Tag Archives: music


Chipped and sharp, my nails are no longer white. They are grey and apathetic to the skin surrounding them. This is not about the flame, but about the cold. This is not about the good, it is about the uncertain. This is not about the truth, it is about the mystery; anything could be true or false at this very moment. This is not about reality, it is about infinite possibility, the opposite of every impossibility you have ever entertained. 

My skin reacts to this, chills and rejection of the bland. Goosebumps because, just because. In this space of no flavor, nothing happens for the pleasure of your senses. In this state of being, comfort is extremely similar to boredom. In this kingdom of routine, the sun hides and winds blow, uncertain and unappreciated. My head rests, and my body slows, little motion brings forth less life. 

I bring music to my silence and he asks my imagination for a dance. His voice and his words ring and play on my nonchalance waking my curiousity and interest. I enjoy it. Softly, slowly, and quietly I anticipate the way his breath sounds in my ears. Violin, piano…and then percussion a simple perfection to my sleepy, bored and comfortable senses. Perfect. He asks about my feelings, he asks about my words, letters and emptiness in between. On repeat, two,three, four times I know his words now, I smile. One beat upon the next I find that I have been pacing around this space letter by letter. Step by step I trace the warmth of my letters, I press every word and I prepare my self. Silence will subside and I will transcend every wavelength, I will dance to the tune of a world of my making. 

For now, I dwell…


You mess up my hair, my bed and my mind. You change my accent, my perspective and my expectations. You shake my shoulders and beat my brains with words and tunes. You lift everything up and then we both fall through the crevices of eachother. You have no reason but your want. You need nothing but your need. You are you and I’ve never known any you like you. You even make me write weird.
You dared to smash up the hardest work I’ve ever done. You had the nerve to break my barricade, you know no boundaries.
Let’s compete and see whose limits die first. Chase this fleeting insanity and choke it with ridiculously good music. You break my wall, I break yours. Then we are even. You permeate my space, I move into yours.
Close enough? We haven’t even begun yet, so don’t look away.

Grey on fire

I close these eyes, its too grey outside and I look for color. It’s too tame outside and I am distant.
I am right here and I can’t move my head. I can’t grab sound and music is everything I want. And just as that bass drops, my mind crashes and it splashes all over that naive little heart of mine. Chaos; just waves and vibrations orchestrating a tragedy of thoughts and emotions meeting for the first time and losing themselves silently in incredible noise.
Strange and foreign splinters of an exploded self travel and unravel, shifting cells living and dying all inside one loud echoing song. Sentences lose structure and words break at the misery of needing sound this much. The clarity of a melody breaking down distance and ultimately handing you intimacy and diffusing it under your skin. You no longer seek touch and you are moved from the inside out.
Now that the song is ending the mess is becoming more apparent, and the story is becoming sadder and you can’t help but feel the loss of a leaving tune. You are still right were you are and still can’t move your head, but now you are sedated and elated. Your brain climbs quietly back up to where it belongs stumbling occasionally over residue of sound; and your little naive heart gathers itself together and beats again because that is the only thing it knows.
You open your eyes, it’s still grey outside; but this time you decide to pick yourself up and set that grey on fire.

The day my friends turned into pigeons

Nothing is as psychotic as words on fire. Nothing is as absurd as a world thought to be eternal. Nothing breaks as pleasurably as a human being.
I never crawled, I never walked, I sometimes ran but all it ever really was me standing still. Always speaking about the chaos in my mind never made me stronger, only made me more descriptive and rather cynical. I took solace in that pleasure of a mad world that can never understand. I am wrong.
I do not want to be understood, I never did. I made myself feel special because pride wasn’t enough for me, I was never a believer of people’s words. They never changed anything.
And so I smash into walls built by my own bare hands, I bang my words upon the surface thinking I’m making a difference, believing I am leading a new era; a renaissance fueled by fumes. And I keep on writing I never stop. I write on walls, halls and future’s doors. I write on people and on paper. I write on my soul and I write on my skin. The only way I am able to breathe in reality and breathe out magic is this.
There is nothing as liberating as that flat line at the end of a full life. There is nothing as terrifying as that last heart beat; the grand finale.
So live my dear, anyway you wish, anyway you see fit. Just carry your own weight and listen to that music. You are always right.

Tuesday Evening

Yet again I lay down on an ordinary Tuesday evening thinking to myself. I have music playing in the background giving every passing second a tune to call its own. I directly reach for my phone and I start writing because that is how I make myself useful.
I always have the urge to write yet I don’t always have much to say. Repetition scares me just as much as forgetfulness does. I must never fall victim of either. The two times I plan to indulge in absent mindedness are when I’m in love and when I’m senile; I just hope they don’t occur simultaneously.
Life is absurdly simple sometimes, one of those sometimes is right now. Do I dare explain my blessings or do I fear a year of bad luck? Well one of the perks of simplicity is the inability to comprehend complexity; hence the joy of mere living. Much talk and no real message? Well it is a little liberating to be able to just say whatever you want to say without the burden of contexualizing every word into meaning.
Not everything, nor everyday requires meaning. Sometimes looking at your ceiling, listening to some music and finding it impossible to dramatize, is the best situation for self inspection. Sometimes just draining the energy of the day through letters and words is the best therapy for a racing mind.
It’s ok to pause, it’s ok to pay attention to the lyrics of every song on your playlist just so you know what love means to that artist. Whether you have found any meaning or not is unnecessary tonight. So take your time and enjoy the fact that you are you right here and right now. We can’t control everything around us, so might as well take a step back and watch ourselves unfold.
I miss home.

Music in NYC

What do i make of this daily experience? What do i make of this irrevocable loud performance of confusion? What does one know against all odds, in light of every undiscovered soul and unheard sound? How will i ever be certain of any single thing in life if my mind considers admitting any type of absolute as a form of human arrogance.
I run to music, i frantically and furiously inject it into my system. Then i listen, and i feel. It sterilizes fear and it emancipates certainty. Music entrances my chaos and suddenly my entire being is in zero gravity. Everything floats, even my thoughts.
I Silence the world with music.
Being alone has magnified my senses, and it has vagued my perceptions. Walking city streets with nothing surrounding me but cold concrete shooting into the skyline, i watch people and i watch lights; my mind does not rest here. Meanwhile, my heart smiles awkwardly at every possibility of human interaction. It stands in the corner waiting to be invited into this rave so it could finally taste the anarchy of this unrelenting musical.
Noise fades into symphonies when i am exhausted by the doubts of my mind. I fall asleep with a heavy heart caressed by some breathtaking tune. Dreams then take life and they dance me through every night.
Music is the reason. Thats the only certainty i know.

My Recommended Playlist 2

And When My Heart is in dire need of company; Music steps in and brings back the Beat.

The Fray – Never Say Never

Ed Sheeran – Give Me Love

Sara Bareilles – Bright Lights and Cityscapes

Pink – Try

Mumford and Sons – Lover of the Light

Nic Chagall ft Jonathan Mendelsohn – This moment

Maria Mena – Homeless

Dash Berlin ft Jonathan Mendelsohn – Better Half of Me (acoustic)

Parachute – Kiss Me Slowly

Without beauty

I have been staring at this page for too long and i can’t seem to put my thoughts into any beautiful words. I have run dry. I step into new lands and i adapt with little effort, shows how detached i already am as an individual. I can easily slide through doors and avoid crashes; except i can never survive my own. I lurk inside my walls and i find the shame in breaking apart too tragic. Still as i write, i find no meaning here, i seem to have lost it somewhere along the way. I am disconnected with my self, i am breathing i am alive but i am aimlessly wandering the margins of my truths.

I have my questions, they are so clear, but i have no answers. I dwell inside memories and repressed longings. I know i have not given enough to anyone or to anything. I never gave much of myself honestly. I always held back and i still do, never falling into anything fully. I dip my interest and then back out, i tiptoe around emotions and i underline thoughts that i enjoy; except i am out of every frame. I observe how life swings and i impress myself with my lack of involvement.

I might not be deserving of the love i dream of, because i never gave much of anything back. I take, i am a taker, a receiver, i fear giving for i can lose myself so easily. I decided not to be passive anymore, and it has changed how my days have evolved drastically; yet i am still passive deep down, with my own self. I cannot find that pretty little flame. I do laugh, i do cry, i do feel and i think; then think and keep on thinking until my mind begs for quiet. And so i run to the music, i rush into that world and drown every troubled nerve with some one else’s lyrics.

I am not close to myself, and i miss the love i felt deep inside. The love that needed no refuge and no excuse. the love that required no attention and no justification. I miss the surrender of humanity into sheer consciousness and plain solitude. I miss the love for my mind and the clarity of my intentions. I no longer know, i cannot decipher my actions like i used to. I was my own little expert, and now i sold my sanity to doubt.

Maybe living tastes like this. Maybe truth resonates when we lose touch and it takes its best shot at us. It crashes our eternal hopes and it ambushes our expectations. Truth will blindfold us and bring us to our knees, not because it enjoys it but because we only know who we are during our miserable moments. We live in contrast and contradictions, we perceive opposites and inequalities. So truth is true and it has learned to speak the language only we understand.

Nobody loves misery.

Transformation Trance

And when the music plays i concave into my cold and distant self. I touch every fear and i pat every tear dry. I no longer stand still, I rythmically disappear. The world doesn’t see me, it only looks for beauty and played out moves. People study every gesture, every dance step, every artistic technique. But with me, there is no art. There is no beauty in shedding skin.
Horror exists in me like a new born child so powerful yet absolutely dependent. No art comes close to twisting the elements as i do. My mind burns, it bursts into flame with fear and overexposure. No beauty is warm enough to compare. No strength is cold enough to extinguish.
No word is deep enough to pull me up, and no sound is loud enough to wake me from this transformation trance.

Post-graduate arrogance. I earned it

Where are my dreams. Where is life and sentiment. Where is wonder and where did magic go. Where are all the answers and where is love. Where is friendship and where is knowledge. Where is passion and where is lust. Where is clarity and where is my mind.

I force words out onto my paper, they are so definitive they scare me. Documenting my life is not as easy as i hoped it would be. Not because it needs skill but because my life is not as interesting as i wanted it to be. To begin with i am not Britney Spears since that was one of my early girlie-sh dreams, i am not a belly dancer- my Egyptian dream- i am not a best selling author, i am not an ambassador, i do not have stunner modal looks, i do not know very much. And according to my calculations it will take about 380,000 years for me to become a billionaire if i save a hundred dollars every month. No Lies.

Off begins my post graduate life, and i learn the perks of life. I enjoy the arrogance of youth and i learn what it means to just be. I believe in friendship again and i attempt to have faith in life. I learn that a twist of events does not only happen in books but in life as well. I light up one day and another i hide in every dark corner hoping to leave no trail behind as i wait to die. So its all good. The song says im going to find my way, well i hope hes right, and hes not being a surrealist weirdo with a good voice. And oh my god, i think music is my mentor, better tone down the metal then. Im sure no one believes i listen to metal, well i don’t, its only because i genuinely am afraid and i take it personal. Every time they scream i cry.

Aside from my over analyzing skills and unpaid talents, i still have some tricks up my sleeve, or at least that’s what they say in movies. Truly i have no secrets, except for the ones i need to hide. And so i sail, with wind in my hair. Well not to ruin the image but this wind is not the pretty kind of breeze that makes you look like a million dollar modal, but the kind of storm that absolutely messes up your hair and your skin becomes sticky and salty; very hipster wind.

Hence, comes the conclusion for this awesomely put together piece of writing. Guys, stop acting like girls, don’t wax unless you look like cave men. You are not meant to be soft, well only if you agree to switch roles then cool, get ready for women to go all discovery channel on you. And girls, oh your all pretty and sweet, but excuse the prostitutes; they got nothing on you ladies, they better get their act straight. So peeps of Lebanon, i have never and most probably will never enjoy your company; i think God had an exquisite sense of humor to have made me a national here and is purposefully locking me up in this trashy heaven. But, i shall not quit nagging and criticizing, not because im better but because i am literate enough to form sentences, i look innocent enough to get away with it and i simply have read more books than the average Arab.

Arrogance. Simple and well earned.