Adonis Diaries

Archive for May 31st, 2020

I made dreams Real for others. Mine has to wait

Note: Re-edit of “A Dream Real (written in 1999 and posted on October 25, 2008)

1.   My fellow Realtors make fun of me, of my choice of name.

Advertising Dr. Adonis is intimidating, it scares people off.

A few, maybe.  Many call on me.

They keep me busy, friendly, alert and happy.

 

2.   Dr. Adonis has no business selling homes.

Dr. Adonis was meant to teach, to be employed.

Dr. Adonis joined the rank of the selfish, the greedy.

Dr. Adonis is banished from the elite gangs.

 

3.   I got to know the mind of the Realtor.

You see one, you see all.

Like you, I don’t like him.

He sells your houses for fees.

 

4.   Long hours, long days and nights.

I sell a friend what he will call “My Home”.

I make his cherished dream come true.

I am associated with a few dreams, long lasting dreams.

Kids have their own rooms; I never had mine.

Kids play in the basement; I sleep in part of one.

 

5.   I call, I mail, I follow up and I serve.

I serve and call no more:  I just drop by.

Big hearts, big smiles open the door for me.

I have no home of mine:  Home is where that heart is.

 

I am a Realtor.  I don’t like him.

I sell dreams, Real ones, at last.

Note: I had a PhD in industrial engineering and thus I opted for Dr. Adonis. Many used to call me for physical checks on account that they thought that I was a physician

Have you been feeling bored? During this pandemics?

Note: Re-edit of “Bored. Boredom. An environment, you got to invent excitement September 18, 2015″

An environment, no matter how hard you look around,

Nothing is to be found to hang on to it,  for any hint of excitement.

Pain is more powerful than death

And boredom is next to pain in power.

 

Too hot to go for a walk.

No car to flee the premises of confinement

The idea of laying down and imagine a hot sexual encounter is too an old trick to sustain

The idea to figure out a day dreaming project is an old hat.

 

You already know that the Witch Wang will Not function

Alcoholic people are bored people.

A few addicted smokers need this break to figure out the next task

To reschedule a general plan for the long day.

 

Housewives keep dusting, vacuuming, rearranging…

Bored. Boredom

Zeh2en. Shi bi zahe2

Kind of feeling healthy with no pains

Any mild pain would do to focus your mind on

One constipation per week that would last a day and a night

A stomach ache once a month, the kind of gases, that no farting will do to alleviate the uneasiness.

 

This feeling that something is rotten inside.

Or the intestines is too dry to absorb extra gases

Just lay down and hope to sleep it off.

 

In downtown, many marches, demonstrations and sit-in.

By youth movements that have gotten fed up of a locked out future.

Treated like chattel by militia/mafia leaders who still control the political system.

 

Even hunger strikers whom the government had ignored for 10 days.

Joining the hunger strikers is a great idea.

Now I need a ride, but no one to volunteer.

Mother would not mind if I joined the hunger strikers,

On condition that I include quitting smoking.

 

7erak madani. 7erak shababi. 7erak for social changes.

Great events taking place, but nowhere to go.

7erak to vanquish boredom.

To imagine hope in the horizon.

To cling to any reform, before illusion sets in.

 

Bored. Boredom. A state when it dawns on you that life sucks.

Lucky the people who die early on.

Before they get convinced that life simply sucks.

Before they experience utter boredom.

 

Living with an elderly mother who would welcome a good storyteller

I know no stories and I’m a lousy story teller. No patience for stories.

No one visiting us to hope that mother will spend quality time.

 

The purpose of the very few who pay us a visit is to raise mother’s blood pressure

And increase her frustration and despair.

Waiting for the night fall so that mother go to bed.

 

The night is my free time and hope for good movies and documentaries to fill the time.

I refuse to get up before 9 am: the days are too long to suffer

I have been mulling a second life change

On another continent and far away from relatives

Never to return, or be in contact with any one I knew.

 

Does life provides a second chance for older people

To try a new life?

Note: This song was posted 5 years before the onset of the Covid-19 pandemics. In January, mother passed away, before the pandemic was revealed. Do you think that the feeling of boredom transformed since then?

Mama. I can’t breath…Last words of George Floyd before he suffocated

These are the last words of George Floyd, a 46-year-old man who died as a US police officer pinned him down, kneeling on his neck for 7 minutes, until he suffocated:

“It’s my face man
I didn’t do nothing serious man
please
please
please I can’t breathe
please man
please somebody
please man
I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe
please
(inaudible)
man can’t breathe, my face
just get up
I can’t breathe
please (inaudible)
I can’t breathe sh*t
I will
I can’t move
mama
mama
I can’t
my knee
my nuts
I’m through
I’m through
I’m claustrophobic
my stomach hurt
my neck hurts
everything hurts
some water or something
please
please
I can’t breathe officer
don’t kill me
they gon’ kill me man
come on man
I cannot breathe
I cannot breathe
they gon’ kill me
they gon’ kill me
I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe
please sir
please
please
please I can’t breathe”

Then his eyes shut and the pleas stop. George Floyd was pronounced dead shortly after.

Right now, we have a choice. This can just be one more tragic death at the hands of US police — or the moment for change.

Note 1: George didn’t commit anything wrong. He just asked a girl to put a leash on her dog. The girl called the police…

Note 2: This time around, it is civil war until the entire Trump administration resign and an early election is decided.

Damascus under canon and airplane bombs in 1925: During French mandated power

Note: Re-edit of “In Damascus under the bombs, Year 1925 by Alice Poulleau”  May 19, 2013

In 1925, the French journalist and painter Alice Poulleau finished writing her book “In Damascus under the bombs”, a collection of 3 years of diaries,  and was published in 1926. The book was banned by the French authority in every colony and territories occupied by the French troops. The book was re-published only in 2012.

The Syrians revolted against the French mandated power in 1924-26 and the troops pounded Damascus for 48 hours with heavy artillery shells and air raids. Entire blocks in Damascus were devastated and over 1,500 civilians were killed within 48 hours of insane hatred and arrogance of the occupying troops.

Alice dedicated the book to the mothers in France and Syria who suffer the same afflictions. She blamed the French writers and journalists who never set foot in Syria and never witnessed the calamities and horrible massacres and yet, insisted on diabolizing (devils) the Syrian people, relying solely on the High-Commissariat reports.

The devastation hit the antique and ancient souks of Hamidiyeh, the block of the street of Midhat Pasha, the Via Recta, which was later called “Harika” to being burned to the ground…

It was the French mandated power that incited sectarian passions among the various religious entities in order to divide and rule. The occupation power favored the minorities such as the Christians, the Alawites… in the administrative positions…

Alice worked in the Nile Delta and occasionally pushed forward to discover parts of Palestine, such as Rafah, Gaza, Ludds… and further on into Haifa, Mount carmel…

In 1923, Alice had this revelation to investigate Syria and Lebanon. She visited the Houran province, Damascus, Baalbek, Beirut, Sidon, Tyr, Bissan (south of the Sea of galilee), Samak…

Poulleau was under the spell of so much beauty and mythical environment until she got in contact with her French countrymen, officers and soldiers in Syria.

Her wrath grew by the days against the arrogance and ignorance of her French citizens in Syria.

Her encounters opened her eyes to the calamities that the French brought in into Syria…

As Alice returned to Egypt in 1923, she wrote:

“I had this persistent and strong impression that France never attempted to investigate the level of acceptance of the Syrian people to the mandated power, and simply relied on the reports of the High-Commissariat.

I felt this growing disenchantment and the growling of discontent among the Syrians relevant to the one-sided decisions, mismanagement and high-handed reactions due to their baffling of human rights of the Syrians and their dignity…

This was the reason for me to return the next year 1924 to Damascus and witnessing the slaughter hood two years later…”

Note: More summaries and translation of these diaries will be forthcoming. 1,500 Syrian civilians died within 48 hours of bombing and air raids of the Capital Damascus by the French troops.


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

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