Lethargitis

Been feeling under the weather for some time now.
Depressed and dejected over the weekend. Braved Monday morning
blues – thought I gave the job my all, despite the nagging cold and all.

Not a nice feeling to have, trying to rid the system off phlegm etc on the job. Pressing deadline ahead of me – making things appear worse than they really are. Physical discomforts abound. Keep telling myself it is only transitory. This too will pass.

People around me are getting difficult. But of course,people will be people,
right? When will I learn to conform and start acting and behaving,every part the
wallpaper? In a couple of lifetimes from now, perhaps. Sometimes I begin to wonder, if in fact, the world really is flat (and uni-dimensional)after all ?

It’s weird but I can’t seem able to say precisely, what will make it better for me
or the way I feel. Have never felt this way before. Maybe, it’s to do with too
many ‘itis’ which keep me company. Talk about professionalism being harmful
to your health! The healing touch’s been lost on me.


PERK me up. How ? Perk me up. Why ?
PERK me up. Is that even possible to do?
You think you have it figured.
PERK me up with a PERK, Coffee beans,Film and Pop Corn + Soda ?
No,way – Go away!

I am trying too hard, pulling out all the stops in all the wrong places.
There,that was most cathartic for my present phlegmatic state of affairs – thank
you very much.

Playlist Hanukkah 2009 edition


This is a first for me. Ever the avowedly tone deaf person that I am I
don’t venture going anywhere near a Playlist much less dig up my own.
However, just this once I told myself is going to be different – apparently,
my tone deafness is starting to improve and with it so is my appreciation of
world music.

So chill out on your bean bag as I give you :


http://www.emp3world.com/mp3/118050/Pussycat Dolls/Jai Ho
Jai Ho to Pussycat dolls (meow!) for their fine rendition of A. R. Rahman’s Jai Ho !
Making music out of sound, if you ask me.

“Give me some sunshine give me some rain
Give me another chance I wanna grow up again” –from the upcoming film : 3 Idiots
http://www.songs.pk/indian/three_idiots3.html
( as if … fat chance of that happening). Wish I had grown up listening to this


“You Gotta Be Strong” by Desiree
http://www.lyricsdownload.com/melissa-desiree-you-gotta-be-lyrics.html
I know it’s become somewhat passé now that all three universal clowns –
Dumbsfeld, Dickhead and Bush are out of Bayt Abyat. The song is 9 years
too late but with the
White House there’s no telling about a change of guard and rhetoric; it’s a funny
place I tell you.


“ Haida Haki “ by the Girl Next Door – Najwa Karam
http://www.6lyrics.com/music/najwa_karam/lyrics/haida_haki.aspx
Building bridges of love between Lebanon and Syria
Between Israel and Palestine
Between Iraq and Kuwait
Between India and Pakistan
And between US and the rest of the World


“ Aria – the Symphony “ by Yanni.
http://www.ez-tracks.com/getsong-songid-30905.html
Yani, gold is old they say.
And trust me I am not even on a BA plane but still I find
it gives me goose bumps every time this symphony comes up wafting across
the room.


http://www.lyricsdownload.com/band-aid-do-they-know-its-christmas-time-lyrics.html
"Do they know it's Christmas time" by Band Aid
Adopting this song for my playlist was no great leap of faith for me, shouldn't be for you too. Of course, it helped that it I am about as Hindoo as vindaloo.

Happy Holidays, people!

Have I Got News for You

Monsieur, le Président - "I mean you no disrespect at all, Sir, but can't help it I have this terrible terrible Crush on You."
Finding out, Brewney isn't going to feel too pleased with herself, I know. I am, as you rightly supposed, not well.....so s-experienced (if you will pardon the pun) in the afterhours department, as your excellency is. Moreover, my French simply isn't nearly half as good as my Gallic is. But I am prepared to make concessions ici. After all, part of the fun is doing it; romping that is (whatever else did you imagine) with a man who speaks a language foreign to my own, and doesn't always get what I am used to saying. It jazzes things up a notch in the erogenous zones, if you know what I mean.

Just so you know I am the least bit bothered about our age difference : you are 54 going on 24 and I am - never mind, we'll save it for another season :) As Bertrand Delanoe would have said: "Monsieurs et madames, vive la difference". Et non, that doesn't apply to gender make no mistake. Voila, we have at last found that common denominator between us in our gender. So come, let's celebrate over a bottle of Perrier with a slice of lemon and ice, please - my faith doesn't easily allow me to drink, you see. Besides who needs gin vodka and rum when one can easily get drunk on you and perhaps more importantly, your raw physicality. XOXOXO

So I ask you in full earnest; will you be my fun buddy? R.S.V.P
You will take French leave of course, and sleep over it. Promise me that.

I remain sincerely yours,
Such a sucker for bronze tanned Gallic men

The Postman's knock has to be answered

This is an open letter to a dear friend of mine - the one and only Ms.Q8 whom I thought I always knew very well, or so I had imagined.

Dear Ms. Q8 :


Hiya! It feels good to be back; to hear your voice again (sorry if that just sounded like some Wataniya telecom ad); half knowing even what to expect of you. Over the years, I have grown very fond of you in part, because you had a special way of growing on us and I am eternally grateful to you for all your kindness and all the other wonderful things you have done for us. Gracias!

First impressions, they say, always are lasting impressions! And it is no different with you : I always thought of you as a sleek and sophisticated nation of non conformist, reformist urbanists – a beacon of hope and dynamism in the 21st century Gulf. You won’t prove me wrong, will you now, I keep mumbling to myself constantly under my breath? Imagine my surprise therefore, when on my return, and to my horror I find out my gf can no longer get a cut and finish from a male coiffeur at the deluxe hotel we are staying at presently. It is mumnoo no questions asked. A seemingly trifle bother, nevertheless; it's totally uncalled for is what I think. Anyway, I thought I’ll let this pass. Again, strangely I felt in the mood to play Bingo later that day so I picked up a copy of the local daily I could get my hands on but there again you disappoint me – I was informed they now have clamped on newspaper Bingo period. Apparently, it’s not good for you. Sad. Sad to see the obituary of mundane everyday things that added charm to our life and perked up our days, and indeed, our nights living and working in Kuwait.

Take Two. I am reminded of Kuwait in 1963 from before the time of a ban on alcohol came in force. This was when I came to Kuwait the first time on a backpacking trail. Oh, what a lovely time that was when you could settle down afterhours with a pint of lager in your hand in the privacy of your club or home listening to the radio, or reading or making conversation with the company you had ( I especially have fond memories of wining and dining with the Joneses’ at the Hunting & Equesterian Club). Alright, I am just a little bit in the mood to pick a tiny bone with you vis-a-vis the blanket ban on the sale and consumption of alcohol today. I will grant you that all things said and done, it was rather a good riddance but you do begin to wonder sometimes whether banning of alcohol per se, made life in Kuwait any better than before, and for whom?! Okiedokie, I’ll let this pass too.

Take Three. The first time I stepped off an airplane at the then, swanky new Kuwait International airport was in 1979 when I was coming in from Tehran just after the Revolution there had started, and boy was I struck by the grandeur of the new arrivals hall – gleaming white marble hallways with brightly lit ceilings and spotlessly clean flooring and a scent of eau de cologne to complete that effect, found pervading the terminal building air. Back then, I suppose you didn’t have those Auschwitz style gas chambers passing off as designated smoking areas anymore than you had a terminal building bursting at its seams with passengers at departure gates; so full and packed to the brim that they actually start to resemble a can of sardines. Fast forward to 2009. Only last week, I was transiting through Maktoum International Airport in Dubai en route to Kuwait. On arrival in Kuwait you can’t help compare and contrast the two airports – the sheer scale and opulence of Dubai airport is thrown in a sharp relief against the rickety yet still somewhat functional Kuwait airport. Giving credit where it’s due, the only positives I could come up with in favor of Kuwait airport are the short distances from the gates to the waiting area in the arrivals hall and the sheer abundance of porters to help you with your luggage in the baggage claims area - something which Kuwait International scores most uniquely over most other airports in the world. Bravo, alek ya Kuwait and thank heaven for small mercies! In a sense, the present apathy and inertia toward investing in Kuwait airport is proving a blessing in disguise to the many travel dreary passengers who after a long transatlantic flight staying coped up in a cattle class cabin do not have an airport walkathon thrust on them upon arrival. Will let that pass as it be because we are such good friends – you and I. Anyone smell a rat here? Well, of course, it isn’t the wasta rat.

Take Four. But what to say of the general level of cleanliness (or the lack of it) on Kuwait streets these days ? Surely, you cannot not have a municipality whose job is other than to keep Kuwait clean and spiffed up? And no, we are not drawing parallels here with either Singapore or Abu Dhabi. Large urban sprawls in Kuwait are on the verge of turning into Chitty! Shitty! Chittagongs (of sorts) from all the squalor and dirt of the municipality’s undoing. Are they all at the Baladiya on chronic French leave since the liberation of Kuwait, which happened some twenty odd years ago? This azeezati, neither you nor I can pretend being oblivious to. Sorry, if I have sounded harsh and overreacting but it’s only because I care. I care deeply about you and about our friendship. After all what are friends for ? I would be failing in my duty as a loyal friend if I didn’t tell you like it is.

So, c’mon cutie pie Ms. Q8 - you can do much better than that, and I know it you shall!

Bestest regards,
The Argumentative Palestinian

Typically Queer

Rifling through the GLBT personal ads in the Sunday broadsheets I think to myself of how someone looking at me through their own prism would choose to describe moi for you. It would be something along these lines : an atypical gay of low to borderline homosexual potential; height/weight proportionate, n/drugs (free of drugs) with a GSOH is on the look out for a LTR with a tall, dark and handsome dude (white boys no issues). Seriously, I am not having a laugh here! The word “atypical” used to describe “gayness” and “gayness” itself don’t fall in line since essentially, all of gayness is/was regarded as atypical last I noticed so you might ask yourself how much more atypical can it get? If you ask me “Queerly Queer” is just about how I would choose to describe myself in a nutshell. Can this idea of “ queer queerness” work much less can it sell with today’s youth? I have my doubts. People everywhere resent change even if that means far fewer encumbrances to them and others like them. Even so, the terminology – Queerly Queer, did not I think come out of the woodwork, as it were. Some things by their very nature are neither, here nor there – they never have been; always in a state of suspended animation that they remain, and so it is with human bunking preferences.
I identify myself more with the not so gay community than I do with say, the Soho Gay brigade. Guess, I am being a slur to the pink cause or at least, to what others make of it anyway. True, a certain prince from the Marwar and dudes from the TV soap – “Fashion House” and Spanish and Turkish telenovellas send me heart in atrial flutter every now and again,which more or less rubberstamps me as gay, nevertheless; there’s this long and growing list of things I cannot relate to that comes with the territory of falling for other men. All that bling and some more of it – obsession with the color pink – fascination for men’s derrières and above all, dressing up for the Gay Pride as if it were some kind of a do-or-die event, quite frankly, gets my goat. Equally, I find absurd the rite of passage for the culmination of gay love i.e. the assigning of active and passive partnership roles to gay lovers . Definitely, not my kind of thing to the extent that I detest genital contact with any living form : man or woman or anything in between. Oral sex and tactile contact read caressing is fine by me but anything abrasive and invasive won’t do, if you catch the general drift of my insinuation. I’ve always maintained “minimally invasive” is the way to go. However, I worry all the time that such queer behavior and thought processes, even by queer standards will get me nowhere because of a muddying of the waters, so to speak but I’d still rather hang in there waiting for my prince charming à la Marwar to turn up than having to compromise on my standard and principles of same sex bodily exchange of fluid . Que sera sera… what will be will be; the future’s not ours to see, que sera sera.
That having said, the bait is already thrown (has been for some time now) while I continue angling and ogling at dirty pretty things who may think and feel the same way I do. It’s not a lost case as yet, you see, for I am still young and open to bending a teensy weensy bit for what it’s worth : after all something’s gotta give. Mind it just because someone prefers dudes to dudettes doesn’t mean they can or should flip for any Tom, Dick or Ari they come across. In that light, sturdy heterosexual fellas rock my socks even more than most garden variety homos do. Sorry, you guys.
And finally, to put a cap to this whole shebang - this is the last and final call : “Calling on all 'body and mind beautiful' gents with a penchant for leather jackets and the finer things in Life to please pass me your number while you can along with a recent mug shot in order to apply for a life time of engaging conversations spent breaking bread; a goblet of the finest Chilean red in hand and hours of passionate love making on weekend afternoons without the Ex, err…Sex and much much more, or your money back.
Amen.

Attaboy! Andy, We Love You

Do you hear that ? You may have just lost the match of a lifetime but you have truly won our hearts our minds (and yes our libidos) forever : six-love, six-love, six-love. We do not expect to come out smelling of roses with the wife with this declaration of a new found passion of ours for you but if it's any consolation, we are not into you physically; you are just not our type (at least, not for now, that is).
:)

Getting Cagey

Jarred & JADED and Jaded and JARRED is what happens to you when aspirations for greatness are forced on you in one swallow.
It isn’t clear to me whether I want to be all which others expect of me. Is ordinariness and imperfection such an aberration that I cannot hold my chin up high and admit to making a mistake and on more than one occasion? So what if leadership qualities don’t come to me naturally?! How can you make me feel so horrible for the way I am the way I am!

I feel imprisoned in your aura even in the absence of it.
When will these shenanigans ever end ? Indeed, when will all of this end? With me ?! Dear God, I hope not.

Jarring and jading will lead to fading of this vintage Wine, err… Life before it is allowed to mature.

Cribbing ain’t all that bad as I am finding out.