Prolific Immigrant

Below was originally posted on 6/29/09. I will be offline until back in the country – have a good little while, both fun and safe…xo

I keep forgetting to mention that I will be in Tunisia in August.

I need this…I need to be in a place that reminds me of home; the Mediterranean, the smell of sand & sun-heat, real history and culture and tradition, ornate carpets covering absolutely everything, the sound of the athan above the crash of waves and muffled by humidity, traditional middle eastern wooden coffee tables inlaid with mother of pearl, older men playing sheesh-beesh at the cafes while listening to futbol, sweet mint chai, grilled lamb, fresh watermelon on the beach, and swimming from morning until night.

Last I was in North Africa was when I was 4 years old. This is the place where I was born and I need to go back to start again, it would seem.

(If any of you have recommendations as to must sees & dos, please email them my way. Thx & x.)

Are you watching Friday Night Lights yet? I have forced 7 friends to start watching Friday Night Lights – all but one are in love and in obsessive watching mode. They are also making sure to make their viewing count, which is critical to the longevity of the brilliant and amazing Friday Night Lights. You too must do the same, please.

Dear Coach Eric Taylor -

Hi. How are you?
I like you very much.
Who is this doppelganger pretending to be you, neither from Texas nor in angry man shorts, angry sunglasses nor angry headset?
What the hokey pokey hell, Coach?
My state of reality is highly fragile and I become discombobulated much faster than most.
I am deeply troubled and I need you, Coach Eric Taylor, to point your right finger at me, whilst your left hand sits atop the angry belt of your angry man shorts and you state “nominate a teacher now, son. It’s what men do. It’s the right thing to do, son.” (For the record, Coach Eric Taylor: I don’t have a peen, and so am a girl, but will allow you to call me son.)
Can you please record a new public service announcement for me?

Further, I would greatly appreciate if you were to wear your green t-shirt a little more often, thank you.

You are my angry hero in green, Coach Eric Taylor, and I am sincerely yours,
Maha

Dear Connie Britton / Tammy Taylor –

Hi. How are you?
I like you as much as I like your angry and oftentimes confused husband, Coach Eric Taylor. Please understand I would never make a pass at your husband, no matter how angry and hot he is in his angry man shorts and angry headset. I wouldn’t do that to the sisterhood, Principal Taylor. (Principal Taylor? I might be a liar.)

I am writing this to you because I was wondering: Would you like to have a drink with me sometime?
In the future, I will probably have some boy problems that I will need to discuss with you because you are very clearly the world’s greatest listener of all time and I really like the way you communicate with your angry husband, Coach. I also wonder, do you ever call him ‘Coach’ when you are having adult private time?

By the way, my best friend and I are going to a combo of Morocco, Turkey and / or Cairo this coming Christmas and we were wondering if you’d like to join us?

I’ve used three variations of the word ‘wonder’ in my letter to you. It’s because I like that word and you make me shy and nervous with your fantastic breasts and large pretty brown eyes.
I wonder if I am now starting to creep you out?
Please don’t be scared of me if I show up at your backyard and try to fix your broken air conditioning unit. It’s because I like you very much.
(Also, I agreed with you about your dream home. I think you wanted to cry when Coach said no – I wanted to cry for you. I wonder, did you want to cry but the writers didn’t let you?)

Finally, I would like some pointers on how to do the same as you in the boobs department, please. (See what I just did there, Tammy? “Pointers”, like boobs? That made me giggle, too. I wonder if I can call you “Tammy”?).

I am yours in sisterly solidarity,
Maha

Dear Tim Rigging / Taylor Kitsch -

Hi. How are you?
I don’t squeal easily over boys, but I am squealing like a little school girl over you, my Rigglett.
I become seriously frazzled every time that your 17-year-old self shows up on my screen.

I am writing to you because I would like you to please stop screaming on my screen. Unfortunately, every time you do scream, my Rigglett, I hurt my hand in my small effort to place a lozenge in your mouth. And honestly, a lozenge is all I would ever try to place in your mouth. (Tim Riggins? I might be a liar.)

I am also sending you this letter because I would like to know which name brand and colour of blush you use, please. If you can spare a further moment, I would also like to know what stain of lipstick you use. On. Your. Mouth.

Your. Mouth.
You have the greatest mouth in the history of mouths and if ever I meet you, my Rigglett, I will try to poke your mouth in an effort to see if it is, as it appears to be, very cushiony to the touch.

I’m pretty sure my vision just blurred a little, Rigglett.

I am yours with the sincerest of sentiments: I would very much like to touch your hair if only to shampoo it,
Maha
P.S. Do you like bubblegum? I do, very much. I thought you should know. Bazooka is my favourite. Bye.

Four years old, seated in the gymnasium of the community center where mama, new immigrant, was receiving language lessons.
I was shy (then) because I had trouble communicating in the foreignness of English, so I saucer-eyed-stared rather than spoke.
(Mostly, I watched my small bare legs splayed out ahead of me, ending in white patent leather shoes that I loved dearly shiny and shinier still.)

I sat with my back to the window, my tiny doughy fists always frantically clutching Where The Wild Things Are.
The characters were my safety blanket I understood as they were written in Child.

It remains my favourite book of all.
And every time I see this trailer, I cry.

(Thank you, Mr. Sendak & soon Mr. Jonze.)

Good morning everyone – It feels as though I have to do this more and more often as of late…

I was away again the past few days and got back in only last night. I am about to head off to the lovely new england parts of the US and then a week post my return, to Tunisia. For this reason, I have been really quite lax in my focus on writing for this blog (& not so sure I will get anything in to rabble for July) – thank you for your wonderful and kind and generous emails. The ones necessitating a response, I will respond to soon enough (though not right now). New entries here will be sparse for the next little while because of my travel schedule; I promised some stories, and those you will have (though not right now).

Speak soon and enjoy the summer warmth…xxoo

Have just returned from a rather perfect getaway from life; spent the past few days away at a cabin in the middle of the woods and on the edge of a gorgeous lake.

The weather was ideal as it wasn’t too hot (so ‘no’ to mosquitoes, please); lulled to sleep by crashing waves and awakened by the chatter of rain through leaves.

We spent the time cooking extravagant meals, reading in a hammock and watching late-night horror films.

Here is a video for your ears…enjoy…

“[W]hat lengths men will go in order to carry out, to their extreme limit, the rites of a collective self-worship which fills them with a sense of righteousness and complacent satisfaction in the midst of the most shocking injustices and crimes.”
-Love and Living, by Thomas Merton

Charles and I met while in Beirut, and have maintained contact since. For those of you in the know re Middle East correspondence, he is one of the heavy-weights.

Urge you to take a moment and read this exceptional article of his, please.

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If you never read another political book in your life, then please and for the love of all things righteous and humane, please please please read Ilan Pappe’s The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine.

Pappe is a (Jewish) professor at Haifa University inside of Israel and remains among the towering authorities on the subject matter of Palestine and Israel. He is a fierce advocate of human rights and equality for all, refusing to fall victim to the Zionist spin of “Jewishness”. Pappe is in the same class as Chomsky, Klein, Hass, Reinhart and Falk and is a man to which you should pay great attention.

Find his personal site here.

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I woke up to an avalanche of emails linking to MJ’s kid’s speech during his memorial. People are forwarding the clip because they think it is beautiful and moving and endearing.

I watched in horror as these court jester wh*res displayed their grotesque need for attention, pushing that little child into the spotlight; amazed at how they were so willing to place this kid into the very environment which fucked up Michael Jackson himself. Also, how immediately they went against the very grain of MJ’s fierce protection of the children’s identities.

And to the emails that ask me what I think of Michael Jackson himself; my opinion is simple and it is that he will remain a brilliant musical genius the likes of which we may never see again. May he, like all of us, rest in peace.

Comments closed. If you’re about to email me telling me you think I’m a cold-hearted bitch. Save it.

Globalized Islam: The Search for a New Ummah
- Olivier Roy

Prince among Slaves: The True Story of an African Prince Sold Into Slavery in the American South
- Terry Alford

Rumi: The Book of Love: Poems of Ecstasy and Longing
- Rumi

Servants of Allah: African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas
- Sylviane Diouf

Shantaram: A Novel
- Gregory David Roberts

The Fortunate Slave: An Illustration of African Slavery in the Early Eighteenth Century
- Douglas Grant

The Kings and Their Gods: The Pathology of Power
- Daniel Berrigan

Comments Closed.