it's fascinating how we find friends in new people, they become companions and inhabit a place we once considered familiar and sole.
.
.
.
I truly miss you.

are you there yet?

I am diabetic, and I have decided to snickers myself to death. I will die modest, I chose snickers bars because, like muscle cars, they're mildly priced and got alotta character. 

experiment 01


experiment 02

theirplaylist.

99 reasons why:

#92: because my birthday is on the horizon

i honestly don't care all that much, but am about to be 30, yes sir, thirty. i don't really know how do people hold themselves and just go-on living, i'm good dying next November, it's cold anyway. memories just makes us heavier. maybe i shoulda married Salem, learned how to cook, gotten fat and had a couple of kids,
.
.
.
.
.
maybe not.
.
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this is my last 20 something year, so cheers to that.

emirati psycho*

my name is Raisa M, I live in ********, and i'm 28 years old. i believe in taking good care of myself, a balanced diet, excessive exercise, and covering every inch of my skin in brand names. i would probably change my abaya a thousand times, if i though it made my nose looks bigger, or my head any broader, i can do that while applying my eyeliner and mascara. i start by wiping my face with an orange extract facial cleanser, then wait a minute before applying a sunblock cream (30 SPF), and then add another layer of a tinted sunblock cream, and finish off with a bronzing face powder - with pure gold.

there's an idea of Raisa Al Mansoori, an illusion, some kind of an abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something imaginary. and despite the amount of efforts I put just hide my cold gaze, it still slips once in awhile. you'll shake my hand, you'll feel the flesh gripping yours, and maybe think that our lifestyles are probably comparable ...i simply am not there.

*based on a partially true story. 

11:02

adult short stories.

she was quiet.

he had a mustache.

.

.

.

they shared a cab.
and then parted for good. 

i'm not Jewish, and i don't live in New York.

they talk.

.

.

.

"إحنا عايزين ناكول و نشرب و نعيش و نشعر بالأمان، إحنا مش فاهمين حاقه"

regular.

my regular, 
isn't my regular any more.

10:14 PM

(a lonely) space ghost.

he completed his mission
he kept your tee shirt
he owned a planet
he had a big window

he looked over you,

he played your favorite song

he messed up your dreams

he killed your career

he kidnaped your boyfriend

he called you everyday

he added sugar to your coffee

he did your dirty dishes

he colored your wishes

he carrieed you to bed

he will always be there,

ALWAYS.

he stalk(s) you

he stalk(s) you

he stalk(s) you.

I'm not really sure why, but I find it insulting when someone addresses me using u instead of you.

i'm Jack's to-do list:

1. write a book.
2. have a child.
3. plant a tree.

diaries of a place.

ever since I moved to the boathouse, time, mr einstein ...has became even more relative. an old friend of mine owns the boathouse. I didn't rent. wasn't invited. just crashed in and stayed there. 

I don't really think he'd mind, I am the dream guest of anyone, cleaned...paid, scruffed, watered his cactus. everything about that boathouse was alive, kept alive.

how long has it been? I honestly have no idea. but life is good, nights are bearable these days. I could say that i have stopped looking forward to mornings. well ...not entirely. I will always treasure my morning coffee with miss Dolly. talking to her is like biting an apple, light ...fresh, just so fresh.

I have developed an occasional motion sickness, mostly when I'm in a public transportation veh...no, it's just taxies. I always attract those smelly, ...chatty, inconsiderate drivers. my liver, heart, lungs and most of my vital organs are squashed up my throat ...with every one of the sudden stops, ah, just every time. 

plenty, is happening. hardest thing about life is living, and everyone's a star. almost every thing I hear, think about or say is a replica of some film, a good movie that I don't seem to remember its title. I also realized I'm quieter than I have ever been, my whole life.

I go back home to an open, dimly lit bedroom, a small space ...not really a kitchenette ...or a living room. yes, there's a bathroom, so I can't really complain. it's not a boathouse per se ...but it fits the description.

I kinda miss having neighbors. I have what you might call "episodic neighbors" they appear with your calendar vacations. or with the change of weather ...or just appear for no reason. would be nice to have someone around here, a regular resident. but what to do.

I'm looking for an apartment these days. a reasonably good place here would probably cost a 2,000 USD. I can do it, but ...I'll wait for the old friend to come back, so much to say. and as Long as the unstable state of the boathouse sync beautifully with my core I think ima hang around for a bit longer.



september 9th, 2011.

#Confession: i haven't combed my hair since last year.