Adonis Diaries

Archive for March 6th, 2009

77.  Who is whispering in our ears?  Good Cops and Bad Cops! (November 1, 2008)


78.  October report on Lebanon (November 2, 2008)


79.  Poetry for the newer generations: A suggestion (November 6, 2008)


80.  Open Letter to President Obama (part 1, November 7)


81.  Open Letter to President Obama (part 2, November 8)


82.  Open Letter to President Obama (part 3, November 9)


83.  What future for our kids? Hang on buddy! (November 10, 2008)

84. The State of Lebanon: A string of exclamation and question marks (November 11, 2008)


85.  You want happiness? Manage your nerves. (November 11, 2008)


86.  Are you a middle aged person, give or take 20 years? (November 12, 2008)

87.  The State of “Palesrael”: a future plausible resolution (November 12, 2008)


88.  Bi-weekly report on Lebanon (Part 2, November 15, 2008)

89.  Juntas of theocratic castes: the under-developed States (November 15, 2008)


90.  Sabbaticals for thinking and disseminating thoughts (November 16, 2008)


91.  International Court Tribunal for genocides: do execute! (November 17, 2008)


92.  A Nation, a State, or a redundant community? (November 17, 2008)


93.  Outlandish expectations on President Obama: ignorance or midget impetus to press on for reforms? (November 18, 2008)


94.  Mount Lebanon: a few fallacies (November, 20, 2008)


95.  Political or social reforms first? (November 21, 2008)

96.  Natural borders: what for? (November 21, 2008)


97. Are embezzlement schemes an engineering field? Rule China! (November 22, 2008)


98.  Biography of memory failures (November 22, 2008)


99. Code name for the timing of the Wall Street crash: rule China (part 2, November 23, 2008)


100.  Not by the bread only…Stop all arms shipment to Africa! (November 25, 2008)


101. Types of history stories:  Mount Lebanon, a case study (November 26, 2008)


102.  Do you want to get a handle on your mind? (November 27, 2008)


103.  Has your Ego changed in definition? (November 28, 2008)


104.  Priorities and revised economic models for enterprises (November 29, 2008)


105.  Bi-weekly report (3) on Lebanon (November 29, 2008)


106.  What socio-political reforms for Lebanon? (Part 1, November 31, 2008)


107.  What socio-political reforms for Lebanon? (Part 2, November 31, 2008)

Josephine (Addendum #6 of auto-biography)


Twenty Kitties around Josephine (Nov. 2002)



I met Josephine at the Zanzibar, a dancing night club; a club in a hole of a University town.  I’m told the town has expanded so much it is almost a city. This is the fate of any town, close to a major city, Oklahoma City. That was about 1988.


She was with a couple of her girlfriends; and like them, in their late thirties’ or mid-forty’s. Josephine was pretty, skinny with reddish long, long hair. She was looking surreptitiously at me and I invited her to dance. We danced a lot and crazily. The slow dances turned much slower, tight and erotic.


We had a date the next day. Josephine came a little late as it should be. She parked her old, heavy, noisy and yellow American car in front of my apartment complex.

It was my friends’ apartment; one from Tunisia and the other from Morocco. They were on an extended vacation trip.


Josephine had had her hair cut short “a la garcon” in the morning, a major let down. I didn’t even express my displeasure or mentioned her new hair style. She was wearing a short, a very white short, and thongs. Her legs were very skinny and her skin was English white/bluish, and pink around the knees.


I felt a surge of shame: A lady her age should have a moderate sense of modesty:  People might rightly assume a money transaction in that visit, which was not.


Josephine inspected the premise quickly and indicated a room of her liking.

I objected lamely that my friend would have objected and she did not insist.

We went to the living room and she took off her scant cloths. Then, we threw pillows on the gray carpet for bed. Abruptly, Josephine proposed the back intercourse, the shit hole. I recovered my senses reasoning that there is always a first after all.


She leaned over a sofa. I enjoyed the view of her smooth, round and pink behind.

That part of hers looked in its twenties in that posture. In the meanwhile, I asked her if she is enjoying it. “Not really, it is as if I need to shit” she said. A serious inquiry was appropriate since she proposed this position. I refrained at the last second to reply, feeling quite sure, that Josephine had idiosyncrasies about Arabs’ preferences.

It was just an inner reflection, though I think it was my duty and a responsibility to expound on the topic and remove any misunderstanding.


We moved to our makeshift bed and resumed a long late foreplay. We were tender, affectionate and delicate. She proposed a joint and I admitted that a unique draw is enough for me. I was the wiser to inhaling only once since the performance was fantastic. I had another draw, much later, when the effect subsided. The third performance was even better.

By the by, from one finger I upgraded to my entire fist. Josephine kept a steady crescendo whine for a long time and I got scared. I stopped and asked her if she was feeling all right. That is how naïve and virgin I was in that field.


I recall the first time I smoked a joint. I was in a convertible Alfa Romeo with two Lebanese guys. We were heading toward the lake on a summer full moon night.

My friends were having a great time, speeding and listening to “Leila”, a guitar song played by Eric Clapton. They laughed a lot while I had a hell of problems keeping the lids of my red eyes open.


I twice experienced smoking a joint in groups, never alone, just “to train my endurance” for a better fit among smokers. Once, my friends had to leave without me to see a movie and dance. When they returned 4 hours later, I was still lying on the sofa, my eyes closed shut, listening to music, trying to differentiate the timbers among the different musical instruments knowing full well that my ignorance in formal music is nil.


The third instance was in a park, close by my apartment. I was enjoying an afternoon open concert in a beautiful summer day. I woke up and the park was empty and dark already. I walked my bike home.


Once, I visited a gorgeous girl at her apartment.  She used to dance nude at a bar 10 years ago. She asked me if I smoked joints.  I was candid and told her that I can withstand only one puff. We had no further dates.


Josephine finished off the joint in a delicious rapture. I discovered the positive side effects of taking one draw: I felt myself a regenerated stud to the satisfying appreciation of Josephine. We had another go at love and I bathed in her glowing face and younger smile. I understood then the saying: “Love makes young”.


She had finished a second joint and I inhaled one puff. I inserted a finger, then a second, then a third. As I said previously, Josephine was moaning softly and continuously.  When my entire tiny hand was in her, her moaning rose to an additional octave for a long time and I got scared. I asked her whether she was all right.  She opened her eyes as from a long dream. I felt stupid and regretted cutting short whatever she was experiencing. I also regretted the deficiencies of males in that pleasurable sport.


Josephine told me that she is keeping two dozens of cats in her home. She had a name for every cat. She is well versed on the psychological character and behavior of every single cat of hers. I felt curious and asked her when I can visit her. She categorically denied me any visit and I felt totally relieved.


I intended not to tell my friends about this visit to the apartment. But the Moroccan guy found out from a girl friend of his. He was pissed off. I exacerbated the situation by gloating that we tried every corner of the apartment, including his bed. My Moroccan friend avoided me then for months. He did not feel handicapped about pissing in the lavatory. I didn’t mind:  I believe they had started treating waste water in the USA.


Josephine introduced me to her married son at Zanzibar. It was a planned surprise!  Her son behaved properly and shook my hand.

Josephine invited me to her girlfriends’ house too. She was fluttering around the place chatting and singing.  Josephine was displaying her beau. She sat on my laps, hugged me and kissed me all the while. I felt intimidated and absolutely awkward.  I sat stiff and stoic. I could not join the group in their intimate relationships. I felt that I was a certified self-centered ignoramus.

I was amid lively butterflies, though older and oversized. I am sorry that I failed befriending these ladies, real ones for a change.


By then, I had moved with an elder woman who thought that she is still young:  Her son wanted me to sleep there for security  and for emergency reasons.  I had just a room; the woman didn’t entitle to share the kitchen.  I had spent a night at a dancing bar with Josephine and she gave me ride at 4 a.m.  Josephine was drunk; I was not: I could not afford to get drunk.  Josephine wanted to spend the night with me in my room.  I told her that it was not appropriate and that the elder woman would not appreciate extraneous activities in her home.  That is how stupid I was and for a long time.


Josephine moved with a black man, a handsome, friendly addict and a drug pusher.  He lived at her home with the kitties around.  Marvin ended up in prison and Josephine had to bail him out. Josephine was alcoholic but she was fighting courageously for her rights to have the most pleasures in this lifetime.


Josephine won an even bigger battle: Josephine learned not to discriminate against origins, races or colors.

“Nature versus nurture”: Introspection  #58

I am interested in the effects of the dichotomy “nature versus nurture”.

What cause individuals to accede at recognition in social spheres? What is normal behavior? What is meant by being a beneficial member to society? What hobbies and skills keep people happy and alert throughout their life?

The field of “nature versus nurture” should be a scientific specialty but, objectivity set aside, I may state my position based on my individual experience.

What I am is anchored on feeling healthy, though I was not born a healthy person:  I was not supposed to survive.

Mother persisted and after a day of struggle I had my first tit-sucking experience.  I attended school for 3 months when I was almost 5 of age before the terrible illness of Typhus that lasted 4 months, and I had to re-learn walking…  

Within 3 months I had mastered the multiplication tables; thus, I was endowed with some mental potentials; that is a lot of grace already.

I was nurtured in an environment that conveyed a sense of security and warmth in my first critical four years, though my parents were far from feeling in security:  They were robbed four times in less than two years as they were starting to raise a family. May be that is why I could attempt adventures that were not planned?

I could keep faith that I will manage one way or another in critical conditions.

In the summer of 1975, I flew to the USA, my first trip outside my country. I was not even accepted at any university.  I knew no one, had no connections and had no information on the State or universities.

At the end of 1984, I departed for the USA without any planning whatsoever. Both times to escape the rot: I was out of a job or not perceiving any opportunity for a job.

In 1991, I literally ran away to San Francisco after graduation. I had no money; I had no plans, and didn’t have connections.

In 1979, I decided on a foolish scheme which got me in terrible troubles. The consequences of this decision must have affected me deeply, but for years I failed to acknowledge its influence.

What I am not is solely the culprit of consistent disadvantageous nurturing conditions later on: such as in family, schooling programs, society, and environment.  

Living in a religious boarding school for six years, in a new country, and having to learn a new language are not catalysts for normal upbringing.  I tried to learn many skills when it was too late to acquire.

I enrolled in music classes when I was over thirty. I bought a classical guitar and an accordion to prove my incompetence. I could have been successful at many skills and hobbies when it was proper and effective at an early age. What I acquired young I kept at it.

I can admit clearly that my failure is the consequence of my incapacity for long-term planning.

This failure is mainly due to my lack of hunger for anything considered essential by society. Hunger is an acquired quality before the age of four. 

Most of those who have a hunger are successful at acquiring “recognition”, not mainly because of the focused energy toward their targeted hunger but because their hunger is their lightening rod that keeps them focused.

There is nothing wrong with striving for recognition

It is the means employed to destroying many spirits along the way to the target that need to be judged and blamed.

Many marriages fail because the emotional instability of the hungry people takes over and destroy the best stabilizing environment that keep them on track.  The hungry people who manage to salvage marriages are those who wizened up to just wearing the mask of patriarchal attitude.  They know that they are not fooling their closest relatives and friends but that would do for the outsiders, to those who count for nurturing “recognition”.  The saying “No prophet is recognized by his people” means that the mask that ends up identifying us would never fool our community.

I feel helpless starting a business and abhor law regulations.

I could be a flourishing director or manager of an already established institution.

I could have been as successful as many individuals who inherited businesses.

I could have learned to acquire a taste for luxury. I could spend money in profusion when I had it. I enjoy reading abundantly and have been writing lately.

I like to share my reading books and my writings. Who cares reading anymore?  I do.

Someone has to share the work of a few good writers.

My temerity broke the vicious cycles several times but I lacked the tools: Sound behaviors, skills, and capabilities are acquired early on in life. I never despaired.  I lacked the talent to grab good opportunities or retaining potential ones.

I re-invent myself any which way.

I could have turned better. I know from key events in my life that I could have been a successful man. When I was 12, I was transferred to a totally different schooling system. It was a system that emphasized French as the primary language which I had completely forgotten though it was my first language. By the end of the year, I was among the five best students in French among the three other sections. The following two years I was still better than even the French-born students.

When I was 14, the school organized this single ceremony at the end of the year: The entire student body was trained for intricate exercises to be performed in the dark. We carried two lighted colored torches.  I liked these exercises. During summer, I used the two confectioned small sand bags that hold doors, and exercised every day. I thus managed to build up the muscles of my arms and forearms. These parts of my body looked disproportionate with my shriveled body at the time, like Popeye the Spinach man.

When I was 21, I enrolled in a session of Tak Wan Doo, a Korean martial art. Throughout the training I was clumsy and appeared unfit.  Most of the group were more sportive, taller, and better built-in stature and shape. At exam time, it turned out that I was the sole graduate to earn the green belt because I trained at home and had confidence.

I still dream of a change in situation. I am ready to face harsher problems and realities.

Note: We are no different from the other mammalian kinds. Maybe we started with a couple of DNA genomes that differed from most of the other mammals. Most probably, we nurtured these discriminating genomes to warp other genomes into a qualitative difference. It is not our mental agility that sets us apart from other mammals (that would be the external realities), but it is mainly our ability to wear masks and believing that the mask is our identity.

Coelho’s mountain climbing: None of the  guidelines were  followed (March 5, 2009)


            Pablo Coelho, in “As a river that flows”, attempts to offer guidelines before climbing a mountain.  First, select the mountain of your choice since you are the sole responsible and you have to be sure of what you are doing.  Second, learn how to face the mountain by trying all the possible routes to contour the mountain.  The mountain that looks pretty and interesting from afar is but a terrible challenge when starting to conquer it.  Third, do not hesitate to ask counsel of those who climbed your mountain of choice. Fourth, at close scrutiny dangers seem controllable. This is a fine hint that you need to watch every step while climbing.  Fifth, take advantage to view the changing scenery as you progress steadily. Sixth, respect the capabilities and limitations of your physical conditioning. If your intention is to be back by nightfall then the speed of your progress should be steady with allowance that the summit is always farther than expected. Seventh, have respect for your spirit.  You do not need to constantly repeat “I can do it” because your spirit already knows it; and never say “It is more difficult than contemplated” because you might lose your inner force. Eight, rejoice when at the summit.  Cry, holler, jump, dance, and tell the whole world that your achievement is now part of your life and a stepping stone toward many other successes. Nine, as you have realized your potential then plan other excursions and adventures. Ten, tell your adventure story and recount how it was possible to vanquish what seemed insurmountable.

            I started this article with Coelho’s guideline to investigate my attempts of mountain climbing of Sanine Mountain in Lebanon.  I climbed the mountain three times; the third time was a fiasco.  I reached the summit all right but we got lost on our way down.  I was judged to be too grumpy on this trip and was eliminated from the group the fourth time around on grounds of getting too old to keep up with the pace.  The group had a stupid pace anyway. The group wanted to reach the summit quickly and be home as soon as possible. They were goats without the patience to graze. They never took time to view the scenery. They never celebrated when reaching the summit; their only celebration was a sense of relief that I made it.

            Invariably, the group was up there for 20 minutes and watching painfully my turtle ascent. I was climbing the last 200 meters, at 30% incline, on my fours with nothing to get a handle on, and taking frequent rests to recover my breath and cool down the blood boiling in my lungs and thumping in my chest and temples. Invariably, a Syrian soldier camping on the summit would scramble down, in thongs, and give me a nudge up. Yes, we climbed in summertime but those tough Syrian soldiers were left on Sanine Mountain during winter wearing thongs and threadbare military outfit.

            As I reach the summit I take off all my cloths except my underwear and tan and dry my cloths.  The group is not agreeable with my unorthodox behavior of resting and relaxing completely up there.  The group wants to get going immediately since they waited enough for me and they pressure me to abridge my luxurious triumph. The group never followed Coelho’s guidelines; they used to inviting a guide friend to join us for straight quick access to the summit. 

            I can add more important guidelines to Coelho’s.  First, never have breakfast immediately before climbing. Invariably, several members of the group had to drop off after the first two hundred yards and return home defeated. The rest of us made it with terrible heart burns and acid aches.  Second, never carry a backpack if you are over 40 of age. Any weight pressing on your shoulders is too much weight: You need all the upper blood flow to your head and upper extremities.  Third, form a team of your own that is not in a hurry for the day and would love to factor in at least an hour of joy and relaxation at the summit. Fourth, eliminate members who need to be drinking water every 100 yards and keep borrowing water bottles because they hate to carry any.  Fifth, encourage members to piss frequently and to describe the scenery with minute details and learn the tunes they are whistling. Sixth, try to factor in an hour’s nap after your successfully unharmed return: the return home should be agreeable, restful, happy, and with promise for another challenge. Seventh, climbing down is always fraught with injuries: people gets careless, are tired, cannot bear recommendations, and want just to be down and over with.  People feel that the whole exercise of the adventure is to reach the summit but fails to learn the wisdoms of how to handle success and manage their euphoric zeal up to the last second.  The whole purpose is get home unharmed, joyful, and fully ready for another day.


Note: Wear rough pants, long sleeved rough shirt, a couple of undershirt, a light large hat, and “Eskimo goggle” (Goggle with thin long slits that permit to see natural colors without being incommodated by the bright sun or blowing winds).  Wearing shorts and climbing almost naked is not the right remedy to conserving energy and keeping a cool body for the arduous exercise.  Whatever water you may be carrying might not be enough for even a single minor incident; thus, lighten up to carry more water than usual.  The less you eat the better off you are; thus bring chocolate bars that won’t melt.




March 2009

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