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note #28: swimming with seaweed

in beirut around 2002, my lover then proposed that we both acquire an old restaurant by the mediterranean to seduce me to stay.

i am learning that i never want to be attached to one place. the more i move, the more i see how being settled in one place makes humans more rigid, more judgmental, more conservative, even in the most acclaimed to be “liberal” places.

in kuwait from 1977-1980, my father took me fishing at 5:00 a.m, it used to be dark. we sat on a rock, he fished and told me stories. i don’t remember the stories. when i see fishermen, i miss my father, i miss me and my father, i miss my father telling me stories.

also in kuwait we camped by the sea, just like this.

swimming with seaweed, they stick to my wetsuit, i can still feel them, and on my face, a new sensation, a sticky sensation. they made me feel wanted and welcomed.

i come from dry places, not a lot of rain that requires special rain dress. now, here, i was told i need one for this time of year. i didn't know that rain jackets are hard to find for bodies with big asses until it felt lonely in the store that specializes in rain jackets. then again when the person shopping with me told me: “قوليلهم طيزك كبيرة”* so that a salesperson expert could help me find a suitable big ass fitting jacket. * "tell them that your ass is big."

i just learnt recently that grieving causes fatigue, i am fatigued, on the road and fatigued. fatigued that i can’t imagine stopping.

marisa anderson’s music is enchanting, especially driving through the oregon coast. i met her in portland and had a very open conversation about being here without knowing that she is a musician.

a declaration of happiness, i no longer feel shame in admitting that i am happy. happy because i am able to see and feel, to really see when the good comes along, to feel the sadness and heartache when it comes along, i can be sad and low and very pissed off and still be happy. so much around us tries to destroy us, and to make us forget how to be happy, to make us fear being happy or ashamed to admit it. i no longer feel shame about being happy. it’s my resistance now, how i want to survive. i insist on living with the ability to see and feel the good. even in the small things and in places least expected.

i thought i invented the word or act of sealing, which is when two or more humans get close to each other and all they want to do is seal (of the sea creature seal) together, either in bed or on the beach or on any surface they find in any moment in time. they practice this at least twice a day. it turns out that the mormon church practices sealing “when a man and a woman are married in a mormon temple, the ceremony is referred to as a sealing. when children are later born to this couple, they are considered automatically sealed to their parents.” i want to think about this more

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