ـ "... إن فى الإنسان منطقة عجيبة سحيقة لا تصل إليها الفضيلة ولا الرذيلة ، ولا تشع فيها شمس العقل والإرادة ، ولا ينطق لسان المنطق ، ولا تطاع القوانين والأوضاع ، ولا تتداول فيها لغة أو تستخدم كلمة ... إنما هى مملكة نائية عن عالم الألفاظ والمعاني ... كل مافيها شفاف هفاف يأتي بالأعاجيب فى طرفة عين ... يكفي أن ترن فى أرجائها نبرة ، أو تبرق لمحة ، أو ينشر شذا عطر ، حتى يتصاعد من أعماقها فى لحظة من الإحساسات والصور والذكريات ، ما يهز كياننا ويفتح نفوسنا على أشياء لا قبل لنا بوصفها ، ولا بتجسيدها ، ولو لجأ إلى أدق العبارات و أبرع اللغات ... " ـ

توفيق الحكيم

Within man lies a deep wondrous spot, to which neither virtue nor vice can reach. Upon which the sun of reason and will never rises. In which the mouth of logic never speaks, the laws and rules are never obeyed, and not a language is used nor a word is ever spoken.
It is a distant Kingdom, beyond words and meanings. With everything is a sheer murmur offering wonders in a blink. From the depths of which, suffice a single tone or a flash of mind or a scent of a perfum, to allow rise of emotions, pictures and memories, a rising that will shake our being and open ourselves to things we can neither describe nor materialize even if we used the most refined of phrases or the most skillful of languages.

Tawfiq Al-Hakim.
(My humble transalation of the arabic text)

Friday, November 28, 2008

إمـتـى ... ولـيـه


إمتى ممكن تجيلنا الجرأة ونرجع تانى نفتح خزينة ذكرياتنا الجميلة ؟؟ بعد زمن طويل و لا قصير ! ولا أبدا مش بتيجى الجرأة الكافية ؟ وليه بنحس بالحنين اننا نرجع لها ونعيشها تانى ولو كذكرى ؟ صحيح هى جميلة لكن المفروض أن الحياة تستمر! ... يمكن دى تكون أول مرة أكتشف أن الرجوع لذكرى جميلة مش سهل أبدا لأن كلما كانت جميلة فى الماضى فإحساسنا بالأسى لضياع زمنها بيكون أقوى وإحساسنا بالألم لما نفتكر سبب الضياع أو ملابساته أحيانا بيضيع اى إحساس بجمال الذكرى.
طول عمرى ماحبتش أحتفظ ماديا بذكرى خاصة ... والأكثر من كده ... محبتش أسيب ذكرى مادية . بمكن التعديل البسيط هو البلوج ده . هو ذكرى مادية ليا "لكن" لمجموعة محدودة أقل من عدد أصابع يد واحدة تعرفنى شخصيا .. الباقى أشخاص ماتعرفش عنى أى شئ محدد. مرة من المرات القليلة اللى إحتفظت فيها بشئ يهمنى علشان أفتكره كل ما ينادينى حنين هى اللى علمتنى درس جديد فى حياتى ... أننا ممكن نرمى بنفسنا مفتاح خزينة ذكرياتنا الجميلة لمجرد تفادى ألم هايصحب فتحها . جبن ! هشاشة ! ولا مجرد خيالية بائسة... إستحضار للذكرى بطريقة مختلفة .. إستمتاع بألم الذكرى بمعنى تانى! الغريب إننا ممكن نرمى المفتاح لكن نحتفظ بالخزينة.... ليه


مجرد أفكار مرت فى دماغى ... مش مرتبة لكن حبيت أقولها .... عموما الأفكار مابقتش مرتبة فى دماغى من فترة ويمكن ماترجعش مرتبة تانى أبدا

Sunday, November 23, 2008

مش فاهمة

موقف تعرضت له من اربع شهور ... وبغض النظر عن تفصيل الموقف وتداعياته ونتايجه لحد دلوقتى مافهمتش دواعيه وأسبابه حاولت كتير ألاقى تفسير منطقى ومش لاقية . اقرب تفسيرين واحد هاعتبره ساذج ولو إنه محتمل بنسبة قليلة، لكن يمكن التفسير الوحيد اللى شبه منطقى مش على هواي وبالتالى مش عاوزة أصدقه!؟؟؟. أعترف انى تغلبت على أغلب التداعيات السلبية للموقف وبالعكس حاولت أكون ايجابية التفكير لكن بصراحة أحيانا -زى دلوقتى- بأرجع أفكر وأفكر فى تفسير لكن لازلت بأقول "مش فاهمة!". المشكلة ان مفيش أى حد يقدر يدينى تفسير صحيح !!!. بس يا ترى الأحسن أفضل مش فاهمة ؟؟؟ دى انا مش عارفاها .

Friday, November 21, 2008

يـمكن إشارة


قرار تأخده ولما تبدأ فعلا فى خطوات تنفيذه تلاقى علامة بتقولك "وقف".... ولو إلى حين !!ـ

Friday, November 14, 2008

Suicide is Painless



The game of life is hard to play. I’m gonna lose it anyway.

The losing card I’ll someday lay so this is all I have to say.


يوسف بك وهبي .....تعديل بسيط

وما الدنيا إلا مسرح "عبث" كبير

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Me and "My Way"

....And by My Way I mean the song which is one of the most celebrated songs in the world, The story of me and "My Way" goes back in time like 18 years or so, when I was a teen crazy about a french singer, who was already dead for more than 12 years at the time. His name was Claude Francois and I loved all his songs, one of the most important of which was Comme d'habitude. I loved it very much, and so I came to know all the famous versions of it,I think all the other versions used the music only not the idea of the original lyrics, most important were Sinatra's and Elvis's versions.
I loved Sinatra's version the most, he nailed it, he made it big and he really was singing his song, he did everything his way, that's true when we talk about blue eyes I think.
Any way, back then everything I did was somehow done my way, I'm stubborn in a way that makes this is true in my case, at least back then, and it lasted for some time, But I remember eight or seven years ago when I was listening to this song and commented that I loved it because I did every thing in my life my way too, that my colleague who was a bit younger than I am looked at me and said something like "U think so? " and I said "Yes, of course!" he had that look on his face and it ended there; But I never forgot his look and now after all those years I admit it, Some things went in a different way than I wanted it and I can never say that "I planned each charted course; Each careful step ...". Still, I can use a good phrase in the song, I still can say that "Through it all, when there was doubt,I ate it up and spit it out." And I always was and always will be,God's will ,someone who "Say the things he truly feels; And not the words of a one who kneels."
Anyway, I've always insisted that Sinatra's version is the best of the song in English, but seeing Robbie Williams singing it in this way and atmosphere in the video made me enchanted and decided to say aaaaaall that maybe I shouldn't have said!
For whoever reads this, I hope you enjoy Robbie's version like I did.


Friday, November 07, 2008

Xibalba , Clint Mansell

This is for my old friend whom I always remember whenever I see Rachel Weisz or listen to alot of sound tracks we once shared, specially The Fountain's.

Thank you for alot of great music and great time, where ever you are now.

An addition on November 8th. , I'm really sorry that there can never be more great times or music, I really am.





Tom Verde
: There's no hope for us here, there is only death.

Grand Inquisitor Silecio: Our bodies are prisons for our souls. Our skin and blood, the iron bars of confinement. But fear not. All flesh decays. Death turns all to ash. And thus, death frees every soul.

Tom Verde: All these years, all these memories, there was you. You pull me through time.

Izzi: Will you deliver Spain from bondage?
Tom Verde: I don't know... I'm trying, trying... I don't know how.
Izzi: You do. You will.

Izzi: Every shadow no matter how deep is threatened by morning light.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Memory


Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory

She is smiling alone

In the lamplight

The withered leaves collect at my feet

And the wind begins to moan


Memory

All alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days

Life was beautiful then

I remember the time
I knew what happiness was

Let the memory live again
Every street lamp seems to beat
A fatalistic warning
Someone mutters and the street lamp gutters
And soon it will be morning


Daylight

I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life

And I must'nt give in
When the dawn comes

Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

جملة إعتراضية

في فــمي مـاء وهل ينــطق من في فــيه مـاء

Plague of Ghosts, Raingods Dancing, Fish




Empty churches, empty pews, in the subway nothing moves and the static on the radio is drowning out the sound of raingod's dancing,
Empty playgrounds, empty bars, I can't remember how it was before the flood when all I had to do was recognise the love that's trapped inside.

I gave it all, I took it back and in the end there's nothing left except a shell surrounding emptiness and loneliness, a core of pain,
I see my pathway shining.

Raingods with zippo's, a tinman hides a broken heart,
Raingods with zippo's, he knows the flame has gone that soon he'll fall apart,

So I lay me down to lie and with the rain my lullaby I drift away to dreamless sleep, leave behind a life that died, a victim of a plague of ghosts
I was wrapped up in my guilt buried deep within my memories, a shelter of self-pity that I know the rain will wash away, I sense the storm arriving.

Raingods with zippo's, a tin man rusts away and slowly falls apart,
Raingods with zippo's and all he leaves behind a bleeding broken heart.

Hey You , Pink Floyd




Hey you, out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old
Can you feel me?
Hey you, standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles
Can you feel me?
Hey you, don't help them to bury the light
Don't give in without a fight.

Hey you, out there on your own
Sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?
Hey you, with you ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?
Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home.

But it was only fantasy.
The wall was too high,
As you can see.
No matter how he tried,
He could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.

Hey you, out there on the road
Always doing what you're told,
Can you help me?
Hey you, out there beyond the wall,
Breaking bottles in the hall,
Can you help me?
Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall.