Call it off



I won't regret saying this
This thing
That I'm saying
Is it better than
Keeping my mouth shut
That goes without saying
Call, break it off
Call, break my own heart
Maybe I would have been
Something you'd be good at
Maybe you would have been
Something I'd be good at
But now we'll never know
I won't be sad
But in case
I'll go there
Everyday,
To make myself feel bad
There's a chance
I'll start to wonder
If this was the thing to do
I won't be out long
But I still think it better if
You take your time
Coming over here
I think that's for the best
Call, break it off
Call, break my own heart
Maybe I would have been
Something you'd be good at
Maybe you would have been
Something I'd be good at
But now
We'll never know
I won't be sad
But in case
I'll go there
Everyday,
To make myself feel bad
There's a chance
I'll start to wonder
If this was the thing to do
I'll start to wonder
If this was the thing to do

Lars Von Trier is a sick sick MF! No more respect for him. Dogville and Breaking the waves were accidents. I regret watching Antichrist.

Ani DiFranco rocks!

Ani was fantastic last night in Vancouver.

Fool




Apartment in New York, London and Paris
Where will we rest, we’re all living on top of it
It’s all that we have the USA is our daily bread
And no one is willing to share it

Why can’t we see our fortunancy
Living as legends have lived.
Bane and dismannered
We coax all the time
Knowing that nothing is left when we die

Come along Fool
A direct hit of the senses you are disconnected
It’s not that it’s bad…it’s not that it’s death
It’s just that it is on the tip of your tongue, and you're so silent

Wanting to live and laugh all the time
Sitting alone with you tea and your crime
Children with kids, and people with parents
Anywhich way there’s no past and no presence
When the day comes and all of them bums
Will reveal enchanting persons
Come along...

When it's a rut and baby's no luck
Half of it's misunderstanding love
The war we have won we're winning again
Within ourselves and within our friends
Come along...

Remark the mark for future

This dream "goes bang bang in my head" and turns into a nightmare, night and day, day and night. I think to myself how come I feel dizzy all the time and not just the moment I get off the bed and land on the ground. On the same lousy shaky ground that moves no matter what I do or how I feel. I should know better it's not the ground that is being shaky, that, it's all in my head, in my head. The dreams and the hope somehow, have turned into disappointment and gloominess.

I light a cigarette. I cup my chin and stare at the burning cigarette close-up and gently blow into the crimson tobacco to watch it burn faster. I refuse to shake the ash and I suffer under the stress of the ash falling on the rug any moment; I still refuse and refuse and refuse till it burns to the nonburnable point and it gets heavy, unbearably heavy, the ash. It falls on the rug and leaves a mark on its brightness. That's when I regret it all and think to myself: I could have seen this coming and I could have prevented it.

Cover your ears and eyes! Please?

I can't even write in here anymore. A chest-full scream is stuck in me.

High and Dry but not dry enough yet.

I've poisoned you all, every single one of you, with my poems, with my favorite songs and my thoughts. Then I made you "to live up the image" I fabricated of myself. You all fell in the trap, you were drugged. You felt helpless, you had no choice but to fall for this image of me. And then one day you woke up and couldn't take it anymore. You volunteered to register for a rehab, the Reality rehab center. After few days, weeks or even months going dry and staying sober, you felt liberated from this hallucination and went your way. You all left me high and dry.

Afterwards, once in a while when we'd pass by, we all put on this unreal smile and pretend nothing ever happened.

I wonder when I would sober up? When would I check in the Reality rehab center?

Get me out of this head!

I am sitting in a restaurant in Berlin. People are coming and going. The patio is quite pleasant and peaceful. A mild half cloudy half sunny day with a nice breeze. The only annoying thing is the presence of these bees. They are everywhere in this town and yet no honey in their sack.

Across from my table an old man and a man in his mid 40s are sitting together. They seem to be father and son. May be they have a Sunday ritual of getting together in a restaurant. When the son was approached by the waitress he declined the menu and ordered for both of them in German. A minute later two nice Konig Ludwig Blonde with a good inch of foam sitting on top was served on their table. They exchanged words here and there, otherwise their gaze traveled to far places. May be the father lives in an old tiny sad flat by himself. May be his daughter-in-law doesn't like him, that's why they have to meet in a restaurant.

I don't know why all of a sudden my mother's face appeared in front of my eyes. I am walking around shouting and moving my hands in the air as if I am performing a dramatic part in a play, sobbing: "This is the nature of fucking life...to be born alone and to die alone. In between to feel lonely."

"But you have us, your family, me. Why such strong emotions and sorrow, why feel lonely?" She says. She in the verge of bursting into tears, she walks away and hides in the bedroom. She always hid her tears from me. And then she disappears.

There it was. My nightmare in a day light with wide open eyes. How did I get here?

My 300+ days of her

I am definitely over her. Moved on. No hard feelings at all, but I can't understand how everything happened so fast, so out of the natural cosmic order of "boy-meets-girl". I didn't get the chance to make my typical mistakes to be yelled at or to be frowned upon. I didn't get the chance to know if I was slightly wanted, ever, at all, loved? Not even close. My hands, my arms, never got the chance to be surprised by her hand when she would reach out, out of a sudden loneliness or a simple crave for me; you know, one of those rare moments that you never expect them, but when they happen, they make you feel good.

500 Summer Days triggered all this. I felt like Tom through out the film. Like he said I didn't care about the boy friend label, or being defined in the relationship; I was just looking for consistency of a sort.

It was a strange journey but a totally good one. Thank you for the ride. :*

I have no idea how it ends...

The movie About Elly, already admired, praised and well awarded in some major festivals and in so many reviews. It has been a success in Iranian box-office under the worse screening circumstances. All of the above is a good indication that the story should have been revealed by now, but it hasn't. As if there has been a collective agreement on not giving away the story by those who have already seen the movie. As far as I've read in the reviews, this film fits in suspense genre. This is how I interpret the post-viewing collective silence of spectators:

- There is a message in the credits by the director such as "Please do not reveal the story after watching and thank you for watching" or
- It is part of the film viewing etiquettes to keep quiet after watching a suspense movie.

Either way, it makes the whole waiting process for my local screening more exciting and it creates suspense of its own kind.

I wish there was same type of collective silence on every single move that Iranians are going to make in their revolutionary Green Movement, knowing what the next move is going to be without revealing it to the enemy; to catch them off guard and hit them very hard. I am quite certain that they all know the ending but they don't tell us 'till the sweet ending arrives and gives us all the joy of a happy ending in a non-Hollywood way.

Hell on earth

A hell has broken lose again, on this very planet which looks so calm so quiet from outer space. "It's not easy to remain uninvolved"*. One must take a side to remain human.



* from The Quiet American by Graham Greene

I-spot

I was reading my posts in both blogs and I didn't like the person who wrote them. I don't like myself when I'm angry. Being melancholic, listening to melancholic music, dreaming constantly, fancying unattainable idealism, wanting to alter the reality and not accepting my thresholds has turned me into some creep who's unlikely going to change.

I wish there was a virtual GPS device that could measure one’s distance from their ideal spot in life that would beep or give out warnings when one is walking away from the Ideal spot, the I-spot, like the spot that I fancy for myself.

Heading to mountains

Fury should die off in the mountains where no one is around. This way no one gets hurt. I scare myself when I am furious.

A short film about death

Exterior - By the foot a high-rise - Breezy March morning

Two strangers passing by from two different directions.

First man: You know those things could kill you eh?

Second man [holding a cigarette]: Yeah and I'm not gonna quit.

First man: I guess it only takes a real man to face death like that.

Simplicity of a mind

I can't bear being marginalized in a relationship. Being hid or covered, being loved in the dark, being loved in doubt -if being loved at all- is like being wanted conditionally. We live in the West, in 21st century, but you love me as if it's dark ages and you need to hide me or hide our love. It's cruel and painful. Love is all about altering priorities. You were my priority from the very beginning, but I've never felt being anything at all in this relationship, even in last few days, I just felt I am filling some gaps in you and your life, not a bit more.


It's not smart to exhaust an avenue to figure out it's a dead-end when there is a big sign in the very beginning of the road saying loudly and clearly: "Dead-End". I think we should take a U-turn right here and look for different roads.



PS: Come on! Think about it; this is far from modernism.

Hola Ciudad del río del mono, estoy viniendo!

Here we go again, back on the ground; realizing and materializing the essence of being lost and down. What do I want to do now? Run away from here? But for running away, I will need navigations, directions, or at least a destination. Where would be a perfect destination? Darwin? Tangier, Minsk? or may be Monkey River Town in Belize for the sake of hilarity of the name?

I need to get away at least for few days.

For my joy which died unexpectedly


W. H. Auden


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.