Thursday 28 May 2015

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Nine-Months-Pregnant Woman



One night in his early twenties, my buddy was home when his friend M passed by with a woman who seemed to be a few years older. They first went to the balcony and made out, then M left the young woman with my buddy who was high as a kite.

The light was dim when they began making out on the bed. A few minutes later they were in full swing, though she kept a large gown-like robe on. My buddy then heard her say: “Baby.” He thought it’s a little weird since she doesn’t look that westernized, but didn’t think of it much and kept going.

A minute later, she says it again: “Baby, Baby.” Then she went on top of him and kept bouncing. He was really out of it, but from what he remembers the sex was quite steamy.


He woke up the next day with the woman in his bed. He looked around the room to see a big handbag nearby. At some point, the woman got up and all of a sudden he finally sees it: She has an inflamed belly like she was pregnant. She confirmed his doubts by saying that she's nine months pregnant and expecting the baby anytime!

The dude was shocked. He didn’t really swallow the whole things until she opened that handbag to show him that it's full of baby clothes — little towels and little socks and little everything. Because, she's expecting it anytime. Waow. A one-night stand with a delivering mother. That was a first.

Obviously the guy didn't want anything to do with this. What if her water breaks now and everybody finds out there is a woman giving birth at his place?

This is when “baby, baby” made sense. She meant to slow him down since there is a BABY inside of her belly. That is why she changed positions since it must have been more comfortable.

The mother-to-be then said she was hungry, since she's eating for two. Yeah, so very sweet! My buddy felt he had to feed her so he ordered some food. Once done with the meal, he kindly bid her — or them — farewell saying that he has stuff to do.


This remains one of his weirdest erotic encounters.



Until the next adventure of my incognito friend.



ALSO VIEW:

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Italian Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi’s Shirt

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Girl Who Came

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Reliving a One-Night Stand...13 Years Later

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The 17-Year-Old Lebanese Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Three Girls, One Perfume

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Sex Party

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Threesome With Two Virgins

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: A Woman, Her Girlfriend, and the Girlfriends Friend

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Mother of Six Who Drove for 50 Hours

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Another Sex Party 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Ten Days with a Charming Older Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Neighbour’s Lustful Guest

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: 22 Years Later — Once Teenagers Now Adults

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Affair With an Older Married Woman


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Tuesday 26 May 2015

OLS Reflections Siebzehn — The Peacefully Unfun Ones




  • Eight out of ten times when I see anything with ‘DKNY’ on it I think of a donkey.

  • You can add sun to my Sundays. Even one day fun to my funeral. But don’t you dare putting turd in my Saturdays.

  • I go to an underwater gym to grow my mussels. 

  • When someone throws a tantrum I usually duck.

  • I saw a man on the beach skillfully flying a kite, so I told him to keep it up.

  • AutoCorrect has become my worst enema. Oh Shift! This is annoying as he’ll. We’ll, Happy Ducking Halloweed, every buddy. 

  • Tonight I will get inside a time machine, attempting to change the course of history. You will know I've succeeded if humans can speak Dolphinese, there is no February 29, and between Saturday and Sunday there is Saturnday.

  • Thinking allowed is aloud. 

  • Trisexual: A person who's into having sex while riding a tricycle.

  • Wonders Does Psychology Reverse.



ALSO VIEW:


 
 
OLS Reflections 36 — الطبعة العربية المرحة 

OLS Reflections Treinta y Seis — The Wickedly Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections — Facebook Edition

OLS Reflections — Facebook Edition Deux

OLS Reflections ثمانية وعشرون — The Tranquilisingly Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections पच्चीस — The Soothingly Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections Venti — The Quiescently Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections Quatorze — The Mitigatingly Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections Dodici — The Appeasingly Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections Девять — The Pacifyingly Unfun Ones

OLS Reflections Seis — The Mollifyingly Unfun Ones
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Sunday 24 May 2015

The Girl Who Wouldn’t Share Toilet Paper



The Girl Who Wouldn’t Share Toilet Paper by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul

One of the weirdest thing I have encountered when sharing homes with strangers those last couple of years happened with a 23-year-old girl from Chicago. We were sharing a bathroom and when she arrived there was about six and a half rolls of toilet paper. She was supposed to come alone with her dog, but she surprised us by arriving with her mother, her sister, and the mother's dog, plus her own dog... all crammed in one small bedroom.

She explained that the mother — and her dog — and sister will leave in a few days. Fine, were peaceful dudes after all.

Naturally, sharing the bathroom with three women resulted in that the toilet paper, which lasts me personally for 35 days, was annihilated in about 12 days. When the last roll was in use, I was expecting that they would buy new ones. But it didn't happen. For two days there was no toilet paper!

Then when the mom and sister had left, I saw her one day coming back with a six-pack, which she kept in her room. A little later that day, I found a new roll on the dispenser. I thought great, problemo solved. She was just a couple of days late.

That night I went to the bathroom to pee and the new roll was right there. I woke up in the morning and magically it was gone. The dispenser was once again empty. What!

For a brief instant, I thought that must have been a dream. Then I remembered seeing the girl earlier coming in carrying the new toilet paper. Hm. WEIRD.

Later that day I met her in the hallway, so I just said it: “Were out of toilet paper, so... .”

Oh, I have my own in the room.

Ah.”


I always wonder what happened to this kind of people when they were young to become like that.

Check Things I Couldn’t Quite Understand After Being On The Road For Seven Months for more hilarity. And also the more sincere Why NOT a Bidet? since we’re at it.





ALSO VIEW:

Things I Couldn’t Quite Understand After Being On The Road For Seven Months

Why NOT a Bidet?

The Bloke Who Thought I'm Too Much of an Alpha Male

The Joy of Being a Wanderer and the Credit Card Number

A Dollar & Thirty Four Cents in Me Pocket and Feeling Fine  

The Couple Who Couldn’t Handle My Honesty

Placebo Effect & The LSD Prank 

OLS Reflections — Facebook Edition
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Friday 22 May 2015

The Guardian Angels of the White Desert



The Guardian Angels of the White Desert by Omar Cherif, One Lucky Soul
Once around 2005 my two younger nephews and I went camping in the White Desert by the Farafra Oasis (depression). 

To reach such distant and somewhat isolated parts of Egypt, from Cairo, one has to drive to Marsa Matruh, which is a true Mediterranean jewel with crystal clear blue lagoons and white sandy beaches. Heading South from there all alongside the borders with Libya you reach several Oases along the magical White Desert, ending with the furthest of them all, stunning Siwa, located about 755 Km (466 mi) away — about 8 hours of driving; yet since many travellers tend to take a break somewhere, often in Marsa Matruh, the overall trip could end up being a tad longer than that.

Siwa was not our destination this time so no breaks were needed. As we arrived late at night we were exhausted and, due to the insanely windy outside, and pitch black, we decided to sleep inside the car rather than in our sleeping bags. Of course the music was on the whole night, resulting in waking up to a dead battery. In the middle of nowhere. Literally.

When you venture alone into the unknown wilderness of the deserts you often seem to bump into guarding angels. I think it may be some kind of reward from Mother Nature. Echoing with Nature loves courage by Terence McKenna. This has been an ongoing pattern in my life and in the lives of some of my friends. Though not everyone is that lucky all the time; for without proper preparation one could easily vanish into the deserts, or any wilderness for that matter.

Fortunately, this time the guardians were there for the rescue. After a few hours of debating what to do, there they were. In the middle of nowhere, we spotted a car coming towards us. We had been trying to revive the battery for quite a while but couldn’t do it. We [meaning they] tried again upon their arrival yet to no avail. Our car was a new model which needed a different kind of cable, or so I remember. The driver eventually said he'll go get something then return.

The first failed rescue attempt

We kept waiting but the man didn’t show up. A while later we saw a convoy of three Jeeps approaching our motionless vehicle. More guardian angels. Sweet. Different ones though. We felt like Tintin, Capitaine Haddock and Milou in Le Crabe aux pinces d’or (The Crab with the Golden Claws) being rescued.

As they jump-start the battery, we chatted for a bit while bonding with some of the tourists. I took a few photos of the situation until they got us out of there to resume our journey.

Later on in the day, we bumped into the first driver. He said he came back but couldn't find us. I think he even wanted some kind of gas money as some kind of compensation. Being all Egyptians, we settled it without paying a pound.

The following night was spent at a camp in Bahariya, a different oasis, while during the day we visited the Black Desert. The whole trip lasted about four or five nights before heading back to Cairo.
 

So ten years later, Thank you Guardian Angels of the White Desert...whoever you were.


Surviving the Madness of Sakarana — Hyoscyamus muticus is another much more wacky adventure that took place in Sinai around the same year.



Nephews Ahmed Mazhar (L) and Seif Seif el Nasr (R) with Omar Cherif, The Guardian Angels of the White Desert, One Lucky Soul
The uncle and the two boys later on in the trip — Ahmed Mazhar (left)
and Seif Seif el Nasr (right)

Aqua Sun Camp by Omar Cherif, The Guardian Angels of the White Desert, One Lucky Soul
The famous Aqua Sun camp of Nuweiba by the Red Sea can also be found in Farafra

The White Desert by Omar Cherif, The Guardian Angels of the White Desert, One Lucky Soul
The magnificence of the White Desert

Sunset over Farafra Oasis by Omnar Cherif, The Guardian Angels of the White Desert, One Lucky Soul
Sunset view over the White Desert before we cozy in in the car

The Black Desert by Omar Cherif, The Guardian Angels of the White Desert, One Lucky Soul
The Black Desert stretches between the White Desert in the south
and the Bahariya Oasis


ALSO VIEW:
 

The Great Pyramid’s Blessed Curse: Climbing To The Top And Beyond

A Letter That Hit Me In The Feels

A Random Call That Hit Me In The Feels


For The Love Of Storytelling

Rooting Into The Past

My Correspondence With a 31-Year-Old Reader Before He Passed Away

The Night We Turned ‘Beast Mode’ On

The Intertwining of Music and Sexuality ― A Djembefola’s Tale

How Inspiration is Transferable

A Saturday Evening with an Old Brotherman & His Doggy

Why I Share Stuff

The Night I Became a Stripper

Give That Man Some Groceries

Surviving the Madness of Sakarana — Hyoscyamus muticus

Banged Up Abroad — My Few Days @ The Don Jail

Out-of-Body Experience and Ego Death on a “Heroic Dose” of Mushrooms

The Archaic Origin of the Swastika Symbol [with Photos]

Choosing Art Over Corporate and Academia

My Great Uncle The Spy — The Suspenseful Life of Refaat Al-Gammal (aka Jack Beton)

Stop-n-Search That Hippy

The Night I Became a Stripper

Not Sleeping With a French Hooker at 14

Funny Drug-Related Stories

Funny Drug-Related Stories 2

Funny Hotel-Related Stories

Placebo Effect & The LSD Prank

A Dollar & Thirty Four Cents in Me Pocket and Feeling Fine

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Tuesday 19 May 2015

The Real Origin of “It Will Cost You an Arm and a Leg”




A few days ago I received a ‘forward’ e-mail from my cousin about the origin of some expressions, all of which were new to me. Having a knack for such things, today I decided to share one of them with you. Naturally, before doing so I first had to look it up myself, and I found something different.

First, this is the initial story I got in the e-mail:

In George Washington's days, there were no cameras. One's image was either sculpted or painted. Some paintings of George Washington showed him standing behind a desk with one arm behind his back while others showed both legs and both arms. Prices charged by painters were not based on how many people were to be painted, but by how many limbs were to be painted. Arms and legs are 'limbs,' therefore painting them would cost the buyer more. Hence the expression, “Okay, but it'll cost you an arm and a leg.” (Artists know hands and arms are more difficult to paint)


Sounds like a believable story, right? Well, in actual fact it's a much more recent American phrase coined sometime after WWII.

Like many etymologies, the exact origin of the phrase is unknown. Though there are some guesses...

The phrase “costs an arm and leg” is used to describe anything that is considered to be extremely expensive or excessively pricey. So it may have originated during the War when many soldiers would lose limbs, in reference to the high cost paid. This is the more literal meaning.

A second guess is that it may have originated from earlier expressions like “I would give my right arm” from 1616, meaning to be willing to give something of great value for someone or something. Another is “If it takes a leg” from 1872, which expresses desperate determination.


Further research showed me that there is actual Snopes page dedicated to this specific email I received. Apparently, it's a list of false etymologies which have first appeared on the Internet as far back as 1999.

Interestingly, I also found the same etymology in the 2008 book The Biggest Joke Book Ever by Jack Jacoby.

Whatever the real origin is, the earliest citation of “It Will Cost You an Arm And a Leg” remains in The Long Beach Independent in December 1949. This is way after George Washington.

On a parallel note, check How ‘XOXO’ Came To Mean Hugs & Kisses for yet another historical story. 


And now you know.


ALSO VIEW:


Words With Italian Origin That Are Still Used Today In Egypt

Why Many Place Names End with ‘-Stan’

How ‘XOXO’ Came To Mean Hugs & Kisses

What The Heck are Vocal Fry and Upspeak?

The Origin of ‘Wishbone’ and the “Yadas - Fi bali” (يدس - في بالي) Game

From English as a Third Language to Author — How I Expanded My Vocabulary

The Writing Process and the Creative Block

Words With No Direct Translation To English

More Words With No Direct Translation To English 

Some Arabic Sayings and Their Translations — أمثال عربية و ترجمتها 

Selective Hearing Among Men and Women

On Reading, Listening, Speaking and Writing
 
Some Soulful Writing Quotes 


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Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Girl Who Came




During his late teens, my buddy was home alone for a few days so one night he invited his friend K over. K told him that he'll bring a ‘fun’ girl with him and the night was planned. She was a few years younger than them. 

It all started with tequila and Gary Moore and everyone was in a merry mood. Then at some point, K received a call from his longtime girlfriend and left the living room to talk in private. The guy stayed on the phone for a long time. This is when my buddy thought to take the girl inside to “show her his room”.

Once in, one thing led to another and they started making out. During this time my buddy thought that since K had been on the phone for quite a while then he should be done soon. The boy, however, kept talking for hours and my buddy and the girl stayed inside...after locking the door of course. 

Mid the action, they heard knocking on the door. My buddy, only wearing a towel then, opened the door and tells K that there are VHS movies out there for him to watch. Yeah, it was already too late to tell him anything else.

All exhausted from the raunchy teenage action, a few of hours later the couple collapsed. Since the girl came with him, in the middle of the night she went to check up on K who was sleeping in the other room. But the guy wasn't too happy and was cold to her. So, she came back to my buddy's room where she spent the rest of the night.

Early morning, knowing that his mother was about to come back home from a trip, he kindly told K and the girl to leave. The mother arrived maybe 15 minutes later and all was fine. Though she could smell a female perfume all over the house so she gathered that something had happened.

20 years later, my buddy and K are still old friends. Him and the girl are also still friends. And K and her do not speak...but not because of this night.


Until the next adventure of my incognito friend.



ALSO VIEW:


Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Italian Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Stain on the Levi’s Shirt

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Nine-Months-Pregnant Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Reliving a One-Night Stand...13 Years Later

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The 17-Year-Old Lebanese Belly Dancer

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Three Girls, One Perfume

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Sex Party

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Threesome With Two Virgins

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: A Woman, Her Girlfriend, and the Girlfriends Friend

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Mother of Six Who Drove for 50 Hours

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Another Sex Party 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Ten Days with a Charming Older Woman

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: The Neighbour’s Lustful Guest

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: 22 Years Later — Once Teenagers Now Adults 

Memoirs of an Incognito Friend: Affair With an Older Married Woman
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Monday 18 May 2015

OLS Reflections Sixteen




"Further" by Omar Cherif - Colorado mountains, March 2014

  • Sometimes I wake up feeling happy for no reason, then I remember a few.

  • Find your inner self first, then you can find a soul mate to share it with. Other than that, you may be wasting time — yours and theirs. 

  • Some people get bored; others get creative.

  • Make it a habit to break a habit every once in a while. You’ll feel rejuvenated.

  • The more you know yourself, the more you’ll love your own company.

  • People who like to get totally hammered every weekend usually do so because they don’t like what they do during the week — be it working, studying, or getting bored.

  • The fear of remaining single all their lives makes many people “settle for less”.

  • I wonder what makes us uncomfortable to walk, jog, or drive next to strangers who are going at the same pace that we either have to slow down or speed up.

  • Happy people seem to always have good energy and tend to have more influence.


  • Whenever someone tells me “You’ve made my day” it makes my day.
"Bliss" by Omar Cherif - Ontario, Canada, 2012


ALSO VIEW:

OLS Reflections

OLS Reflections Deux

OLS Reflections Vier

OLS Reflections Khamsa

OLS Reeflections Yedi

OLS Reflections 八

OLS Reflections Ten

OLS Reflections Onze

OLS Reflections 13

OLS Reflections Quince

OLS Reflections Dix-Huit

OLS Reflections تسعة عشر

OLS Reflections Veinte Uno

OLS Reflections 22

OLS Reflections Dreiundzwanzig

OLS Reflections Twenty-Four

OLS Reflections Vingt-Six

OLS Reflections Ventisette

OLS Reflections Veintinueve
 
OLS Reflections 30

OLS Reflections Ein Unddreißig

OLS Reflections  إثنان وثلاثون

OLS Reflections Thirty-Three

OLS Reflections Trentaquattro

OLS Reflections 37

OLS Reflections Trente-Neuf

OLS Reflections Forty  

OLS Reflections Einundvierzig

OLS Reflections — The Spiritual Edition 

OLS Reflections Cuarenta y Cuatro

OLS Reflections 45

OLS Reflections Quarantasette

OLS Reflections — The Unpublished Edition

OLS Reflections Forty-Nine

OLS Reflections 50 

OLS Reflections Cincuenta y Dos
 


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Friday 15 May 2015

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts



Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts

At some point during last Saturday's Drum Circle I saw a cop coming down from his car. He moved around for a bit, asking a few drummers if they were fine. Usually while drumming my eyes are closed, however, somehow I can see what's going on around. I subtly smiled, though not to him directly, before I saw him return to his vehicle.

This caught my attention as it was not a usual sight in Venice Beach or at the Drum Circle. But I didn't know what it was about. Plus, the copper was a new face in the area, so I guess that drew my attention even more.

Another hour, I could see through the corner of my eye two police vehicles encircling us. It didn't seem like a normal check, it was more like they were screening us. That's because the officers in both cars were talking, then each cars took a cruise around us, then they met further to talk again. Something was happening.

This Saturday, we decided to stop drumming maybe 15 minutes before the sunset. I even told the guys jokingly that we really don't have to wait till the very last minute to do so every time. It's OK to stop by ourselves and not only when they cops come to tell us so.


As we were wrapping, one police car approached us and both officers came down and headed towards us. Strange. Why are they here if we're done before the sunset? One of them was the new one I saw earlier checking up on the guys.

Both men came closer, but the new one led the conversation. Officer Roberts is a white man in his mid-late 20s, tall with blond hair, and has a warm, pleasant face your long-time neighbour would have.

Hey guys, I know you are the ones in charge, as you are the drummers and people come to see you play, so we're trying to work something out here. We want your cooperation on Sundays to stop the circle when the sun goes down and the cops come. I really like that you guys have fun here, it's good for Venice and the tourists love it. But you know what happened a few days ago, so these days security is going to be tight.”

He meant the shooting of an unarmed 29-year-old Venice man, Brendon K. Glenn, by the police a few days prior.


This is when a couple of drummers intervened, mentioning Brendon whom they knew. I only recognised him later when I saw his pic. Officer Roberts showed his sympathy and said that the case is still being investigated. He also said that they don't know much details and there is some kind of obscurity around the whole incident. 

According to the L.A Times, the security video has not been publicly released. So he may be right. It's worth noting that this is the second fatal shooting by the Los Angeles Police Department of an unarmed, homeless black man in just over two months. So the tension between the ‘us’ and ‘them’ may be on the rise these days. Hence, they are asking us to cooperate. Not that I suddenly became a homeless black man myself, but I know you get my gist in a jiffy. 

Tomorrow they will be more police cars around the circle so I though I would come talk to you guys,” he resumed.


Would Brendon Glenn Dizzle’ ever be the last unarmed
homeless man of colour to be shot by
the LAPD? Photo taken on Saturday, May 16 on the Boardwalk.

By that time, I was already captivated by the openness of the man and the way he approached us. After all, most cops, as well as most people, still think in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’ — and the shootings that keep happening are certainly not helping.

For me personally, knowing that we are all essentially One, I want to transcend this ‘us’ and ‘them’ ideology. I really do. So whenever I see an opportunity I jump right in. The system may be full of holes, but down deep inside, behind labels and uniform, they are human beings... just like you and me.

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: The Coke Prank is an earlier article about another cool colleague of officer Roberts.

So first off, I thanked the man for being who he is and for coming right there in the open to explain the situation to us. Then I introduced myself with my first name, saying that I'm a writer who lives by the area. I proceeded by agreeing with him that the outsiders, who usually come on Sundays, are the ones who ruin it for everyone else.

Further proving the point, I told him that my own phone was stolen from the circle on that last Sunday. I also told him that when I first moved to the area last year, I was not particularly happy with the cops' heavy presence around the Drum Circle.

A fellow drummer then intervened, mentioning that the shooting had nothing to do with the Circle as some people believe. Office Roberts agreed, but said that ‘They’ lump the whole thing together when it comes to Venice Beach, the Drum Circle, and violence.

Hm. But how is that fair, I wonder.  


Freddy, another fellow drummer told officer Roberts: “OK, if we cooperate can you leave us regather by the water when everyone leaves, just a few of us?”

The man said he cannot promise now but he'll definitely talk to his superior. We explained that sometimes one of the officers allows it, then another comes later to say that we have to leave. No communication between them is what creates the issue. We said that they had told us multiple times that personally they don't have a problem but it's the neighbours who complain from the noise; therefore the further we go towards the water, it should be OK.

After all, we all know it's not illegal. And according to some of my new buddies who have been attending the Drum Circle for more than 35 years, to stop when the sun goes down is a relatively new thing. They used to play till 2 am not so long ago. So.

Again, the fine officer promised to help out, explaining that his superior is in one of the vehicle further away watching us. “They know I like talking to people, so they sent me here to talk to you guys,” he said.

We need more people like you; we are all humans,” I responded. 

Thank you. OK then see you tomorrow.

Thank YOU. Bye.


I have to say I was quite impressed by the manners of the man. Many police officers have ego problems so they don't ‘talk’. They somehow believe that they are in power and totally forget that initially they are public servants who are here to protect and serve. Others may be shy.

Luckily, though, not all of them are like that and every now and then we bump into cool, rational, humane ones like officer Roberts.


A little later, a few drummers and I gathered by the patio on the boardwalk and this was when I saw the man again. I then remembered that I wanted to let his colleague know about the Coke Prank article I had written about her. I thought maybe also I could get her name to add it. So, I went towards him, briefly telling him the story and giving him and his partner the name of the article, the name of the blog, and my full name.

When the subject of the recent shooting of Brendon Glenn was brought up again, I recall him telling me that in every profession there are the good and the bad. I agreed. However, I was about to say that when the burger flipper, or the janitor or the sales exec mess up, people do not die in the process. Though I did not, perhaps because I felt it's too common sense; perhaps because I was happy to talk to the man and didn't want to add any awkwardness.

We chatted for another 10 minutes then we parted ways. I believe this may be the longest time I have spoken to a single American cop.

For a moment afterwards I felt weird giving my info like that to the authorities. And then I reminded myself that they are humans being who go online and check blogs and stuff. I want them to know that some of us appreciate them for who they are. I really hope they get to read these lines.

Besides, I am who I am. So getting to know that I'm an Eclectic Sapiosexual Philomath Lexophile Hedonist Psychonaut BoBo should be completely fine.


As I was heading to my bike, I saw two guys whom I saw talking to officer Roberts earlier during the circle. One was drinking and the other was smoking but was totally wasted.

Did you get a ticket?” I asked the drinking one.

“The officer told me, give me the bottle and I won't ticket you.

Yeah, he seems like a good guy.

Yeah, officer Roberts
,” he smilingly said.  


I was quite surprised that the homeless man already knew his name. I had already decided that I was going to write about the whole thing so I eyed his name tag twice. But for the drunk guy to retain the name of the new officer, he must have been equally impressed.

“He gave me a ticket for smoking, but I was hslnkdhdshjfhsvdklnkD @#$%^!&*()j,” the other one who's always wasted mumbled incoherently.

I think you out of all people deserve it, dude.

Goodnight, Brothers.”


On Sunday, I went late to the Drum Circle. At some point, officer Roberts came by to check the area, we locked eyes and he headed towards me to say ‘Hi, Omar’. We shook hands and I went back to drumming. Of course some people were looking at me, not really understanding what they had just witnessed. One of ‘us’ and one of ‘them’ amicably greeting each other

An outsider I have never met before even came to inquire:

What's that about?”

I explained to him that we spoke yesterday about wanting to wrap the circle seamlessly as soon as the sun goes down since we want to keep things on the down low these days because of what had happened.

Why, bro? But now...  .” He sounded like he was objecting and started to rant. 

This is when I didn't feel the need to even listen to what this stranger dude had to say. I closed my eyes and went back to the drumming world. 

Again on Sunday, I stopped playing before the time was up. Before leaving I thought I would tell officer Roberts and say goodbye. He was standing right there with a partner. I shook hands and said see you next week. To my surprise, however, he said he won't be here and that he'll be off to Chicago.

Oh well, the good ones always leave.

We need more of you,” I told him again as we bid farewell.


You see, good guys are good guys, anywhere. I could see it after a couple of interactions, the homeless man could also see it. And as I mentioned in the Coke Prank article, since most of the times I'm against what cops do and how they behave, when I encounter some of them acting so differently I feel compelled to let them, and you, know.


More please.



EDIT (Sunday June 7th):


Today at the circle, officer Roberts and I met again and said ‘Hi’. He asked if I have Twitter so I can share the article with the LAPD 911 account, since they have 50K followers which will generate more views. He even got his phone out of his pocket to show me their page.

I told him that I don't but I can share it with them on Facebook, and thanked him for the thought. He really seems to be a genuinely nice guy.

“So did you like the article?” I asked.
“Yes I did, I read it all. My mom loved it.

How splendid.”

I hope she's proud of her son.

We then said goodbye and parted ways. Of course, onlookers were once again baffled by what just happened. As for myself, I like knowing that a man like him is in the force. I also like to have him as a new friend. Glad to have written this article.

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Officer Roberts by Omar Cherif
Give Peace a chance


Also View:


Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: The Coke Prank

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Sergeant Pepper

Attempting to Bridge the Gap Between ‘Us’ and ‘Them’: Evolution
 
A Year at the Venice Beach Drum Circle in Photos

Another Year at the Venice Beach Drum Circle in Photos & Videos 

One More Year at the Venice Beach Drum Circle in Photos & Videos (2017-’18)

How Drumming Changed The Way My Brain Processes Music

Drum Circle Etiquette — The Do’s and Don’ts  

The Intertwining of Music and Sexuality ― A Djembefola’s Tale

Stop-n-Search That Hippy

Banged Up Abroad — My Few Days @ The Don Jail
 


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Friday 8 May 2015

Opiated Then Hatin’ It




“An addict is someone who uses their body to tell society that something is wrong.”
— Stella Adler
 
 
When I was run over by a car while biking last week in Venice Beach, I went to the ER to clean my wounds and get some pain killers. After almost four hours, I was finally discharged, though I was asked to pay a wacky $400. Yeah. You can read the full story Here.

Having been given a 5 mg Percocet (Oxycodone) half an hour before I leave the hospital, when I went later to get the meds I didn’t feel the need to take from the Hydrocodone they had prescribed me. It was already 10 pm and I was going to bed soon. They also prescribed a muscle relaxant (Flexeril) and Naproxen. So I only took one Flexeril and dozed off. 

I slept OK that night, but I woke with more pain all over my body. This was the day I thought I have every right to get opiated — or more colloquially, medicated. This was going to be the first time in quite a while. For an opiate connoisseur who has delved to the guts into this class of drugs for many years, this may seem like a lovely reunion.


After my early coffee I had eggs a little later, getting myself mentally ready for The Day. In a weird turn of event, I decided to look inside my toiletry bag and found a long lost 1-mg Xanax pill. Due to my high tolerance to pretty much everything, I wanted to potentiate the effects of the pain killer, so I thought I would take it. Even though years later after my heydays, this is not the dose that would really affect me. But since it has just appeared out of nowhere on that specific day, then let’s get it over with. I also took three Flexeril.

Another 45 minutes and I took a few pills of 5/325 Hydrocodone. The reason behind this wait time is that the benzos and muscle relaxants are better taken before the opiates for full effects. The opiate is strong that it usually blocks the effects of the potentiators if taken afterwards, which ends up by not really feeling the effects.

In Egypt, the street name for this procedure is called  (تبطين - يبطن ), meaning ‘coating’.

The main problem with those specific pills with the low doses of opiates is that with every 5 mg of Hydrocodone you ingest 325 mg of Paracetamol/Acetaminophen. Generally, most medium-strength prescribed opiates contain an NSAID (nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) to prevent abuse and to, in some cases, aid the intended purpose of the medication.

Stronger opioids, however, like Morphine, Hydromorphone, Methadone, Diamorphine (heroin), Oxymorphone, Levorphanol, Buprenorphine, Fentanyl do not contain APAP.


Carfentanil at the very end is tens of thousands of times stronger than morphine and is used to sedate large animals like elephants. After that there is (3R,4S,beta-S)-13-fluoro ohmefentanyl, which is almost double the potency of Carfentanyl. 


It is known that large quantities of acetaminophen are bad for the liver and totally unwanted in case the dose requires a large number of pills as well as in the case of recreational usage. This was exactly why I didn’t take more H.C, since it’s not advised to take more than 2000 mg of acetaminophen at one time. The FDA sets the safe 24-hour dose limit at 4,000 mg per adult, but some doctors say that it should be reduced to 3,250 per day.

I had heard many times about CWE (Cold Water Extraction) but never needed to do it myself. This is the procedure of removing the acetaminophen from the pills. It is actually pretty simple and there are videos on YouTube showing you how it’s done.

Harm reduction is a healthy concept when we really think about it. Some pain patients are easily prescribed 10 to 12 pills per day... mainly here in America, many of whom are still young. And that’s only one medication, most are prescribed a cocktail of pharmaceuticals. So, not wanting all these fillers to damage their livers, they perform the CWE to get the pure pain killer.

In my case, I knew I wouldn’t take the meds for more than a few days, so I thought not to dabble with those druggy ways and just swallow them fuckers. Though living the conscious life made me think twice about my liver and all this amount of acetaminophen I’ll be ingesting in those coming days.


Then, in a sheer moment of self-mockery, I remembered how less than 20 years ago in Egypt we used to sometimes take a bottle or more of the Alexandria-made magical cough syrup Codaphen (containing both, codein and ephedrine), followed by 20 pills of the cough med Broncholase (Codeine Phosphate) coupled with 10 pills of the muscle relaxant Somadril (Carisoprodol). Yes we did.

Being street drugs in such parts of the world, most of those medicines were expired. The same could be said about the Rohypnol (Roche’s Flunitrazepam), the Clonazepam (Roche’s Rivotril, Epitril, and the blue Amotril in Egypt), Dihydrocodein, Tramadol, Parkinol (Trihexyphenidyl), Ketamine among other pharmaceuticals illegally sold there. 

That was even before delving head first into opiates in general and heroin in particular; though I never shot it, or anything else — the reason why I required massive doses. And now I’m concerned about the FDA daily dose of paracetamol. OThe Times They Are A-changin’.

Codaphen was huge in the 80s and 90s before they stopped producing it.
However, the one that got you high was without the (D) seen in the picture.
Somadril (Carisoprodol) is still big in third world
countries and it is more potent than Flexeril.

So, don’t play sissy on me please”, I said to myself. Besides, I am in pain after all, and those meds I’m prescribed are here to kill that pain.

Alright then, time to chillax. All pills swallowed, followed by a smoke, tea, and some music.

I stayed in my room, awaiting the effects which must have started at some point. I was mid writing a new piece and didn’t really feel the time. Maybe an hour later, I got up from my chair to find that my body wasn’t aching as it was in the morning. Aha. Opiates. Bloody Magick!

I spent the day around the house writing and listening to Pink Floyd’s Animals and some Dire Straits — trying to relive the memories of those smokey years that seemed so distant, almost like an earlier life in my incarnation. I attempted to go that place, and I did. Though due to the moderate dose it was only a short visit. And that means no itching or nodding, which in my case as I found out, only happens when the dose is over 40 mg of H.C. 


The next day, I woke up by 11 am, that is three full hours later than my usual. Then I pretty much did the same thing with slightly lower doses. And this is where I kind of went wrong.

The following day, I woke by 10 with sticky eyes and a body not in much pain but feeling lethargic. This was when I decided to drop all the meds and go back to my healthy lifestyle. There was still some aching from the accident, but I chose to just deal with it naturally.

Mind wise, I was still slightly buzzed till mid day. I didn’t take anything later and went to sleep by the usual 11:30. I went to pee by 3 am then back to bed but I stayed awake for a while. Aha...Withdrawals. Really? Waow.

Hey there, bitches. I haven’t missed you at all.

I then gathered that including the single pill I had taken at the ER the night of the accident, this would be the first night after three days of sleeping opiated. Oh well, I certainly didn’t plan to get into some kind of cycle.

I must say that at the time in bed I was not in any kind of pain or suffering or sweating or any of that serious shit. I was also not worried about my next dose. It’s just that, having been there tens, if not hundreds of times, I’m quite familiar with the procedure of withdrawals. And now being clean and healthy for a long time, I’m highly sensitive and can detect the slightest of changes when it comes to my body or health in general.

I remembered then the Naproxen which I had not even tried. I knew it’s for pain, though having doubled the doses on those two nights, I didn’t see any need for it. I got up from bed, searched for it the darkness, and took one. Then, a flashback invaded my mind...

This time of the night... waking up in the dark sweating, anxious and uneasy... reaching for anything that could ease my pain. A memory deeply engraved in my mind that I thought I had discarded somewhere up there.

Interestingly, I then remembered how I was just telling a buddy of mine who have had a similar path that people who have never experienced opiates withdrawals wouldn’t really feel them as much as we do. That is because the addicted mind usually makes the symptoms much worse by linking it to pain and suffering, which triggers more pain and suffering.

Consider someone who never got hooked on opiates took the same dosage as me, and they woke up sleepless in the middle of the night, they will not register this as a “withdrawal symptom”. They will simply perceive it as someone waking up in the middle of the night like it happens to many people. Consequently, their symptoms will pass much faster than in my case. Simply because they will not obsess about them. 

You see, the simple action of thinking about the withdrawal symptoms triggers more symptoms. And it’s all about chemicals in the brain.

More on the Placebo Effect and the remarkable power of our own minds is covered in my upcoming book.

Early 1900s

After a total of one hour of this mid-night self-talk, I fell asleep. I woke up fine on Saturday morning and it was Drum Circle time.

I took my drum, my chair, got on the bike, and headed to the beach. On the way, I felt my leg muscle hurting a little. Not from the bruises caused by the accident. Not that sweet pain caused by exercise. But a certain weakness coming from inside the muscle itself.

It is like I was conscious of the cells in there and could feel they are tired; it is like they had a mind of their own and I was in touch with this microcosm of an inner world. And the signals it kept sending me was that it was not happy.

Even though hate is a strong word that I seldom use, but I really did hate this low frequency I was left with. 

Not only that, but there was an overall fatigue and I was slightly out of breath, too. Hmm. I have been jogging a few times a week for several years now and use the bike daily, and haven’t felt this shortness of breath in a loooong time. I did miss my jogging this week but it’s definitely not enough to make me feel weaker or out of breath. Hm. Of course it’s the opiates. 

This brief “Muscular dystrophy” sensation coupled with the foggy mind felt so familiar that in those 12 minutes from home to the beach I relived almost seven years of my life.

And you were living opiated like that for years? Waow. You must have hated your reality to want to alter it in such a way. Was there so much pain that you needed to block by self-medicating with pain killers?

Some questions came to mind as I reflected upon my wild past.

Fruit Cocktail

Later on, being here in the U.S made me think of the millions who are hooked on doctor-prescribed Big Pharma pills. Whether it’s Oxys (essentially synthetic heroin), Dilaudid, Opana, Percocet, Norco, Vicodin; or Xanax, Klonopin, Valium; or even those muscle relaxants. All these substances are addictive.

In fact, the U.S, which consists of five percent of the world’s population, consumes 80 percent from the world’s prescription drugs! Actually, according to the CDC (Centers for Disease Control), in 2010 alone enough opiates were prescribed to medicate every American adult around the clock for a month. No wonder there are so many zombies around. 

So would some of those people be ‘lucky’ like myself and be able to beat their addiction? Or because it’s funded by the government and the dealers are wearing white coats they’ll just live with it... perhaps all their lives?

I further pondered the distinction between dependence on a street drug like heroin, which you have to score, and a pharmaceutical — or alcohol — which you legally (or not) buy and keep on your shelf.

Having gone both ways, I can say that having to score every day from the street is a huge risky setback. However, because of the junkie lifestyle, most people usually don’t stay in it much. They either die, go to prison, or quit.

The luxury the pharma addicts have is that they don’t get to experience any of that. They lack all the adventure and the thrill of the street-life scoring. They wake up and take a pill or two or six. The pills never change potency and, usually, there are no different types or strains. Also the dealer doesn’t cut the shit up. And certainly, there are no different highs, for tolerance is tolerance anywhere; unless of course they mix with other pills or sneak every now and then by doubling or tripling their usual dose.

Much more about addiction is covered in a full sub-chapter of my upcoming book.

Right after accident before going to the E.R

Back to the aftermath of those few days. The following night I got myself ready by taking one Naproxen and a muscle relaxant right before bed. Again at 3, I woke up to pee and, hm... I stayed up for maybe 15 minutes before dosing off again.

Having only been the second night I spend un-opiated, this made sense. With lower doses, the physical cycle of the withdrawals stays around four nights — the second night being the worse, then the third, then finally the fourth. You wake up the fifth morning clean and ready. Now it’s time to score again! This is how the psychological cycle makes addicts take again and again and again.

Remembering William Osler’s quote: “The person who takes medicine must recover twice, once from the disease, and once from the medicine.”

With opiates, the serious physical symptoms of the ‘medicine’ are usually gone by five days to one week. It’s the ‘disease’ that causes all the trouble, because many users don’t heal from it. They believe that it’s all about the substance. So they detox and quit the substance, which is not the hardest of things. But then they relapse again because they never reach the bottom of the issue of why there is a ‘disease’ in the first place. Without this step, there is no healing, and most probably they will keep going around in circles. Depending on the case, full recovery may sometimes take up to a year. 


The brief taste of the toxic lifestyle my friends and I were living brought back many memories I haven’t pondered in quite a while. They made me feel so grateful to be where I am today. I don’t need to hide from my reality because I’ve created one that I love. I love being conscious of each and every moment. I love waking up fresh in the morning without fuzzy thoughts and without pain in my joints like an old man. I love not needing something so obsessively. I love not having any pain to feel the need to “kill it”. And I sure love being free.

I certainly do not miss the overall tiredness, the pain in the muscles and joints, the shortness of breath, the feeling of being drained, the lack of energy, waking up in the middle of the night breakdancing in bed for hours, the white face, the occasional shivering cold down your spine, the lower back pain, the chills, the goosebumps, the hot flashes, the runny nose and eyes, the selective appetite, the constipation/diarrhea, the feeling of being barely alive and of alienation, the mood swings and depression. I don’t miss any of that. At all. Who would, really. And I could have kept going on with more horrid stuff.

So despite the possibility of being fun for one night, numbing myself may not be that much of a thrill anymore. Largely, and honestly, because of the nasty after-effects.

Fortunately, two days were more than enough of a reminder that such habit or lifestyle do not suit me anymore. Not that I still had any doubts after these years, but sometimes life seems to offer us little reminders along the way to reinforce our belief in ourselves. Looking back at my own life as I write these lines, I couldn’t help but to feel proud of myself and of the journey from where I once was to where I am today. I also couldn’t help holding a few happy tears flowing down my cheeks.

Not only is my current healthy, natural lifestyle good for me, but it also makes me happy. Because the primary purpose behind eating healthy, exercising, and living the conscious life in general is feeling good rather than looking good. Now I have found ways to get naturally high, like running, drumming and meditation. For natural highs don’t have lows. Now I vibrate at higher frequencies. And if I can do this, anyone can.


What a ride that I would never exchange for ANYTHING.


“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.”
― Lao Tzu




EDIT: (January, 2016):


After publishing this piece I received a message from a reader, Sherif, asking for help. I wrote about it here: My Correspondence With a 31-Year-Old Reader Before He Passed Away. I guess the title gives the heart-wrenching story away.




ALSO VIEW:


The LSD Experiments of the 1950s and 60s [Videos & Documentaries]

Surviving the Madness of Sakarana — Hyoscyamus muticus

Out-of-Body Experience and Ego Death on a “Heroic Dose” of Mushrooms 


My Correspondence With a 31-Year-Old Reader Before He Passed Away

Amphetamine, Methamphetamine, and Crystal Methamphetamine — A Psychonaut’s Review 

Dealing with High Awareness and Empathic Accuracy
 
Funny Drug-Related Stories


Funny Drug-Related Stories 2
 
The Couple Who Couldn’t Handle My Honesty

Placebo Effect & The LSD Prank

Animals Getting High: Weird Nature ― Peculiar Potions [Documentary]
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