Arts and Literature

Art for Free

what music or musicians are worth for people! And in specific; for Iranians! Are Iranians art lovers or are they art owners? In order to answer this question, let’s study the generations. The generation that has grown up with Internet and is familiar with the accessibility it brought with itself, is generally unfamiliar with the concept of paying for music. It is not only not paying attitude for music that is important but also the culture this generation brought with itself>>>

For What Good is Life

Conscience seared,
Innocence lost,
Manhood morphed,
Into the brute force,
Of a soldier ready,
And willing,
To kill,
Upon command >>>

The Hurt Locker’s Missing Disclaimer

I just saw The Hurt Locker on DVD. Movies about the psychological travails of professional killers are not exactly my cup of tea, but I have to admit that this one richly deserved the Oscars for Film Editing, Sound Mixing and Sound Effects. Its explosions jolted even my supremely blasé Maine Coon out of her slumber and favorite perch. I don’t even begrudge Katherine Bigelow and Mark Boal their Oscars for Best Director and Best Original Screenplay>>>

Sherlock Holmes’ Daughter (3)

I wanted Christie to feel like I needed her, but there was no way I would use Paul’s immaculate truck to actually move furniture. A tiny scratch could total our friendship and I would never see his wife again. I rented a U-Haul trailer, occasionally driving the truck around the block so that when Paul inspected it he couldn’t tell Christie the odometer hadn’t budged. Operating Paul’s pristine machine that week I had become overly sensitized to fine craftsmanship. Every time I saw Katie at work, I marveled at her breathtaking sense of self-design>>>

یادگار جنگل خونین

من از این صخره‌های سخت ساحل ها
که بر پیوند موج و ساحل مقصود دیوار است بیزارم
من از هر مانعی در خشم و دلگیرم
من از ساروج این بارو
من از سیمان و از زنجیر این گودال سر بسته
من از دیواره‌های این خراب آباد صاحب نام بیزارم
>>>

Hero Pizza

There was no missing the restaurant on Ventura Boulevard. The typical modern storefront was converted into a Persian Palace by attaching plywood cutouts of columns and pointy arches to the exterior. The gold and white painted attachments looked like they were salvaged from a high school production of Arabian Nights. The restaurant was named after the snow-capped dormant volcano that towers above the city of Tehran, Damavand. My mom grew up at the foot of that mountain in fear it would erupt and take her away in a flood of molten lava>>>

Sinful Urge

Neither the soothing sound of a breeze, nor the tweeting birds or the melody of rain played on the stereo system in my bedroom gave me the comfort I deserved. My mind was inescapably trapped by a grueling urge throwing my entire body into painful disarray. Once again I was captivated by an insatiable craving in the middle of the night. By hardly lifting my eyelids, I was persuaded by the heavy burden of their weight it was too early to be tomorrow; the torment was bound to linger on>>>

حجاب

چه دیوانه وار میتواند بلغزد
بر سر و پا و سینه ام،
پیراهنم،
طلسم حریر پاشیده بر عطر تنم. >>>

Sokoot

...>>>

Sherlock Holmes' Daughter (2)

At the time, however, Christie’s showing up semi-nude to my party seemed like poorly played feminine rivalry. A disappointing move for a woman of Christie’s guiles, but then again she had been caught off guard. Sitting through Paul’s daily denial sessions in my office, I gathered that his conversations with Katayoon were starting to turn personal. “She shuts me out when I ask about her dad,” Paul said. “Is it bad manners in your country to ask about family?” Paul said. “Depends on how you ask,” I said realizing too late that I should have just said “no,” and gone back to my spreadsheet>>>

روزها بلند بود و دیوارها کوتاه

مدرسه که تعطیل میشد و تابستانِ زودرس نَفَس بهار را می گرفت دیگه ول بودیم توی «لین» (کوچه) تا اول مهر و باز شدن دوباره مدرسه. روزها بلند بود و گرما کافر و مسلمون نمی شناخت! پدر و مادرها نهار را که میخوردند دراز می کشیدند توی اتاق نیمه تاریک زیر پنکه سقفی. بادبزن حصیری هم کنار دستشان بود و تنگ پلاستیکی آب یخ بالای سرشان. میخوابیدند تا کمر روز بشکند و زهر گرما گرفته شود. سکوتِ در و دیوار، دین آدم را درمیآورد! >>>

پریشان

به هر بازیت گردن نهادم
هر چه سرودی گوش دادم

هزاران خاطرت آید بیادم
تار مویی گشته از تو نمادم >>>

A Soldier's Lament

Home,
Thank God,
I am home at last.

A return to sanity,
And the security of knowing,
That I am home >>>

Sherlock Holmes’ Daughter (1)

Sherlock Holmes didn’t look the same the second time he came to my dreams. How old was I the first time he visited? Let’s piece the clues together. It was the night we saw The Hound of the Baskervilles. I was able to sit still in a theater, but my kid brother hadn’t been born yet. That means I was around six years old. There’s more. My parents were getting along, or we wouldn’t be going to the movies together. That narrows it down to a particular week in the October of that year. Yes, it was during this happy week that Holmes came to my dreams and gravely predicted a murder>>>

Kristallnacht

The present poem recounts the horrible events of that nightmare of a night in a quasi-delirious, almost hallucinatory fashion The brackets designate those moments when the observer pauses the narrative to loudly protest the painful scenes, which are taking place before the eyes.>>>

Fright

During a bumpy ride
I took the chance of
holding your hand in mine.

It was cold and white,
and only trembled
as you looked up surprised
>>>

Democracy of Fascism

There is a punisher in you
Taking pleasure from hurting others
Demeaning them
Ripping them into shreds
(If you could get away with it) >>>