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July 26, 2004
Oh, make it all a nightmare!
The reformists are about to make their exits, irrevocably, and Khatami with them, and the rest of us did, for all intents and purposes, NOTHING

October 20, 2003
The end of constructive engagement
... and the challenges of the Iranian democracy movement

September 23, 2003
What's wrong?
You'd think there would be a solid opposition against the IRI by now. But no...

September 16, 2003
Look, we're just as poor
A brilliant solution to America-bashing!

Mayt 16, 2003
Dealing with devils
Will Washington make a deal with the IRI? It shouldn't.
Massud Alemi

Mayt 3, 2003
The camel never forgets
Bush should press IRI for democratic reforms

December 4, 2001
Giving away faithlessness
... by putting forth grand questions about religion

May 7, 2001
Shit Has Been Kicked Out of Me to Grow Up
I was born on the very same day Prime Minister Mossadegh was toppled by certain foreign entities: August 19, 1953. But before I get to the circumstances surrounding my birth I must make a confession. I am, really, quite very unsure of what my parents thought they were doing when they were conspiring to beget me. Whatever it may have been, the resulting seed that became yours truly was conceived in an air of suspicion and doubt.

November 7, 2000
Mosquito wings
Standing a head and shoulder above his peers at six four, with a head full of wavy pitch-black hair, combed upwards and away from his face, he was the sensation of the railroad organization. Hopeful secretaries and other female employees of no particular repute flocked to his office building on phony premises just to take a peep at the dashing young man.

March 21, 2000
The Herbalist
Hakim Akhtar was known for his dexterity among his patients. His practice was based on treatment of small afflictions and minor lacerations, nothing life-threatening or remotely critical, and all his prescriptions had proven effective at one time or another... the crowning achievement of his life was his treatment of gonorrhea and syphilis.

September 6, 1999
I was once an Iranian
My Iranianness is relevant to me as far as it helps me to get a grasp of what it means to be American. My vision of who I am is formed by examining the idea that I was once an Iranian, and the notion that I will never be an Iranian again, that I will not be buried in the country of my ancestors.

April 16, 1999
"As the evening wore on, I had the feeling the broad was alerted to something. Despite not being able to see my ghoul, she started to evade me, as if I were some kind of a weirdo. My considerable experience of such ventures has made me super-sensitive to the unspoken politics of dissing. However, her being there that late in the night, and her flirtatious tone with the barkeep had conveyed a certain availability to me, which made it impossible to even think about not having her, let alone convincing myself to go home alone."

November 11, 1998
Zarry's Wedding
"It all began when she was in the twelfth grade, you see," Batul Khanoum said, while fanning the embers. "Their next door neighbor, Bijan, fell in love with her, you know. It may have started even before that. Perhaps they had had something going for some time already. Who knows? Anyway, he used to send her love-letters."

May 14, 1998
In front of the Embassy
Mike is American. We met at an anti-Shah demonstration in Washington DC, where it took me by surprise to hear him speak Farsi. We soon became roommates, renting an apartment in Falls Church, Virginia. Like all couples, we have our share of incompatibilities. For one thing, he is a public person, where I am more private. He doesn't understand why I don't want him to be open about our relationship; I don't understand his constant need for approval.

February 1997
Reflections about my hero
My Hero died saving the people of a small village: men, women and small children. He gave his life, so that they could live on. Easier said than done, you might say. Yet, there are lingering questions in my mind, about the way my Hero laid down his life for others, haunting me on sleepless nights.

December 1996
Arash of the swift arrow
Calm Caspian Sea glimmering under a full moon. The desert baking in the sun. The proud Alborz chain with its snow-covered summit. Dense, green forests of Gilan. Some snow, sheep in the prairie, camels toughing out a bitter sandstorm.

September 1996
Who are we and what do we speak?
We speak Persian. We speak Iranian. We speak Farsi. I once saw it somewhere written that we speak Irani.

July 1996
Take flight
I should know a thing or two about "rootlessness" for I've been in the business of migration for some time. You see, I'm an emigrant from Iran and a newcomer in the States. I have a theory that our nostalgia about Iran is a nostalgia for a place which no longer exists.

Massud Alemi is an Information Technology Specialist interested in the uses of IT to help underprivileged communities overcome the side-effects of globalization. He works for a non-profit organization, serving the educational needs of disadvantaged youth in Washington, DC area. Writing is his way to decompress, on his time off from the world of zeros and ones. Top

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