2002-10-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

It will be October 29 in a couple of days. That will me my 13th anniversary of my breaking up with my family and returning to Lebanon for good (so far). But I have nothing to say to that. I guess I will when the 29th comes.

Today I went out and had a coffee with a lady at a restaurant by the seaside, on the edge of a cliff. Only two nights ago I think, someone had taken a plunge that cost him a life or two. A little less than forty-eight hours later, no one even bothered to think back. Perhaps no one even knew that someone had killed himself there. It is very interesting how insignificant the life or death of someone may be for others; well...at least for me.

I was not alone. I was in the company of a lady. She called and wanted to have coffee with me because she wanted me to read her cup. A fortune teller? I never thought of myself that way. I had read her coffee cup back in August at Casper's. She said that back then I had laid her entire life right there in front of her. Perhaps she expected the same to happen again.

A few days ago, I was sitting outside at Ice Bar, trying to get myself in touch with pseudo-reality and the taste of alcohol at Ice Bar when I saw her passing by. She stopped by and asked whether I still read coffee cups. People always ask me funny and meaningless questions when I am drinking Southern Comfort. It must be the drink; perhaps it is one of those drinks that throw us into states of mind.

Today I read her cup very carefully. There was not much to say. I did not even ask her whether she agreed with what I said. But I knew she enjoyed it because she said we should have coffee again. But then perhaps she only said that to get even with me since I paid this time, just like I did last time. On both accounts, she never liked it, especially the first time. I was just a stranger to her, well, in the company of a relative of hers.

I think I still have a fever. All day long, my temperature kept fluctuating. Isn't it funny how a healthy man like myself can suffer by the mere 0.5-degree change in his personal temperature? Could that be my weakness?

A friend of mine went on a blind date with someone she had known from the cyberspace today. It must have been a very nasty encounter because she sounded totally unhappy about it. She complained that men are pigs and that she is hopeless about them. To me, it seemed that she was particularly interested in seeking men-pigs and then discovering that they are pigs when her subconscious already knew that. Perhaps making the conscious come to a conclusion that the subconscious already knows about is something that can give us comfort because in this case, we get what we expect, and when this happens, we cannot blame ourselves for pessimism.

It will be nine in a while. Only a few months ago, this would have sounded like mid-day to me, but now, things are different. I guess this is one of the many taxes we pay when we turn thirty and start convincing ourselves that we should lead healthier and safer lives. For years, I stayed up all night and never thought about what I am missing sleeping through the morning. But now, every time I wake up early in the morning, my mind keeps wondering about whatever happened and did not happen during the night. Perhaps it is just the fact that I am a nocturnal creature, another creature of the night.

I am thinking of buying a car. I don't need one. I live and work in the same area, practically in the same street, depending on which side of the street you are looking. I get along very well with cab drivers as they make me feel that I have more than 50,000 cars at my disposal, and I never had this Lebanese conviction that owning a car is a prerequisite to chicks 101 and other advanced chick courses. In fact, I don't really like chicks. I prefer women.

But then, that would only be me.

I am Houdini in Beirut, and these are my stories.