How I feel about my Boss: Suheil abu Fadil is a lumpy, cantankerous man with a boyish waddle and stumpy legs. He slips a million secret chews to his dumb, thin pursed lips; forever locked in the silly slump of a stern frown. His sloppy Syrian Arabic is slurred and perpetually ebbing frantically back into his mouth in salivating slurps; soaked with slobbery 'Shayif shlown's (Arabic's "yaadamean?") When he smiles, his crooked teeth are exposed by his skin-flap curtain upper lips, crawling nefariously towards his crusty ears. His dusty eyes only match in their dull tone, like an emerald and a sapphire caked with dust and chucked unceremoniously into the bottom of two empty fisherman's seafood gut-buckets.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
About Me
- Name: Husam Zakharia
- Location: Gaza, Palestinian Territories
I’m still throwing stones and prose they can’t douse Don’t warn me again: they’ve bulldozed my glass house
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Previous Posts
- I can’t get off this Legendary Roots Crew tip, and...
- How I feel about my Boss: Suheil abu Fadil is a lu...
- I have a laugh like a well-fed pelican. I have ...
- If there is a god, he might exist in the micro-all...
- so sometimes I like listening to piano jazz, and c...
- I haven’t written in a while. The serrated avocado...
- Unsung radicalism exists in the fractures of the a...
- my prose lines hit hard like clotheslines
- Hyperbolic Olive ‘Ali smokin’ trees ...
- I wish I had some watermelon: a trickling black de...
