POETRY

Mistress
by Farhad Zaltash
19-Jul-2008 (one comment)
I have become jobless, no longer
Distracted by the mundane chores,
“Stillness” has become a mistress
But I am too scared to indulge –
Had never seen the majesty of
Ocean under the skylight of stars. >>>

BASE

A Couple of Days in San Diego

The entire area feels like a military camp. Or maybe like an occupied territory

by QRStuve
17-Jul-2008 (39 comments)
Maybe statistics would prove me wrong, but the economy feels like a military economy. The major things you see being manufactured and built are border walls and military facilities. You see battleships and carriers in the bay, bases and naval air stations along the freeways, soldiers in camouflage sitting in the backs of trucks or on gates in fences at freeway exits in the countryside with nothing around, tattoo parlors and strip joints on the main streets of National City, Imperial Beach, Chula Vista, the immense retired officers community of Coronado, jeeps and Humvees and SUVs on the highways, black with tinted windows, driven by young men with buzz cuts>>>

QUESTIONS

Hopes & concerns

Several questions and concerns must be put to rest for PAAIA to live up to its full potential

by Soudabeh Bashirrad
17-Jul-2008 (19 comments)
The founding of PAAIA, the Public Affairs Alliance of Iranian-Americans, is in many ways a milestone for the Iranian-American community. Seldom have Iranian-Americans of such diverse backgrounds come together and invested in an organization. For that alone, the organization should be applauded. Yet, in many ways, PAAIA has also been a major disappointment. Its less than open nature, its unwillingness to clarify its positions and reluctance to shed light on its decision making processes have left many potential Iranian-American supporters like myself skeptical. >>>

POETRY

Soul to Soul
by Cameron A. Batmanghlich
17-Jul-2008 (4 comments)
Surrounded by two pillars of ivory
The gate is opening up
The path to her being is becoming visible
Her soul is calling
A crescent as bent as the moon
Occupies my vision form above
A crescent as white as the ivory pillars gently hugging my ears >>>

DIASPORA

Forgetting monsters

Are virtual monsters comparable to real ones I read about in the news or to the real war my generation endured?

by Azarin Sadegh
17-Jul-2008 (5 comments)
I forget my own exile that isn’t an exile, because I can return if I want to, and yet, I know I will never want to go back? Perhaps I am entitled to the pity I sometimes feel for myself, to the self-righteousness, to the sweet joy I taste in the bitterness of the news, to this feeling of being at the top, a place my father and grandfather never reached. But is it really true? How would I know whether they felt this enjoyment or not? Who am I to declare so baldly that they never stood at this same place where I am standing?>>>

SANCTIONS

Where it hurts

Oil embargo can render the IRI more vulnerable

by Jahanshah Rashidian
16-Jul-2008 (59 comments)
The fact is that Mullahs continue to ignore sanctions with little consequence for the regime even though Iran's economy is stagnating. What is the alternative? Will international sanctions produce the desired effect? Is there any chance to solve the dilemma with the IRI? Can the group of six results in a breakthrough? Is a military intervention a right solution? The answer to all of them remains negative. As long as the UN does not directly punish the plague of IRI, not people who already suffer from this totalitarian regime, a real solution is not available. The UN can consider various sanctions on the IRI: >>>

LEADERSHIP

Art of dealing with people

If you were offered the grand task of running Iran, what would you do?

by amirkabear4u
16-Jul-2008 (9 comments)
It is a fact that we Iranians always talk about politics in any public or private occasion. It is partly due to not having a voice in running our own affairs. I believe in democracy and as a researcher like to involve everyone to join in trying to run our own country. Remember big projects always start from drawing board and this is it. Let’s assume, for some reasons, the situation in Iran completely changed and mullahs decided to pack their bags and run (no government lasts forever)... I created a list of your chosen agenda in alphabetical order. Need to remember these are important issues to consider at least for a short while at the beginning:>>>

STORY

شنلی در مه

مجسمه ای در موزه لس انجلس

by Sheida Mohammadi
16-Jul-2008
بچه که بودم در ذهنم کمترین تردیدی نداشتم که آن چیزی که آن وقت ها " چیز واقعی" می نامیدمش، بعدها وقتی بزرگ شدم، وقتی از دست مدرسه و رویا کُشی پر هیاهو آنجا نجات پیدا کردم، وقتی آرزوهایم را عملی کردم،‌(‌رفتن به دانشگاه، نقاش خوب شدن، عاشق شدن، شاعر شدن، سفر کردن...) خواهد آمد. امروز در سی و سه سالگی می بینم که " آن چیز واقعی" برای همیشه غیر قابل دسترس خواهد ماند. از خواب که پریدم حال عجیبی داشتم. چیزی بین رویا و واقعیت. تشخیص آنکه کدام یک واقعیت دارد سخت بود. در رویا همه جیز ساده است. یک عالمه کلمه به ذهنم هجوم می آورند که مثل شیطانک هایی رقصان در سرم می رقصند و می خواهند بیایند اینجا اما به محض اینکه پا در ثانیه می گذارم همگی مثل مهِ بلندیهای جاده کارپنتریا در سراشیبی آن طرف جاده و آفتاب محو می شوند.>>>

BAHAIS

حدیث هول قیامت

تصاویری از روز و روزگار بهائی ها در سرزمین مسلمین

by FaribaMoghadam
15-Jul-2008 (34 comments)
تمام محله را به نام باغش می شناسند، محله باغ گل. عطر گلهای نرگس و یاس و محمدی ، تمام محله را در طول سال پرمی کند. این باغ همیشه ودر تمام سال گل دارد. در وسط باغ جوی آبی روان است و درختهایی که انگار سرسبزی در دل آنها جاودانه خانه کرده است. باغبانی که به نقد جوانی زنده گی باغ را ضمانت کرده و رشته های موی سپید را به نصیب برده است، نگهدار دائمی این باغ است. ظهر بعد از نماز جمعه، در محله باغ گل – شیشه های خلوت مردم با کلوخ و سنگ پاره های الله اکبرخرد و خاکشیر می شود. اهالی محل، برخی بهت زده ، تعدادی از سر تفنن ، برخی از سر تعصب ، در کوتاه زمانی از خانه هایشان بیرون می آیند. جماعتی پر از جوش و خروش، الله اکبر و مرگ بر بابی می گویند و به طرف باغ می روند.>>>

DUMAS

T’was the Fight Before Christmas

Excerpt from LAUGHNG WITHOUT AN ACCENT

by Firoozeh Dumas
15-Jul-2008 (15 comments)
The second year we were married, Francois decided to invite my parents for Christmas. “I want them to experience a French Christmas meal,” he said, displaying the enthusiasm he reserves for elaborate menus. My parents were more than happy. My father called the next day to give us their flight information. “We arrive at noon on Dec. 25,” he said, “at Oakland Airport.” “That’s the wrong airport!” I said. “The airport near you guys was too expensive,” he explained. “They’re arriving when?!? Francois asked, rather incredulously. “And why are they arriving at the wrong airport? Tell them to change their flight.“ >>>

CHILDHOOD

From Misery Alley to Missouri Valley

The only things that still connect me to that house are the memories

by varjavand
15-Jul-2008 (10 comments)
The nameless alley in which our house was located was long and narrow. It was not too kids friendly because it was not suitable for any kind of fun and play. People who lived in our alley were all poor farmers with the exception of one family whose house was the very first one to your left when you enter the alley. The man of the house was a member of the clergy. For this reason we called him agha sar chooche-e as if there was no other agha in our alley. I remember when he came out of his house all the women who happen to be sitting and gossiping at the front of a house double checked their chador and made sure that they are covered properly. The tall and long muddy walls enclosed our alley on both sides.>>>

CARE

Killing Harriet

A tale of two cities

by Mazloom
15-Jul-2008 (7 comments)
Fortunately, I had a brother in the U.S. who helped me get back on my feet again. He was living in the second floor of a house belonging to a lonely old lady by the name of Harriet Hass. She was in her eighties who had already begun to lose her mental faculty. Her house was in an affluent neighborhood and she was one of the oldest residences there. The house was on a half an acre lot that she had not maintained for many years due to her age. To keep my mind occupied; I get up very early every morning and worked all day cleaning up her property, repairing and maintaining whatever I could. Soon the garbage was all gone, trees were trimmed, and the grass began to grow again. >>>

POETRY

Death
by jamh
15-Jul-2008
No, I don't want you to trot
with your polite confidence
back and forth
in my nightmare.
Saddle, gun and spur
and the tilted hat, black
as the blood you spilled,
through the dead calm >>>

WAR

Zinn in Jail

A short story about scuffle between famed peace activist and reactionary media

by Kaveh Afrasiabi
14-Jul-2008 (3 comments)
I first learned of Howard Zinn’s arrest by noticing his photo in Boston Globe’s front page, next to the headline: famed historian, activist jailed for punching a man -- and knowing Howard’s life-time credential as a non-violent civil rights leader, I was naturally curious, to say the least, actually down right skeptical, and then, when I read the news story and discovered that the “victim” was a "distinguished" member of right-wing Fox TV, I allowed my suspicion a couple of notches down yet sufficiently in gear to warrant a healthy doubt about the veracity of the story – that Zinn had “attacked” him after a heated, accidental, exchange over wars in the Middle East. >>>

LIFE

I Cannot Forgive

I believe that pledge for justice differs from vengeance for bloodshed

by Majid Naficy
14-Jul-2008 (16 comments)
No! I cannot forgive you. I was her husband and comrade, and now as an heir, I cannot shrug off this murder. Ask her to forgive you herself. Go to Infidel Cemetery and find her unmarked tomb by pacing eight steps from the gate and sixteen steps against the wall; call out her name; say that you regret killing her, and beg for her pardon. Perhaps after twenty-one years she will stand up again, rub her heavy eyelids, and look at you. You will notice the bullet wound in her chest, and remember that cold day in January, when the prisoners were brought forward, blindfolded. They were fifty-two individuals: two women and fifty men.>>>
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