Archive for the ‘Arts’ Category

Smoothly but surely Rajab is tracing his way to the top as a professional model.

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From the dream killer conservative city of Tripoli/Lebanon Rajab braved the bumpy roads to modelling with all the notoriety that surrounds it.He stayed as Rimbaud said « intact » and he succeeded to impose himself as professional as a model can be among sharks.
After many small appearances in tv commercials and regular advertisements, Rajab imposed himself in his first catwalk at the Creative Space Beirut wearing an ever daring red overall that fit perfectly to Rajab smooth features and body.


Straight after the CSB catwalk, Rajab is appearing in Plastik Magazine alongside international top model Raphael Say and Ann Yadak.
This doesn’t stop here as bigger projects are in sight.

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Will Rajab be the next Chicco Lachowski?
Well with the way he’s climbing the stardom delicately but confident he will be spotted in the international scene, for the local scene is still focused on apelike steroid clad bearded guys they throw at Mr Lebanon contests that kill their careers on the spot.

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I was about to leave Tripoli for the night.Leave my people who were busy picking up the traces of the last clashes that paralyzed the city.Busy analyzing the situation each from his own sectarian point of view,busy sucking up to their masters those meager leeches,hanging banners promoting some new prophets,creating some illusionary  threats to start a new round of clashes and hate.

I was sitting in a cafe sipping my Americano,re-reading Douglas Coupland’s “Hey Nostradamus” before leaving.Jane Birkin was putting a show in Beirut Downtown’s “Thermes Romains” and I wasn’t going to miss it for the world.It was Jane Fucking Birkin for fucks sake.My Jane B.,Serge Gainsbourg’s girlfriend,Charlotte Gainsbourg and Lou Douillon’s mother.

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No one in Tripoli was interested to join me attend this once in a lifetime event.They didn’t know who Birkin was.”Some french Bimbo” one of them told me.The few cultured ones who knew who she was weren’t interested.For them.the ultimate cultural event was a Rahbani play,a Majida El Roumi concert or poetry reading by some old obsolete leftist fart whose job was to criticize the Lebanese bourgeoisie.

I left to Beirut.I left all those grey faces.Those full-of-them,selves teenage faces hardened by the  duty,the obedience to an ephebiphobic  father or society and a lack of understanding of real beauty.

The young adults and adults are gonna sit in their Hookah cafes,cyber games shops or other lame ass place discussing politics or an easy girl they can easily go anal with.

I got to the “Thermes Romains” 30 minutes before the show and the place was almost full with a couple of hundred people who came to witness the English/French Goddess.People that felt and looked different from my peers in Tripoli.Faces more relaxed,more happy,less hardened.You can note that more knowledge,culture and exposure graced their features and they were dressed simply yet elegantly.People from different ages or social ranks starving for knowledge,for culture and for art while my Tripoli people were busy teaching their young sisters to shoot at others or worshiping an illiterate Master making him the new object of glorification.

A kind old dame pushed aside with a smile.and gave me a place to sit next to her.She kept talking to her daughter(she looked a lot like her) about her cats,Dylan and Tadzio,the friend of her daughter(who was studying psychology) was asking her about the cats.

Another elegant old woman with simple beige suit and boyish haircut was standing next to me for there was no more places left(the show was free).She looked European to me.Another woman came  and greeted her as “Madame L’ambassadrice”.I thought to myself what would a very low rank Lebanese politician in her place?but dismissed the idea for no Lebanese politician would come to a Jane Birkin show and sit on the stairs.

At exactly 9:00 pm as advertised Wajdi Mouawad entered and started reciting his prelude.While he was on it rose the voice of the Athan from the mosque nearby,but Mouawad didn’t stop his long prelude.The sound of the Athan was harmless,in harmony with the words of Mouawad.It was a peaceful,beautiful Athan that didn’t intercept your other sonic interests contrary to the Athan in Tripoli that aggressed your ear buds with  the entwined noises of the incompetent Sheikhs.

The Goddess appeared from across the street wearing a silver dress.I knew her from her silhouette her sway,her movements even before she was close.

The closer she got the more her featured betrayed her old age.Man she was the older version of the Birkin of my dreams.The last time I saw her she was fresh and plump,sexy as ever.

Her neck,her hands,her cheeks….The Birkin of my wet dreams.The Birkin of my “Je t’Aime Moi Non Plus” movie on repeat was old now and lost all her sexiness.I never thought muses aged.

Still she was the same gracious Jane B.,the Goddess.She stood on the pedestal to perform the poem Mouawad wrote her.The Goddess looked like a statue in motion or many statues in different position.Every movement was a statue of its own.A masterpiece.

Her face portrayed the anguish,the suffering and the madness of the poem she was performing.The broken french was being spit from her mouth in coarse words that mimicked the bitterness.

The wrinkeled old hands were in permanent motion.Expressing her feelings.

When she moved to a different position her tights were revealed.Oh those tights I always fantasized about,smooth like silk,hot like embers

When she sang,her soothing voice was still the same unchanged,touching.

The show was long,in parts touching,in others a bit lame,still the whole thing was good.

When she bowed her head to the public and smiled at the end of the show .I wanted to hug her tight and tell Jane oh Jane when the hell did you get to grow so old?

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When she disappeared the public that stayed totally silent during the two hours of the show started to leave,breaking the silence and sending the echo of Jane B.’s words to the sky

On my way out I bumped into some friends from Beirut and a couple of others from Tripoli that lived in Beirut.I went with my friend Mira to have some Haagen Dazs ice cream then drove all the way to Tripoli after dropping her home,listening to a selection of songs by Belle And Sebastian.