To the extent that we were excessively using hashish &/or tobacco together or separately, one might assume there were periods when we lived in a thick dullness abiding the intensity from our brand of liberty, to its other extreme-a void, whence the harsh Arabesque sun of Iffriqqa shone past the clarity and into the mishap of confused reflections e.g. at the Tea house, presuming as I was, some dot of angst would color an otherwise unhealthy unknowing.
The roseate-colored neoned mosques; the US Air-force emblem on the pack of gumless rolling papers; the call of the muezzin, but mostly from radio programs-all a theophany from Higher Ground, is predominant in my drawn experience, there in Cairo, knowing that the smells of the reeking first Egyptian, we met, if sensed in a moments hesitation-brings on the corporeal-reality of the struggles in a desert life--the plain heat. Adel was just then embracing Islam and the quiet message of my Jewishness seemed broadcasted across the dark experience of this translation to a view of their ministry.
My good buddy dates an African American chic & from some evening talking to her it seems, she doesn't ascertain identity consciousness anymore than someone who only has an immediate family thru adoption--meaning her projection into where she's come from is stunted outwardly, & inwardly she identifies with a community at-large--a reprieve in contemporary zeitgeist as if it applies. Anyone may or may not care about distinct relationship ties--yet I glean a good vibe off of Black America thru his/her adversity...following the conscious party into music and literature. This satisfies yet leaves me wondering where the terminus of her conscious map begins & ends. This is not a slam on the adopted obviously, this is rather how we plug in, & to whom would represent blood ties, as that, in the end we are all related.
Black bubble bouncing ryddim (Linton Kwesi Johnson, a Brit Black Panther) still in a white hiss in my head from Fazed Cookies last night (a Rolling Stones cover band), now here at work, I push up in the folds of thought, where I had ducked yesterday talking to a Sudanese fellow--his Mom, Egyptian, and the distance he thinks others should go to see his sense of One-world, has me wondering why he thinks anyone is missing out anyway. You have to care, & I do--I'm there. Dude was a little weary of the consumerism relegating haggle to what we don't participate in. He thinks about the auspicious query he has which we supply with a track toward cyber ubiquity. He knows of Hamza al-Din (oud player), probably well--IS Nubian like him... has the shade of desert acacias seared like tattoos an Urban world like ours manifestly lost in its ploy toward independent identity, we lost in our theodicy to find deist nature the One G-d people of N. Africa, themselves attenuate because of lonely-actionable resourceless struggles into possible privation makes this man & that woman measurably worship Him.
