The Ghost of Memories Past


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Some days I just don’t feel like speaking and am tempted to stay silent for the whole day, offering no explanation to others as to why I am not talking — it’d ruin the silence if I told them — so I just ignore everything for a day. I do that just because I feel like I want to remain silent, and not because I’m sad. I like this self-fulfilling silence. Of course, as it happens, there’s always something that makes me speak every time I attempt to have a silent day, but I still insist on trying. Anyways, what I wanted to say is that this self-imposed, self-fulfilling silence sometimes helps me think more clearly. You should try it sometime.

Some nights, before I go to sleep, the ghost of memories past will knock on my door and ask to be let in, and I always let him in. My house is small: it’s got a bed, a cupboard, a window and a table. He always sits at the table and refuses to drink the tea I offer him. He sits there, looking at me with his bright eyes, piercing my soul — but never uttering a word — and why would he want to speak? I already know what’s on my mind, his mind, our mind. He reminds me of things that I’ve chosen to forget. He reminds me of the weight of my words and actions and how they’ve never lived up to expectations. I wake up the next day and find it hard to rise; the air feels heavy in my lungs. Why did he visit? Why did I let him in? I always let him in, and he always weighs me down. I recently discovered that he visits everyone else too, and they all let him in. We dare not speak with him because whatever he’ll say will remind us of what we have forgotten on purpose, and we dare not leave him outside because the idea of his presence alone is enough to weigh us down, so we decide to get it over with. The ghost of memories past is too real to be a ghost — and he’ll be visiting you again soon enough.


Spring Break, Finally


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- My spring break started earlier today when I finished my classes, and a break’s long overdue. This semester has flown by so fast in an almost surreal fashion. I was talking with a couple of friends recently about how time flies, and our minds were all blown. What seems like yesterday is actually months or years old, and it’s hard to come to grasps with that. Here’s an example: last year, during my spring break, I decided I’d work on improving my handwriting (cursive and print), and now it’s almost a year since I’ve started practicing. I still remember everything about my earliest practice sessions like it was yesterday. You can’t really explain to someone how time flies by unless they’ve experienced it themselves. I’ve discovered that weekly habits are a very easy way to mark things in your mind. Once you’ve done your weekly activity four times, a month has passed.

- I bought new (and different) glasses! I like them. They’re different from my old glasses because they’re for young people, and my other glasses could easily belong to a fifty-year-old. Change is nice when it’s not completely out of my hands. If you’ve ever worn glasses before, you know how it feels when you try new glasses: something always feels slightly off, but you can never really tell what it is, until you get used to the glasses. Slightly related fun fact: if you wear glasses that make you see everything upside down for a while (can’t remember how long) and then take them off, you’ll see things upside down without the glasses for a few hours’ time. Unrelated not-so-fun fact: psychologists have shown that physical and psychological change can work both ways: changing one will influence and change the other. Let’s see how this works…

- Last Thursday I watched John Mayer’s DVD, Where the Light Is, and I realized how much I need to experience more live music than I do now (which is practically zero). The concert was along, 2.5 hours, but it was very rewarding. Today I’ll watch Sara Bareilles’s Between the Lines, and I don’t know about next week yet. I’ve got a few more downloaded concert DVDs though, so I’m ready. Live performances add so much more to the music.

- I haven’t been to the sea in a very long time, and I’d like to go. I want to be able to go places with the people I like, all alone. Seas, mountains, caves, cities, farms, planets, you name it. I want to go with people to the places that we both like and share this happiness with them then and there, and then keep doing this over and over with different people and different places, and also make art based on my shared experiences. It’d be an interesting way to approach life.


Album Art I Like, Part 01


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1) Anouar Brahem – Le Pas du Chat Noir



2) Bonobo – The North Borders


3) The Ditty Bops – The Ditty Bops


4) Dustin O’Halloran – Piano Solos Vol. 2


5) Eftekasat – Mouled Sidi El-Latini



Andrew Bird – Armchairs


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“I dreamed you were a cosmonaut
Of the space between our chairs
And I was a cartographer
Of the tangles in your hair

I sang the song that silence brings
It’s the one that everybody knows, everybody knows
The song that silence sings
And this, this is how it goes

These looms that weave apocrypha
They’re hanging from a strand
This dark and empty rooms were full
Of incandescent hands

Awkward pause, the fatal flaw
Time, it’s a crooked bow
Time is a crooked bow

Time you need to learn to love
The ebb just like the flow

Grab hold of your bootstraps and pull like hell
Until gravity feels sorry for you and lets you go
As if you lack the proper chemicals to know, oh
The way it felt the last time you let yourself fall this low

Time, time it’s a crooked bow
Time’s a crooked bow
Time’s a crooked bow, oh, ooh

Fifty-five and three-eighths years later
At the bottom of this gigantic crater
An armchair calls to you
Yeah, this armchair calls to you

And it says that someday we’ll get back at them all
With epoxy and a pair of pliers
As ancient sea slugs begin to crawl
Through the ragweed and barbed wire, oh

You didn’t write, you didn’t call
It didn’t cross your mind at all, hey
Through the waves, the waves of hay and straw
You couldn’t feel a thing at all
Fifty-five and three-eighths, time
Fifty-five and three-eighths time, time”

~ Armchairs, by Andrew Bird

Hair and Other Thoughts


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It’s been over two months now, I think, since my last haircut. My parents keep telling me I need to get one as fast as I can, but I don’t want to. I like it when I put my hand on my head and feel the cushion of my hair in between. When I was a child, I half-believed that hair and thoughts/smartness were related to each other. I thought that short hair allowed one to think faster (lighter head), but I also thought that one’s thoughts were in his hair, and so having one’s hair cut meant that they lost everything they learnt and thought about while their hair was growing.


I used to believe in a lot of strange things when I was young. For example, I always believed that one day I’d be able to push things over by concentrating on them, like Matilda. I used to believe everything Roald Dahl wrote, and I probably still do. I tried to see into the future like Henry Sugar did, but just ended up hurting my eyes looking at candles. I used to believe in the same things I believe in now, but in a different way. That’s the saddest part of growing up, I think… you stop believing in things like a child does. You stop doing certain things or having certain thoughts because they’re “childish”… as if being an adult is so much better.

That was why reading Narnia was breath of fresh air to me: it made me feel like the child I really am. Right after I was finished reading the book (and dancing around with it in my hand), I put it back on the shelf in my room. I was pressing with my thumb on the palm of my other hand. You know how the part of your hand than you press on turns white while you’re pressing, and then red when you stop? We’ve all experienced that thousands of times. I’ve experienced it thousands of times. But that time was different. Instead of seeing it as a normal thing, or not even paying attention to it, I thought that I could change color, like a chameleon. The child in me was delighted at this observation because it felt like magic, and because it made something ordinary special.



Originally posted on DreamNotionPaintDance:

rumblings: the first signs of dissatisfaction or grievance


I want to ride a bike at dawn and, just as the sun rises and its newborn rays caress my cheeks and drip down my chin, I start biking faster and faster and even though it’s summer and the heat could almost be seen choking the pavement and the trees, a breeze whispers in my ears, “This is love.”


Our colony, or so we think of ourselves: the select few who believe sleep is the only way out, is called The Dreamers and not figuratively so. We truly believe in the power of dreams, the strange immaterial visions we experience during our sleep; they offer us the only feasible escape from reality and its pathetic laws. We wake up whenever we do but a few hours afterwards we go back to sleep and we are grateful that sleep welcomes us with no restrictions or regulations and…

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White Sun

So, today’s weather is actually an interesting topic to talk about, sort of. Cairo today was basically just one big dust storm. The morning was brownish yellow, and the afternoon was grey. (I personally thought today’s morning weather is what it feels like inside Rust Cohle’s soul). I was just walking home and I noticed the sun in the sky, and it was white, but not a glowing white… it was closer to a dead kind of white. Let me paint a picture for you: the sky was absolutely grey, but not dark like when it’s going to rain. It was a light shade of grey that sort of feels like depression. Grainy, but also velvety, depression. In the middle of this perfectly grey sky was an infinitely white sun. But, mind you, it didn’t look like the sun at all. It looked like a hole in the fabric of everything… our skies, our realms, our reality, everything. It looked like there was a light coming from somewhere beyond, and it was beautifully painful. It felt as if a someone, somewhere outside our reality, outside everything that had to do with the Big Bang, poked his finger through our everything and made this hole, to show us the light beyond. But it wasn’t as beautiful as I thought it’d be. Today was a very confusing day. Blame it on the lack of sleep. (There were no clouds in the sky today. Just the white sun.)

“There are times when the need to create a thing begins to interrupt your life. And if you don’t give in to it, everything else starts to suffer.” ~ Marc Byrd

I made this picture to represent today’s sky:

Sky on 02-03-2014 (Minimalist Interpretation)


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