Malek's Moorish tales

Check out the little green patch !!!!

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Thu, 08 May 2008 09:10:48 GMT

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Personal surprises are up, professional ones will have to wait...

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 05:26:08 GMT

I would like to thank all those that have had the patience to look for what I have to say for so long... I said a few days, well it took over a month, and what I will say is only a fraction of what, only a month ago, I though I could say as only personal things are my own decision...

I already warned that anything professional would be on my msdn blog, and it won't be still many days/weeks that I can speak about anything happening on the platform or server for process stuff...

There are yet big news on the personal side:

There are encounters that change the way we think about life. there are encounters that even change our lives. Yet there aren't so many encounters that change both our life and our perception about life... encounters that one feels in the depth of his guts that nothing will ever be the same...

As much as I used to love writing, I have not felt I needed to say anything except what I whispered into her ears... As much as I always was available for my friends, I only cared about what she felt...

To cut a long story short, I am feeling legendary love, and think (when my ego is not under control) that we (see next paragraph) are part of the circle of Cleopatra and Antonio, Antar and Abla,, Qais and Leila, Romeo and Juliet.... etc. Time evolves, and we don't need a drama to boost our feelings...

I never felt this way, although I had extremely strong feeling for friends (with or w/o benefits) before and still do. I had teenage love(s) (I won't specify numbers, sorry), and even simulacres of the ideal love. I would die anyday to preserve one of my real close friend's life. I do have the most amazing kind of love, one that can never be changed or topped : My love for Arwa, the most intelligent and beautiful girl in the world, my daughter. But I still forgot my friends since I met her. I would not only die for her, I litterally can't live a day without her...

In three (extensible) words, I love Nadia, and she is my wife.

That's all I can say for now.

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Haven't written anything in a while

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Mon, 15 Jan 2007 19:06:57 GMT

I have disappeared for a while, both on the blog and physically with my friends... I have a few surprises for everyone... keep watching in the next few days.

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Overwhelming newness

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Wed, 04 Oct 2006 17:27:32 GMT

New girlfriend, new position, visiting new countries, new car, new phone, new style... All in the last few weeks !

Off course all the old rhythm of change and travel is still there...

Who said last year was incredible ?

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Ideologies

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Mon, 31 Jul 2006 00:39:19 GMT

Born Communist,

Holder of a dream,

Equalitarian, futurist,

Non-imperialist.

But time,

Non progressist,

The wall falls,

painful awakening.

I became ecologist,

Truely environmentalist,

NGO, Ozone, CFC,

Biodegradable,

But time,

Non-recyclable.

Harmony breaks,

Nature collapses.

Then liberal,

Democrat and social,

Industry, economy,

Conjuncture, productivity,

But time,

Non-reformist.

The eagle petrifies,

Freedom in chains.

I became integrist,

Light of an aurora,

After-life, Paradise,

Prescribed, forbidden.

But time,

Non-Mystic.

The glave is raised,

Communion breaks.

Enlightened and dreaming,

Equal to me and to others,

Without conviction or ressentment,

Without illusion,

With no reason,

I listen to the bird,

in the nest of my heart,

that tells the story of time,

Dumb dictator,

defeated by a word,

thrown against the wind.

old text, transleted into english

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Births

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Wed, 05 Jul 2006 18:52:36 GMT

The world is small…

The world is so small that there is no horizon. Imagination dissipates into a volcano of fog, a crater similar to those southern villages that witnessed my birth… Or should I say my births ; as life, not wanting me, has reluctantly accepted me and tried to throw me into a uterine abyss. Only, the shapeless cave refused to stay covered in smoke, the fog ended up dissipating, and the sky opened up in its infinite depth.

It was thus that, conceived in an egg without shell, and whose membrane was not opaque, I find myself immediately in a new existence where, the view has opened up a little, and the membrane has been extending without breaking. On the borders, it has become more opaque, but space has enlarged so that it became a perfect cylinder. Light, sometimes, makes it way from above.

But man is nomad, as Brel has said once, and the space I acquired in this native countryside, far from the city and its troubles, and I was quickly under the spell of this winged being that flies high… High enough to go over the surrounding mountains that oppress me… But it is dark, and the world is too small to see a horizon, a dream, a hope….

In the dark and morose darkness, I close my eyes one more time. I only have the heat of my veins to light up my way, and I see red everywhere… Red like blood… Red like the pleasure of the bloody lover intent on his task with his beautiful savage virgin… Red… Reddish… Rose! Rose like the imaginary mouth that covers my lips, that sticks to my neck, that uncovers its delicious softness and licks my body until I am drunk, and in my fascinating binge, I faint… And as I fall, I touch the soft ground that takes me, absorbs me in its hallucinating resolve, in the fantastic impulse of its burning chair.

I look… I look around me, first, to try and find some familiar bearings. The mountains have not moved, yet… It is a quite different scenery. Everything has become bigger, more impressive… In an intense moment, I quiver… I try to remember, to reconstruct my memory, but my past has hidden in an unattainable depth. I sit and observe…

I am lying down on a white ground, perfectly white. On every side, the walls are high and bending towards me. The walls are white. A windows, at an impassable height, lets through a dim light. Through the window, I barely see some tree branches, and further away, a window surrounded with a wall as perfectly white. I raise my eyes, and I see a ceiling so high I feel dizzy. In the middle, a lamp tries to catch my hand – her hand in gloves looks like a pear – but fails as its arms have been cut off.

What happened? Where are my mountains? Where is this sky that only moments ago was holding me in its invisible hands and made me float over the clouds? The city seems to have caught up with me, as quickly as a desert tornado! I try to walk and reach a wall, to touch it, thinking that it would vanish, and not only would I see a mountain, but the obstacles would just disappear and let me see, for the first time, a vastness that would take me to the end of the world. The end of the world towards which I am ready to go, even on arms and legs as I am forced to do. The end of the world from which I can jump into sidereal void, where nothing would limit my view. There where the world – what am I saying? – the universe would go naked for my own pleasure… The universe would become, like my mother, the pure innocence that has no false decency. The innocence that was, way before the first apple, the first snake, the first seduction, the proper of the likes of me… Those amorphous beings that, for centuries, millenniums, have been trying, on arms and legs, trying to go to the end of the world… To reach the nourishing breast of the angelic being …

I suck the breast to get some strength, but also to absorb my mother… I have to suck on it until she is entirely contained within my womb, as I was long ago in hers. So that the universe is within me, and that I am its mother!

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Naissances

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Wed, 05 Jul 2006 17:50:29 GMT

Le monde est petit…

Le monde est tellement petit qu’il n’y a pas d’horizon. L’imagination s’est dissipée dans un volcan de brouillard, dans un cratère comme le sont ces villages du sud qui ont assisté a ma naissance… ou plutôt a mes naissances ; comme si la vie ne voulant pas de moi, m’a accepté de contrecœur, et a essayé de me replonger dans un gouffre utérin. Seulement, cette grotte informe ne pu rester recouverte de nuée, le brouillard a fini par se dissiper, et le ciel s’est ouvert dans son infinie profondeur.

C’est donc ainsi que, conçu dans un œuf sans coquille, et dont la membrane n’est guère opaque, je me trouve aussitôt soumis a une nouvelle existence où, la vue s’étant dégagée un peu, la membrane s’étend mais sans se briser. Son opacité augmente sur les bords, et l’espace s’allonge pour en faire un cylindre parfait, d’où parvient la lumière, parfois, d’en haut.

Mais l’homme est nomade, comme disait un certain Brel, et l’espace acquis dans cette campagne natale, loin de la ville et de ses tracas, et vite conquis par cet être ailé qui s’envole très haut… suffisamment haut pour survolé les montagnes environnantes qui m’oppriment… Mais il fait nuit, et le monde est trop petit pour qu’il y ait un horizon, un rêve, un espoir…

Dans cette immensité noire et morose, je ferme les yeux encore une fois. N’ayant que la chaleur de mes veines pour m’éclairer, je vois tout rouge… Rouge comme le sang… comme le plaisir sanguinaire de l’amant s’acharnant sur sa belle vierge sauvage… Rouge… Rougeâtre … Rose ! Comme la bouche imaginaire qui me couvre les lèvres, qui me colle au cou, qui sort sa mie délicieuse et me lêche le corps jusqu'à ce que, ivre, je tombe… Et, en retombant, je touche la terre molle qui me prends en elle, qui m’absorbe dans sa résolve hallucinante, dans l’élan de sa chaire qui brule.

Je regarde donc… je regarde autours de moi, tout d’abord, pour essayer de retrouver mes repéres. Les montagnes n’ont pas bougé, et pourtant… ce n’est plus du tout le même décor… Tout est devenu plus grand, plus impressionnant… En un moment intense, je frissonne… J’essaye de me souvenir, de reconstruire ma mémoire, mais mon passé semble être entré dans une profondeur inatteignable. Ebloui, j’observe ….

Je suis allongé sur un sol blanc, parfaitement blanc. De tout les cotés, des murs élevés penchent sur moi. Les murs sont blancs. Une fenêtre a une hauteur infranchissable laisse passer une lumière tamisée. A travers la fenêtre, j’arrive a peine a voir quelques branches d’arbres, et plus loin, une fenêtre entourée d’un mur tout aussi blanc. Je lève les yeux, et je trouve un plafond dont l’altitude me donne le vertige. Au milieu, une lampe penchée qui semble vouloir me donner la main – cette main gantée qui ressemble a une poire – mais n’y arrive pas car ses bras ont été amputés.

Que s’est-il donc passé ? où sont mes montagnes ? où est le ciel qui, il y a quelques instants me portait de ses mains invisibles et me faisait planer au dessus même des nuages ? La ville m’a donc rattrapée, aussi vite qu’un ouragan dans le désert ! J’essaye de marcher pour atteindre un mur, de le toucher, me disant déjà qu’il s’évanouira, et peut être, non seulement je reverrais une montagne, mais que l’obstacle disparaitra complètement pour me laisser voir, pour la première fois, une étendue menant vert le mout du monde. Le bout du monde, jusqu’auquel je me déplacerais, même a quatre pattes comme je suis obligé de le faire… Le bout du monde, d’oú je plongerais dans le vide sidéral, où plus rien ne viendra limiter ma vue. Là ou le monde – que dis-je - l’univers se mettra a nu pour mon plaisir… L’univers deviendra, a l’image de ma mère, cette innocence si pure qui n’a pas de pudeur. Innocence qui fut, bien avant la première pomme, le premier serpent, la première séduction, le propre de mes semblables. Car, parait-il, j’ai des semblables… des êtres amorphes qui ont, pendant des siècles, des millénaires, essayé, á quatre pattes, d’aller vers le bout du monde… pour retrouver le sein nourricier de cet être angélique…

Je tête, pour me remplir de forces, mais aussi pour absorber ma mère… Il faut que je suce entièrement, jusqu'à ce qu’elle soit toute contenue dans mon ventre, comme je l’ai été dans le sien. Pour que l’univers soit en moi, et que je sois sa mère !

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Happiness feels... good.

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Sat, 24 Jun 2006 12:02:04 GMT

What were the chances, being with freinds at a crouded bar, late at night, for our meeting to happen? Moon, a nice Corean girl tells me that my seat has been taken as I was talking to Chris. I turn around, and there is Gülsemin. A red headed rose that makes Istanbul tulips look lame. I start telling her that she took my seat, but the sentence never ends... I thought I didn't want the seat without her on it. All kinds of childhood memories filled up my head : Sitting on a branch of a tree, the taste of the peaches in the garden, my mom's smile, the red cheeks of that girl on the beach at Pont Blandin whose name I will never know, the first ride on my brother's bicycle, the taste of the first kiss... I was speechless, yet I spoke endlessly...

We shared meaningless thoughts. I spoke about the otomans, the almoravides, andalucia, and how a union between the turks and the moroccans could have overtaken the world. Needless to say, in all the simplicity of the talk, there was so much third degree metaphores. Oh God, how it feels nice when one can express his thoughts, and is understood with no need to explan! It feels so much better when the same conversation is taking place with a bombshell. I can't even start describing how it felt good that night talking to my rose. I was just a talk, but I felt that it was just the begining of something wonderful. We said goodbye, and I went on partying with my friends.

(to be continued -- out of battery power on my tablet, and in my turbulent heart)

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Amazing Kimberly Tripp

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Sat, 24 Jun 2006 05:21:39 GMT

Kimberly never ceases to amaze me. How geekier can one get. Writing a stored proc on the plane is a "normal" thing to do, but when the stored proc gets data from the database, formats an HTML message and sends it to thousands of subscribers from her laptop on the plane...

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Falling in love...

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Wed, 21 Jun 2006 01:39:33 GMT

Life is sweet. I thought you ought know.

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.

Love at first sight?

malekblog@kemmou.com (Malek!) — Mon, 12 Jun 2006 02:43:02 GMT

I do tend to fall in love more easily than many people, but I have come to be very carefull on my commitments. I continue to have strong feelings easily, but I need time to look deep inside and check my feelings to know whether I am really ready to get into a long term relationship. I would even say that many times, the laid back approach seemed to hurt me, as by the time I thought I should give the relationship a try, I had already constrained it to friendship...

Usually, when I feel strong attraction, I tend to retract, as if protecting myself. Probably my past failures have left uncured scars.

Lately, however, I made an encounter that seems to be taking a different direction. I was with female friends, and had no reason to look around or start another conversation, yet, although the conversation was normal, I somehow enjoyed it tremendously more than I thought was warranted for. I almost forgot completely about my friends until they started to discretely tease me about it. It was late at night, and she had to wake up early, so we just said goodbye. Since then, I can't stop thinking about her. the following saturday night, I was with a group of friends at a concert. They were fun and interesting people, and included a few very attractive women as well, but I ended up spending most of the time by myself. I couldn't stop thinking that I would have loved her to be there with me. next day evening, I went on a long lonely walk, wandering, unable to go anywhere, unable to even bring myself to understand what was wrong with me.

She is beautiful, very attractive, intelligent, simple, level headed, and intellectually exciting. The ease with which she interracts and moves made me feel very close, very much at ease myself. For some reason, I think she must have felt similar.

I don't know if it is love at first sight, but it deffinitely feels like it...

This weblog is sponsored by newtelligence AG.