Category: Reflections

September 2, 2023: Why do these lousy muses decide to visit when I’m hungover?

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

Clusters of unrelated thoughts, a brain fog, and a headache.
I crawled out of bed after a long night of drinking with Dionysus.
My mouth was as dry as forgotten laundry in the sun.
But instead of looking for water, I looked for a pen.
Why do these lousy muses decide to visit when I’m hungover?

Yesterday – what happened yesterday?
My neck is sore from all the head-banging.
It was a lot of fun.

Today – how can I have a normal day?
I woke up dead, but I feel so alive.
I want to do things.

First, water.
Then I’m ready to create.

July 22, 2023: Tomorrow, I’ll be in Athens

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

Cats chilling
in the shade of an avocado tree.
Birds chirping.

A hue of yellow everywhere the sun touches.
A breeze like the hot air that comes out of generators.

I’m in my study
trying to write on a Saturday that should have been
a Sunday.

Hungover.

Last night – what was I doing last night?
It was my friend’s birthday, and I was partying like
I was still in my twenties.

The beers.
The shots.

Heavy Metal songs.  

My neck is sore from all the headbanging.

The smell of smoke and debauchery lingers on
last night’s pair of jeans.

I message my friend to make sure he reached home safely last night,
to make sure he’s still alive.
He’s good. “It was fun.”

I’m on painkillers now, having coffee,
thinking of my upcoming trip and the things I need to do
before heading to the airport tomorrow.

I still need to pack.

Tomorrow, I’ll be in Athens.
Can’t wait.
I need a break from Beirut.

May 15, 2023: I Saw My Father in My Dream Last Night

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

I saw my father in my dream last night.

His presence, his face.
The warm feeling of having a father
again,
of having roots.

I don’t remember the dream,
but I do know that I miss the man.
I was happy to see him.

Hands that knew
how to build a fire,
how to oil and clean a rifle,
how to use a hammer,
and how to make the guitar sing.

I listened to some of his old songs this morning,
and I cried.

It’s been more than 5 years now,
and I still miss the man,
my father.

A hard-working man,
a simple man,
a man whose son I’m proud to be.