You are the champion!

You are going to fight til the end and you are going to win this game.
You are the one who is playing fair in this unfair game.
You are the dawn in this dark night.
Here is, to your name that is translated hope.

----
Omid has been kept in prison for more than forty months now.

Proposition 4

True beauty results from that repose which the mind feels when the eye, the intellect, and the affections are satisfied from the absence of any want.

The Grammar of Ornaments_Owen Jones

Another of Carlin's

Lily Tomlin once said, “I worry about being a success in a mediocre world.”

Last Words_George Carlin

یاد ایام...

دو روز پشت سر هم یه جفت جوراب پوشیدم، بعد آمدم کفشامو عوض کنم بوی سگ مرده می‌داد. بعد یاد ایران و خوابگاه و ... افتادم، کلی خاطره زنده شد. بعد یاد بوی مسجدا هم افتادم که ترکیبی‌ست یگانه از بوی پا و گلاب.

Tehran, an urban tragedy.

In a world of chaos and economic austerity, the idea of believing in someone that finally comes out of the blue and helps “us” is very compelling. In the presence of this huge gap between classes, an underdog will use his knife to make some money.

 In a country that the police run over innocent citizens, the people, of course, would not stop a public fight or robbery, and would just apathetically pass by.

In a city that freedom, cultural events, newspapers, books, cinema, theater, internet, are suppressed by the government, the greatest entertainment remaining would be to watch the hanging of some unfortunate twenty-something-year-old thief..

In a neighborhood that stops functioning because of some religious reason, it makes sense to accuse those who pick-pocket to committing a crime against “God.”

It all makes sense. Don't act like there is something extraordinary happening. The truth is that there is no ultimate rescuer; we are all in this compost heap, decaying together*. What we need are rebels. We need cultural, economical, educational rebels, and we have none. What we are, are a bunch of apathetic tormentors. Oh, and don’t get me confused; I’m one of them.

Footnotes:

----------------------------------

* [From fight club:] “You are not special. You're not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We're all part of the same compost heap. We're all singing, all dancing crap of the world.” 

 ** The "every-day" news.

Just not to forget

Petrichor.

Chopin

Almost one of the first things that stroke me about death was this picture of Frederic Chopin's death mask in his wikipeida page, which is an actual cast of his face I think. There is nothing artistically special about this picture or statue for all that matters, but there is something in it that stayed with me for a long time. Such a music that is so alive today created by one great man who is long deceased. I draw this picture of his mask from memory, listening to Nocturne 20.

  

-

حالی‌ست حال توسعه که هیچش کناره نیست

اگر ایران در حال توسعه یه* پس کی این حال توسعه تموم می‌شه؟ خسته شدیم ازین همه توسعه. کی مثلا میان می‌گن از امروز این حال از اون حالا نیست، حالش نیست، کونا رو بدیم هوا، ویگن گوش بدیم؟ کی؟

---------------

* از مشهد

My Rant

Hormones are bunch of assholes!
Have you ever thought about that most of your behaviors, or some, are controlled by bunch of chemicals?
I mean, if you are a male and reading this you know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm sure you can recall hundreds of times that you can't concentrate on your work because some asshole hormone decided to kick in your blood from your balls. Or you are generally sad and thinking about the most stupid question of history that what is the purpose of life, simply because some lazy chemicals don't want to be in your body and made you wondered and depressed.
It is almost impossible to always stay on the rational side, so sometimes ask yourself that maybe to some degree you are avatars of these chemicals at the moment.

Schrödinger's Email

A part of an email that I received today.

"You receive this E-mail because your contract is ready. If you do not receive, your contract is not ready yet."

so the sender thinks you're gonna receive this email and read it, if you're not receiving this email.

today is our future.

Instead of chasing some elusive happiness, perhaps it's better to prepare pleasant memories for the future!

from:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/We_All_Loved_Each_Other_So_Much

آفتابی که در شب تابید

ما از تو به غیر از تو نداریم تمنا

یک لحظه مباش غافل از ما

 سعدی/عطار

Sur le fil

Pain is that untold story of me, and yet I just mentioned it and it's not untold anymore.
It is merely a story now, which you just read it.




--------
Listen here!

پیرتر که می‌شوی

من اول: در زندگی دردهایی هست که مثل
من دوم: خفه شو بابا زر نزن
من سوم: بخواب بابا سیکتیر

نامه‌های امروز

لباس مرتب تنش بود
روزنامه‌ها رو تا می‌کردو تو هوا می‌چرخوند و با انگشتش می‌گرفتش و خودش یه چرخ می‌زد
بعد روزنامه‌هه رو می‌ذاش رو بقیه روزنامه‌های تو دستش و لبش رو یه کم می‌داد جلوتر از بقیه
و یه جوری می‌اومد جلوت تعارفش می‌کرد که انگار داره بهترین مشروب فرانسه رو سرو می‌کنه
همین الان همین پایین بود
یه روز خواستید روزنامه بفروشید اینطوری بفروشید.

روزگاری‌ست که ما را نگران می‌داری

در نهایت همان که می‌ماند
همان نگاهت است که می‌خواند
همان یکی که داشت آواز سر می‌داد و رد می‌شد
حواس نگاهت به آوازش بود و ندید که چه بسیار ما که نگه داشتیمو گوش سپرده‌ایم به آواز نگاهت

آری شود ولی، به خون جگر شود

با کش به بعضی چیزها وصلم
هر چه بیشتر سعی کنم که دورتر برم ازش با سرعت بیشتری به وسطش پرتاب می‌شم

Tomorrow

Every day is a new day. It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.
The Old Man and the Sea_Ernest Hemingway

شاعرانگی روده‌ای

گاهی همون جزییات احمقانه‌اس که به خیال خود فراموش کرده‌ای خرت رو می‌گیرن
حالا می‌خواد نقش گلی روی ناخن باشه یا ژاکت زردی بر تن
که پس کی ما فراموش می‌کنیم
که عاقل می‌شوی ناگهان و می‌گویی این تو خودی که نمی‌خواهی بفراموشی
که بگیریم بکپیم بابا
توی دل به خود عاقل می‌گوییم سیک‌تیر بابا، از ته دل هم می‌گوییم
آنقدر از ته که حالمان جا می‌آید، مثل آروغ‌های سعید که روح را جلا می‌دهد
که ملال
که آخر کی تا حالا یک ترم تمام و شاید بیشتر شلوار بنفش می‌پوشه؟
که ما را چه می‌شود؟
که ملال

خ. کرمانی

خواجو ز پا در آمد و هیچش به دست نیست
جز دامن امید که محکم گرفته است

خواجو کرمانی