Idinraha unshackled...

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May 30, 2005

Evening delight

Just another day in paradise, another manic sunday, and I do not wish that it was monday, days are the same here in the land of OZ. Sometimes i wonder that this working seven days a week might put permanent damage on me, but eh, when you start damaged, there is so far they can take you. as they say: I have seen it much bigger than this.

Well marjan called me in the afternoon, I had been sitting in the store all day, watching the walls, and TV. Amin had taken over the computer( no that was Saturday, I get my days confused uhoh), and there was no way for me to purge, only one customer showed up all day. Well normal people, usually go away on three days weekend. or spend the day outside, playing Golf, going down the beach, swimming.
Marjan said, that Julia and Amir have invited us fo0r Dinner at their boat. They bought a 40 feet Boat last year, and went to special school to learn how to navigate it. That was good news, since Julia always serves all kind of goodies, with home made red wine, with large pieces of peaches soking inside.

I went home by five o'clock, Marjan and the kids were ready, I was in such a foul mood, nobody could talk to me, Micheal, and Steven also came with us. Once b y the water, i felt much better, there is something about water that relaxes me. We were not supposed to go anywhere with the boat, just relax in the boat as it was ducked. Once in the boat I went on the deck, and layed there for a few minutes, relaxing, then Julia brought the appetizers, and the wine, I was in hog heaven after eating some, and drinking my first glass of wine. The wether was great but there was a possibility of passing showers, and thunder strom and that was the reason they had decided not to go to the sound, and just stay put.

There was great Music, mostly Jazz, and plenty of wine, they picked up Pizza for every one, and we had great dinner, I do not get the chance to eat Pizza and this was quite right by me. Kids played down under, where they have a stiing area, a TV, and some beds, and we sat and talked. After dinner Julia made Italian coffee with Samboca, and uh the taste of the coffee and the tinge of the liqoure was out of this world. Then Amir, Marjan, and the kids went for a walk to get some Ice Cream, Julia, David, and me stayed put, just relaxing and talking. By then the Black clouds and Thunder had come and the guys were caught in the rain. When they came back, Kiana was wet and a bit shaken, since she is scared of thunders. The boat was covered so we sat trough the rain and the thunder, and left by around Ten thirty. Amir, Julia and the kids were staying in the boat over night.

This morning I got up feeling reffreshed, and full of energy, It was the magic of the evening we had spent with our hosts on the water that had made feel so good. i went to the Gym, did my excersise, and came back to the store. I guess this proves to me, that I do need some R&R after all. Hopefully I get to take a few days off this swummer, spend a little bit more time on the water, and give myself a break. I hope you all have a wondefull Memorial weekend.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:12 AM | Comments (1)

May 28, 2005

Buddies

Posted by Idinraha at 04:57 PM | Comments (6)

Saturday afternoon

At the begining of these pages i told every one that we will stay away from politics, and Fereydoon posted a comment that he would not be able to do that since politics specially at these times is such a major part of our lives. Well he was right and wheather we want it or not we are talking about it and we should. We agree to disagree, and we will listen to each other, and respect each other's opinions.

Amin is sleeping by himself now, as I said before and last night again Kiana and I slept on the floor of her room, till she found sleep and I left. After ward I went to our bedroom, Marjan was awake, and we talked the way married people do. There is something very intimate about such talks, although it mostly is about your children, but the intimacy of it is so satisfying. I told Marjan how I miss Amin, and feel a desperate need in me to connect to him, maybe on a different level now, but I need more of him in my life than I am getting.

He is so different now, he is a big boy, last night before we go to Julia's house he stood infront of me, majoring himself against me, he is now a bit higher than my chin, he smiled and told me he is catching up with me, and I told him soon I would be up to his chin.
This morning I did not go t0o the Gym, I have spent every mornings at the Gym the last twenty days, and I needed some time with my boy. I found him downstairs playing with his card, I sat a bit away from him and watched him playing," what are you doing daddy", he asked, " just sitting here watching my one and only son" I said. I knew I could not crowd him and I had to let him come to me. He did in a while, we talked while sitting acro0ss each other, I asked him to go for a walk with me, he did not want to, so I told him I am there to do what ever he wanted to, and maybe not doing anything at all , just talking. We agreed on a board game of Star Wars, and played for quite a while. Kiana Joined us after half an hour and soon Marjan was up too. I had found him down stairs at six thirty this morning, and I was with him untill nine. Afterward I took a shower and left.

Last night we were at Julia's house, she was celebrating Antonio, her nephew's graduation. As usuall the food was delicious, the drinks fabolous and the company fine. I had Four Margaritas, and a beer, so I was feeling no pain, but when one of the guests asked me to gou out with him to grab a smoke, I excused myself, and told him, my Daughter would not like me to do that. He said, but she id downstairs, she would not know, to which I said, she is a woman, and women always know, no matter how hard you try, they know.

I am hoping to hit the Gym tomorrow and get me sweatin, and achin after an hour or two, it would be nice, I have been drinking tons of water all day, to get myself clean inside, and it feels good. Tonight we will go over Akram's house, as we do every Saturday night, breaking bread with the same usuall suspects, it should be fine, and I look forward to it. In cidently I wrote a poem Yesterday, -HER FIRST MISTER, which has gotten a few five stars on the POETS.COM, I might post it here tomorrow, till then, see you in the movies.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:30 PM | Comments (0)

May 27, 2005

Politics, Judges, and 2008

Well dear SL, the coutry as a whole is turning more conservative that it ever has. all the filth that we are being fed by the hollywood crowd, television, and internet helps that also. Parents have to be conservative at least about the val;ues and preserving them for the sake of their kids. Danny has two mommy or sara has two daddys have hurt many parents and their sensibilities, whether we like it or not this society has been based on Judeo Christian values, and what goes on in it in the name pf freedom of speech is scary.

Do you know that Fellatio is so very commom amongst the fifth graders in elementry schools. I did not know that, till one of my clients who does have two daughters brought that to my attention. we are not worried about our teen agers any more its our 10 and 11 years ols that we have to watch out for. of course Ms, Sheehy's book which in it it talks about her own experiences as a teen ager, and celebrates Fellatio as a right of passage for any girl to womanhood, and New York Times celebrating Ms, Sheehy and every thing that she has endorsed does not help our cause either.

There always should be a fine balance in a society, and once we deviate to one side, the pondlum will bring us back, it is cause and effect. Bill Clinton's shamless antiques was one of the reasons that George Bush was brought to power, and on the surface he shows to be much more moderate than conservatives want him to be. Christian Right is in a survival mode, and will be happy to keep as much influence that it has. 0And every president has the right to enjoy nominating people of his own ideology to the bench, and remember you do not see any conservative Judges trying to legistlate from the bench, only Liberal ones do. Judges are only to shape their opinions based on the consitution, and as much it allows it. Conservative law scho0llars are not the ones trying to change the constitution, calling it a living constitution, its Liberal ideologs who are trying to change every law to their own whims and agenda.

The minorities, Blacks and Hispanics have a value system deeply rooted in religion, and that is the reason that more and more of them flock to the conservative side. As they prosper and become a part of Middle class Americans, they also do not see any advantages in wellfare system, and they like to keep more of the money they earn. Republicans and their tax cutting mantras do appeal to them more now than ever. Thinkingt americans know that SURPLUS only means that the government has chrged them more than it should, it is their money, and believe me they also like to have a say in the money they earn rather than have it ear marked for the latest Pork barrel expenses.
They also have come to realise that budget deficits are the necassary evil, specially in time of war, and they do not mind to bare the cost of the deficit if it helps their security in their own country.

The way I see it, Democrats have lost their base of their power, by losing the congress, they have not had the executive office for the last five years, and Judicial branch had become their only hope to have some power to control the government. George Bush will get his judges on the bench, he has shown an amzing savy in getting what he wants, and probably we will hqave two vacancies in the supreme court by end of the year. He will nominate the first hispanic for the supreme court and we will have also another black Justice on the supreme court.

Democrats election of Dean as their head of DNC shows that they still are so mislead in their aspirations for the presidency, the only Democrat that was elected for two terms was Bill Clinton and he got it by being a moderate and stealing the republican issues from them. So a left leaning head of DNC would not be the remedy they need. And if they nominate Hillary Clinton, another left leaning idealog, from a North East state, they will lose again. this counryt is not ready for a woman presdient specially one with her kind of baggages.

In the end the only solution for Democrat is to come up with the moderate nomennie, who understand and realises how this country is more conservative leaning than ever.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:57 PM | Comments (1)

planning and dreaming with B&H

H;how do you see it?
B: Well we have a lot to do, it is not gonna be as easy.
H; So, you are the master, do that woodoo you do so well.
B; We will do as we did the last time, but we have to get over the
gender problem, they are many yahoos in this country that would not vote for a woman.
H; well this aint just any woman honey and Dems are so desperate to win, they would fight for me.
B; the primary is in the bag, John does not have a parayer, his charming boyish good look can take him so far, and he lost lot of credibility the way Dick bitch slapped him. and I do not see anybody else having the name recognition and the grass root support the way we do. It's the general election that I am not sure about.
H; you promissed suga and you better deliver.
B; I will find a way, oh I heard Dick might run for it, I guess the old ticker feels allright.
H; But he will have all the baggage from George's war to deal with, although it would make it look like George's third term, in a way people always like status quoe, keeping everything the way we were, and if this God damn war does not finish by then we have to deal with that too.
B; we will have the press helping us with that, we will start the assualt in early 2006, and maybe we make a good dent in it before 2008
comes around
H; they did not deliver the last time what makes you think they would this time. We have to deal with the same players, and maybe stay away from the Hollywood crowd, they would not be as receptive.
B; dont worry about them, Babs would make sure we get enough of them
on our side, maybe we should visit california more often, we do need them.
H; I am not sure, and you know all of this would not get us there if those son of a bitches start another war with North Korea, or Iran.
B; well we are going as planned, I am raising my profile with the UN, and staying in the news, they have always been sympetatic to me, and you know they still remember how good they had it when I was running the show, all that money , the surplus, we should remind them over and over again, they would not be able to resist it.
H; yup
B; I can not wait to go back there, nothing feels like sitting in that office.
H; but you better remember who will be sitting behind the desk.
B; I know, but you let me sit there once in a while Baby.
H; Just take me there and you can sit any place you want, I think all this talk is gettting me horney
B; I would love to oblige honey, but you kno0w with ma heart and all, why dont you call one of your girlfriends.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:30 PM | Comments (0)

Politics is so funny

And they come , all of them, our represetatives, dressed to the nines, coiffed her, some with their new stapled stomacks, and new found girlish figures, we pay for the privilage of having them, and not long ago we were so happyt with our little darlings performance that we gave them a raise, well we were not consultaed on it, but we did not objected to it either.

Well we do have to be greatfull since we have not had as many contreversies either, I mean like Barney Frank, our beloved gay congressman, hiring hookers on his payroll, or the one that was accused of having a relati0onship with his young male pages. Remember the postage fiasco, or the checking dilemma with our representive, cashing checks at the senate banks with no funds available. If only Jefferson, and Madisson knew, I am sure they would have come up with some provision to remedy all this. But our dear founding fathers, have bigger problems to worry about, I mean with all this new things coming up, like the confference in Yale university to change the constitution and give it an extreme make over, the whole idea of a living Constitution.

Our dear Mr MacCane, the Maverick in the senete, who keeps his face alway in the news media, by his bravery, staying at the graces of the Liberal Media. He is such a moderate, still feeling the pain of the spancking he got from Mr Bush in North Carolina that derailed his presidential aspirations. Probably the most dangerous Republican senator we have. The Darling of elite media, New York Times, and Chris Mathews who love to play Soft Ball with him any day of the week.
Yes he took the leadership power away from Senator Frist by the coalition he made with sic other glassy eyed moderate republicans, and seven moderate Democrats, to ho0ld off on The Nucliar option, and come up with an agreement which does not bind any of the two parties to anything. Yes it does ask the president to forgo his exacutive priviledge and confer with the senate on his judicial nominations, before he submitts them.

This morning Oron Hatch, the head of the senior member of the Judicial committe, talking to Don Imus, was so complementery of all Mr, MacCane's eforts, and how it so accidently coinsided with the
premier of the movie that was made based on Mr MacCane's Biohraphy, THE HONOR OF MY FATHERS, on TNT television, this weekend. who knew Mr, Maccane could be so crafty. I do think that Mr MacCane and his new protoge Lindsy Graham would recieve a great Thank you from the republican's at the next election Cycle. And for MacCane's aspiration to become a president, as they say it in NO yok, Fogetaboutit.

And about that agreement, it sems it is getting what it is due, by democrats trying to block, Mr Bolton's nomination to represent us at that mess of an organisation UN. Mr Bolton will get the vote once the senate convines after the holidays, but Democrats could not help it, showing their teeth, and feeling better about their complete lack of power, and the disarray that they have amongst themselves. Also Mr Dean the head of the DNC, did admitt this week that for the longest time democrats have taken BLACK VOTES for garaunted and they should try harde to keep them in their folds. I think Mr Bushes last election and the increase of the black votes for him and the republicans, has got something to do with it. Democrats always talk about Black's progress in this contry, but it was republican who got the first black secretary of state, and the first black female for the same post. And demo0crats are the ones that are blocking all the black and spanish judges that are nominated by Mr, Bush.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:20 AM | Comments (2)

May 26, 2005

Around and about

I like to buy Rob Thomas's new album, I always liked him, with MATCH BOX TWENTY, with Santana, and now his first solo album. I am still enjoying DIDO very much. There a new movie out CRASH, that is getting great reviews, and many good actors play in it. Summer always brings the shoot them up movies, but if you look hard enough they are some little foreign or independently made Gems in there too.

I miss going to Broadway and catching a play or a Musical, I read Dr B's poetry book, cover to cover, it is so breathtakingly undrestated and full of grace, full of magical observations. I wish I could find another book like, WRITTEN ON THE BODY, that could take me away, EARTHQUICK BIRD was also so very fine, in its intimacy, and the abstract vision of its writer. There is a good movie coming up on HBO, EMPIRE FALLS, the promos look so very good and I can not wait to see it. I like to see another Movie like CLOSER, such a grown up movie, and so close and brutal in depiction of its carachters.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:42 PM | Comments (0)

feverish

I try to tell myself, I do not need to write poems every day, it is not natural, it is not the norm, but the white screen and the keyboard are such a tease. And the need in me, to say something, to write, all the images I see in my head, all the different situations, always set on a stage inside my head. Maybe they could connect me, connect my brain to some sort of a chip a computer so it reads me, as I live, and register, allowing me thr release.

Oh how I love the dance of my fingers on the key board, and sometimes I catch myself going at it so feverishly, like playing a piano, and following the note, fast and merciless. hours bec0ome so short and pass so quickly and the joy that stays with me is so very delicious.
Sometimes the images mix, sometimes they stay too long, some times I lose them before I can birth them on the paper, and I miss the feeling I got when I thought about them first, the feeling of wonder, like unwrapping a gift with thin the wide eyes of a child, there is somuch expectaions, so much wonder, for you only hold the key, and do not know where it takes you, that first magical word, words, or the sentence, that first image that you hunt fo all day. You put it on the paper and then it comes of you independent, takes its own shape, and IT takes you, shows you what it has within it, and as your finger run on the keys you have this look of .........

When I was younger how good my day was depended solely on how much I had written that day. At any chance i could get, I used to write some of them in the classroom, while staring out, detatched, and taken within my world, outside everything around me. Last night driving home i was thinking what would I do if I could not write again, if no other poems come to me and the gods of inspirations leave me, well I will paint, I will sculp, I would do something, i cut hairs, put make up on beautifull women, I design dresses, as feverishly as I write.

I feel so blessed, so blessed that I have this, I could sit here and write, knowing you will read it. usually writers travel, hunting for new experiences, new inspirations, and I don't, I do not live the life of a writer, I am a middle aged, over grown man, who lives a normal life with my wife and children. And the stability of having them allows me these flights of fancy.

I have left so many carachtyers in so many places inside my head, promissing to go back to them, I have written over eighty pages about the life of my Grandfather and left it somewhere, there are women I know, young girls, who have so much to say, and I have promissed them also that I will bring them to life. For I still have to make a living, and live within so many different parameters. I feel blessed. I do definitely feel so blessed.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:18 PM | Comments (2)

From Major Tom to Dr B

I got a call from my teacher, it made my day. after huffing and puffing in the Gym this morning for two hours(wheeeew), I came to the store and recieved a massege from her on the phone. She has been to my pages,(I am greatful Dr B ), and she likes two of my poems, -her last lover, which in a way is written for delicious Mrs, Anne Sexton, and -their house.

Well I have to be more carefull about what I write now more. She does not know about my shameless ways, although if she reads more she will find out, but she is younger than me, and I am sure she would understand, she is a poet afterall, and a woman. Both are fantastic qualities in my book. You know how some people effect your life, knowingly or unknowingly, well she has helped me a lot in my poetry, and more than anything she has thought me how to REWRITE a poem, how to thigten it up, clean it, and make it better, and anybo0dy who writes knows, there is such a pleasure in that. It is like a sculptor, finnesing with his creation, taking aaway some, and adding some, the process is so deliciously enjoyable to me.

Well, Shrink lady is back, and I am so happy, she adds so much to this diolugue, and as ever her comments are comprehensive and fine.
Maryam, my LiL sis, has left me a comment, asking if I submitted any poetry. the answer is;NO. not yet, I know I got you guys to read a bit more of my poetry, and come up with the list of your favorites, but I am not ready yet. But you know now that I found Dr B, I might ask her for private tutoring again, and with her guidence, who knows, we might get there. So do forgive me, and be patient. Yesterday I wrote a few more paragraph of THE BOOK, it is a work in process, so if you were interested, do go to the book section, I think I have at least seven paragraphs of the first chapter, I wellcome your comments, and feed back.

Amin has become more independent. he told Kiana, and me that the sleeping arrangement is over, and he likes to sleep alone. So last night Kiana and I, made a make shift bed on the floor of her room, since her bed is too small to fit both of us. It was magical, we talked, and I deciphered my favorite Lulaby that I used to sing to both of them when they were infants and todllers,-Annie's Song, by John Denver, " you fill up my senses like a night in the forrest, like a mountain in spring times, like a walk in the rain.....", I sang the song to her, and we went over the words and the meanings, and as always she surprised me with the depth of her knowing, and the promise of so many Diologues we will have, just Kiana and me. before you know it she fell sleep, but about 5;am this morning she was back in my bed, holding to her silly daddy, and sleeping.

last night with Amin busy with his new obsession, STAR WARS, and Marjan being on the phone with Fafar, I got the chance to watch three hours of LAW&ORDER. I enjoyed it as I ussually do. Well no comments from my main man CYRUS yesterday, and none from Fereydoon, Inasy is still busy with her friends pregnancy I guess. Fafar is waiting for her Husband who is travelling, while she looks at the Gag ball and chains and sighs. Chey is probably busy getting settled in her new place, Metal is still absent, I do check her poetry, she has written many new ones, we will wait for her to come back again.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:36 AM | Comments (1)

May 25, 2005

Her last Lover

She sits on the porch
at the end of the evening,
crossing her long brown legs
taking another drag of her cigarette,
her eyes half open humid, she is
splayed on the lazy chair, no movement
within her, of the life that so ernestly had
stayed for all the long days of yearning, and
the restless urges that have succumbed to
the indiffrences of days passed, the
hours that fled only to leave traces
of her sagging eyelids, the crowsfeet
around her yeys, and the subtle lines
around her mouth, coming to her in
quiet intervals of her loving
and leaving

The calling moon aglow
within the spread of the sky,
the sounds of the waves, the invitation
of water, to reach the quiets of its depth
to take away, all and all, like a summer dress
falling from her shoulders, and the submission of
it, the acceptance, the passages,--Yes to hurl
within the unknown, and the excitement of
expectations, her last fling, her last
lover, the one who would take her
away, while she hangs from his
shoulders, no more words,
spoken or written, no
explanations, just
a departure

Mother will love her again
and they all will come, all her
lovelies, dressed in their Sunday clothes
and they all remember, how relentless she was
the curiosity of her urges, her sweet kisses,
her giving limbs, for she never denied them,
holding them under her breasts, within
her, inside, as she locked them in a
stare, with her big brown irrises
whispering--Love me, Love me, Love me,
again and again

And they all will
watch her walking down
the sandy bottom, hand in hand
with the one that took her away
as they disappear in the
dark pitch of void

Posted by Idinraha at 04:31 PM | Comments (0)

Fillibuster

Well, to my surprise and dismay, there will be no Fillibuster. eh, it would have been exciting, a new direction, a new adventure to a different territory. A sign of life from this long dead body of lesitlature, the senste of the united states of America.

Come to think of it, why do we have senators, and why do we allow them to play their games in the stage of our politics. God knows we have enough representatives in the House. You mean we need more representation. I really do not think so. we should have a reaserch in to this, How usefull the senate has been to the legistlative body, with all its committes and different branches. How well have they done by us, why should the legistlative body be so complex and convaluted. Well the answer probably is, TO PRESERVE THEMSELVES. The same way that Mullahs in our religion and country created a whole new religion for themselves so they can have a control over the masses and preserve themselves, the senators pretty much do the same, GRAB THE POWER and find ways to keep it.

And of course the Nuclear Option would have been a way to simplify the process. The president gets ellected and would have a mandate to nominates his own judges that would share the same political philosophy for the bench, and the senators get to vote up or down for it. No, that would have been too simple and maybe people would have found out how un usefull their senators are. So let's keep the nomenies in the committies and lets brand them as much as we can, and even after that, if it came to the floor of the senate, lets fillibuster them, and not allow the vote, since you would need sixty two votes to break the fillibuster which at this junstion borders on impossible.

Do you know, that republicans trough out the history of this land have never fillibuster a judicial nomine, they have made threats , but have never come to actually do that. So now we have an agreement that allows the senate and up and down vote for three of the judges, and then we will be back to aquare one. Democrats have been all ove the television celebrating a victory. But i don't think so, the only thing that this agreement has brought is to pass three more judges and then go back to negotiations, and stalling of the will of the people

Posted by Idinraha at 02:14 PM | Comments (0)

May 24, 2005

sounds of living

The door was not closed, the way I like it, the sounds of living will
find me again, the hallways are quiet, life is extended, moving, with no regard for the retched or the damaged few that will fall.
The windows will be opened, so the house breathe the spring air, and the breeze would dent the cloth of the curtains. I wait, as I do, as I have and always will, wondering the rooms, like a summer child looking for something to fill the boredom, knowing that it is the choosen exile that will bring me my absoloution, my recovery, my healing, so i would not bite my nails again, leaving the scabs alone,
as the flesh moves up to the surface.

and the restless presence of livings, my ghouls and mermaid, my ghost, my companions, will come out of darkness to rejoice with me in celebration of voids, of silences, anticipations of expectations, they will bring me quills and inks, so we name each room for a diety, and each hallway for a saint, allowing the house to emerge from its white facaded to the stains of memories and rememberance, we will sing
in our voices in unfamiliar tongues, and dance with our limbs extending in the air, there is a merrit to this passage there is a knowing, there is submission and acceptance, leaving the treshholds, for the heights unseen, beyound the madness of our depature, we will wait for the morning.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:22 PM | Comments (0)

Star Wars

Well last night Amin, Josh, Marjan and I went to see the STAR WARS, it is mandatory for every one to see it, since trough out the last twenty five years it has become a part of our culture. It is a Western movie in space, same elements, good and evil, love, betrayal, a tragedy. It was Two and a half hours, mbut it was better than I expected, it brought a resolution to the whole Saga. Afterward Kiana and Steven joined us for dinner, at Amin's favorite waterhole, PLAZA DINER.
It is interesting how your kids grow and take you along with you on their journeys. You have to become a part of their world, and to some extent there are some benefits, Kiana keeps us abreast of Pop Culture, I know Ciara is the latest Flavoe dejour singer, and I do like some of her songs. The latest dance moves, that Kiana shows us nightly, as she chorographs and combines them in her own interpetation, moving her long limbs so naturally with the songs. Amin on the other hand is way behind. His shyness, and obsession with video games has made him more of a recluse, but we are working on that. Steven their Eight years old cousin, is quite a carachter, taller than Amin and so savy in affairs of the world. Amin is getting more and more involved with him, and Steven with his dare devil manly personality has become more of a mentor to him. As usuall my Dear beloved wife, tirelessly keeps a thight control and a good eye on them, she knows them better than anyone, and she loves them plenty, in a way they have beco0me the only focus of her life.

So summer is ahead of us, I would shiver by the thought of spending the whole summer inside the store, but I am polanning to take a few days off here and there, if the business allows, hopefully spend a day or two on Amir and Julie's boat, on the sound. swim in our pool, wolfe down a few burgers and hot dogs, spend more time with my wife away from the kids, and watch my kids grow. God willing, that sounds like heaven to me.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:05 AM | Comments (1)

May 23, 2005

The lonely hunter

Heart is, in all it seeks, the intamacy it needs, togetherness of the sort, where bodies break in desire of a soul, for we live so lonely within us, as the kid in us watches trough the windows of our eyes, and yearns for a meeting, for closeness. Pitty the man who seeks love and all he recieves is passion, for passion as delicious as it is , fleets in the same rush that it comes, leaving only ashes, of desires burned, and we need more,much more.

All of us have been trough it, the first love, the first kiss, long hours of waiting as all we can see is the telephone, and all we wait for is the ring, Long hours of talking on the phone, at fever pitch, telling, listening, while the blood rushes faster trouhg our heads and limbs,remember, " you hang up first", " no you hang up"," I am hanging up, I love you"," you are still there, hang up".

And the first kiss, as precious as any memory, long staying within us, the first pull of the beloved's lips, the taste of her mouth, the texture of her tounge, and all the electric bolts that run within us in a wooch, turning on the lights and the bells, the chimes, and the sweet nectar that sips inside, stronger than narcotics, and the hight we reach, floating within our skin, within the air, how the colors come to view, crisp and vivid, and the birds sing their sweetest songs, the melodies, the rays of the sun, the warmth of life, all transfererd and transformed within you in love.

Every men remembers the first bra they saw, the first time, and the heaving flesh of her bosoms tearing through the cloth. Breasts, one of God's most beautiful creations, supple as it is, standing there in full attention and how beautifully it becomes whole around a nipple,
the lenght of her neck, behind her ears, the soft skin, the lines of her belly coming to the circle of a navel, so beautifully depicted, drawn, the exploration, as your eyes can not believe the beauty it sees, and the need to touch, to smell, to feel to complete and satisfy the thirst of your senses. And the first time you are inside a woman, as she quivers beneath you, all wanting, all submission, acceptance, charity, and love as you look within her eyes, and again complete the circle with a kiss.

God in his wisdom new how far to bound us, how to join us, for we get to taste the forbidden fruit and we get to ask for more, and this wanting becomes the legacy of our survival, our existance. battles would be fought for it, men will be killed, palaces would be burned, and a dynasty of humen get to reign the face of the earth and dream of other planets. It brings power, thirst, it succumbs to none untill it's recieved what it desires, and yet it gets broken, the mighty heart, the lonely hunter.

And yet it is the memory of it that brings us back, wounded, damaged but still yearning for it, as Gallway Kinnel, says in his poem, WAIT, it is the memory of a lost love that brings us to the new one, for we know the wanting, we have tasted the potion, and we need it. So you see Heart has to be a lonely hunter to seek, and recieve what it yearns, the whole history of men has depended on it.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:55 PM | Comments (0)

Love, Vodka, and Cigarettes

We are drinking Vodka with our tea
The sour tinge is fitting,
Sunday afternoons are a loss
between short phone calls,
and a town abondoned.

He is sad, benevelont,
the wound is warm, the pain not set
he braves conversations, brushes the paint
on the canvas and sips his tea

I am an old pro
and the hurt is obvious,
so we talk,
-Men have a way of sharing
Vodka and lost lovers,
Like characters out of WAR AND PEACE,
or BROTHERS KARAMAZOFF

naked in our Blue Brown uniforms
Wollen hats , and old guns
And the romance of cold mother Russia
But somehow CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT
seems more fitting,
Dastayovsky, or Maxim Gorky's heroes
are closer to the emasculated men
that we are--Modern animal males
with no treasures to hunt, no battles
No swords, wounds or honor

In Eighteenth century Paris
My brethern would have found
remedies abundant for heart brackes
In rouge powdered flesh of parisian whores
Or stolen kisses from a Major's wife
So we talk and share as the day is spent

We are bonding
The pain sedated by another bottle
another cigarette, a new story
--This will pass I remind him
there will be prettier girls
younger maidens, the thrill of new conquests
Passionate first kisses from other lips
all the cliches that i remember
But we both know
This will hurt

She stands in the hallway,
Moves closer, finds the door knob,
Cold in her hand, she holds hesitant,
she knows the distance between the door and the room
She knows his cologne, how he whisper talks,
the arch of his brow, his hair pulled away by his hand
she swallows the hurt, leaves the door knob, and runs out

--This will pass, I am still reminding him
There will be prettier girls, younger maidens..........

Posted by Idinraha at 12:17 PM | Comments (0)

smoking is bad for you

I hope I have not tried your patience with my rants the last two days, and the dialogue that was held amongst Shrink Lady, Maryam, and me. We got real deep, took a few scabs away, and will wait for healing and new skins. It is my story and my life, however we all have stories like this, or have heard about them. I hope we shed some lights on the subject of relationships in the family units, and the damages that are sometimes left, of course with no ill intentions from any parties, for in our hearts we all do our best to do right by our loved ones, and we are all products of the environments we are nurtured in.

I thank Shrink Lady, and Maryam for their participations and thoughts.
To some extent writing about such subjects are always taxing on me, but my intention from the begining has been not to have any stones unturned, and not to refuse any questions, just a free flow of ideas.
Although when one threads to these kind of tertories, one is always full of doubts, there is never any intension to hurt any one, but a sort of cleansing of the soul. I was very happy, and had thought that my LiL sis would allow us a different view of the subject and I am greatful to her for her contributions on this. Remember its not the matter of being right or wrong, just observation, from different views of the lives we live, and how our past come to hunt us untill we look it in the eye, and somehow find a way to deal with it. People approach this in different ways, and to a large extent a much more private venues are seeked, but I wellcomed the questions when they came since I am very happy of my stand in life, and feel blessed and greatfull for everything that has brought me to this point.

Saturday night we were all together at Akram's house,and as we usually do, Fafar and I, went outside of the house for a cigarette. It seems, either Kiana saw us, or someone told her where we were going, and before we know it, all the kids were outside looking for us. Kiana found us red handed with cigarettes in our hands, she looked me with pain and hurt in her beautiful eyes, and rushed back to the house. It's funny when we were kids we had to hide from our parents for a smoke, and now we have to hide from our kids. When we went back in Miraneh told me that Kiana had locked herself in the bathroom and was crying. I went to her, she let me in, and sat there in front of me sobbing. "Why did you do that daddy ?", she asked, " why did you smoke, everytime we are at parties you go out with Fafar and probably smoke, right?". I felt guilty and small, I assured her that it was a one time thing and promissed not to do it again. She accepted my promise and forgave me. Whe I came out I had to go through the gunlett of Amin, Steven, Tara, and Leila all pointing their fingers at me , telling me how bad smoking was. It was sobering and funny.

Sunday morning I was talkiing to my mother, and told her about what had hapened with Kiana, she laughed and told me she is lucky that she
had only seen you smoking not anything else. when I asked her why she was saying that she told me a little tale, that how at age seven, she had seen her father for the first time with his second wife in his car. you see before that one of her classmates had told her that " your father has two wives", and she had not believed it, and when she asked her aunt about it, her aunt although knew that was the truth, had denied it. Upon seeing her father with his new wife, she had ran about ten blocks back home while crying, with her maid running after her the whole way. Once home she had gone to her mother and sobbed some more. Of course My Grandmother had heard and knew all about it, but they had tried to keep it away from the kids. I asked my mother, if she ever told her dad then?, she said NO, we were so scared of him that we would not have dared. she also gave me another piece of her memories, once she had graduted from the primary school, she had gone to her father and told him, that she wanted to continue her schooling and go to high school. And he had only taken a look at her, without saying a word, showing his displeasure, and how dare she asks such a question. She told me at that moment she felt that she never deserved to go to high school, that was her worth, just knowing enough to read and write. That was the reason that my mother was so adament in bringing up my sister as independent and as tough as she could, and pushed her to go as far as she could. I thought to myself, we have come a long way, yes we have.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:22 AM | Comments (2)

May 22, 2005

Intercourse

Yes you can become independent of your parents financially, which I have been for the last twenty five years. I have always worked in my life, I value hard work, I think it is also a blessing. And the way I see it ( I am sure my sibblings will disagree), I have given much more than I have taken, there is a sense of balance, pride and decency in me, that I get from my mother, one of the most decent, elegant proud people I know, I have to do right by people around me, and I get more pleasure in giving than taking.

But can you become emotionaly independent of your parents, that is whole another story. As a second child I have always seeked my parents' approval, that was the reason that I was in the second grade by the time I was five years old, two years ahead of my peers. that is the reason that having a BS was not enough, and I had to go for my MBA, although I never finished it, since by then I was heavily involved in the family business, and was making good money. I had to be better than anybody else, I had to marry the prettiest girl from the best family I could ( that one I achieved ). I always had to have the classiest girl friends, the most beautiful. Just had to

I am a proud man who has made his many mistakes, and like any other things in my life, my mistakes were even bigger than the others. I know myself, I know I am not the best of my kind, there are many smarter, harder working, nicer Iranian men in this country, that do a lot more than me, but i never stop trying. I am a generous , kind man, who does value people more than money. I have given away so much in my life, to the disamy of my wife, and even endangering my own econimical salvancy. I have effected many lives, and that is the source of pride for me.

I am impulsive, always looking for emotional connections, new beginnings, new introduction, I am not the best husband any woman can have and I am aware of it, God knows how much Marjan has put up with me, and how many times she has forgiven me for my short comings. But she thinks and has told me that she is a better person because of marrying me. I try to be a good father, that come so naturally to me, I see marrying Marjan and having my kids, and the privilage of lkiving with Marjan and raising my kids the biggest achievement of my life, and whenever someone asks me why I am not more ambitious financially , I tell them, maybe because I already have what many men with so much more money strive for.

I have my depression, my ghosts, my childhood, and my memories that inspire and allow me in my artistic quests. And i celebrate all of them, nooks and cranny, warts and all. For I am content with my geography, my elements, my wishes and dreams, I could be a lot better person, but I am okay. I do love my parents, and my sibblings, although I always tell them that I am the addopted one(pompus ass).
And again I say it since I mean it, I am blessed with all of you, and all you give me, your time, your thoughts, what else could a man ask for.

Would I ever become emotionaly independent of my parents, well I am working on it, And, when one is damaged, if one celebrates that damage, and deal with it it becomes ones' treasure. So I am a wo0rk in progress, and that is also allright.

I was writing in this morning about woman, and how they give so much of themselves in just the practice of intercourse, allowing somebody to enter you physically takes a lot of giving, lots of generosity, and many men might not realise that how much at that moment they are reciveing. I am not a woman(no kidding), but I think in a way by allowing you inside my psyche, inside my hed and my thoughts, I am bordering the same generosity, allowing you an intercourse with all that makes me, ME.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:35 AM | Comments (3)

May 21, 2005

My Role models, My heroes, ...read it at your own peril, its kinda long

Well, well well, As you have noticed, I am going trough a session with my lovely friend SHRINK LADY. -Seeking my father's approval, well I guess all men do that. WE all want to be like our fathers. He becomes our first role model, The big man in our lives. I had always lots of love for my father, and when I was younger if you had asked me which one of my parents I loved more, I definitely would have said MY father. He was a very hard working man, leaving the house at seven in the morning, and coming back home, when we were all sleep. A rather lonely man, who did not get much loving at home, all of his own doings of course.

You see my father is a very ambitious man, and at twenty seven years of age, he married my mother who was only fifteen. That was customery those days in Iran, they would marry off their girls at as early an age as nine, or ten. You see Iranian fathers were afraid of keeping their girls at home, so the minute the poor girl got to puberty, their only mission would have been to marry her off. To them having girls was a liability, they did not know what to do with them. Of course letting them continue their education would have been out of question, they would have become too independent. And for the girls getting married was one way of getting out of the tyranical ways of their father, seldom knowing that they are getting out of a puddle , but getting in to a well. changing tyrans, nothing else.

To some extent it was the way they were brought up and the influence of a male dominated religion that could not forgive a woman for her gender. These immasculated, puny, insecure, ignorant men, were so aware of their shortcomings that could not allow any competition in their worthless lives. As early as two years ago I came across a an Iranian man, that was brought up in a very religious family, and his father was a high ranking religious man, an Ayattolah to be. He was brought up to get in the family business, and become a Mullah, but he rebelled and got out. He told me that his father used to tell him, that women are like TOILETS, you do your thing and leave. That's all. Oh how I like to do to these men what MAO did to addicted chineese men in CHINa, take them by the sea and trough them in, so their evergrowing filth would be unrooted for ever.

How do you change a culture, a culture so corrupted by a reloigion that its ignorance has mutated to such eveil. Well, Shah tried that, and we had come a long way, before, many elements and on top of that Mr Jimmy Carter and his fervor for HUMAN RIGHTS, gave our country away to these tugs. Any way, my darling father, coming from an old established family with lots of respect in the community, did set his aim high and asked for my mother's hand. The first born of another well established well known family in the community that were also very wealthy. And my Darling Grand father who had been married himself at the tender age of Sixteen to my grandmother without having any choice, and was only thrity five at the time of my parents marrige, agreed .

I do not think my Grand father really gave it much thought, he was in a mist of his own marital problems, since he had come across another woman in college, and had married her although he was married already and had three kids, and all of this was without anybody's knowlede. So at some point the shit hit the fan and everybody found out, although no one dared to object to him, since he was also the first born of his family and his wealth shielded him from any critisizm. And my father was persistant, and so they got married. later own to my darling Grandfather's suprise, every body found out that my daqrling father also had had a SIGHEH ( a religious marriage that was not accepted by the civil law, and a convinient way of Moslem men getting sex whenever they wanted to. For in Sigheh, a man has to only ask the woman if she wants to be his mate, and upon her consent she becomes his Sigheh wife, and the duration of this union could also be set for a short or a long time, and a man could easily void the union whenever he wanted to by telling her, I divorce you. Sigheh marriages were never registered in any governmant establishments, and a sigheh wife would have no rights against her husband, or his property, intersting isn't it). A man could sigheh as many woman as he wanted to with no obligation toward her, and if a kid was produced in this type of marriage, the kid also did not have any right to the father's property.

My father had a sigheh wife, with a daughter. the wife was an older woman from a far away state in Iran, who also had a kid from a previous marriage. But for my ambitious father that was never enough. He deserved a young wife from a wealthy well known family, so he came and married my mother without any one knowing about his other wife.

So in his case also the shit hit the fan, and as usauall many people got hurt. What really was so offensive about his deciet was the fact that although he had a young new wife at home, he still kept his relationship with his Sigheh wife, and produced two other daughters. Well, he was entitled to it, to have his cake and eat it too. You could say there was some justice to it, since My darling Grandfather had done this to somebody else's daughter , same thing should had to be done to his daughter. and of course in this sort of JUstice there is no room or regard for eaither women, since they did not held any value in that male dominated society.

My parents were seprated for six month, my mother took my younger brother with her, since he was only a few month old, and was being breast fed, and left my brother and I with my father. At age two and a half I came down with severe depression, and although my older brother at age four an a half did not show any sign of permanent damage, I am sure he was also scard for life. My parents got back together, but we never had a happy home. My mother feeling degraded, and put down in front of her family had always blamed herself, that why she did not leave him, and was never happy with her marriage. They used to fight a lot, usually at night when the kids were sleeping, but I do remember being awake, and watching many of those fights.

Being brought up in such situation, I am amsed that we, my brothers, my sister and I have turned up as normal, if you can call it that. We now have our own families and kids, we all have made our own mistakes, but we all still are funtional parts of our society.

So, - seeking my fathers approval, heh, just seeing him would have suficed, but the man had two families and eight kids, so you can not expect much. I am sure every family has its won ups and downs, and its own problems, many skeletons grinding their bare teeth in many closets. But at some point in our lives we get to grow up and take responsibilty for our being no matter what. Yes we get to free the ghosts of the past, and start blaming ourselves for what we have become. But you can never be free of them, never.

I could say though probably watching how delightfull my father was with his collegues and their way of having fun has more to do with how I mingle with other men. And believe me, I do not bestow my delicious humor on just anybody, they have to be worthy of it, and I watch how far I go. If the guy is comfortable with himself, I do push, but if I feel any discomfort I pull back. so my dear SL, I bet you did not expect such comprehensive answer, but I am allowing you to take a look in how I got here, my role models, my ideals and heroes, so tell me know, is here any certain pill, or excercise that can free one fro0n his past demons, I might be interested, but on the other hand this life I have lived has made me who I am, and I would not change it at all. I might be obnoxious, over bearing, in your face, confused, restless man, but I am very okay with it, I like where I stand and in many ways who I am, so probably I should take this oppourtunity to thank My beloved Granfather, and my darling dad.

Being an immigrant, living in this land, of course we look for approval,and like to be accepted. In my outings I do come across as a confident, charming man, a bit loud, a bit daring. I used to be a quiet child, but never afraid of saying my peace, I coulod not wait to get in conversations with adult, shocasing my knowledge. But beneath it all we all like to be liked, its in our elements, and I guess that's my own unique way of getting there.

Posted by Idinraha at 09:32 AM | Comments (8)

May 20, 2005

$ 64000. Qestuion

Well my dear SL, leave it to you, to come up with the $64000. question, and now you probably expect and answer, what is the motivation behind my shamelees flirting with other men, I really do not know, actually in some case it might be that there is such stigma with being a hemosexuall, and how men generally are so scared of being assosiated with such behavior or deviation.

In my country, where I was born, and grew up, while I used to visit my father and his collegues in the Bazar, I had come to witness and appriciate, the art of flirting with men. You see it was rather customary for these guys, each of them married men with no absoloute tendencies toward being a hemosexuall, to greet each other with kisses, and flirt openly as a way of humor, and laughter, in many ways as a way to relase the every day prsseures of their living, and the hardness of the lives they lived, for in all my years going there, and with all my family being self employed businessmen, we had never heard of anybody getting caught with their pants down.

As you know I do live a shameless life within these pages, but some of it also does sip in my outside world, Marjan has gotten used to it, and knows it is harmless fun. His brothers are too proper, and respectfull to do what I do, but they all have seen me and Houtan for example to flirt, mostly me doing the flirting and Houtan putting up with it, so it has become a second nature to me. But I could dare to say that it is a rather common practice amongst many Iranian men. or at least the ones that I know.

It is also a way of setting boundries, breaking the ice, humor, or just to be a jolly good fellow. Also you might find the route of it in the fact that in our society, men were not able to flirt with other women, so they started to flirt with each other. I remember My uncles and most of my father's family also being heavily involved in such a practice. Again as far as I know we do not have any hemosexualls in the family, and if we did it would be allright with me.

I have always enjoyed the company of Gay men, most of whom that I know are very educated, artisitic, sensative souls, always kind and loving. I enjoy their quiet decadent, and have been inspired by the pain they feel in not being accepted by the society, their family and most of all by themselves. I have been the subject of their love and affection too which I had cherished, and enjoyed without getting involved with them. They do respect your inclinations and preferences and never try to force themselves on you.

To my artistic dismay and regret, I am not a hemosexuall. I could at least be BI sexuall, but not even that, and I am very comfortable with who I am, and my gender. So it is easier fo0r me to do what I do, and unfortunately I am so taken and in owe of female form that have never been able to acquire a taste for any other. Still this does not govern my life totaly and if at some point I find the inclination I would be delighted to satisfy it. and I am shameless enough to tell you all about it. You have read my banter about my devoution to CYRUS( to his dismay), calling him my MANCRUSH, and admitting to loving him more than it seems proper, but there is nothing sexuall about it, not so far, and not yet, but who knows, what lies ahead of us, and what turn we will all take around the corner.

In my quest to know and explore the female Psyche, I have written many poems about Sapphic love and erotica(for example, FINDING THE MAIDEN), but have not done that in the male catagory. I am very much taken by my new discovery of CAVAFY's poetry, and him being a hemosexuall, but at the best I think the most intimate emotions that I see in his poetry brings him closer to the senuality of a woman, which is easy for me to understand.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:32 PM | Comments (2)

A Rich man

well, it was an advanturous morning at the Gym, I sure know how to stir trouble. LD, has dyed her hair black now, which makes her pocelain complexion stand out more, I complemented her on that, she is so restless, and interesting. I caught Andy at the locker room, he was between clients, and I was standing naked, getting ready to shower, Rob was there too, so I asked Andy, if he is gonna help me shower, and wash my back, " Washing your back, or going for breakfast, hmm, choices, choices," Andy said, to which I responded" in either case you will have something to eat", he just shook his head, smiled, and said" you better take your little thing, and take your shower", I was offended" Andy, are you trying to tell me something, do not knock it before you try it", I said, " you Americans are always so obsessed with the size of everything",I continued, as he left the locker room.

I took my shower, and was drying off myself when RON walked in, we had a little conversation, and I asked him " Ron, have you ever been proposed by another man, and if you would , will you be calm about it, or you might get violent", He stopped, looked at me a while smiling, and said" No, I have not, and it should be Ok, if I ever get one", I responded, " actually I personally would feel flatered", and continued telling him, about this executive at GE, that long time ago had a crush on me, and bought me a ticket to go to Paris with him. we talked a bit more and then he left while smiling.

You see it is harmless fun, just ribbing, and passing energy by talking, just confirming each other's brand of being with humor, and they are both good sports about it. Also the fact that they know me, and they know my wife and kids make it easier for them to put up with me, and my crazy ways.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to connect with my teacher from workshop courses in poetry I had taken twelve years ago. I called her, and she called me back. She was very wellcoming, and remembered me well, asking me if I still write poetry in women's voice, and was surprised to hear about my site and the volumes of my writings, I gave her the adress to the site and asked her to lo0g on. I also told her she should only read my poetry, not the rants , since I could be very obnoxious in my rants. She has published her first book of Poetry, and has another one in process of being published, she has a son now, and we talked about our maternal feelings too. She told me she is gonna visit the site, and you know in many ways it is very important for me to know her opinion. She was the one who opened many doors for me, thought me new styles, thought me how to enjoy fixing my poetry, how to rewrite and thighten my poems, always encouraging me. She also allowed me th taste of winning a competition, pushing me to submitt my poems, and pulled for me , so I won the contest, and it was such a high for me. She is a very gentle soul, soft spoken, wise beyound her age, and so acompolished in her poetry and writing. I bought her book yesterday, and read it cover to cover, and found so much of her in her poems, serene, wise, wonderfull, and the words the subject matter, the poems, all so filled with life and inspirations, with close observations of a soul so in touch with her sarroundings and her life, and I was so taken by them. I cherish finding her again so much, and think of it as a new blessing in the life of a very blessed man.

I think a man's life should be measured by the choices he makes, his campanion, his kids, and the friends he makes, and having Marjan in my life, my kids, my hommies at the Gym, Anthony , LD, Ron, Andrew, and my friends, loyal as you all are, my mermaid of a friend, who takes the time to listen to me, and guides me, my LiL sis Maryam, with all her affection and brohaha, CYRUS, my main MANCRUSH, who watches over me, Freydoon, the love monger(ooops),MeTal, SL, Inasy, chey, Fafar, all and all of you are represnatation of how rich my life is, and how blessed I am. THANKS

Posted by Idinraha at 10:02 AM | Comments (1)

May 19, 2005

The first kiss

Andy is about 6'2", maybe 260 lbs, a very nice guy who has come a long way in the Gym, he is a great trainer, and his clients adore him.
In a short time he has mangaed to be the top biiling trainer in the Gym, and he is always fun to be around. He is built like a bull, massive chest, arms and shoulders, you definitely do not want to cross him in a dark alley. But the minute you talk to him, he is as sweet and innocent as a young boy(at least in my eye).

The other day, I saw him sitting at the front desk, he looked tired, and sad, so I made my way to him, bent down and whispered in his ears;"Andy, when you are depressed just think about OUR FIRST KISS, and that should cheer you up,". He looked up at me surprised, and said"but we have never kissed", I answered" think about when we will, and how sweet it would be". He started laughing.

On another occasion, I was on the cross trainer, and one of the clients that I know well, got on the machine next to me, she looked at me, huffing and puffing, my hair and T shirt drenched in sweat, and said " Javad you do not get much lovin at home, and it shows", I looked at her surprised, and said " you have no idea", and then continued" We have been married for almost nineteen years, we have never used any form of protection, not pills, no condoms, and we only have two kids, that should give you some idea", she laughed and said " you men are all the same, my husband complains about it all the time too".

SL, our dear shrink in residence, always and always leaves me very comprehensive, informative comments, about all my maladies and ills, i am greatful for her loyalty and presence here, It seems she left me a comment last night after I had left the store. This morning when I checked the site ahe had also another comment for me asking why her last night comment was not posted. Sweet heart, I had not checked all the comments from yesterday, and none of them were posted, but if you check now, yours, both of them are there. As I promissed all of you, I will not edit or delete any comments unless the person who sent it asks me to. Specially none of yours, since they are interesting and informative.

I need more comments from all of you about the new poem, it does not matter what you write, approving or disapproving, as long as you give me your honest opinion, I have embarked on a new style of writing in my poetry and I need to know.

Well about a few month ago, I walked in the locker room, and saw Ron, my wife's MANCRUSH was standing in his undies, and was shaving his head, he looked so sexy. so I went back to the Gym, and told Anthony, and certain Red hair client of his, (who is as mischievous as the rest of us guys, and she is so comfortable with all of us that we all see her as one of the guys), that Ron was naked in the locker room and was shaving his head, I also described the scene the best I could, so our dear Red hair friend, asked me if I would take her to the men's locker romm to see Ron. and of course I obliged, she followed me to the locker room, and once Ron saw us he was horrified, and shouted one of his famous"JEEEEEEEEEEEEESUS", and We ran out laughing.

We lost Andrea the receptionist in the Gym, she was offered a new job with much better pay by one of the Gym's clients, so she left and I know we all miss her. This is the second time that one of the clients in the Gym, has helped themselves with a Gym's employee, without any regard for interrupting the Gym's rhythm, and depriving us from another eye candy, some people I tell you. Loredana is in good form these days, "The Queen bee", as I call her, prancing around the Gym, showcasing her delicious figure, training the clients and treating us to her fabolous laughter. The Gym is doing very well, breaking records every week in the hours they train. Anthony, calm and collected, smiling as usuall makes running the Gym look so easy. I am there every morning, and look forward to seeing my hoomies every day.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:17 AM | Comments (7)

May 18, 2005

Their House

There has to be a door,
house have doors, solid
and they can be closed, and
a knob you hold within your palm,
and turn, then it sqeeks, turning in
or out(doors turning in are more wellcoming)
and you get in, there are always doors

Windows are the sights of the house
Smaller in size, but necassary any how,
they allow seeing, breezes, the air, the
sounds of the birds, you can look trough, or
look down, they allow you outsides in small
incruments, as you wish, they are not to be climbed
in or out, unless your heart betrays your senses,
it happens, at youth when you can climb up, hold
take another look and jump to the safety of unexpecteds
but its youth that must decide, windows look better
not done in some printed fabrice, or silks, they only
tease the appetite of the passerbys, abstracting the air
the passages of the souls, and in so many demensions, life

And of course a fire place,
of stone preferable, at the heart
of the house, with a long chimney to
the upside of the roof, so warmth stays
in, and the smoke, the black soods get out
while the house is kept warm, and a love seat
on the side, as the fire burns, so lovers can claim
their hearts in intimate settings, close, cozy, for
comfortable gatherings of twos, a girl a boy, a daughter
or a son, or however you add up your intimacies, a place
for man of the house to bend on his knees while his wife sits,
grieving for forgievness, while pushing a dagger further in
his wife heart, just a civilised quiet place of sort for the
emotional uphievels, or where she could get drunk, and tip
the bottle over, going upstairs to her empty bed alone

There should be a bakyard
for fleeting summer days, the
smell of barbecue, and the eluding
breezes that succumb to the heat of
long hot summers, or an Indian summer
a place for the hammock to remember
after noon lazy naps, and a swing that
moves high, or a seesaw to attract the sounds
'of laughters and joy of children in summer gears
their sweaty palms, with their hair wet
sticking to their necks

And of course the accoupants who live
from time to time, and then go away, looking
back, with sweet regards, calling it their house

Posted by Idinraha at 03:21 PM | Comments (8)

suburban indifferences

It is quiet, just the sound of the cars outside, and the buzz of the floresence lights. Days like this make me wish I had someone I could call, and talk, but I am not into small talk, and after a while on the phone, I want them to go away, and leave me alone. I am bored, I need a sparkle, a jolt, summer comes endless with humid hours of wait, and it is still spring here.

It is so sad that when we grow up, we lose the seasons, we do not wait for them, they just come and pass while we are busy with more important living things. It should be beautifull by the beach i tell myself, the air should be crisp and a bit more cold, the way I like it. maybe I take a walk down there, I don't know. I wrote a new piece yesterday, the style is very different than how I write. It is bare, not groomed the word choice is very efficient, it is like a mirror, the way you look at it and see the familiar things and you miss the background, that is where the whole living is, in the background. Yesterday as usuall i was looking for a new bit, a new word, somethign interesting, something I could put on the paper, so it takes its own form and bring me something, a piece, a poem. I found one and i like it , it might became a title of a poem, or comes in the body of the piece pointing to its truth,"SUBURBANITE
INDIFFERENCES" or i could change it to "SUBURBAN INDIFERENCES", for the time being I fold it and let it float inside my big head.

I don't kinow if you guys noticed, but we had a new visitor, and he was brave enough to leave a comment, AMIR, he introduces himself as a friend of ARASH, and left a beautiful heartfelt comment about ARASH.
I do not kno0w how he found us, but I am glad that he was here. My body is in pain, all my muscles ache, it serves me right, and a bit of pain is not bad at all. I feel excersising clears my head, but I should get more rest, I need a good eight hours of sleep tonight, but sleeping bores me, it always has. Not that i am a very productive person, but I feel even less productive after long sleeping. I heard a nice qoute the other day " DREAMS ARE THE WISHES YOUR HEART BRINGS"

Yesterday I went to see HOUTAN, I have had a bit of pain in my right ear, and last time I had such a thing it became infectious, and very painfull, so I thought I better catch it sooner this time. On my way to his office i stopped and bought him a book, MEN IN BLACK, he is an avid reader. He checked my eyes after i passed trough his receptionist, and the new nurse, Marsh, she is cute, and I flirted and joked with her to my hearts delight. Houtan told me I have SWIMMERS ear, and I am not a swimmer, he gave me some medicine to deal with it, and when I asked him if the medicine comes in form of sepository, he laughed, shaking his head.

We are done with the kids birthdays, although Kiana still has a ceremony at an outside place for her cousins and friends on Saturday, and Amin is taking his friends, and Steven his cousin to STAR WARS on Sunday. I bought Amin the book TRAVEL TEAM some time ago and I am planning to find it and get him to read it together, I am sure Kiana would join us, and might even finish it before us. She is so competative, and driven.

I will post my poem THEIR HOUSE on these pages today, if you get a chance do read it and tell me how you liked it, it is very different, and I have come to like and enjoy the style of its writing. It is always refreshing to me to try different styles, it is like trying to find your voice, and every new direction seems so fresh and inviting.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:46 PM | Comments (7)

Night Porter

walking all night, he looks tired, his hair unkempt, his skin sagging, pouting his lips as a way to meke him concentrate, lowering down his eyebrows, looking down, he pushes his hand trhough his hair, pushing it back on his scal, somehow the acts calms him down, but he is no looking for calm, he has been following his vision all night, by himself he way heliked it, with his long black raincoat, which allowed him a certain pivacy, covering most of him.

He is preaccoupied by the shadows he has seen in his mind, the texture of the colors the design and that certain music he had heard from a distance, wondering which one will bring the vision to focus, which one will guide him, closing his eyes, he tries to humm the music, as it pranced in his mind, the melody, no , no, it was a bit higher, and the way the notes opend, as the whole orchestra joined in, taking it higher, his fingers tries to trace the music in the air, and then there are hues, hues of living colors, the way they bubble and come in, Oranges, yes, it was always oranges, there was some sort of attraction for him, the life that came in that hue, as it became slowly gold, and amber, with traces of oranges still there drowning slowly.

And then the face came, in a close up, against the black background as the light brought it to focus, erasing the shadows, taking them away, very slowly, the face, the long forehead, with the weatherd skin, a few hair standing short at the top of the skul, but it was long around the head, along side of the ears, unkempt, oily, unwashed, sticking to gether in strands, standing out. and the thich eyebrows, that forbade the long forhead contrasting its colorness against the rich full black bushes of it, extending toward the side of the head, and the eyes, with sagging eyelids dropping, in layers, overcasting the irrises, one round Black irris, standinf high on the sphere og the eyeball, leaving a visable line of white underneath it, black with no depth, no glowing reflections, and the other irris, you could see some of the linees of it inbrown blue, deemed, no light , no seeing just there, making the face more morbid and unforgiving.

And the nose, extending out, with w crocked bone that bumped on its center and deviated a bit to the left, making the right sodes of the nostrils more visable and pronounced, rosy red in its texture. he had
no lips, no chuncks of flesh, under his nose, just a long line of a n opening, colorless and void of any expressions around his mouth. and the long chin, extending almost parallel to hin nose in a profile, and also a bit deviated to the left.

And that was all he had the music, the hues, how they bled in each other, and the face, devoid of any color, like a drawing against the paper, that was all he had come to see and keep in his mind, of his long over night trip, it was not much but it suited him fine, he had been back manu nights without anything, nothing had standed out and how lost he used to feel on those night, now at least he had something, he was happy, staring at the window, while wiping his mouth, now he had to bring them on the paper, and let them guide him, let the start while the music still played in his head, he sat at his desk, took a paper, and pen, and started to write, while humming.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:18 PM | Comments (0)

Playground

T: We have to ask you to leave
I: Why ?
T: you are making chaos, and being difficult
I: I am not bothering any body, I have been quiet all the time, just sitting here, watching every one
T: I know, but you are quietly disturbing yourself, we can see you are being hurt, it is so obvious.
I: disturbing myself, but isn't that my teritory, I can do what I want
to myself.
T: yes you could , but we do not have to witness it, it is painful, we worry about you.
I: I know what I am doing, it is like a dance, I know all the moves,
when to come in, when to turn, and I can stop it at anytime.
T: that's what you think, but you get others involved too, and they might not know, what you are doing, they might take you for what you say, or write, or think
I: thats going too far, I usually tell them, if they wanna play is up to them. I tell them it is a game. they usually know, and the ones I choose, are always the smart ones.
T: I know that too, but they come here to play, beneath all they show, they are only little boys and girls, they believe your words, you decieve them, and they get hurt.
I: that is their fault, I point out the rules, I expect them to know, and if they take a risk in playing with me, that is their choice.
T: But why do you have to do this, why can't you be honest,why do you change your outfits every day, your gender, your ideas, you confuse them
I: but they will learn, they getr to think on their feet, and that helps them grow, and why you ask, because I need it, I need to see their reactions, their responces, the energy they give me, I need them to like me, to want me, to keep me in their psyche, and dream of me.
T: you are so needy, and so pethatic, can't you just play their games, HOPSCOTCH, HIDE AND SEEK, can't you be yourself
I: No , never, their games are boring, those games are only games with no subsequences, no results, there is no individuality in them.
I need more, you see it is for my ART, I am allowed, I need inspirations, and I can nopt live the life of a poet or an artist, so I get to play
T: But then what after the games are finished, there is no one to play
, they refuse to play with you, what if y0ou get involved in the game, and lose your own reality.
I: well that is what makes it interesting, and exciting, I have to come up with differen schemes, ideas, and if I get involved, heh, i always get involved, that is idea, so I can feel, you see I need to feel, and I pay the price, I come to this knowingly, and I am clever.
It is my choice, and I can write about the experience, you see i have to do this, and no matter what I know how to go back to my reality, my reality is always there, I put it aside from time to time, but I know it is there.
T: well, I do not know what to say, just be carefull with yourself and others, the price you pay might be high, and remember I am watching you.
I: thanks, I am whatching you too, remember you are also a part of the game.
T: You pompous ass.

Posted by Idinraha at 09:58 AM | Comments (3)

May 17, 2005

Happy Birthday Amin, My beautiful boy

Amin came to us at one of the hardest stages of our lives. I just had lost my business, had rented out our house and moved to AKRAM'S house. I had opened a new store, and I was by myself, depressed, scared, with Marjan and our new baby Amin.

I think God in her wisdom, knew I need a distraction and love, I needed hope, and Amin was the gift that brought all this with him, I always say he is my soul, and dare to say, the closest person on this earth to me, there is a bind between us, only us, him and me, and no one else.

It was a Sunday night when we had to get Marjan to the hospital, it was raining, and Akram was with us. We went in, and Marjan was taken to what they call these days, THE BIRTHING ROOM, I was anxious, but tried to be brave, Marjan was in Pain, I stayed awke all night with her. By next after noon, She was not still diallated enough, and the baby's heart rate alarmed her doctor, so they took her in the operating room for a C section. I was with her, and before you know it, they had opened her up. Once the Doctor saw the baby, he was shocked, we were told he would be about 6,1/2 Lb, an average size baby, but he was much bigger, almost 9Lb, and 21" tall.

You see Marjan had this thing about our baby, she was worried that he would have a big meaty nose like mine, and at one of the visits, her doctor looked at the monitor and said wow this baby has a very distinct nose, the minute I heard that I knew that marjan would have problem with that statement. Once we were back at the house, Marjan started crying, My baby has a big nose. I knew with all the hormones in her, she could not think logically , so I tried to calm her down, but to no avail. The next day I called her doctor, and explained Marjan's worries, she said," no Mr Ahmadi what I meant that he has very nice nose,with distinct bone structure".

So back to the operating room, the baby was delivered, they cleaned him up, and gave him to me, marjan wanted to see the baby," asking let me see his nose, and I assured her that Amin had a beutifull little nose, trying to bring Amin down to her eye level so she could see, At last she saw his face and got relaxed, the nose was okay.

In a way Amin saved my life, my little savior, he sustained me with all the love he gave me and still does. I have so much memories of him, always smiling, and ready to jump in my arms the minute I was home. And you know you do not know what Love is untill you have your own child, nothing, and nothing comes close, sweetest sensation ever,
I used to get him to sleep, singing, John Denver's Annie's song, " you feel up my senses, like a night in the forrest......." he did and still does. Watching LION KING TOGETHER, or WINNIE THE POOH, telling him my stories at night, watching him grow to be a young man he is, and wrestling with him, arms in arms, like SIMBA and MOFASA. He is quiet shy, young man with no appetite for fighting, or mischief, he likes to be left alone, the way I used to. He is so gentle with other kids, specially his new couisin LEILA now. Whe I want to tease him, I lay him down and lick his face all over, and then he runs after me trying to do the same. Or, if we are watching TV and a beutifull girl comes on the screen I tell him, " Amin isn't she a HABAHABA", and he takes his eyes away screaming at me " Daddy". Well I am his silly daddy, and he is the sunshine of my life.

One of the first thing I wrote to Amin before he was born in his BOOK OF PROMISES, was that he owed me a big one for finding him a mother like Marjan. She is so in love with him, adores him, and takes care of him like a Prince, they share the same overcoats, or Tshirts now, even the same shoes. She watches over him like a hawk, and knows him better than anybody else, the way only mothers do. And Of course Akram, giving Amin love as pure as it comes, He spends Friday nights usually over Akram's house, and sleeps with her on her bed, with her holding him while he goes to sleep. Lucky boy.

Well, I could write a lot more, but I know, I do not want to try your patience. I wrote a poem for him recently MY SON AT ELEVEN, look it up if you like.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:18 AM | Comments (0)

May 16, 2005

Barefoot...................................a poem by Anne Sexton

Loving me with my shows off
means loving my long brown legs,
sweet dears, as good as spoons;
and my feet, those two children
let out to play naked, I ntricate nubs,
my toes, no longer bound.
And what's more, see toenails and
all ten stages, root by root.
All spirited and wild, this little
piggy went to markket and this little piggy
stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes.
Further up my darling, the woman
is calling her secrets, little houses,
little tongues that tell you.

There is no one else but us
in this house on the land spit.
The sea wears a bell in its navel.
And i am your barefoot wench for a
whole weekk. Do you care for salami?
No. You'd rather not have a scotch?
No. You don't really drink. You do
drink me. The gulls kill fish,
crying out like three-year-olds.
The surf's a narcotic, calling out
i am, I am, I am
all night long. Barefoot,
I drum up and down your back.
In the morning I run from door to door
of the cabin playing chase me.
Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you workk your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger markk

Posted by Idinraha at 03:57 PM | Comments (0)

Breast feeding

How do you Justify a tragedy, you come face to face with it, feeling lucky that it is not your tragedy, it is someone elses, and though you are sympathetic with her, or him, you feel still a certain happiness when you get to leave. No you do not have to stay, you have your own life to live. So you go home, kiss your wife, hold your son a bit longer, lay down next to your sleeping daughter, and look at her, happy she is there, happy to get to keep them safe, you run down the stairs, make sure the doors are locked, and everyone is safe.

And then you have the luxuary of forgetting, getting bugged down by your own very life, and its own peculiar problems, you are set free, you are okay, but once in a while it still tugs at your heart, Well
she was only sixteen when they married her off, you had met her, you had seen her girlish smile, laughter, the way she shyed away, looking down while standing next to her husband. They go away, the new couple, looking for their lives, and then a year later they are back, they have problems, she looks sad, disillusioned, her skin not as fresh, she looks tired, with a baby in her hand, her addoring look while she looks at him, breast feeding him, a baby boy. a beautiful, beautiful boy.

And then they go back again, out of your life, following theirs to different places different situations, Her husbands divorces her after a few years, but they just had another baby, a baby girl, you despise her husband, you despise her life, but she is capable, confident, she does not accept any help, does it on her own, raising her kids, she never marries again, you hear about her now and then, her son has grown now, he is in college, you are happy all her hard work, hard living is paying up, a grown son, a teenage daughter.

And then you hear the boy, the beautiful, beautiful boy was killed by another boy,............. and you don't know what to say, how could this happen to her, why her, after everything she went trough, and now this, not her please, no. But reality hits, you go to the services, you see him laid to rest while she is ghost like, colorless
weeping, crying, screaming, looking so old, so helpless, nothing left of the girl you had met so long ago. Just a mother so clearly violated by life.

Time goes on, and then you hear she is counting the days, she is hoping, waiting to die, there is no cure for this, no help, every one gets to go back to their lives but she has to stay and accept. You hear she goes to the cemetery every day, to see her son, and then you write a piece for her, for her pain, and you are never convinced if you can depict her, all of her, and all of her pain with your words, so you get her to lay on the stone, and you allow her in your imagination you enable her to streatch her arms and go trough the stone, and the soil, and find him and hold him again, while the whole experience make her feel she is breast feeding him, as her shirts get wet from the pain manifesting in milk in her breast finding a way out.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:43 PM | Comments (3)

Moments of Kill...............The 100th Poem

She walks
In the grave yard,
Her face happy in jest
Of a lover going to an
Awaited Randevous, she finds
her way trough the slabs of stones
In her heart a percise dagger,
Being there fora while, cuts deeper
So she could feel the pain

She finds him
Sees him in his horizontal
State, laid. she bends down
Pulling thweeds away, brushing
The stone with her palms, like
Brushing his cheeks, intimate in
her mind, as she reads the tombstone
The alphabets make her realise
Again, how cold the air is,
And how breathless
Is she.

She sits,
Stone faced,
Forcing a smile,
Whispering under breath
Singing and old lullaby,
She lays on the stone,
Stretching her arms trough
The hard surface, the damp soil
Reaching further, she finds him,
nd holds him in her arms, feeling
a pressure in her breasts, as the liquid
pores trough her nipples and wets her shirt
The twilight breaks in her head
As she yelps in sounds of a dying animal
In the moments of a kill

Posted by Idinraha at 12:28 PM | Comments (2)

They just can't help themselves.

Well, you think after what happened to Dan Rather, his peers would learn something, but no, they are just too arrogant, and feel so entitled, that no one can reach them, they do not have to account for anything, they are the new messengers, the new Messiahs, and have the responsibility of probing and proding in annals of Government to expose everything. It does not matter to them how their reporting might compromise the National Security of the Government, how it might encourage our enemies during the war. They just can not help themselves.

NEWSWEEK is reporting this week that there were Qurans (Moslems' holly book) left in Bathrooms in GUANTANA BAY prisons, and how some soldiers have even flushed one down the toilet. ANd MSNBC has reported that all over the world. They were demonstrations in Afghanistan, SEVENTEEN people were killed and hundreds were injured.
The report was done based on one Ananymos source, and was never confirmed by any recognised sources. Forget about all the rules of reporting, what about decency, with AMERICAN soldiers all over the world in harms way, to instigate such lies, with no regard for any one, is unconsciounable. SHAME, SHAME, AMERICAN ELITE LEFTIST MEDIA proves once again that how they do hate this country and all it stands for, and how they would not stop at anything to set their own agendas. This is Treason no matter how you look at it.

This Morning NEWSWEEK, has already appologised and has all its TALKING HEADS all over radio stations and TVs trying to justify what they have done. And now the insurgent have another weapon in their hand to instigate mayhem, and recruits new SOLDIERS OF GOD.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:17 AM | Comments (4)

Parenthood

Rainy days and Mondays, well it is overcast here, it seems we have lost the sun for the time being, it feels a bit like Seattle, or London, so Top of the morning to you all. WHERE IS INASY?, I have not had any comments from her in a while, I think she might be busy with her submitions and the deadline, we wish her luck, and hope to see her back here, she writes so well, it is inspiring. Well life goes on, The Third week of May is always busy and happy for me and my family since both my beauties are born in May, Kiana on May 15, and Amin, on May 17th, actually Kiana would have been born on May 17th also, but we thouhgt it would be better for each of them to have their own special day.

We made both our babies on Vacations, no plans on either one of them, just faith and its blessings, We could actually tell you what day, you trace it back, and it fall right on August 23rd, and that is our Wedding aniversary, and you married men know, that you can always count on those special days, YOUR BIRTHDAY, HER BIRTHDAY, and ANNIVERSAY DAY, and sometimes on VALENTINES DAY, we, married men usually get lucky, and get some LOVIN. So Amin, was made while we were in Carabian, on a cruise. that is why he has darker complexion, and Kiana was made on our trip to seattle, SHE DOES HAVE MUCH LIGHTER SKIN, AS I SAID NEITHER ONE WAS PLANNED, but since then, my wife does stay away from me, a week before and a week after our anniversary, and on our anniversary night, I get to sleep down stairs.

the woman has every right, I love kids, and if physically I could bear them myself, we would have a dozen, I am also very good in taking care of infants, the smell of my kids dippers used to make me high, and I used to lick them and bite them all over( the kids, not the diappers). When Amin was born, Akram and I used to fight who would change his diappers, or give him a bath. I also used to shower both of them myself, holding them in my arms, and wash them, and my litle angel Kiana used to fall sleep in my arm, the steam and water getting to her.

Staurday was the day of Reckning for Amin, He lost all his games, game books, the CD's, all and all, he is forced to go Cold Turkey.
Marjan was brave enough to give him the news, and after two days of grieving and accusing his mother and me to be Mean, he has accepted his fate. Marjan has moved all of them somewher, probably where she kkeeps the chocolates and cookkies away from me.

I bought Amin his first NINTENDO, since we where told that he had problems with his eye/hand cordination. So I thought playing the game would remedy that, and it sure did. That was five years ago, and my son also has an addictive personality like his father, so it was time for the games to go, this way Amin would get to socialise with his peers and cousins more, and that will be good for him. He did make a deal with his mother yesterday, He would stay away from all of his games for one full year, and would try to improve his social life, and get more involved in sports, proving himself, and if he does that , he would get his games back. We are hopping that by then, the Hormones have kicked in, he would discover girls and would not even look back.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:34 AM | Comments (6)

May 15, 2005

Lovers in purgatory

W;" Please don't"
L: " you hate me, don't you "
W; " NO, but I have to much on my mind, we need to figure this all out"
L;"figure what out, I love you, what else matters, Love has indulged us, we are here, you , and me, let's leave the world out side"
W;" I wish it was that simple, yes, you love me, I kknow, but can love be enough"
L; " Of course, we are lucky to have found each other, you know how many people go on living without finding themselves in their lover's eyes. Why can't love be enough"
W; " because we are grown ups, living in a grown up world, we have obligations, we have made promises to others, we love others, it is not only me and you alone in this world."
L; " As long as I am concerned, it is, it is only you and me, when I am here, with you, nothing matters, no one matters, you might think I am selfish, but I am in Love, what else could matter"
W; " you are too romantic, you should live in story books,"
L; " Maybe, but you are here, with me, your hands in mine, breathing the same air, knowing how I want you, and how long I have waited for this"
W;" So a frolic in the bed, behind these coverd widow, is that us, is that our love, hidden, blossoming in sheets of cheap motel room, in the afternoons, is that what you need of me, is this the way you love me"
L; " why do you have to mock everything, the only truth is that you and me, we are together, it does not matter, when or where, No I love to walk with you in open spaces, behind open windows, I love to stand on the top of the roofs and tell every one how I love you, do not mock the truth of our love, for if you do, we will not have anything."
W;" So you love me, Hmm, we get to makke love for an hour or two, and then you go to your partner, and I go to mine, with our dreamy eyes, misty of the allowance we had even for a short while, you kiss your darling, and I kiss mine, and when they reach us we shudder, we stay, we put up with it, we let them fuck us, since there is no love, we get to be fucked, and smile as the pain reaches us both, afterward, clinging to the sides of our beds, feeling dirty, compromised, and violated, and the heavy scent of deciets and lies. It will kill us, and with it it would destroy any respect we might have for ourselves and each other."
L;", so you have decided, haven't you?"
W; " no, but I want you to get in this with open eyes, I love you too much to allow you decieve yourself"
L;" If you knew all this why, then why you took me, I was living my life, a normal life, they were things I did not know, they where places in my heart I had not claimed, but I was okay"
W: " I did not seduce you, we met, remember, we just met, like many people do every day on this god damned earth, all these people who meet, say hello, and then say good by, we met, and we were claimed, not of our own knowing, or wanting, just claimed, by something bigger ........bigger than us, I did not take you, you happened to me, like a ton of breaks, you happened to me.."
L; " Yes, but I did not expect you in my life either, I had no place for you, I was fine, happy as I could be, but how can I go back now, how can I forget, I am not the same person, my life has changed I have changed, you makke me like myself, I have gotten to love me through your eyes, your love has given me a certain dignity...... I like the new me, I like the crisp colors of the leaves and trees, and seasons, songs had never sounded so good, birds, the sky,. the air, life, YOU
DID THIS, YOU.........and now you expect me to worry how I would love you, or how I come to kkeep this, worrying about others in my life, NO I CAN NOT WORRY ABOUT OTHERS IN MY LIFE, NOT NOW, NOT AFTER THIS, I am shaken I am blown to pieces, I can not breath, I can not sleep, but I am happy, I am happy, the way I never knew happines existed, everythings taste frsh in my mouth, the water, the scents, everything, and YOU DID THIS,....... I am in love, I know love hurts, love burns, but I will pay the price, to feel the way I do now, as long as I can, I am not scared,...... I am , but not scared enough to run, and deprive myself of the only truth that I kknow of, I am in love, I am crazy,......it is supposed to be this way, isn't it"
W:" Hshh, come here, just come here and hold me now"

Posted by Idinraha at 03:48 PM | Comments (2)

Beautiful, beautiful girl..................for Kiana

And How you claimed my heart
As you opened your Cat eyes
And reached through me
And How I suurenderd
To the promise of you

Daddy's girl
Mixing colors of my days
Crafting my life in your hands
Creating tablets of unconditional love
In pinkks, greens, reds, and ginger
in your busy hands, long fingers
Spelling the magic you know
In a smile, or a stare, precious

We waited for you
And by your arrival,
You made your mom prettier
Your brother taller,
And me complete.

And such pleasure
To wake my every day
ith the sound of your voice
And demands of, NOW,....WHY....or PLEASE
-You asking for more, and more, never enough
And the privilage of watching
You become all you will,
My beautiful, beautiful girl

Posted by Idinraha at 03:25 PM | Comments (0)

Happy Birthday Kiana

I do not know how we lived before she was born. She is such a force in our lives, with so much energy, and so smart, beyound her age. I remember when we went to the hospital for her birth. Since marjan had a C section, with Amin, she had to have her with C section too. It was an afternoon, we had left Amin with Julia, and Akram was with me, we were sitting together in the waiting room, while the were preparing Marjan, Akram was reading prayers underbreath, while I WAS DOING MY BREATHING, FIFTY DEEP INHALES, AND EXHALE, TO CALM ME DOWN.

I looked at AKRAM, her face kind, a bit nervous, god knows how much I feel in debt to this women, By accepting me as a Son in law, by loving me like a son, by forgiving me all my shortcomings, and the way she loved Marjan, and adored Amin, and hop she has been with me in all the most important stages of my life. She started crying, so I sat next to her and told her, Come on MOM, you are here to take care of me, she smiled, and tried to control herself. I looked out and saw Majan's Doctor, satnding by the operationg room, eating his soup. Well I guess these operations are so routine to these Doctors.

In a few minutes, they called me in to the operating room, Marjan was laid down awake, a bit sedated, Her Doctor was there and so was a young Black assistant, a nurse, and the anestialogist. They had given her an Epidoral, to localy numb her belly. They started to cut her, I tried not to lookk, while I was talking to Marjan, and holding her hand, and then she started screaming, they stopped, Doctor said that the medicine sometimes does not go through the whole section, so they had to put her under general, at times like this, there is that sense of helplessnes, that tugs at you hurt, and the emptiness you feel at the pit of your stomack. Tears were running down my face, and I was trying to be brave, before you know it, I heard the doctor said, the babies head is out of your wife stomack, would like to look, to which, I responded a very firm,"NO THANK YOU". The doctor got kiana out, I cut her ambilical cord, and my baby arrived, screaming, The peditrician, checked her out , gave me an OK signal, and they handed her to me, and once in my arms, she calmed down, as I held her tight, smiling and crying at the same time, and she looked at me with those slanted Cat eyes, and I was in love.

Kiana completed us, two boys, two girls, as Amin used to say, and for the first time I felt that we were a family, four of us, the magic number, she was tall, 21", and about 8,1/2 pound, round face, black hair, supple lips, a tiny nose, and those eyes, that flirted with you from the first moment. My girl was all woman. I always say this and forgive me, if it does not adhere to your sensibilities, EVERY MAN SHOULD BE BLESSED ENOUGH TO HAVE A DAUGHTER, heck, I would have ten daughters if I could, they teach you so much, they love you so much, and Kiana has proven to be everything I needed. I could never imagine my life withought a daughter, somehow it appeals more to my sensibilities as a man that I am, and in our families, Marjan's , and mine, they are lots of boys but only two girls, so having a girl was a blessing that Marjan and I both look forward to.

Some of it was also that Marjan and Akram have such a close relationship that I wanted something on the same level for Marjan as we grow older. God has been good to me, and I am blessed. Kiana changed lots of thing in our lives. We moved to a much larger house, with her ever present energy, she has forced Amin to come out of his shell too. She is competitive, sensetive, wise beyound her age, quite a little lady. And I made sure I had many days with her one on one by takking her to0 the store with me all day, you see Kiana needs to be loved, every seconds, and we are happy to oblige, she is artistic, and in many ways she has so much of me in her, that makes me worry, growing up had not been easy for me, and I do not want her to go through the same things. At times like that my beautiful very wise wife Marjan tells me; " Don't worry Javad, she might be like you, but she is being brought up here, under much different environment, and she has you as a father to watch over her."
she is also kind enough to tell me: " Javad, I am so Jelious of our kids, they are so lucky to have a father like you". to which I say, I hope so, I realy hope so.

I call Amin, the sunshine of my life, and Kiana, the apple of my eyes,
she is so much to have around and well loved by her peers and every one in the family, so my friends now you can see how blessed I am, and how I do not dare to ask for any more blessings.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:04 AM | Comments (4)

May 14, 2005

Saturday in the trenches

I just read Ferry's post on LIVELIFE, it is good to see him posting while travelling, it is good to see him not edditing, and not caring, just giving it to us as it comes, warts and all. it is good to see him daring to be impulsive, spare of the moment phase, from what I know of him, he lives a very disciplined life, good for him, I am jealous.

My new regimen of getting up in the morning, anf flying over to the GYM has been very good for me physically, and spiritually. After lifting those weights, I feel my muscles thightenning, and it feels good, I am training a lot harder, first the cross trainer, then the punching bag and boxing, and then one full hour of heavy lifting, a shower and I am A okay. business has picked up a bit , but is still a drag. Marjan asked me the other day, WHAT WAS REALLY BOTHERING ME?, and I did tell her, my only problem is the business, and hat would change soon, hopefully.

I guess one could not and should not expect to have everything okay in one's life. I feel so blessed having Marjan, and my two lovelies in my life, that I am ashamed of asking for anything more. And business I could handle, I have been down and even out before, and did mange to land on my feet, and if of all the miserys of the world , mine is money problem, I am okay with it and I feel blessed.
I also have a good connection with God, I believe there is a reason for everything, and I feel good being in her hands. Faith can do a lot for a man, it keeps you in good company, it kepps you in HOPE, and the knowing that, THe sun will shine tomorrow, remember, you can bet your bottom Dollar on that.

I have recievd very insightful comments from SL, it is so nice to have her here, and it is so nice that she is generous enough to share her two cents with us. I am greatfull and I hope she also get to find something in these pages to tressure. Cyrus, My Mr, Keaton, that's Buster Keaton for those of you who do not know your Silent Movie's legends, is in his good form, leaving me such funny lines. of course Fereydoon, though traveling, has not forgotten about us, and leaves comments, thanks Bro, I hope you packed your Blue Pills, just in case.
Chey is also back, irreverant, and unique as ever, my Gypsy friend is at her home land now, wondering in MARTHA'S WINEYARD. Maryam my LiL Sis has been absent, I guess she needs a bit of time to adjust and digest all that happened last week. Take your time, and do come back LiL sis, I miss you here. METAL, though possibly is still visiting us, is not leaving any comments, I hope at some point she would feel comfortable enough again to join the diologue here. No comments from Fafar my S&M sexy nymph, I miss her too. When Chey was here I invited to come to my office, and see me in action, she did, and probably will tell you at some point how unorgenised, and messy it was, with empty bottle of Paxills, and Cigar butts every where but in the ashtray, a real mess. Last night when I got home, Marjan told me, that Julia had invited us over for a dinner of Kebab, we went there it was delicious, and we spent a few hours with Julia, Amir and their kids, thanks Julia, as ever it was fun.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:25 AM | Comments (2)

May 13, 2005

Class, we have a new assignment.

It has been my intention from the begining of these pages to keep the diologue going, and come up wih topics of choice, topics that concern all of us , not as a man or a woman, but human beings living on this earth, at the begining of its twenty first century. The values we share, our common bonds, our ways of living and loving that as original and unique they are to each of us still they share many bonds in common.

As you have seen I do try to digg deeper, and hide nothing within the boundries of common civility, and our regards for each other. And now I do have an assignment for all of us, the ones that leave comments, which I cherish( they keep the flames going), and the ones that are not confident enough to leave any traces of themselves. I like all of you to try to catch the Movie " closer", I know it might not be the little independent movie that CYRUS usually likes, or a Musical that some of you preffer, but I have seen the movie, and I think it covers so much of what as adults we are intangled with, and it would be good for us to allow each other of what we have see in it, and what appeals or not to us about this movie.

Warn you, no car chases, no explosions, and no Machismo, but it is a tough movie to take, it is brutal, honest, with no clear hero or antagonists. Just bunch of characters living their lives, with love, hate, deciet, and many more humanly emotions. Mike Nichols have directed the movie , based on a play by Patrick Marber, who also wrote the screen play for the movie. Natalie Portman is flawless, you will not be able to take your eyes away from her. the other actors, Julia Roberts, Jude Law, and Clive Owen, also show case great acting, but the most memorable character in the Movie, is ALICE, and miss Portman burns the screen quietly by her subtle, and understated acting.

I watched the movie, for inspirations, for those little words, or gestures, dialogues, songs that stay in my head and show me a new direction, becoming an inspiration for a new poem or a rant. I found the movie powerfull, biting, hard, ruthless, and above all very intimate in its sensibilities. I enjoyed it very much, and I like to hear from you about your likings, disecting the characters, who was right or wrong, and if it matters at all, so my friends go get the movie, and I hope you enjoy it, I will watch it again and write a rant about it next week.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:01 PM | Comments (0)

Better watch your back

Our History, mostly around the time of GHAJAR dynasty, is full of literature, poems, and tales that account for the papularity of hemosexuality in our culture. That is also seen and reported in Greek, and Roman cultures. tales written about the abundance of young beautiful boys in the palaces of GHAJARS are many, justifying their deviation, curiosity, or sometimes right of passage for many men. They were so brazen about this that most of Kings in GHAJARS' dynasty had a favorite boy man, usually called a MALIGAK, who was the constant companion of the king, and could get away with many things nobody else could.

And these were men, who had many wifes kept in their HARAMS, waiting for their turn to enjoy the fruits of the kings favor and passion. They are tales also about these women becoming bored with their lives and not being able to see enough of the king, and away from all men, becoming homoseuall beings themselves and enjoy the favors of their commrades. Contrary to the beliefs of western WORLD, ISLAM IN ITS REAL SENSE HAD NEVER ALLOWED, OR ENCOURAGED men to be bigomist. Mohamad the prophet only after the death of KHADIJEH, his wife, started marrying different girls from different tribes, in order to unify the tribes. And Ali, his cousin who was the first man to belive in Mohamad, and his religion, and became the main keeper of true Islam, specialy in the eyes of the SHIATTES of the world, never married another woman untill the death of his wife FATEMEH. and in QURAN, it says a man is allowed to marry another woman with the permission of his wife, and ONLY IF HE COULD GIVE ALL OF THEM LOVE AND ATTENSION EQUALLY. Which is a undoable task when women and love is concerned.

But of course the MULLAHS, AND THEIR INTERPERTRAION OF ISLAM, says something quite different, due mostly to satisfy their appetite, and their hunger for physical lust. But even thes Mullahs are famous for their lust after young boys, something they learned and got to, while attending their seminary schools for long years, since the attendants were all male.

And now my story, during my last year living in Iran, while I was trying to get my Visa to come to America one night my father called me to his room, and once there I was greeted by a hard slap on my face, well by this point, I was Sixteen years old, about 5'10", and though not a body builder, but I was able to defend myself. My immdiate reaction was to slap him back, and before he could try to beat me up, My mom, and the others were in the room and seprated us.

The reason for all this was what was told by my old classmate friend, HOMAYOON, to one of my brothers. HOMAYOON was always a goofe, if I want to bring a picture of him I could tell you, he was exactly like GEORGE, the carachter from SIENFIELDS, as much of a spoiled brat, the only son in his family, and as much of a UNIQUE PERSON that George was.
In his effeort to be humorous, he had advised my brother," THERE IS TWO THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT DO IN YOUR LIFE, SMOKING CIGAR AND BEING A HEMOSEXUALL, JAVAD AND I HAVE DONE BOTH, RESULTING IN OUR SHAME AND GUILT". And my brother had seen himself to be ob ligated to report this to my father.

After much negotiation through my mother, my father accepted to see me in his office to discuss the situation. Once there, sitting behind his desk, without looking at me, he said, " I am suspitious of you and HOMAYOON, I do not want you to have any relationship with him, and you have to find the way to prove to me that his statement is not true, other wise you will not get any help from me for your trip to America, and I will not talk to you as long as I live, disowning you forever."

Well, I was not evenm that friendly with HOMayoon, since we have moved to a new house, faraway from the old neighborhood, I was also involved with all my new friends and dating LIISA, so I did not have any time to see HOMAYOON, but How could I prove to my father that i had not have any physical relationship with HOMAYOON. Outside going to a doctor, and getting inspected in my nether rigions for any signs of any penetrations, what else could I do. I thought maybe that fact that I had never been to any whorehouse, and has not practiced my God given right to prove my manhood, and learn from a wise skilfull PROSTITUE , the art of intercourse, has flamed my father's suspisions further.

I tried to reason with him, to no avail, I asked him how could I prove my side to him, he already knew that I was dating LIISA, but he did not have any ideas either, we were in an impass, and I had to forget my dream of coming to America. I left his office in huff, not knowing what to do. Well I do not quite clearly remember how we solved that problem, I think my mother had a lot to do with it, she got in between and somehow I passed another hurdle in my effort to come to America.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:41 AM | Comments (3)

Generosity of a poet

Cavafy has taken my breath away, the clarity of his words, the simplness of his images and the generosity of the pain he offers, no other man poet has done this to me, I sit here read his poetry and tears come, the pain tugging at my heart, and such a wellcome pleasure that this pain brings, the intimacy of his thoughts, the loneliness of him.

Some of you might not know this but it does take immesurable amount of generosity to be a poet. To allow the pain to come, sometimes to create it,pain and pleasure, so we get to feel beyound what we are allowed, so the bones would ache, the flesh pains, and the breath fights it way out of your chest, for the hights only we get to dare, to climb, and of course one should be ready o pay the price. I am not talking about commercial artist that whores its everything for the fame and the glory, I am talking of the ones that write for only the pleasure of it.

When I found out that Cavafy never tried to publish, only happy to send his poems to his friends, I felt a keenship with his sole, for I have done that most of my life, and only recently posting on POETS.COM, and to my main man Cyrus's credit, I have gathered them here and post them. Yes, yes and yes, it is the writing the process of putting the pen or in our case punching a keboard, and allowing your thoughts to be registerd, it take a quiet corner, sitting by yourself and all you need is time. I start writing a rant and befor I know it, thirthy five minutes, an hour has passed, with me immersed in bliss, not knowing where the time went.

And yes it take generosity and daring, not that people who write are braver, or somehow more noble than others, in a way they are condemned, to seek the pain and allow it to sip inside them, to take them over, make their bones ache, so they get inspired, so they can write, birthing a thought, an image. We are a strange lonely bunch, we need more, but not of the every day stuff that one gets to accumulate, and keep. We need more emotions, more generosity of senses, we need to see more, to be touched more, for we cry with innocence of a child and cherish the laughter we hear. WE need lovers, maybe mostly in our minds, we need heights of passion and depth of despair, we need to live bared of our skin, so we get to feel, we need walking in the rain, to get wet, to feel how the rain drapes over our bodies and take us, we need to be captured, to be freed.

And in many ways we are sexuall animals that will dare to uninhibited terotories to find our gems. Cavafy was living a hemosexual life in a very ristricted time, made so many wows to leave that life, and broke many wowes, as the lights faded and night came and the need in him took him over, and you see the guilt, the wanting and the passion in his works, the longing, and the pain that is traced within his words
and poetry, his gift for us. Well as I always say I am a hetrosexual Lesbian, probably the only one around, and if I was a hemosexuall, it might have brought me new grounds to cover between shame, guilt and the liberation of it. Maybe that is the reason that I flirt with men, and women the same, curiosity, looking for a new sensation, trying to get how a women feel, I do not know, but unknowns could always be tempting.

I will not, or should I say I am not capable of changing my sexual preferences, or have any inclinations for it, but I am trying to show you, how far the artist would go or dare, to do what he or she is meant to do. and how generous he or she has to be, how ready, and needy, and all for the sake, of some new words on a piece of paper, a new melody, the brush of paint on a canvas, a story to tell,..........
Yes, yes, and yes.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:58 AM | Comments (0)

Half an hour............................By P.C. Cavafy

I never had you, nor will I ever have you
I suppose. A few words, an approach
as in the bar yesterday, and nothing more.
It is, undeniably, a pity. But we who serve Art
sometimes with intensity of mind, and of course
only
for a short while, we create pleasure
which almost seems real
So in the bar the day before yesterday--the
merciful alcohol
was also helping much--
I had a perfectly erotic half-hour.
And it seems to me that you understood,
and stayed somewhat longer on purpose.
This was very necessary. Because
for all the imagination and the wizard alcohol,
I needed to see your lips well,
I needed to have your body close.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:47 AM | Comments (0)

When They are roused.................by C.P. Cavafy

Try to guard them, Poet
However few they are that can be held
The visions of your eroticism.
Set them, half hidden, in your phrases.
Try to hold them, Poet,
When they are roused in your mind
At night, or in the noon glare.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:37 AM | Comments (0)

May 12, 2005

Lets Misbehave

I just saw the movie -Delovely, it was delicious, I love musicals, heck I sang in one when I was nine or ten, in our school, but thats whole another story.

When I came to America, I made it a point for me to see a few. I saw THE KING AND I, with YULE BRINER, as the king, he was majestic, after the show there was an standing ovation for him for fifteen minutes. I saw CHORUS LINE, EVITA, PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, HAIRSPRAY, PRODUCERS, RENT,and many more, sitting there with music playing, the lights, the colors and the actors all made up, singing and dancing, I always felt that I was in my elements.

Delovely is a movie about the life of COLE PORTER, a young kid from Indiana who became the most celebrated song writer of twentieth Century, and maybe ever. No matter where you have loved you must have heard at least one of his songs, LETS MISBEHAVE, ANYTHING GOES, DELOVELY, and many many more. Every singer of merrit feels obligated to come up with a Cole Porter Album. I enjoyed the movie, the songs and dances, KEVINE KLINE, fabolous as Cole Porter, and so is Ashly Judd, as the love of his life and his benefactor.

And like most artist he did have a dark side, he loved men as much as women, the fact he never tried to hide. His wife Linda knew about it and idulged him by accepting him the way he was. It is amasing how THE ARTIST, those of us that dare more, and try to create, and express their passions, they can not live a normal life, they need inspirations, and freedom to seek, and be inspired. They do not fit the molds of a father,or a husband, they need to roam the earth wioth no boundries, no limits, their soul is bigger than their physical bodies, and its their dark side as much as their other sides that helps them achieve it.

I have also recently found a new poet, through my friend METAL, his name is CAVAFY. I am not much into reading men's poetry, I like the connections that women poet make with themselves and their world much much better. They write from a different place, much deeper, much more intimate. But Cavafy, born in Egypt, of greek decent, oh he does dig deep, and he take you. With such efficieny of words, and clear images, he transcaends time, and brings you little marvels that stay with you for a while and maybe for ever. He never published his works during his life, only used to send them to his friends(you see I am not the only one), worked as a civil servent all his life, never married, he was a homosexuall, travelled a lot, and only after his death his friends and scholars gathered his poetry. Look him up, I can say he has been my most precious discovery in poetry this year, and i owe it to METAL.

Yesterday I posted here, my new poem FINDING THE MAIDEN, it is my poem one hundred and one. I have not posted the poem nymber one hundred yet, it is posted on POETS.COM, but it needs work, I need to tighten it, expand it a bit and when it is ready, I will treat you to it. I just had an Email from a dear man I know, he and his fiance became my client ten years ago. He has helped me a lot in my business and he knows I am greatfull to him, so he sent me a picture of his backyard, his new place by the water, it is glorious. I returned the favor by sending him the link for my site and invited him to visit us here, he called me back and he was laughing, realising what is behind this GYPSY M0OSELM BOY he has known, had surprised him. he had many encouraging words for me, and he might visit again.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:56 PM | Comments (5)

Kindness of Strangers

Well, another beautiful day here, Just came back from the Gym, Two hours of lifting, and cross training, it suites me fine, takes all the anxieties away, your muscles feel thight and hard, and seretonan galore, I had missed it much.

I still do not know how CHEY found me here, she knew my first name, and probably from the picture Cyrus had posted on his site, she knew I had a rug store. The woman is quite resourcefull. When i walked in the store Monday, and saw her, I knew who she was, but I was taken back, and surprised. A kiss and a hug, and I felt a bit calmer, we sat and talked, she is a nice lady, very easy to talk to, kinda tall, and pretty. But between me and you I felt a bit awkward. You see although I dig deep here, the lauxury of distance helps a lot to keep things in perspective. It also allows me to dig even deeper, which I might not be comfortable with if all of us were sitting around a table talking. I find internet is even easier than phone calls, even phone calls become a bit more personal because there in the instant responce, and also the voice, its pitch, how you talk, it gives your company a lot more of you that you might be ready for.

Internet is a wonderfull vihechle to get to know a lot more people that you ususally get exposed to but it also allows you certain privacy. not as intimate as a phone call or a physical meeting with another person. This was the first time, I had met someone that I had come to know through the internet, and in some ways I was not ready for it. Also the fact that Chey had sto0pped comunicating with all of us prior to our meeting, made it more unexpected. I had just come back from the Gym, I had no make up on, was not dressed in my best outfit. Well as we talked I got to relax, we went next door, got some sandwiches for lunch, and sat outside on the patio to eat.

We talked a lot, gossiped, about everyone we knew, mostly you guys, and a bit after lunch she left. She was kind enough to say I looked better in person. And invited us to Martha's Wineyard for the summer,
and then she left.

Yesterday was a productive day, I took care of bisiness, arranged to get the merchendise I needed from the suppliers, wrote two rants, one of them rather embaressing one, and also wrote a new poem. The night before I had gone upstairs and layed on my bed, with Marjan next to me trying to relax, and we have this large walk out window, and a beautifull view of the trees and the sky, it was breath taking, and I thought I should write about it, that was the inspiration that started FINDING THE MAIDEN, At least for the first stanza, but as it is for any form of writing, once you start, the subconscious takes over, and the poem creates itself, taking you wher it wants to. I am very happy of how it panned out. I already posted it on POETS.COM, and got a five star review.

As I had mentioned it here before there was a time, that we had a nice long colaberation ,Metal, and I, her vision, her words, and style, did sipp within my poetry, and inspired me greatly. I have written many poems during that time which I am proud of, I like to thank METAL again. But things change and evolve, i think we did give each other enough of ourselves, and it has been a few weeks that we are not in touch. Each of us persuing different themes and styles, this happens in artistic colaberations, and I think it is fine for bothe of us for now.

Cyrus is back, his elbow is healing, he left me a very funny comment on my rant MESSAGE PARLOR, it is a hoot, he has a wicked sense of humor, SL also has left me an insightfull comment which I treasure, I have another friend of mine who is in the same profession as SL, she had seen SL's comment and made comments to me about the depth of SL's comments and how insightfull they are, thanks SL, for being you. and I also like to thank Inasy, Ferry, and Cyrus again for your kind words of encouragements you left me about the rant LAST NIGHT I ALMOST....., YES it is very nice to have you here, and I enjoy each of your comments plenty.

Posted by Idinraha at 09:49 AM | Comments (7)

May 11, 2005

Total Message

Living in Iran we were brought up in a religious family as you might know by now, but my father was much more relaxed than most of my uncles and the other men in his family. We used to have Friday mornings ritual of going to one of my uncles' house and there we would meet the rest of the male cousins and their fathers, we would have breakfast and then we would have an older man of god, that was trusted with all the elders in the family, teach us how to read Quran, and advice us of all the ills in the society, and how to avoid them. The main party behind this was my Uncle Mohamad Ali, a very strict man religiously, but lolts of fun to be around, always joking and laughing. He was very charming, and being the first man of his generation to study abroad, and earning an Engineering degree in germany, he carried certain respect amongst all of us. I really liked him and so did all the other cousins, I could say he was my favorite amongst my Uncles, and all together a man of principal. He raised six kids, all becoming good members of their society, good business men, and earned their father's respect. he made his own mistakes too, but we all do.

My father was not that strict with us, we would go to the Friday mornings ritual when we could, and was mostly to see the rest of the family. He tried to teach us to pray, waking us up early mornings to do the morning prayer, but he was also more relaxed about that too.
To some extent it was my mother's ifluence that had made him more moderate, and also having to feed two families and eight kids did not leave him much time. My mother though religious also was more progressive and moderate in her beliefs. I used to go out with my friends, I had grildfriends, used to go dancing, wearing my hair long, dressing in bell botom jeans, and so did my brothers. So when I came to united States, not many things were new to me , but there was some culture shocks.

When I was twenty or Twenty one, one day, a bunch of us, my friends and my first cousin (his father was the eldest and most ristrict in the family)and I were hanging around in fairfield, with money in our pockets and looking for trouble. My Cousin suggested that we should visist a MESSAGE PARLOR. He had been to some before and he promissed us that it would be fun. I had never been to one, so he assured me it is only a message and it would be OK. We went upstairs to the saloon, where we were greeted by an older lady, with layers of make up on her face, and her hair bottle blond and teesed up high. She asked us if we want TOTAL MESSAGE, and my cousin answered "YES", with a sly smile on his face. We were shown the pictures of the massuses on the wall and got to pick up our choises.

I was still kinda taken by the whole sleezy decor of the place and the old Lady's face, and was feeling out of place. Every body picked one, and I was left by the last choice, and it was okay. We were directed to different rooms, where we were told to disrobe, and lay on the table, the room was cold. I took my cloth off, kept my under pants, and layed on my stomack on the table. Soon my massus arrived, she was nice, had a south of border accent, chewing gum, and seemed somehow motherly. she said "suga you gotta lose this", and then she peeled my panties down, and there I was bare ass laying down infront of my CONCHITA, feeling embarassed, and deffensive. She pored some oil on my back, and started messaging me. " you are too tense baby, you gotta relax", she said with humor in her voice.

She did My shoulders, my back, and going down , my hips, legs, and feet while humming, she looked very professional and at ease, I started to relax and enjoy the message, she worked her way up, and
once on my hips, her fingers crawled deeper, messaging me between my butt cheeks, I was shocked, she continued, up and down , but every once in a while she would go back between the butt cheeck, like a musician that knew she had to hit that particular note, every once in a while, by now I was alarmed, and the sensation had caused me another
embaressing problem.

Then she stopped, and told me to turn, and lay on my back, I was aprehensive, since I had developed more embaressing extremities under her skilfull hands. I turned back, and before I know it, she pored some oil, on my extended extremity, and let her fingers and palm do the talking, I was shocked, raising myself a bit up, not knowing what to do or say, I had not asked for the special treatment, but before I know it she was finished, and cleaned me with a towel, gave me a smile, and kissed my cheek goodby.

I sat there for a few moments, trying to figure out what had just happened. You know in high school, although we lived uptown, but every thursday, some of my classmates would get together, and go down town to where the whore houses were. It was their weekly ritual, going downtown together in a pak, with their Purple peniciln pills in their pockets, and their fresh 200 rials in their hand. and the next week we would hear them from the back of the class talking about who was scared, and who could not perform. That was so stange to the rest of us that refused to go. You see for them it was the right of passage to the manhood, and once in a while they would threten us that one day they would kidnapp us and take us there. In my head I
knew I would have a heart attack, or a nervousa break down if they took .

Well we came out, and when I told every one else about my embaressing moment, they all laughed loud, telling me that, it was a TOTAL MESSAGE. I was upset why I was not told before hand, and I made sure that one day I went back to that place, got the message, and told the lady, she did not have to total it, I had to prove to them and the rest of my pals that I was better than them, heh, like they cared.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:58 PM | Comments (2)

Finding the maiden

Cool bed sheets wellcoming,
I lay, looking out the window
At dusk, where colors deepen
The light fades, and hues
Bleed in the void of black

I am content laying here
While you read your papers
And the scent of our living
Fills the air, I am content
But restless in my head, looking
For the spot light that eludes me
Like a lass, I am shameless, misty
And mischevious, moving my legs against
The sheets, my needy breasts, and the tinge
of an urge to be at the end of your seeing

I push my head further
Against the pillow, devouring
The scent of the sex still embeded
Within the cloth, roaming in my head
-You so gloriously shining in my sweat
-Me lapping on your sex, enjoying how your
Body pulses in a rhythm, I am reaching you
As i bite in the ripe peach, mouthing you the
pulp, soaked in me, a kiss that brings you more
Of my humid limbs, as you swallow

I roll to your side,
Extending, reaching in a
Soft tip toe, under the cover
Findinf you, where your quiet stream
flows toward me, as i slither blind,
Sniffing the air, gleeful and raw,needy
And bothered, tonguing your thighs,
Allowing you the anticipation
before I find the maiden
And take you back

Posted by Idinraha at 01:13 PM | Comments (0)

a milestone................the reluctant poet

Well, yesterday, I wrote and posted my 100th poem on POETS.COM. It is a milestone for me, I was so lucky to come across POETS.COM, about six month ago, and decided to start posting poetry there. This was a new discipline for me, Since my teen age years I had written many poems, and mainly gave them to my friends. FEREYDOON, actually printed one of my Love Poems, framed it and gave it to CYRUS and Mahnaz at their wedding. I wrote my first english poem while attending
evening classes for English in Tehran, My teacher did not believe that I had written the piece, and accused me of DECIET. I also had a book of poetry and writings, which one of my friends in high school borrowed, never returned it and brought it with himself to America. For me it was the writing that mattered, not keeping a collection.

Once I came here, I continued with my writings in both languages, sending them mostly to Liisa, and aslo my mom. I remember my dad called me one day asking me not to send my poetry to my mother, since they were too emotional, and made her cry. Fereydoon probably has the biggest collection of my writings. When in college, I submitted a few poems to the literary magizine of the college, Two of them were accepted and got published in BEAN FEAST, I remember the names of them THE SCORPIAN NIGHTS, and MY FADED ME. I was asked for a reading, my audiance were English teachers, and some publisher's agents. After the reading I was aproached with two gentlemen asking me what do I do for living, and I said I run a rug store with my brothers, they told me I should quit and just concentrate on writing poetry, they were ready to pay me for my poems. I don't know as an artist you always feel insecure about your art, I did not think I was ready, or my poetry was good enough.

Later on in my thirties, I had come up with a collection of my Persian potery, and I had a friend of mine, a well known painter and artist helping me with orgenising them. He also arranged for me to have a reading in MONTCLAIR university. I was the last one to read, and the way the audiance was lolled to a hush, silence, while I read, made me high, I felt that I had them, and after I finished, the MC, praised my work by saying" after Mr Ahmadi's poem, I feel like I want to fall in love again. The crowd were so nice to me, people comgratulating me, calling me the new voice of persian poetry, they asked for my phone number, when will I be published. That was a magical evening for me, I never persued it further, as usuall flirting with fame was enough for me, and I did not needed it any more.

Before My sunshine, Amin was born, I enrolled in Fairfield University's Poetry Workshop for two symesters, and worked closely with an English teacher, Ms, B. She encouraged me to submit for the yearly contest and I did. I won the prize, a 100 dollar check, which I never cashed, and above all they have kept a copy of my seven poems in the ARCHIVES of the university. My poems, MY FLESH,YOUR BONES, QUIET HEART, and MONDAY IN BLUE, are three of the poems which were accepted. Later on they had a production of poetry readings by the THEATRE compony of the school, and my poems were read for the audiance in the school's QUICK CENTER.

But Poets.com, and this site has been my first disciplined manner of writing regularly, posting, and saving them. I have written a lot more than I have ever done before. MeTal's colaberations with me for a period of time also was the inspiration for many of my recent poems and I owe her a lot for that. God knows what will be ahead of us, if I ever publish anything, or does it really matter, for the time being the actual process of writing is what takes me and gives me the most joy, and of course you guys reading them, and the wealth of your comments. so lets go for the next hundred, stay with me, you are a great part of this, and of course as usuall, my Marbleman, I thank you.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:40 AM | Comments (2)

May 10, 2005

THINKER without THE THOUGHTS

every thing falls within its routines and patterns, as the days follow the nights, and the world turns, moving on its base, AND taking us forward, toward anticipated expectations, DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU GOING ?, the song was playing, we were dancing, holding our young bodies against each other, lost in the bliss of togetherness, then she whispered in my ear, -do YOU know where you going to?.

No I did not, but I knew that I had to go, I was called, voices lost in dreams, found in realities of wanting and urges, I had to go. I belonged there as much as any place on this earth, and I needed NEW, new faces, sceneries, a new life, and that was also the jest of those times, once you graduated from high school, if you passed the state exam, you were allowed to go, get a visa, and carry all of all you could fit in your pockets and go. No I did not know, but I was in the pak, and the pak was moving forward. Isn't it so deliciously amasing that wishes come through unexpectedly, while you are in the mist of your doings toward them, they come through and then you ask, NOW WHAT.

Like the time, I was running after the boy in the school yard, wanting so badly to catch him, and once he stopped, I did not know what to do, it was easier to run after him and think of what you do once you get him, but then once there, face to face, you wonder, IS THIS WHAT I WAS RUNNING FOR ?, now what.

He was sitting across from me, calmly listening to me talking," well, I got married , I have a child, I have done what I was supposed to, but now what", he smiled, looked into my eyes, and said calmly, "Javad, enjoy the process", yes, yes live the life you are living, open the windows, and the door, let the sun in, let the wind blow, peel your skin off and stand in the cold, let the rain wash over you, grab a piece of the earth, and taste it, chew it in your mouth, and feel the energy that flows within it, the life.

At nineteen, I was back home from school, the apartment was empty, no electricity, the phone was not ringing, and I was left by me only. I made my way up the stairs, to my bedroom. fell on the make shift bed I had, sinking in and within, falling through and through. with nothing to hold me,. just falling, I had a chill, so I went under the cover, the silence was killing me, the hours that were ahead, with no one coming, just me, and in the emotional state that I was, not even me was left for me.

And then I rememberd, that I am only nineteen, so young, there was so much ahead of me, life was ahead of me, and the despair I was feeling was of my ignorance of that fact. days will come, things change, life goes on, steady as it was, I just had to get on board, hop in, join the crowd, find a new corner for me, stay and enjoy the ride. Suddenly I was hungry, very hungry, I came back downstairs, and turned the light as habitualy one does entering a room, and there was light, to my surprise, and my brother, sleeping on the couch, I had not seen him since I fled upstairs when I came in, he woke up, He said that he had shopped and there was ground beef in the refrigarator, I knew we had pasta, so before you know it, he made us both a big pot of pasta, and beef sauce, and we sat like bohemians in front of the TV, while eating from the same big pot. The food tasted good, having him around was good, and the light and the TV, and I was allright with it all.

Oh living here in this land, for the last almost thirty years, I have seen so much, shyed away from a lot, stayed put many a times, but my vision of life, has reached me based on my expectations, of it. MY LIFE, the way I have seen and experinced it, the way only I could, based on who I am, we do make our lives, some of us better than the others, sometimes the knowing comes early, sometimes late, but the morsels of happiness inside our mouth is all the same. we live the same life in different and parallel universes. and we get to make who we are. That is so liberating and so scary. We make the choices and we get to live by them, SARTRE says, Human beings are condemned to choose and live by the consequences of their choices.

Different path, different ways, different starts, begining, and ends, always in process, always moving, going somewhere, or planning to go, or coming back from somewhere, on the move, living, looking for bliss in the form of THINKER without THE THOUGHTS. My mother says;
" lucky the ones that are borned a calf, and die a cow", THINKER, without THE THOUGHTS, but then what about AN UNEXAMINED LIFE, is it worth living, well, YOU my dear friends get to choose. IT IS YOUR LIFE.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:19 PM | Comments (2)

Our Fortress

It is beautiful here, nice and warm, everything is quiet and calm. I went to the Gym this morning and got most of my left over agression out. I do feel better.

The ocean glows silver, quitely running within its depth, after the sunrise, I saw the mermaids floating in running strems, and once in while one would raise her head, and take a wishing look to the shore,
knowing of her limits , bordering her desires. On the shore, where sands lead to rocks and patches of greens spread underneath the trees, two figures I see, sitting, with their eyes staring to the far outs of the sky, while they talk. Lost wihin the majestic scenery, one talking, the other listening, words are said words are heard, and then they get up and leave, one walking further ahead, while the other follows, they find their carriage, and leave the ocean, the shore, the mermaids and the sun behind, going back to the familiar scenery of roads, and passages, cars and stores, houses, and lives they live, far far away, from the ocean, and the sun, the mermaids, and the shore, and they might wonder about the people who live by the sea, by the shore, and the geography of their lives.

Thanks for being a friend, I read your comments, as you all thread lightly because of the emotional depth of my grivence, and the respect you allow me. Time heals, life goes on, and many more stories will be told, it is just we choose or I choose to register the ones that cut to the bones, as I scream under the water, and come up for a breath to survive the horror. a friend asked me, "why haven't you posted your own picture on your site. Isn't it easier for your readers to relate to you if they see your picture?", and I said NO, not where I dare. Not where I take them. I do not want them to relate to me based on my physical attributes. I want them to come for a search deep within my different geopraphy, within my bones, and flesh, and blood, and sweat, to where it hurts, and it delights, to where your eyes will not help you, but deprive you of the gifts of your other sences, you might have to touch the walls, and walk blind, but you will hear the murmurs of my heart and that will lead you to where I am and where I live outside of me. I am much more than what you can see in a picture, and seeing my mug might prohibits you to come in, so I let you find, paint and draw your own picture of me, your very own Idinraha, based on the words you read, songs I sing you, and the curtain I tear to coax you to come closer.

I am not after waht you show me, I am looking for what I can find within you, so we come together outside our registered images and begin a new game, of our patterns and designs, hand in hand, words by words, we will built us a fortress, outside the logic of our every day living, where only we get to read the traces in the sand, our own familiar haven, where we can come back to and stay if we need a hug, a smile, a jolt, a good cry. OUR OWN UNIQUE FORTRESS.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:58 PM | Comments (0)

May 09, 2005

The Bears have left

Russia is always white, and
Deserted in my dreams, with square
People, in long fur coats and hats, with
layers of scarfs, crowded in their brown and grey
presence, corrupting the scenery, loud with their Jagged
Alphabets, crooked words, mixed with their damp
Smokey breathe, tinged with hints of over-
Cooked sausages and Vodka, talking with
their vision limited in woolen covers,
and the severity of sarrow in their
voice, that tears in their cold
Glassy eyes.

Living in crowded cubicals
With angular chairs and tables,
Rounded old refrigrators, and the odore
Of close living that veils over the walls
and the air, -Rugs worn to their threads, their
last remainder of any colors grayed and soiled,
Covering the cold sement, with pictures of Lenin,
And other fathers of a bastard revolution hanging
on the walls.

The Bears have left long time ago,
(Migrating to the warmth of finish shores
And quiet Polar woods, where life still pulses)
When the last Tzars were abdicated, replaced
By balding short men in Grey suites, and narrow ties
Leaving the white scenery still Majestic and bare.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:20 PM | Comments (0)

Get Back to USSR,......

President Bush visited Mr, Puttin two days ago. Mr Puttin has shown an appetite to move back his country from Democracy, and seems ready to bring back the old USSR GUARDS. Most of the countries that made up the old USSR seem to be working succesfully toward becoming young democracies, and reliable nations in keeping the peace on Earth, and any backward movement by Puttin would be a detremant toward the stability of the region. However I think once free men have tasted the fruits of liberty and freedom it would be hard to force them toward the world of communism and all its shortcomings. I have written a poem long time ago called THE BEARS HAVE LEFT, I will post it for you today.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:12 PM | Comments (1)

How I almost vomitted last night.............

I found out last night that as a child my mother loved the color Orange, and recieving an Orange coat from Marjan and I did make her happy, but sharing that tid bit about her childhood was another gift from her to me and my imagination, thanks mom.

sometimes you get to accept the chains that are holding you, heck, they become such a vital part of your upbringing and life, that they seem as a natural part of you, as they cut through your skin and flesh, the pain almost becomes bearable, as you get to be pushed within the frames and brands that are bestowed upon you so lovingly. But they are times in your life that the poison you are fed, and the tinge of the rusting metal finds its way out of your psyche, and sips through your blood, physically making you sick. once you reach that point the survival urges take over and allow you the scruples to cut the chains and set yourself free. Last night sitting on the LOVE SEAT, next to my Father, I felt that my bones were shaking, happy that there was a pillow seprating us. the room was noisy, every one talking over each other, and my brain could not digest , and differentiate the words, just noises, I felt sick to my stomack, so I stayed put, scared that any movement would hurl, the half chewed rice and vegatable out of my mouth and on the furniture and rug. to know how I got to that point we have to go back a bit.

I did my excercise Sunday morning, about an hour, the weather here was a bit cloudy and cool. I got to the store, went to a customer's house for a showing, did my job, and came back to the store. I had a rant to write, but did not feel like it, there was some tension in me, which I knew the source but wanted to mask it as far as I could.
I did not want to write about the importance of MOTHERS in all our lives. I was sick of coming up with the same sugar coated words, and images. Yes lets face it, if by now you are not aware of their clear effects in our lives, If the three years of therapy or just experiences of life has not given you any clue, if you really love your mother, or if you do not, my words would not have any effect on you. AND IT IS A COMMERCIAL HOLIDAY, set to fill up the Diners in the morning, and the Restaurants in the evening, sell some gifts, burning the AT&T wires, by all the calls from GUILT RIDDEN sons and daughters that have not had the chance to visit their mothers on such holly day.
Well, I am not buying it, call me synical, call me misguided, but as I wrote earlier, I do not like Valentines day either.

So tried to keep busy by watching TV, had a hearty lunch, I thought i deserved that, after spending enough hours at the Gym last week. After lunch, I got my friend Nader to visit me, and he is always fun to have around, a few years older than me, he is a free spirit, never married , good looking guy, with a charming smile, and we have been known through out the years to pass a few hours together talking of this and that.

From Thomas Friedman, to politics, future of human beings, the sorry state of our business, we talked for a few hours, and then about my life, my problems, how he deals with his life without a wife, or a companion, lonelinees, and ultimately my DAD, since he has lost his , and I never connected with mine on those basis. The guilt of being a son, as our fathers age, and we see them becaoming a vague resembelance of the man we rememberd, and our helpnesness, in dealing with their aging process.

Last week I told my mother that I would not be able to pick up my dad and bring him to work with me anymore. His behavior, was getting to me, and him, reading his prayer books and crying in the store does not help my embattled emotional state at this time. So yesterday on MOTHERS DAY, I wa going to see my mother and my father at their house, and I was nervous since, I knew he felt rejected, and he is not above making a scene in front of everybody present.

Two beers before I picked up the family helped, once we got there, Marjan seemed a bit shaky also since she reads me like a book, and I was not OK. We were greeted by my mom and sister Maryam and her kids, Mohsen, Maryam's husband. Later on My father joined us, I kissed him and said hello, and he seemed fine to my surprise, and little by little every thing seemed fine, and I relaxed and enjoyed my converstation with the rest of family. Later on my other two brothers and their family joined us and we all had dinner. My father usually says good night to every one at nine O'clock, but last night he had other things on his mind. I noticed, he came around the table and sat across from me, I got tense, I knew something was going on, and tried to get myself ready for what was coming. He started his familiar rants about aging and feeling older than ever, I got up to go to the kitchen, he caught up with me half way through, and said, " Tomorrow I need to go to the bank, so you pick me up at seven, so I can take care of my things", I was shaken , I did not feel good, and I did not want to allow him making a scene, so I said," Fine".

I made my way to the living room and sat on the couch, he came up and sat next to me, I was so happy that there was a pillow left between us, and thats when I felt sick, thinking I am going to vomit over the rug and the furniture. You see, it seemed that all the emotional abuse that I was exposed to by him through out my life, what he had done to my mother, to all of us, to his other children, how selfish, and emotionless he had always been, how he had so many times emarresed me in front of my friends, business collegues, my In-Laws, my wife, all and all had come together to build up and manifest in that moment to such
a point that him sitting next to me, trying to manipulate me again, made me physically sick.

My father turned to my mom, sitting between Maryam and Marjan, and said calmly " Javad is going to pick me up tomorrow at seven", suddenly every one in the room were quiet and tense. My mother turned to me and said, " why can't you tell your father how you feel about picking him up", and then Maryam said" Mom, you should not talk about this in front of every one, it is between the two of them". at that point, Marjan got up, she looked angry, and said, " it is late, we have to leave now", and rushed to the family room to call Amin and Kiana, I followed her with my mom right behind me.

We left my mom's house. I knew that it will be a long time if ever before I would go back there, and felt sorry for my mother. Well also Knowing, that my son Amin will not ever pick me up in the morning to go to work with him, if I believed in every thing my father had told me, I probably will be rejected by Amin the same way I was rejecting him. Then I thought well, if I turn out to be as abusive toward him as my father has been to all of us, I wish he would not wait Fourty Seven years before he gets the courage to do it.

Why am I writing about this, My sister Maryam probably will be reading this, and my brother Hossein also might read it too. They might think differently which is okay. Through out the years they have been able to protect themselves from my father by not being as physically close to him. And for the rest of you, well showcasing how what our parents drill in to our heads get to emotionally disable us the rest of our lives might be interesting. They are many Iranian families that are not exposed to the kind of abuse my family has. They are kind and loving to each other, but I am sure they are some out there that have left many scars and still do get to abuse each other under the mantra that FAMILY IS EVERY THING.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:29 AM | Comments (8)

manual for dining with a snake...............

Although might not be apropriate, keep your sunglasses on through out
your dinner. One is strongly advised to sit the the left of the snake, and avoid eye contacts. keeping a sharp knife available and ready is also recomended, and remember sometimes one is better served
to skip the desert.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:26 AM | Comments (0)

May 08, 2005

Mothers' day, or mom's day, where is the gift, HI mom

Nah, not my style, just imagine I said it and you read it, no, no, can not do it. okay maybe, HAPPY MOTHERS DAY, heck, i do not like Valentines day either. There is a certain, I do not know. I think being a mother is a privilage, I have seen my wife grow into it, to a point that it is all about them, heck, I am the same way too, IT IS ALL ABOUT THEM, they are our sun and the moon, our north, and east, our everything, but do they owe us anything for what we do for them,
in my book NONE, the pleasure is all ours, the privilage and in our case my wife is the luckier one, for she has more of the privilage than I do.

My mother, well I think I have been an okay son, and has tried hard to do the best I can, Do I call her everyday like my brother Hossein does? NO, Am I there every time she needs me, or any one, YOU BET.
Do I owe her anything for all she has done for me, no, not really in that sense. I guess it might be hard for you to hear these words from a guy like me, well, I do not know, I do say it like it is, I LOVE HER, thats all. she has had the pleasure of raising me, she has effected my life, she has been there whenever I needed her. We have not seen eye to eye in many things, but we are a work in progress, my mom and I

Loving your kids is a one way street, you do not do it to recieve , you just do it, because you enjoy doing it, with no expectation, I am very close to my kids, heck I am proud that both my kids used to call me mom for a while. but the joy is in the process, the giving process , at least for me. So HAPPY MOTHERS DAY, to all of you who need to hear it, hopefully what got you the promotion to such stage was not a slip of a...............................................

Posted by Idinraha at 05:08 PM | Comments (0)

May 07, 2005

Guess who is coming for dinner......

One of my favorite movies is GUESS WHO IS COMING FOR DINNER, it covers so many issues, and If I tell you that anytime I see it on the telly, I sit down and watch it, I am not exagerating. I love any movies with Spenver Tracy in it, he never lets you down, Quiet, and stern, resolute, strong, though he lived a tragic life himself. You see he was a Catholic man, who had a son with mental disability, I think he never came in term with that, he was also in love with CATHERINE HEPBURN(who wouldn't), but as a Catholic he could not divorce his wife. although he spent a big chunk of his life with her, he was never divorced. He was also an alchoholic, a disciplined alchoholic, he never showed up drunk for work, and was always disciplined, but it ended his life sooner that it should have. He has a speech at the end of the movie,one of the most memorable, loving words ever uttered. and the way Miss Hepburn looks at him so addoringly is priceless, he died shortly after the completion of the movie.

There is also Sidney Poatier, playing the black fiance of Spencer's daughter. He also has a scene with his father, telling his father to " GET OFF MY BACK", sfter the father tries to put the guilt on him, --that how hard he has worked to raise him, and how he is compromising all of that by marrying a white woman. It is a powerfull scene. I do believe that as a father, I do not have any hold on my kids for bringing them to this world and raising them. They had no choice in it, they are here blessing my life, and it is my duty to give them the best I can, NO HOLD, NO GUILT, NO EXPECTATIONS BUT THEIR HAPPINESS.

If you have not seen the movie , watch it, you will be better for it, I also recomend, A BAD DAY IN BLACK ROCK, for all spencer Tracy fans.also any movie that HEPBURN and TRACY made together, they are mostly light comedys and a delight to watch.

This morning while I was leaving the Gym, I saw Anthony training Mrs Moses, she is a delightfull lady with a great smile, she said;" Javad, I think I know you more than I should", I stopped, and she added, "Since I get to your site, I have learned a lot about you", I was shocked, I had invited her to come and visit, but never expected her to be nice enough to do that. For a minute I was thinking, about all my latest shameless comments about myself, and my life, and did not know what to say, I just thanked her and leftvery much pleased and amused. Thanks you Mrs, Moses, it is a pleasure to have you here, and please do leave us some comments, and share some of your sensibilities.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:19 PM | Comments (1)

Last night I could not get to sleep at all

Did not get much sleep last night, me and my demons, I have watched so many episodes of LAW&Order, that feel a keenship towrds all the cast members, some more than the others. Last night my beautifull girl was invited to go with Steven(her cousin), Julia and Amir, to watch a musical production. She was so happy, kissed me on the lips,and left. Well, her first, yeah I could call it DATE, well I thought we could spend some one to one time with Amin, but he was not up to it, took his games up stairs to his room, and left us alone. So Marjan and I curled up in front of the TV, and watched, the sitcomes, and also caught, RICHARD JENI, the comedian, he had us in stitches, he was so funny. We stayed up late, waiting for our little beauty, both yawning, Kiana showed up at about eleven, all happy and excited. she had gotten signatures from the stars, and had enjoyed a wonderfull evening out.

Amin informed us that he did not want us to sleep with him, OK, he has right to do that and we respected his wishes, so Kiana and me, ended up in her room, she sleeping on her bed, and I was laying on the floor, so we could talk before she falls sleep. After a few minutes Amin showed up at the room, telling us he had changed his mind, and he wanted us back. I said "NO thank you " first, and after he started appologising, I said " it's up to Kiana", and kiana agreed, so0 we moved back, and i got another night to enjoy sleeping with them in my arms. LIFE IS GOOD

This morning, Amin woke us up at six thirty, and Marjan, showed me the door," You better go to the Gym Javad", and you know I make it a policy to listen to her. So I suited up and was at the Gym soon after. Two hours later, after lifting weights for over an hour, Boxing for fifteen minutes and doing the Cross Trainer for half an hour, I took a shower and felt like my good old self.

Antoni Scalia, the conservative assosiate supreme court Justice, had a speech at harvard universit, kennedy school of law
critisizing the Judicial activism that has been plagued our government, stating that Judges are only to interpret laws based on the constitution of United States. I also brought to your attention, the new efforts by yale school of law to have a conference on how to add to the constitution of united states to suite the sensibilities of today's society. By calling it a LIVING CONSTITUTION, they argue that as a living constitution, legal scollars should be able to enhance it. Justice Salia on the other hand calls the constitution, a legal documents that have to be preserved in it entirety, withouth any changes. Click on the above link and read all about it. IT IS PROBABLY ONE OF HE MOST IMPORTANT LEGAL ARGUMENTS OF OUR TIME.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:04 AM | Comments (6)

May 06, 2005

Taken

I enjoy, rhthyms and patterns, the elegance of conrolled movements, the pleasure of repetition, as a hand glides through thair, dancing is so beautifull to me, the expressions,

I like coming back to places I know, where famailiarity is hospitable, and soothing, the faces I know, the voice i can hear, the
words before they are uttered, the fresh breath and hold of the first kiss, and going back for more, going through the faces, the touch of a known texture that fulfills the expectation, the scent of her skin,
and how her eyes shine in the sun

I love the urgency of a new love, the unexpected fusion of it, the glow, the ease of the day as you walk on air, how the air clears, and glistens, the constrasts become vivid and raw, and how the air hurls within my chest, how I breathe taking a breath, become anew,

I loved the way she held my hand yesterday, surprising me, taking me over, kissing my face, taking chrge, as her voice calmed me, making me feel safe, as the ocean spread to the sand, the birds flew, and life wellcomed me again, " remember that Park", I asked, " oh, yeah, we used to stop and kiss every minute", she said....

Posted by Idinraha at 02:20 PM | Comments (0)

Yes, yes..........

Posted by Idinraha at 02:15 PM | Comments (1)

Lust

I like a yellow cab,
A train ticket, and an excuse
I like a long walk naked in the rain
And not getting there, no matter what

I like a glass of Marlow
After dinner, you laying on my back
naked and warm, feeling of your pubic hair
Moist against my skin, my face burried in
Your lap, my tongue on your sex

I like you looking at me
Listening to Charlie Haid while
I write, fantasizing of a three some
with my pen and the paper
Long into the night

Your midnight stroll
To the bathroom, your shadow
sitting, with your palm
against your thighs, my
taste still in your mouth
Your hair tangled

And when you're back
standing aginst the wall
half sleep, half mad,
Your eyes misty, afire
"more", you say, " more",
You whisper, "I want you now"
You say, falling in me
With your face against the pillow
Your hands tied, me pleasing you
WE graze in lust, making a picture
I remember tomorrow driving to town,
Or in a yellow cab, staring out.

Posted by Idinraha at 01:51 PM | Comments (0)

Three seasons

He stands by the window,
Clutching his prayer book,
Looking out as his white hair
Shines in the sun, hunched with
Some slight tremor in his stand
A tear finds it way on his cheeck
Asn he harriedly wipes his face

This solid earth under my feet
This beguiling Mother, that has allowed
Me to hang by its bossoms for all the rainy days
Is tilting a bit, so I could find my balance
And try to hold to all I can in a jest
Of couping and survival

She has taken the bones from my mouth
--Her bones, as I chewd on them in angst
She puts the pieces together, humming quietly
Wondering of the geography of my my anger,
And the savagery of my elements, how the
Clouds forbid the sky and burst in
Jagged stones, crushing her to pieces
And the traces of her blood on my
teeth and mouth, the pieces of her
That I have teethed and gnawed on
All in one frocious bite, a
Clear act of agression, or
Shameless hunger of a
Need, she had not seen.

Posted by Idinraha at 01:37 PM | Comments (0)

Who Moved my cheese...

Oh, let me claim my life, back to me, MY LIFE, let me disrobe of all the tyrany of a culture that only pursues, shortcomings and guilt, let me start anew, whithin the elements that brings me the excitement of growth and learning, let me find my way, and let me be away from the maddening crowd. After all these years, all that I have read, and obsorbed, after all the knowings and discoverys, let me clean the cowebs that have grown in the openings and corners, and greet the sun again, to my open window, and doors.

As a kid living in my geography of thirts, and criousities, after noons were always a drag, the adults taking a nap, the house quiet of its voices and motions, and me, restless for ............. the stairs to the heights of new beginings or depth of new discoveries, walking on my toes, so not to wake the gatekeepers and the key holders, hot afternoons of my youth, looking for a direction, something new

And once here, I brought with me all the enthusiasm of a gypsy in search of belonging, and staying before the winds whisper again and call my name. I had to keep the structure, the form , but allow the changes to gutt out everything else. Self realisation of sort, looking for new heroes, gods, thoughts, energy, love, a learning quest, a departure, for a new arrival. Well, I like to think that I have learned a lot, and have gained much, but still after all these years there are cowebs, there is some dust, a quiet filth, and as much I do not like to confront it, now I have to, and I will.

The title, is name of a book that was recomended to me by my sister Maryam, the only close relative of mine here who leaves comments here, probably cringes at lots of what i write her, but allows me my space, and encourages me to go further. SL has been doing a number on me, by her insights and wonderfull comments so has Inasy, Fereydoon, Cyrus, and Fafar, who has left me her first long comment. SL has had the spot light on her since yesterday and reluctanly has gone along with it, with me probing to get more out of her, and she resisting it. It is all in fun, and she has shown the capasity and generosity to engage us in her dialogue. MeTal has been absent, I am sure she visits us, and when she sees the need she will show herself, I have asked her fo0r another Guest Rant. I have asked every one for a rant about themselves, but no brave souls yet, and no bite, we will see.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:49 AM | Comments (0)

May 05, 2005

Idinraha

If you had asked me to post a picture of Idinraha, well, that is the way I see Idinraha..............

Posted by Idinraha at 04:00 PM | Comments (4)

Lets see some balls, again

Well in cooperation with your shameless author here, I like to invite all of you to write a rant about yourself, Physical and mental. I do not think CYRUS and Ferry will do it. but I am hoping our ladies here will be more adventures, and come up with insightfull rants. So let's see some balls again, do you have it in you to bare all, please, no pictures, just write for me. The winner would get a two weeks vacation fully paid for in Baghdad,.......

Posted by Idinraha at 03:47 PM | Comments (1)

thank you for being a friend

OK, a beautifull walk on the beach, with a beautiful companion did the magic, she held me in her arms while I sobbed, with my head hangin on her shoulders, checking the goods. LIFE IS GOOD, she listend while I talked, and she held me close enough for me to know her cup size, I did appeal to her nurturing side, and she told me she had never seen anybody cry so much, they were actually puddles beneth our feet. After I was done, she unclutched herself from my arms, took a deep breath, and told me she feels closer to me in that moment than anybody else. You see there are advantages to be shamelessly self abusing and self flagellating. She promised to have me over her house for another session of self cleansing, and mutual sobbing soon, I can not wait.

Well thanks to all of you, you all came through with your suggestions, so far SARROWS OF SERPENTS, and ESSENCE OF FIRE have gotten the most votes, surprisingly MY DEBUTANTES, ODE TO MY BREASTS, did not get any votes, that gives me the notion that we have only Leg men here, and our females are probably flat chested. !!!!!, I love that poem a lot, technically one of my best, and most memorable one.

Thank you for rescuing me from my exile, I was dying to seat here and play my keybord in B flat. In a way as I said your choices should give me and the others a new window to each of your souls, although CYRUS's soul only comes in a puzzle form. On LiveLife, Ferry is on fire, he has posted so many topics, all interesting, and it is comments gallore over there, check it out. Ferry I thought with Real estates market being so hot you would not be having so much time on your hand, I am jelous.

CHEY has been absent, unless she is taken hostage by her last 5'8" date, her absence might be due to a comment I left her, critisizing her name throwing and self grandising. It was meant to be a constructive critism, I emailed her an apology, but she has not made any responces, Has any of you heard from her if you have let me know, I miss my crazy siste. Yesterday i wrote and posted a new Poem on POETS.COM, I have ninty eight poems posted there so far. I probably will post it here today. again thanks for coming through and remember at Idinraha.com, nothing is really like what it seems.

Posted by Idinraha at 02:06 PM | Comments (6)

psychlogical masturbation,..............not for faint of hearts

some poeple have fat hips, some fat legs, fat tommys. you can do something about all those problems from dieting to lipposuction, and excersize. I on the other hand have a FAT HEAD. No bone structure, just fleshy and round. and when i gain weight, it goes right to my cheecks, I also have a very thick neck, and the result is having a large piston for a head and neck. My face is flat, my nose round and meaty, no bones there either, and a square head, with no chin, I have tried to remedy that by keeping a beard, to give my face some character(god forbid), I keep the beard on the sides of my face short, and leave it longer on my chin, and under my Jaw(what jaw!), trying to create and angle, some kinda lines to seprate my face from my neck. I also have small ears, which stick very close to the sides of my face, but as I am aging my ear lobes have gotten larger and meatier, and when the face is bloated, the ears kinda, stand out in an angle to the face, creating what I call my own natural ear rings.

This morning I reluctantly took a look at the mirror, with my face filling the most of the mirror, suit cases(not bags), under my eyes, the cheeks bloated, the nose kinda standing just there, the right eye, out of sync, with the left one, desprately tried to look to the sides to give my right eye muscle a bit of excersize to bring it a bit more to the center, and then I saw my EAR RINGS. It was not a pretty picture, a face only a mother, and a loyal loving daughter might love. I splashed some water on my face, and knew it was time.

When I am not feeling good, I kinda curl inside myself, and become quiet, with my thick neck not having enough power to keep the big head up, I kinda slope. and bring my shoulders in, like a teen age girl that is not comfortable with all the growth in her breats, trying to hide it. I have not been talking to my dad for the last week, while driving him in my car, we look like long married couples who do not have anything to say to each other, and I am sure my dad has noticed it, and told my mom about it, and my poor mother trying to help by sending me lunch, since I do not talk to her much on the phone either, she cooks my favorite foods and send them to me with my dad, usually some kinda rice with stews, not knowing that the food is only adding to my problems.

I still have not find a place to have a good cry, you see I just do not cry silebtly, with me its a whole symphony of noises, and sounds, usually with some kinda near convultion, shaking of the head and body, it's quite a production number, I need sound proof rooms, and secluded areas. it starts slow. like a slow moving train just getting out of the station and then, it takes speed, and hoohoo, usually it takes twenty minutes to half an hour, and by the end I am so exhusted, I can not move. But the effects of it is amazingly good, I feel rested, and light. I can not do it at home, for obvious reasons, I can not do it at work, since they are other people working here, and if my mother hears about it, God knows she might send more food, breakfast and dinner too. Well I have a dilema, but I am sure I will think of something.

Posted by Idinraha at 09:51 AM | Comments (6)

May 04, 2005

Hurry up

Well the rest of you better hurry up and vote for your favorites, i have already decided on four, THE ESSENCE OF FIRE, suggested deliciously by Inasy, and WALKING IN SEIGON, and DANCE, plus, AUDRY HEPBURN, AND ALBERT FINNEY, suggested insightfullly by SHRINK LADY.
so hurry up the rest of you. Incidently CHEY is GRAGRA with me for something I wrote on her site yesterday, forgive me CHEY, it's the damn MAN in me, and his feeling of superioroty, but I am sure whatever he said was of love. So join in lazy butts, I need more suggestion since I plan to submitt, up to twenty poems. And my dear Fereydoon, as needy as I am these days, NOWAY HOSE, you can not afford my poems, but I am greatfull for the offer. you all rock

Posted by Idinraha at 12:53 PM | Comments (6)

Bruised, punched, ashamed, and needy, but still standing.

well, Cyrus is back, the sun is rising, and life is good again, he has left me messages, and I will answer him back. It seems my threat has worked a bit, I got one comprehensive answer from SHRINK LADY, thanks SL, I treasure your suggestion and some of the poems you mentioned are very dear to my heart. INASY, also made asuggestion, but Please dear Inasy, I need a more percise answer, Fereydoon, and Cyrus have been evasive, and cute, but please do as SL did, give me a list. I know you are all busy, but this is very important to me, and my dear friend Fereydoon I remember which one you liked the best,TRACING THE SLOPE. but my sweety be curteous and give you friend a list like SL did. Maryam LiL sis, get in line you my beautiful mule of a sister, please do as SL has done. And Cyrus, I know it is hard for you, but after all the love and effection I have shown you in these pages, it would not be a good PR for you, not to come up with a list.

I am going through some rough patches, it is a difficult time in my life, and God knows How MUCH I have to say, it is boiling up inside, but I am staying the course, I actually called my Doctor and asked him for a session, it is gonna cost me about$175. dollars, but I need to talk to someone, and have a good cry. You see if you all had gotten in line and helped me up here, like SL, I did not have to feel so misrable and go to my shrink again, so how is that for GUILT.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:43 AM | Comments (7)

May 03, 2005

No more Freebees................

MAY A THOUSAND BEES NEST IN YOUR ARMPITS, so, how do you like that, MAY YOU LOSE YOUR WARRANTIES ON YOUR GERMAN CARS, AND HAVE TO PAY TROUGH THE NOSE. it is getting better, MAY YOUR MOTHER IN LAW MOVES IN WITH YOU. I know that one is below the belt, MAY YOU BECOME ALLERGIC TO VIAGRA, OR ANY MALE PERFORMANCE ENHANCEMENTS DRUGS, now that one is good.

No more Rants, or poetry, nada, none, zilch, I am tired of giving and giving, and not getting anything back. You do not even seem to read these God-Damned pages. I asked you nicely, politely, over and over again, and it will be no more morsels of my thoughts for you, untill you perform.

So, untill each one of you, all five and half of you, sends me a comment, and chooses at least two or three of my poems as their favorite, I will refuse to share my seductive bare assed dance with you, and I am serious, enough is enough, so get to work, and move your lazy behinds ( I am being polite), if you want more of me, you got to give me some. so untill I get your votes, I will be on strike, my poetry will be posted on POETS.COM, as it used to be, and my rants, for the time being I will scribble them down on regular paper and post them somewhere else. SO COME ON, GET WITH IT.

Posted by Idinraha at 01:37 PM | Comments (11)

May 02, 2005

So I can write.( read slowly please, it was written fast)

These days I find myself worrying about, WHAT IFs, what if I wont have any more things to say, any more things to write. They do log in, and come here, expecting, and I have to keep the fires burning, so I drill, on soft and the hard surfaces, go through the tunnels, and passages, find new caves, with writings on the walls, and all these within me, my big head. I look around more intensly, try to obsorb more, siphon in, grab , hold images and make a permanet traces of them, here and there,-My father offering me some oranges, after he skinned them carefully, and I share the prize with my son, and then the next day it becomes a poem in my pages. it is registered, written and it begins to live, that moment, that second, that observation. And many like that, as I fall sleep the images burst to the scene, in convoulted, crooked shapes, some in color , mostly black and white, ignorant to the laws of motions and voices, floating within their own elements, they all come, in bunches, groups, they hurl in, no bang on the door, in front of my closed yes, within my big head, parallel to the bed sheet that covers me they float in the air, with their hands , their arms stretched, --ME, ME, pick me, MY TALE, my story, I want to be forever, I want to be written, to become, to birth, me, I am the one, they scream silently, as their residudes fade away, over run by sleep, and rest, --no, no,they come back in dreams, in fluid colors in majestic shapes. the scents, the texture as my eyes move in rapid motions closed. and then they all leave something for me to remember them, like the girl who kissed me, and her scent was carried in me within me like fumes all day, something for me to get back to, her scent, that brought her image to the empty movie house in my head, and found me once again sitting in the dark waiting.

Or Music, as the notes sip inside my ears, reach my mind and tug at my heart, aching me, or a movie with beautiful long silences between the leads, as the camera closes up on their faces, their eyes, their hands, their desperate longings, their helplessnes, that reaches me, that is how I wrote THE SAND STORM, after watching the -English Patient-, the scene when they are standing face to face, and for the first time he knows that he loves her, he does not say anything, but it is obvious to you that he knows. Or the poem, WALKING IN SEIGON, after watching "The three seasons", the lotus flowers that the girl sold, the rain, the poet, the lepper poet, who needed the flower girl to write for him since he had lost his fingers. The young kids that lived in the streets and how two of them became found of each other and shared their shelters together in the rain.

Why do I worry, I can even see with my bad eye, I even see with my eyes closed, I listen and hear, and the images take shape, so why do I have to worry,-It sustains me, keeps me on my toes, keeps me looking, watching, staying awake, makes me chew more patiently and push the soft flesh with my tongue in my mouth, so every corners of my mouth feels the texture, tastes the essence and takes joy in the delicacy of my morsels. and then I sit at the laptop, and the words jump out, misshapen, deformed, full of oddities and no discipline, they just juump out fast and stick to the screen so feverishly I lose the poassage of time, out somewhere, not here, extended, and taken to be brought back , a quiet rapture, a visit, a gathering. So I can write, to ease my loneliness.

Posted by Idinraha at 04:06 PM | Comments (0)

Till Human voices wake us again

passing through the trees, I could see the old shag at the top of the clearing standing within the dried bushes, I made my way through, and climbed the steps, screeching under my feet, the porch's floor under feet seemed shaky, giving in, I steadied myself and saw the windows, and the door all patched in pieces of woods, stright in line , crossing each other. The door padlocked. it was still time the house was alive, breathing faintly within its closed parameters. I took my hammer, and went to work on the broken rust stained nails. It took me a while, but the pieces of woods were cooperqating, the nails were popping up fast, it seemed the energy inside the house was pushing them out.

after the windows where done, I used my hammer to break trough the paqdlock, I was excited, I felt a new surge of energy, and I could almost here the house breathing louder, the lights throuhg the window, showcasing the dust that was hurling in, almost like an inhail. One more bang against the door, and it opened, sqeeking on its base. As the door opened I noticed the sky got dark, with the braqnches of trees shaking in air, the wind was coming, I heard the woosh from the distance, and as the door opened completely the winds picked up, taking dusts, debries, dry leaves and bracnches on its way, it became so severe and came at me as such a rush, it pinned me against the outside wall next to the door. I closed my eyes as I held on.

Dont know how long it took, but not very long befor it all stopped the wind, the pressure, and the sky was left holding up hig and blue, serene and quiet. I opened my eyes, put the hammer back in my tool belt, and made my way back to the woods, while leaving i could here the voice climbing out thw windows in a cowering hush, and the squeek metal noise of the swing, as it traveled through the air, even the laughter of children.

Posted by Idinraha at 03:45 PM | Comments (0)

TEA, Ghorey, and TEAtrics. careful its hot.

Good tea is hard to find, and one has to know how to process the tea to get the best texture and aroma in it. You might want to try DARGILING, or Earl Greay, two of my favorites. remember, no tea bags, nothing should come between you and your dry tea, so get dry tea. Boil the water, then put the dry tea, about two spoon full inside the GHOREY, "the smaller sort of kattle, that can sit atop the boiling water kattle,", preferable a Ghorey made of porcelan, it helps the taste and brings back memories. pour the boiling water on top of the dry tea in the Ghorey, then place the Ghorey on top of the open boiling water Kettle(refill the water Kettle and let it boil), the steam from that makes the tea simmers in its own flavor, and gets richer, and dark. after fifteen to twenty minutes, the tea would be ready. Pour one third from the Ghorey inside your cup, and fill up the rest with boiling water. It should be drank, while it is hot, I prefer my tea black, but you could add milk and sugar to your taste.

Try to drink your tea, with a beloved, yours prferably, but pursue others if your beloved was not available, tea is better drunk in company of beauties. read some poetry while drinking, gaze outside your window, and let tea takes you away.

Posted by Idinraha at 12:12 PM | Comments (18)

Monday in balance

Sokhan az gisoye khoshbakhte manast va shaghayeghhaye sokhteye booseye tou.

It is of my blessed hair, and the simmering flowers of your kiss.

It loses a lot in translation, but the qoute is from one of FROROUGH'S
poems. Forough is an Iranian poetes that has had a great influence on me and my poetry, and so many other young Iranians. I left you a link here, click on it and enjoy.

My friend Inasy has left me a beautiful comment, encouraging me to submitt some of my poetry, she actually has demanded it, and I will, but I like to ask you for a favor, all of you who find me in my pages, I would like you to tell me which one of my poems is your favorite and which one you think is worthy of such submittion. I really would love to hear from all of you. I will post the result, and your opinion would have a great affect on my submittions.

We watched SPANGLISH last night. Adam Sandler has proven that he is capable of acting in dramatic roles, and I do see an Oscar in his future, he gives us a very understated display of a man in the mist of many awakaenings in his life. PAZ VEGA, is a delight to watch, such a beautifull face and the expressions on her face are priceless.
The scenes betwen these two are magic as they go trough finding a special foundness and love for eac other. I highly recommend it.

we had a great dialogue between SL, and I yesterday on these pages.
We do come from different point of views, of how we see the politics of our times, it is rather informative and very fine exchange of our ideas. I would write a seprate rant about it and answer some of her questions and comments.

Posted by Idinraha at 10:57 AM | Comments (1)

May 01, 2005

Don Corleone, Cobra, Chris Matthews, and my head

Well, Don Corleone Told Micheal, "BE close to your friends, but even closer to your enemies", It is good advice, specially now, living in the world that we do. While doing my cross training this morning, I watched Chris Matthews show. Cobra( Maureen Dowd) was there, all made up, and gleefull, also three other so called moderators, all liberal ellites, so full of themselves they could hardly fit in their seats. In the old days it was customery for Sunday Morning shows to have a more balanced group of Moderators. There were usually at least one token Conservative, given usually a liberal one present in the group. But after the election and the embaressing defeat of the lefties, they have thrown caution in the wind, and the new groups of moderators consist mostly of all Liberals. They probably feel safer being around each other, and they get to confirm each others far fetched ideas, and misrepresentations. Cobra, groomed to the hilt, all dressed up, still has a hard time to come up with a coherent discussion, and ideas. Lefties have tried so hard to sell her as the new thinker of the Liberal media , but so far, she has not been able to come through.

Chris Matthews, the bloated, blow hard, self garandising, interwiever that he is, has calmed down a bit. But still gets to chew the scenery, not allowing others finish their sentences. I think they should give him a show entirly focusing on his own misguided ideas, maybe his ego would settle a bit, and he gets to calm down, otherwise a massive coronery mid sentence is quite a possibility. Of course the progressive left has to ridicule, the more moderate ideas that are pushed by George Bush to deal with Social Security. Given their Messiha Bill Clinton and the puppet, Mr Gore, had only eight years to deal with it and of course they did not come up with any effort to shape the discussion on Social Security, and so far all the geniuses on the left still do not have any concrete solutions for such agenda.
Their only efforts are focused on demonising any guide lines or new models that are suggested by George Bush.

The recent visit from Prince Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, and the pictures of George Bush holding hands with the Saudi Prince also came up, and The old connection of Bushies and their secret deal makings with the Oil Rich Saudies was also mocked and made fun of. You see the Liberals and environmentalist have not allowed us to build any new refineries in this country in the last thirty years. That means that even if we can come up with new sources of Oil in Alaska, the crude oil still has to shipped over seas for Refinery process. There is a solution by building new refineries in the old Amunition Factories and empty military baracks, but of course our friends on the left will not here of that either. So no new refineries, no new drillings for oil, and we still do not want to be dependent on Saudies. Well my friends something gotta give.

There is also the whole idea of Nuclear option in senate to avoid Fillibustering Judicial nomenies. Through out the history of our Republic, Republicxan have never used fillibuster to stop any Democrat Presidents from getting the vote on their Judicial, gain Judicial nomenies. Check your history books, this is a fact. By not allowing and up and down vote on George Bush's Judges, Democrats are stooping to new lows, and setting a dangerous precedent.

Last week there was also quite an uproar over " The Minutemen" volounteers, an independent all volounteer group that have formed a force to guard our borders with Mexico in Arizona. They started April second, and they have been very effective in apprehending Illegal immagrants that try to cross the borders. But now all our friends on the left are trying to stop this effort by sending their lawyers to Arizona and threatening to sue the volounteers.

My friend SL had posted a comment here, critisizing me for bundlling up all the leftist groups in a bunch and suggesting their support for INSERGENTS in Iraq. I do believe that such groups through their misguided elitist ideas have become the number on ennemies of this coutry and any hope of progres in rsoulving the deadlock in Washington.
MOVE ON.com, and NAACP, the blacK caucesse, and many others that I suggested in my rant, have tried so very hard and spent millions of dollars in their effort to disfranchise the vote in 2004. Of course in their feverish attempt they lost sight of the American Public's intteligent and their resentments of demagoguery, and abstractionist practices of the left. All their efforts only led, to a bigger majority for republicans on the hill, Democrats loss of their senete leaders, and many of their Public Icons.

I always say the minute your feeling of superiority takes over you and you thinks you are better suited to decide for others and you are more intelligent than your public, you have lost the discussion.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:45 AM | Comments (4)