Adonis Diaries

Archive for September 17th, 2009

First Anniversary: I married; (September 18, 2009)


            Thursday, September 18, 2008The weather is mostly cloudy. I borrowed “Chroniques de Gaza” by Caroline Mangez at a private library. I removed to my study around 3 pm and saw my niece Joanna working on her portable.  I reminded her that she promised to aid me open a blog; she selected on account that it is the most visited site. I sat by her side and we went through the queries. My site is; the affix 49 is the year of my birthyear since Adonis was already taken.

            I tried to start publishing articles on my blog of but the internet was acting up as I clicked on “publish”.  I was wondering: “This might turn out to be a time consuming process of publishing what I have written”. It took me over an hour just for one article to go. Once I had ironed out the process I spent a hectic week publishing over five years of unpublished pieces of articles, book reviews, short stories, and novels.  The published materials amounted to 600 posts: I had subdivided chapters of my novels to quicken the process. 

            I learned later that I should have subdivided even further so that readers won’t have to suffer more than two pages at a time.  I also learned much later that it is preferable to assign a new title to every post and not the easy alternative of patching up part 1, part 2, or continue 1, continue 2, and the sort.  Thinking up new titles are fun and a great learning processes.  I discovered the value of assigning new titles for posts that did not generate hits: people have so many choices of posts to read that they prefer catchy titles.

            In this year I added over 600 new posts to the ones I had written previously and generated 16,000 hits.  Laws do not fail very often: maybe 20% of my posts generated 80% of hits even if I disagree with my readers on the value of their choices.  Laws do not fail very often but when they do it is catastrophic; scientists, and especially financial analysts, fail to consider seriously the rare events and their dangerous potential consequences.  They just take the easy way out by focusing on the average or most likely events. The latest financial crash is a striking example; it is not as if the financial analysts didn’t know about rare events: they preferred not to be considered the black sheep of doom.  It is so much nicer to collect easy bonuses and let others suffer.

            Actually, I am under the impression that a dozen of posts or 1% are generating a fourth of the total hits. Thus, I may retire for a whole year and still generate a substantial number of hits; that is not my purpose: I want people to read good stuff.

            By and by I increased the number of categories to reach 25; if it were feasible to edit and re-shuffle the names of my categories I would have gladly invested time of this important factor.  I would appreciate some aid in that domain.

            Nick was very helpful in sending me a link to widgets when I asked for his advice to simplify navigating my cumbersome blog.  So far, widgets have been great for my own navigation; I do not doubt that they’ll be helpful for my readers.  So far, my posts do not include pictures or video: I lack the equipments and the patience for this important improvement.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words; I am not so sure; it might be correct for the lazy minds or those who are more inclined to visual information.  Anyway, rest assured that in due time my pictures would not be “stand-alone” dumb medium such as “No Comment”.  Expressing your feelings, ideas, and opinions in words are great exercises for your own benefit: you refresh your memory and re-structure your ideas for better explanation and exposition.

            I received a new release on life this fabulous year; discovering a free publishing site is like receiving grace.  I need to read more so that I can publish at least one post a day; usually, I publish 10 posts per week. I learned to be concise and not surpass 1,000 words per posts.  Thus, long articles are divided into parts with new titles.  Every now and then, I regroup the parts into one lengthy article with a new title: it is beneficial to me to re-edit the main topic and present a comprehensive article for later use.

            An excited reader was overwhelmed by the diversity and wealth of my book reviews in topics and in foreign sources (I do read and write in three languages Arabic, French, and then English); she encouraged me to patronize her site; she failed to know that I am a novice navigator and that I have no patience whatsoever for net navigation.  I like hard cover materials.  Bref, I sent her a message telling her that all that I have is a word processor; all that I know to do is to store my pieces on a USB and then locate an internet provider to publish my posts. I hope that I finally nailed down this troublesome acronym USB: I kept saying UBS until my nieces and nephews got bored of correcting me. I sometimes insist on UBS to express my displeasure for their behaviors.

            Yes, all that I do is read a lot and then jot down sentences and ideas on a sheet of paper: public power is out over 12 hours a day in this part of a country. Once the electricity is on then my article is done within half an hour. I quickly store my piece on a USB for fear that the power does not fail me again, as it so often do. It is not so hard publishing but the public power hardly will improve in the foreseeable future.  I firmly believe that if I enjoyed better amenities in electricity and equipments then my productivity might suffer accordingly.  It does not mean that those patronizing my blog should pray for my situation to last: that would be cruel and inhuman.  You might pray that I win big on the lotto or a publisher contacts me: I have so much to publish on hard covers: the medium that I cherish so much and that generates money.

   board of directors must start thinking seriously how to help us bloggers make money for our hard and consistent work.

Emilia demanded: “Take me …”, (September 17, 2009)

In the first two years my marriage was perfect. It felt that our deep and complete accord of our senses mingled with this silence of the spirit; critics of our personalities were suspended; love was the sole judge of the partner.  Emilia was absolutely without any defects; I wanted to believe that my behavior was shared. Certainly that we had plenty of defects but they were transformed into benign, forgivable, or even particular qualities that enhanced our individualities.

The happier we feel the less we pay attention to the grace of our felicity; indeed, I might have many moments of boredom in our relationship; it seemed common and natural, nothing that special, like the air we breathe. People would envy me for my state of happiness and I would retort that I lacked the security of the morrow: I was in a tight financial predicament as a movie critic and we barely managed to go out see a movie. We lived in a rented furnished room; my wife had to use the owner’s kitchen to prepare breakfast. Never did I lament as during the first two glorious years of my happiness.

To my eyes, my wife Emilia was a beautiful secretary when I fell in love with her.  She was not that tall; bared off her long heels her head reached my shoulders, but she had this supple grace and “majesty” that made her look much taller and impressive than most girls that I had met. Emilia was especially taller in bed, more packed, rounded, and powerful, though I knew very well that she had nothing of the massive. In moments of abandon her large sensual chestnut colored eyes expressed a state of loss and displacement.

Emilia came from a poor family and kept our room constantly clean and shining.  She made my small study her exclusive care: my papers, desk, and books were arranged to lure me to work. Emilia was mostly silent; she barely laughed or smiled but managed to disseminate her feelings by body postures and the expressions on her face: she was barely educated and her world opinions were limited.

At the time I let my grunge and intellectual looks boast for my potential future as an illustrious artistic personality. My corrective glasses and slender high stature might have contributed to my imagination.  I could not afford to buy an apartment as I felt was Emilia’s deepest wants, her own residence to furnish, maintain, and cherish.  I recall now that during our engagement her eyes got wet when I told her that I barely could rent a small apartment: she was longing for a place of her own and quickly.

I managed to put down a deposit on a modern apartment of two rooms and a tiny kitchen.  When we visited together for the first time our potential dusty and unfurnished apartment Emilia joined me at the window and asked me to hug her; it was a displaced tender and overt behavior on her part.  We kissed passionately and then Emilia demanded: “take me now”.  She promptly removed her skirt and tops and we made love on the dirty floor.  I had never felt that passion in Emilia; it felt as if she was returning the gratitude for an extended expensive gift. Surely, I had the apartment in Emilia’s name.

I have never felt that despondent and miserable as the first months after we purchased the apartment: I was permanently worried about the next payment.  Emilia did not help any: she increased her shopping excursion to buy furniture.  She was perfectly aware of my financial predicaments but she acted nonchalant and perfectly an “egoist” to me.

Gone was the period I was lording it as a potential famous intellectual; the feeling of the harsh reality that I was an utterly penniless person, a non-entity, overtook me. I started to listen to the opinions of the opposition political parties that lambasted governments, services, and the social inequities. (More is to follow).

Note:  This story is taken, with some alterations, from “The loathing” (Le mepris) by Alberto Moravia.




September 2009

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