, So, won't you give this man his wings? What a shame to have to beg you to see we're not all the same. What a shame. God forgive the hands that laid you down’

I did something very, very, very wrong.

Yes We Do, And It’s Horrible.

Me, Myself & The Kitchen.

SO..I was hungry at an unholy hour of night. And this usually doesn’t bid well, because it means i have to cook. And that, kids, is where the story begins. Drum roll, please.

Attempt #1: Toasted bread with butter and honey.

I found the corpse of an old bread loaf, the remains of what i then believed to be butter, and huge jars of honey that would feed a Cambodian family for a month. I got the loaf of bread, used the huge forceps  thingie to toast it into charred mummies which i was very proud of and put those aside. I then realized that the butter won’t melt or cut. So i heated a knife and tried to cut it, didn’t work, which made me get a tiny pan with running potatoes holding hands all over it, put in a piece of butter and tried to melt it. It still wouldn’t melt. It took about 10 minutes to turn into what you’d call an alien’s booger, used a fork to squish it into what you’d call alien throw-up and put that on top what remained of the bread. I proudly put some of the honey, managing not to spill more than a spoonful, got a pretty plate and settled myself in front of the TV thinking how awesome i am. Then i took the first bite. That was when i found out the butter was cheese. FML

Attempt #2: Boiled eggs:

Eggs scare me. No really. They do, i have bad history with eggs. No need to go into that now anywho. I got me a couple of eggs, one of which had a fine hairline crack which i then thought was harmless and later proved to be catastrophic enough to fit into ‘All My Sons’. I got a huge..uh..thingie. The one you use to boil milk, because i then figured the taller it is, the safer it will be. I filled it almost to the brim with water, tossed in the eggs and set the timer because i wasn’t inclined to burn down the house. Then i went out and, thank god, turned off the media player. A couple of minutes later, i heard a SPLOOOOOOOSHHH SSSSS. I ran to the kitchen thinking i’m in for a tsunami when i found that the fire was out, an egg exploded and made omelette on the brim of the thingie and the other was, well, nowhere to be found. I got everything back upright and kept my distance as i looked warily at it till it’s done. I later found the other egg, it had jumped somewhere into the onion basket, but unfortunately i couldn’t find its yolk. X-files, i got another case for you. They both looked and tasted like something out of ‘Alien VS. Predator’. I set the bread on fire trying to toast it.

I then lost hope, which led me to the last attempt, which was the most successful.

Attempt #3: Olives.

Of Revelations That I Shouldn’t Have At This Hour Of Night.

So as usual at this hour of night, i start thinking about stuff that have nothing and everything to do with anything, then it hit me. When i graduate from high school, the national certificate aka: Sanaweyya 3amma, i’ll be 20. Wow-ish huh? I got this mental image of my crawling out of the premises in a beard and a ragged habit. In case you were wondering, yes, i am a dude in my head. Then i had this other revelation of how, even if i was convicted of man slaughter, i wouldn’t get 20 years. What did children do that makes it imperative for adults to put them away for 20 years till they’re somehow suitable to strut amongst them? It’s odd. It feels..wrong somehow, i’ll be 20 when i’m finally out of school. My friend just turned 20, but he’s in the third year in college. That makes sense, a little. But 20? A 20-year-old high school graduate? Hm. I didn’t even flunk anything! It’s not my fault that i had a nutty nun in charge that thought it was in our best interest to be older than usual to make stuff easier! She just kept postponing the applications till we were old enough to realize that we could’ve applied elsewhere. I don’t wanna be 20 when i get out of school. I’ll get labelled monk in college or summat. Blah.

Of Karma, Bogus & A Coincidence That’s Not Really A Coincidence.

This is hard to talk about. I usually come here to write about mindfucks as generally as i can, but as much as i can generalize this, it will still be personal; because sometimes; it takes a horrible person to make you see that you were one yourself. The exact thing that repelled you is what you’ve been doing over and over again to other people. Karma is, has been and will always be a bitch, that’s true, but she’s one fair bitch alright. I got the realization shoved up my mental ass by none other than yours truly. I only needed to see how it looks like on another person, how pathetically attention-seeking, see-through and weak it was, when it dawned on me that hey! I’ve been the one thing i hate, and i didn’t even see it. Then comes phase 2 of mindfuck, when you start feeling guilty and wonder if you’re bound to show them the same kindness you’ve been shown. It’s not that convoluted on 1st person narrative, but that’s exactly where phase 3 kicks in, you’ll never get what i’m talking about until it happens to you. Phase 4 is where you start wondering if an apology and a promise that you’ll never be what we’ll proceed to call Bogus from now on for privacy matters, is enough to free you of phase 2 on a contract with penitentiary conditions. Does it count? I don’t know. I really don’t. I have enough shit to handle on my own, but didn’t my friend have their own shit to handle too when i ladled them my portion? And doesn’t it logically follow that i owe that person an apology and should be willing to pay it forward? Doesn’t that mean that i’ve been a horrible person? That same horrible person that i’m dying to get rid of? I don’t know. And nobody can help me with this. There’s no help button in real life, or an undo button for that matter. The way i see it, it’s one of two ways. Either good will come out of it, because now that i know the problem exists i’ll stop it and save everybody who’s ever cared about me the drill, or good will come out of it, by sucking it up and paying it forward, and maybe that’ll help the other person. Because i can’t get myself to picture the wimpy version of it where i just walk away when i’ve had people who’ve never walked out on me when i was worse.

Or i just have a god complex.

I don’t know. Fuck this.

You Think Irony Isn’t Ironic? Well, That’s Ironic.

Life Lesson #256: Irony is an odd thing. It’s a widely known fact that the universe has to keep its balance. A person dies, another person is born, on the same day. However, What are the odds that you end up knowing both? It’s a million to one shot, right? And it’s a little thing called Irony. It’s never funny, yet always funny. That’s what ironic about irony. It’s funny, but never to you, and always to you, and only to you.

Life Lesson #257: Contrary to common belief, there is a magic pill that fixes everything; it’s called cyanide.

Life Lesson #258: You know what else is ironic? For you to enjoy Ramadan sitcoms, you kind of have to be drunk.

Life Lesson #259: Mubarak’s trial was yesterday. All i gotta say about it is that they were passing the microphone around as if the judge was snoop dogg and it was puffpuffpasstuesday. What’s ironic tho is that nobody was necessarily enjoying it. What do we learn? Well, that in order to get high, somebody has to go down. Oh, and need i mention that the new evidence that's gonna undoubtedly implicate el Adly  in the case of killing protestors is found in a Dasani cardboard box? Only in Egypt man, only in Egypt.

Life Lesson #260: No matter how you are, turning 20 feels weird as fuck.

I Like Headaches.

There’s a lot that i can rant about, had they not been entirely personal i would’ve started a Daily Express right here, right now. And it was about that time that i got a terrible headache, you know, one of those headaches that adds a couple of extra pounds to your head weight and you feel like you have a golf ball in your skull that you have to balance away from the cranium walls by staying horribly..vertical? Yes, that one. So that’s when i realized that having a headache doesn’t leave much space to anything else, including memories, rants and/or autodialogues. So, it dawned upon my agonized self that headaches are good. I like headaches. Not in a masochistic sense, but rather expressing gratitude as to how my windows crashed right before i clicked send. If only headaches came without pain? Oh wait, that would be happiness, of course it doesn’t exist. Ha.