The World According to Abufares of Tartous

I'm in a state of eternal love. I love good food, good wine, the good life and a good woman. I'm also in love with FC Barcelona... with Messi, Etoo, Henri and the greatest bunch of football players in history, the best coaching staff and the most amazing fans in the world. On the other hand, I hate Manchester United with a vengeance and accordingly my happiness today is beyond words. Barça, La Liga Campions. Barça, Copa del Rey Winners. Barça, European Champions 2008 -2009. We kicked ass last night and nothing is more fun than kicking the Red Devils' big, fat and ugly butt. Barça, Forever!!!

At the right moment in time, a scribble with a trickle of words can excite the mind like an intricate novel read over a fortnight in the cone of a bedside lamp. I've been waking up real early lately; say 5:30 in the morning. No, it's not insomnia as I often get back to sleep afterward without much of a hassle. It's just as if I'm craving to squeeze every drop of time to unearth the real essence of my life from underneath the hubbub and brouhaha. I reached for my Nokia and checked my email. The usual endless stream of Ship Position Reports scrolled on the small bright screen reducing the days and nights of lonely seamen to coordinates and numbers. I was dozy yet my seasoned eyes detected a different message forthwith. I haven't heard from her for quite sometime and as I read her words consciousness pervaded my senses instantaneously and I became fully alert. It's been a while... And "Lost Somewhere" has been reading silently, enjoying every single po

I didn't meet any women in Paris but dreamed of mine with the outbursts of warm sunshine and the falling drops of rain. She was there on the wide avenues and narrow streets, sipping a glass of wine in a café with a red facade, leaning on me and crying of joy in front of the Nike of the Samotrace and holding my hand with every step I made along the cobblestones. Paris isn't a city for a lonely man but I was not alone after all. My father and I were on a private vacation for a whole week. We were joined by my sisters and got to spend such precious time together. Yet in moments of elation, in instances of edification I was haplessly solitary and I missed her by my side terribly. I came back three days ago yet I'm still living out of my suitcase. The last month or two seem to have been a perpetual trip. I called Fares today from my hotel room in Damascus. He was surprised that I'm not home. He didn't even know that I had left very early this morning. I'm sorry S

Well it all started innocuously enough, I stated that I'm hungry then I went further, I'm still hungry , I pleaded. I don't quite know what else to do on Facebook except change my status. I access it through a software, a proxy fucker of some sort, and the whole experience isn't that enjoyable to tell you the truth. If it were not for you, some of the people I care most about, I wouldn't even bother go there. The immediate comments on both statuses were very confusing to me. After all I am a provincial man with a simple mind. I needed something to pacify my hunger that's all. Kousa (Zucchini) I reckoned is the perfect answer to my commentators. This a recipe that is simply delectable. Yet more significantly, it is very sexy to prepare as it involves... well never mind... It might not be as naughty as asparagus , wink wink , but from a certain perspective, Kousa is very erotic. Even the name, Ah! Even the name... LOL So here we go, let me feed you right. B

We reach a point eventually when most people we meet are younger than us. It was only yesterday when football stars were my heroes and idols. I dreamed of being like them when I get older. The time I was about their age flew by ever so quickly. My twenties are a blur of happy carefree days. I guess it was all action and little reflection then. Perhaps I was intuitively too smart to waste my youth being too smart. I had thought for food sporadically but always mixing brainwork with pleasure. Who of my generation didn't spin the bottle and get deliciously laid with the wee hours of the morning? The intensity and pleasure of those discourses in a cozy joint with friends, boys and girls. The surprise and anticipation of a possible amorous night with the bubbly girl wearing the short shorts sitting across on the floor. The music and the dancing, the beer and the drinking, the confabulations and the stargazing… and ultimately the graduation from college and the satisfaction in knowing th