I'm posting something different this time, something that is a bit more poetic than my usual ramblings. This was written by my girlfriend who's in Lebanon and who has a much better writer's voice than I'll ever hope to have. Enjoy!

Thank you IDF

Long is the night that bears no thought and no movement. And yet the clock keeps on its systematic stroll of tension. Then you catch your mind masturbating secretly and thus betraying your conscience with a devious self-affair which leaves you even more alone with the ticking of every time

Thats the state Im in right now since theres no power to feed my new addiction. An addiction that the recent events have nourished bigheartedly: Watching news channels. Yes. Even my mother and sisters are showing deep concerns about my condition. I blame them not, but I know this will fade eventually like any other obsession of mine. But not for now. Not in the least. I go on invading their living room and following up every most ludicrous detail of information that the big screen is still willing to project. Listening to boring political analysts give away endless interpretations, and talk shows hosting politicians dispute restlessly, and I tell you, I watch them all with the utmost attention. Especially that most are in Arabic, I make extra efforts, so Im sort of like an effort-making-vegetable, sucking in every possible thing I can grasp. A veggie glued to the couch. Keeping track of every bullet and rocket reported. Changing channel every time the subject is being endlessly repeated, from local broadcasting (LBC), to Arabic news channel Al-Jazeera and every now and then to CNN news just to piss myself off. Theres really no room for my own interpretation and opinion to what I think of all this. Israel or Hezbollah... I dont give a flying fuck. Its sadly obvious Lebanon is nothing but a football field. I am not qualified to really say anything. So do not ask me what I think. And do not ask me what I know. Ask me not even what I feel, cause its quite obvious.

I am experiencing this war crisis via a TV screen and reading blogs on the internet. I am concerned by this war through the mere fact of being stuck in my home, no money (since I lost my job) and no fuel to even go see whats going on or keep up my random drunken nights in Gemmayze, Beirut. I am concerned for I live in this dear poor country against my will. Yet I miss Lebanon already. I miss Beirut and even some of the people that I would normally find obnoxious. I miss the juicy salad vibes that constitute that city. Every ingredient on its own can be disregarded or tastes like shit, but the alliance of those different elements make it what it is. Beirut. With all its corruption and splendor. With all its diverse religious devotions. With all that I hate and that I love. With all that it is not and thrives to be. They have not yet targeted Beirut with their high-tech filthy missiles, but killed its rhythm and gave birth to lost ghosts. The heart of Beirut is in pain and is condemned to watch itself lose pace of its own beating. It suffers silently and screams out sirens of 0 decibels to the world, to whomever is willing to hear. I am far away and the dying souls of the city are infiltrating my own.

Yes long is the night. And the power failure continues to consume the candles that reflect my shadow. And those candles serve the silence that I drink reluctantly. And my shadow curses the sound of those aircrafts above Lebanons sky. Those Israeli aircraft try to make sure they drown this silence with their imposing presence. To keep me company on this night, along with all the rest of the populace, offering us something to share. How generous of them! On this night that is losing now its length of time, thanks to thoughts that have surfaced on my paper. Yet the inspiration escapes me still. Thank you IDF for allowing me a few words to say and write in my humble notebook. Thank you for inspiring neither fear nor disgust, just more compassion with the people I daily see and ignore, and with the city I often walk and adore. Thank you for creating a new form of silence. You have succeeded in your renovation. You have succeeded also in being nothing but poor machines controlled by heartless individuals. Thank you again on behalf of everybody who youve blessed with your ghastly demeanor. I am not your prey tonight. Come back tomorrow night knowing for sure that you will respect the rendezvous - and we shall have this talk again.

- Rim 

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