El Sakka Mat!

I just finished reading Youssef ElSebai’s novel El Sakka Mat (The water man is dead). It’s another train journey to my hometown that I do to diminish my sense of guilt towards my family, and because I terribly miss my little sisters and feel that I should spend more time with them.

The novel’s central theme is death, friendship and coming of age. Although it is quite a classic I never had the chance to read it before. Probably because I know of books more than I know books firsthand. And although I read it over a long time span of 2 or 3 weeks, it was a real emotional journey. The characters are so simple and real. The little boy’s jokes and thoughts crack me up laughing. The father sadness and resilience shakes me and the events of the novel bring me to tears.

I can’t help but wonder, can one really overcome the trauma of death? We basically live in a state of denial about it. Truly believing in death, but hardly ever contemplating our own mortality. It is such a frightening thought. Even more confusing, is if you are very aware of your own mortality, what do you do about it? Indulge in physical pleasures? Treat everyone nicely and give them your best? Or fuck them without remorse as we all end up dead?

Do you pursue your dreams as hard as you can or you simple teach yourself to let them go? After all, nothing remains of you but a decaying corpse.

A strange feeling/thought has been overtaking me lately. Questioning the efforts I make, questioning my priorities. What should one dedicate his life to? Being a person of high ideals, I chose to work in area of work that serves that cause. It’s great to help others, try to motivate them, try to empower them. But my sense of limitation and being finite overwhelms me at time. It’s not crippling, but it makes me unable to know what’s right or wrong; what should be and what shouldn’t, what to advise people; what to seek and wish for.

It would be easier if I just believed in a guarding God, looking out for us, rewarding the good and the modest. I just believe him not to exist. I don’t think there’s a plan or a scheme of any sort. It’s all random and chaotic.

We just have to take our chances and do our best!

“What is that ‘best’?” remains the question.

Misfits

Constantly trying, always doing my best, making an effort to conform, to fit in. fucked up values, standards and norms. What the fuck is normal, functional or sane?

Groups of cool kids, circles of fashion-crazed queens, successful professionals. What a cruel mill one has to survive. Victims of fashion and body fascism. Guys and girls who look fabulous and are totally “in”. How about being fat, ugly, shy, meek, disturbed, paranoid, out of fashion, depressed or poor? Why are we cursed to be always trying to function? To fit in to a society that always contradicts itself? How about a bit of non conformity? How about some confusion and uncertainty? Don’t fucking call me insane. I don’t want your sanity or your fucked up bourgeois values.

Do I have to lose weight for you to love me? Do I have to be fawning so you can hire me? Do I need to wear Louis Vitton so you can appreciate me? Is it necessary to have perfect skin so you would go out with me?

Suicide seems like a sweet wish sometimes. Now is one of them.

It wasn't July.

Life is a series of disappointments. The greatest disappointment is getting used to these.

What happens when people, who only have their sexual orientation in common, get together?

To start off, they may only have that in common, but they’re different when it comes to everything else other than that. They could come from different backgrounds, classes, areas, religions, preferences, beliefs, attitudes, sensibilities, and whatever more. You name it.

Sexual orientation aside, other factors come into play. Power balances/imbalances ensue. There are the ones who accept their sexuality. There are the ones who deal with others considerately. There are the ones who carry a baggage of insecurity. There are the ones who don’t conform to society expectations. Every one of them comes with a baggage.
The power relations take forms. You could have power because you’re a top, wealthy, bitchy, socially apt, handsome, masculine, etc. but that’s not all. There are the ones who do not have those entitlements. However, they are savvy enough to put the situation to their best interest. And who know how to get to their aims.

It’s a jungle. It’s life. Survival of the fittest.

Then we arrive at casual encounters. Two people who are going to perform the intimate act, which happen to know nothing about each other. They might end up not liking the actual version of each other, physically that it. They end up getting frustrated as the hope for an offload diminishes. They might have pity sex. They might actually have great sex. But what comes next? They have missed the process of getting to know each other; of building up the tension to the point they want to share this level of intimacy. Can it work? Apparently it has worked for some. I don’t think it works for me. I don’t know what works for me for that matter. But having it all at the first encounter? Seems like putting too much of myself out there. I wouldn’t like to take it further. How do you sit to a table with someone to have a conversation after you already fucked?

I have no idea why I’m writing these thoughts. Or maybe I do. I know for a fact that I dedicate a lot of my thinking analyzing my interaction with others. For the most part, I am not satisfied. My idealistic view on relationship still clouds my judgment. However, I do believe that I settle for what I have. I have always had friends that I didn’t completely love. I had them because I had to have friends. I learn in a very slow painstaking process. I never had someone to educate me. I have to do that myself. Life is doing it for me.

I grow uncertain. Uncertain of what I would be; of what I would have; of where I would end up.

All I can do is try.

The more I grow the less I know.

Body

How much more can this body take?

Maybe it’s time to face my demons. Have I really been ignoring them so long? I thought I was tackling them all along, wasn’t I? Was I overwhelmed? Was I in denial? Or I was just taking them down little by little?

How could I let my knee problem get so bad? I had the injury in January of 2008. It’s only got worse now. It’s even harder when I hang out with those little perfect boys. I look at them and see the energy and the carelessness. The boyish arrogance. I never had any of this. I was dealing with other demons back then. The shyness and awkwardness; my sexual inhibitions and social inaptitude. I still carry on the heritage of those days till now.
And I wonder if I could take it back? Would I do it again? Who would I have been?

The body grows more and more imperfect. It should never be perfect, I know. I know it better than anyone else. The blemished skin of a teenager and the balding of a 30-something man; I have them combined. And I missed those years of playful childishness. No more to return.

How can I feel so old?

These demons seem light compared to other serious shit. What is my purpose of being in the goddamn community of gays? If I claim to be jaded and apathetic about finding an intimate partner, then is there any hope for me? Is it always going to be random fucks? It seems to me that this would be nothing short of time-wasting.

I chose to work in an area that manages to get the interest of discerning people. What they don’t know though, is how poorly paid I am. I even failed my expectations, not to mention my family’s. What if my poor mother knows I have left them behind to get these few pounds? Would she understand that I’m hanging on there to get to a better place? Would I actually get to the position I fancy? When? Isn’t about time to have more tolerable living conditions?

Do I need a change of body or a change of heart?!

Domination

And again I sit to write some of my random thoughts. I stood at my window, secretly smoking a cigarette listening to the sound of barking dog, the pre-dawn chants, and a mysterious musical beat coming from a place I cannot recognize! Today has been quite a busy day. I had a lot of those lately. I wanted to write more about what goes on but failed to rise to my writing expectations…

I went out with my young Sagittarius friend and his new friend, a Virgo who is even younger than him. I think I’m better at gauging my ageism around him now. The interesting part was when I saw him being condescending and ageist towards the younger boy. It was both sweet and hilarious! Those young kids! They make me think of a lot of stuff. I partly felt sorry for myself. I marveled at their sexual liberation. When I was their age, I was just this sad, confused and repressed teenage, who was very much struggling with sexuality. One of them is already an atheist now! Both of them share this innate sexual hunger and they express it fully without complexities or confusions about it. Is this the way teenagers should be like?

Maybe I was just the ever too complex guy, combined with my shyness and overwhelmed by sex and sexual liberties. I know for a fact that my sexual emancipation and becoming guilt-free around sex came much later than theirs. I owe much of it to that erotic text that Raouf Mos’ad wrote. Ithaki. Thanks Mr. Mos’ad.

Today, I also experienced the sweet joy of sexual education. An activity very dear to my heart! I like to think that I make a difference in any person’s life and make their sex life better!

I also had my first chance on true kinky sex! Most of my experiences were quite vanilla. Being the desperate, frustrated mood I am in, I went for the first available guy I had. He explicitly voiced his interest in domination! I was wary and anxious, but hello I’m always anxious about sex even until now! S&M practices aside, the whole conduct of casual sex never fail to confuse me. Meeting someone and a few minutes later, you’re exchanging fluids and exposing your intimate Self! I fail to truly connect even when others can and want to do it. I can’t say I hated it. But I know I didn’t like the whole feel of the experience. It wasn’t the out of myself experience I was hoping for. I miss that kind of sex that makes me feel beautiful and serene. I only had that very rarely.

I was also struck by the gap between the two characters the guy exhibited. One was domineering and distant, the other was kind of sweet and kind! How could you have both in one person? How does he switch from one to another so easily? How did he grow to like domination anyway?

At the end, you smile, you nod and you affirm that you enjoyed his sex. A few words about meeting again that will never be fulfilled. Oh the dysfunction of casual encounters!

There will be other encounters of the sort as long as there are no alternatives.

Re-discovering morality?

“You’re in the mirage” said Khaled in a sarcastic, mean tone. It was another workshop, another hotel, another lousy lunch break. This break has taken a different turn obviously. I couldn’t help but trying to overhear what our fellows were discussing on the next table. I was quite sure it was religion, god, or something of the sort. The word “scepticism” could be heard more than once. A few minutes later, I was sitting at their table trying to make out what exactly they were talking about. The conversation went from questioning faith to a confession session. This only happened when MA joined us. After being harassed by Khaled and teased by the aforementioned phrase, MA started speaking of his psycho-religious development!

I had a strange feeling while MA was telling his story. It was nostalgia, mixed with sadness and yearning. As he was retelling how he lost his faith, I was recalling my very own story. I also felt sorry for the turmoil he had to suffer to get there. After all, I felt that my journey was much easier. And then I wondered, what role did my sexuality play in losing my religion? (I have to mention that although the word ‘lose’ is quite poetic; I like to think that I have no regrets over that loss). Did my being gay make it that much easier to renounce god?

What I am wondering about right now is a completely different thing. It’s the mirage concept. Although I loathed Khaled’s superficial judgement, now I feel that this truly needs examining. Being an atheist, I always maintained that one should not totally dispose of morality, and that it is necessary, or at least it is ingrained in our genetic makeup. I feel that I have reconciled with, normalized, or even main-streamized controversial moral issues. From suicide to masochism; and from drug use to commercial sex, and the list goes on. I can’t say I feel guilty about normalizing these. I have explored them, became sensitized to them, and was able to shift my understanding of such moral dilemmas. Lately, I have been pushing the limits of my sexuality. I have also been putting all the rights and wrongs to question.

It wasn’t until a couple of days ago that I started to question this stance. Where did my mind take me? I feel like I stand very far from my own surrounding community. What about “normal feelings”? What about ordinary human interaction? Can I still experience the ordinary, rewarding encounters? Did I become devoid of sound moral judgements? Am I in the mirage?

I don’t think I can ever go back to a simple dichotomous right-and-wrong mentality. However, I need to know if there are things in me that were lost in the process. I need to know if I have become jaded. What can surprise me or capture my emotions?

Questions that needs further investigation! I don’t know what to do about it, except for lighting another cigarette maybe!

Death

Death is the topic here. I told a friend I’m writing a piece on Death and he balked at the darkness of the topic. Typical. I’ve been contemplating the hold that death has over us. So powerful!

I’ve seen the photos of the Egyptian lynched in Lebanon. The link to the photos had a strict warning of explicitness and goriness. I didn’t feel particularly shocked by the photos. Have I become so jaded or is it my peculiar penchant for darkness? However, the responses were overwhelming. People seem to be particularly indignated by the things that the Lebanese crowd committed after the Egyptian’s death! I wonder which is crueler. Cutting a person while alive or while dead? Both are acts of ruthlessness. Torturing a living person seems far crueler to me though. I maintain to view these incidents in light of human capabilities; that is to say animal capabilities. Humans are somewhat evolved animals!

Death has been a theme for the last few days. My mother has expressed her feelings of impending mortality. A seminar on organ trafficking in Egypt touched upon the sacred, forceful hold of death over Egyptians; the things that impedes the notion of postmortem organ donation. What would it matter if someone cuts you up after your death? It’s just a corpse anyway.

Another incident showed how death alters people good sense. A young man died. He was allegedly brainy and courteous. Most importantly he was good looking. Very good looking. This is an important piece of information because the setting where the incident took place was on the virtual sphere; the internet. The handsome boy who died in a car accident was grieved online, by means of a facebook page. The response was too irrational for my bearing. The info bit of the page said it was dedicated to the best, sweetest, smartest and most beautiful man Egypt has ever known. Seriously?

I don’t know if it was the shock of death news or whatever else, but that was so disproportionate. Was it the death factor?

To be continued…