Arts and Literature

I Ran Into Myself in the Street and Asked

I performed a creative piece at the gathering of the Society for Human Rights in Iran, Southern California, on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of the 1988 Political Prisoner's Massacre in Iran. My piece was intended to promote the participation of Iranian youth, as well as give those unfamiliar with the atrocities in Iran an idea of what we are remembering. The event was held at UCLA and was not affiliated with any political organizations, and simply wished to remember the thousands of innocent people who were tortured and executed in the 1980s by the Islamic Republic of Iran's regime and promote the need for Human Rights organizations around the world to make sure that such travesty never occurs again. >>>

Saturday Night Hooka

When you called you sounded tired
I was too from the night before
And although we both felt an obligation
To the twilight of our twenties to do something...
Something significant, on this Saturday night
We decided against it and instead to smoke a hooka
When we sat down at the cafe you complained of work
That the nurses had done this or that
Of a patient who had been especially sick >>>

An American Friend

I could have traveled all over, I could have read every book and heard every song, I could have made it my object of study, and none of it would have helped me love the America I wanted to love as much as one good American friend. I already wanted to know what everything was, so just to hear Jack say that he was hungry, I would think, 'There it is - America, contained in one American man's hunger.' All of a sudden, the America that was somebody's home came through to me through him. There was a love that an outsider had for America and there was a love that an insider had for it. I knew the first one through and through, because of watching and listening, and making the America that I wanted to love on my own.>>>

The Newlyweds (4)

Dear Brother, our telephone conversation a few days ago was so brief and repeatedly interrupted by this or that relative that I am not even sure I got to wish you a happy new year in the midst of all the chaos. Obviously, speaking to you long distance in front of an army of relatives is not exactly the best scenario for a meaningful conversation. That is why I relish these late hours in the night when I have the peace and quiet to gather my thoughts and write to you from my heart. Nightime has always been a respite for me from the cacophony of daily life. The same holds true of my new home. Or rather, the home that belongs to Nassim’s parents and where they have generously let us live>>>

Casino Capitalism

With the fall of communism
Those who are motivated by self-interest
Won the day and raised their flag
Now the fortunate need no apology
To dominate the unfortunate
So we live under the tyranny of consumers
Of rational misers and social climbers
Anybody can be a millionaire >>>

راه دور و درازی در پیش داریم

راستش وقتی فکرش را می کنم بین ایرانیان، کسانی که حتی توان نوشتن یک صفحه بدون غلط را ندارند با چه تحقیری از نویسندگان پرفروش و محبوب مردم، نویسندگانی مانند محمد حجازی یا ر. اعتمادی و فتانه سید جوادی و فهیمه رحیمی حرف می زنند در حالی که خودشان از فرط تنبلی، حتی عرضه پاکنویس کردن یک کتاب این نویسندگان را ندارند، وقتی می بینم کسی که از همان جمله ی اولش غلط املایی و دستوری دارد و بلد نیست قلم به دست بگیرد تا لاف های غربت خود را به روی کاغذ بیاورد و برای هر کاری با انواع شگردها و حقه ها مدام از این و آن کمک می خواهد با چه حس نفرت و تحقیری نسبت به انواع ادبیات و تولیدات نویسندگان و هنرمندان محبوب دوران خود که حافظه ی جامعه را تشکیل می دهند حرف می زند، از کوته فکری ایرانیان چه در خارج از کشور و چه در داخل کشور شرمنده می شوم >>>

AriaNaz

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The Newlyweds (3)

Khaleh Joon! Before anything else, I want you to know that I am well, and very sorry to have remained silent for so long after my departure from Iran. Before I give you my news, I would like to ask you to please not communicate anything I tell you in this or other letters to Papa Joon or Mahrokh Khanoom. Not that I would expect you to. You have always been a precious and loyal confidant to me. Indeed, you have been the closest thing to what I can call a real mother ever since I was a child. Khaleh joon, now again, you are the only I can confide my real thoughts to as a newly married woman in a strange land. How I wish I could elate you with the typical joys and happy anecdotes that must be the norm for most newlyweds! Instead, I am filled with anxiety and fear for my marriage and my new life here>>>

The Model

Sitting at back of the great hall
I see heads bob down and up
like buoys in rough sea
not recognizing her face
in that amorphous makeup.
After a while, the novelty of height
of colors, or black
fades into the crowd >>>

The Newlyweds (2)

Hi Dear Brother, First, I apologize for this tardy response to your letter. What with the wedding, honeymoon trip and our return to Toronto, getting acquainted with my new life, I have not really had the time to digest all of it myself, let alone write you an account of it. The wedding can best be described as a circus. The successive faces of various amoos, khalehs, dokhtar-dayees, friends, business associates etc. whirled around me like we were all on some sort of a giant merry go round, until they all started blending and blurring together. As the wedding guests lunged towards me, with their wide, grimacing mouths and teeth as sharp as their designer suits, I could not tell whether they were going to kiss me or bite me >>>

قصیده ای برای رزهای صورتی

... امروز می خوام یه قصیده بریزم
به پای این رزهای رنگ پریده
که فقط یه تقلیدن
این خوشگلای بی
                       عطر و بو
که امروز از یه مرد سفید
با دهنی خشک شده خریدم؛
مردی حتی لاغرتر از ساقه ی پرخون این گلها
که خودشونو بین برگهای مرده پیچیدن

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Iran Deposes Another King

Once again, the cowardice and ignorance of modern American journalism allowed the wrong idea to seem like a fantastic solution. Well, all I can say is, that I'm just glad I ate before I sat down to watch last week's CNN Larry King interview with Iran's pseudo President Ahmadinejad, or as I now call him A@*H&%$#. Hours before the interview, the "submit your questions" page of CNN that was sent around the internet for Iranians to fill in, was most surely filled in, with great submissions that King could have chosen any one of to really put the non-leader of Iran on the spot with, and grind the logic-failure of Iran's great Islamic proposition with. Instead though, King showed why he is the epitome of the lackluster, ignorant, lazy, and "feed the beast your children", of American journalism>>>

The Falling Stream

So we decided to kill ourselves at the same time. “Hanging,” she said. I shook my head. “Too painful,” I said. “I like pills.” “No,” she said. “It’s typical coward’s kind of death. We want something spectacular.” Then we talked for hours about different ways of dying. Throwing ourselves under a train or a truck. Eating arsenic or burning ourselves. The final solution was supposed to be so original that nobody had never died from it. So unforgettable that everyone was going to remember how hopelessly we felt when we were alive. “We can’t live without hope,” Mitra said. “Suicide is our last hope,” I said. >>>

Billie Holiday

Oh Billie, I dance with you
Holding your waist with my hand
I circle around on tiptoe
Your playful rhythm leaks into my veins
And the salt of your skin sinks into my blood
The sea is far but I hear its sound
The sea is big but fits in my body
Let us cast off our shoes >>>