<Mountainous Heathen!>

i'm wearing a bracelet again

i'm home for six days this thanksgiving; perhaps the longest i've ever been home not counting the big vacation times. i didn't really realize it's nearly a week until betty shockingly told me over the phone. and they say it's almost over. for me, it's really only halfway done.

i got home on tuesday night, feeling guilty. "i was cruel, and i'm never cruel," she says in that one movie. i still found myself breaking into laughter though, remembering faint lines running through my head. maybe part in disbelief, part in awe, part in simple joy, part in regret that i left very little room for cream. i left some, but i guess it's all the room i had. usually, i like to flavor the cream with a little coffee.

then on thursday, my mom and i drove out to my aunt's house passing all those unforgiving interchanges. we listened to khayam and hafez on tape, intertwined with music from my childhood. i hadn't heard it in 12 years. and all with rolling hills, and the inevitable road so akin to poetry. it was all very fitting. my mom would comment on really good lines, that i clearly had a hard time understanding, and she'd try to comfort me by saying that she couldn't even understand all of it; that persian historians sit around and analyze this stuff, and they still disagree on meaning. i just sat there for an hour and a half in awe of what i was missing; not knowing quite what i was missing out on, yet i was assured that something intangible was getting absorbed. my mom said she can't believe i've spent most of my life here, and that i'm so detached from those poets. in response i told her that she shouldn't give up on me; that even if it takes a million tries, and years to make me understand these lines, it's still worth it; that even though i may not understand the words, the feelings are still translated, and that the poets are far from dead to me when they try to reach me.

after saying that, i sat there starring at the 110 interchange for about a half hour. and again, the laughter. and so now, i understand. the very faint lines running through my head came out of my own mouth, and the spirits laughed at me. what can i say, i deserved it.

on friday i did something to anger oscar wilde. i cheated. i read the entirety of kurt vonnegut's a man without a country. i had bought it for my mom the day before, and after reading the first three pages, i found myself passed the point of no return. jenny knows plenty about that point in books. i've just never gotten to it on the first day. i don't think i should buy it for nikolai though; he's plenty pessimistic about humanity already . to that my mom said, "yes, we should return it." but the obnoxious, bitter man of 82 has some beautiful golden lines in there. he mentions a ton of people: everyone from saul bellows to lincoln. i wasn't cultured enough to catch all the references, but i recommend it.

my mom's car is "falling apart" as my dad says. we got a flat tire yesterday, which was fixed today. and for the past 5 months, the handle on the door of the driver has been broken, so if s/he wants to get out, they either have to exit from the passenger's side, or pull down the window, and open the door from the outside. this is all very amusing, even after 5 months.

i wish sina were here to help absorb all the craziness and the overwhelming humor that is our parents. for now, i'll have to absorb for us both.

until next week, goodnight.

the border between Greece and Albania

have you ever heard of the mountain goats?

"Everything that has ever befallen the universe, I have discovered, is written there, if onlyyou know how to read it." --Jeffrey Skinner

my hair smells like a campfire, and it isn't sure to come out until christmas. unless ofcourse, i get involved in another campfire before then, which is highly unlikeley.

"i took a walk into the mountains and it changed me forever. i walked out thinking i can shake it off, and after twenty years, here i am. people say friends don't destroy one another; what do they know about friends?"

we were playing pictionary and i got handed a piece of paper that said "living the lifeless life" and i starred at it for ten minutes.

"Our conversations are like minefields/No one's found a safe way through one yet"

"Take what you can carry/But let me tell you brother/Still waters go stagnant"

"The warning signs have all been bright and garish/Far too great in number to ignore"

nightmares come true.

mountainous heathen!
holly girl jennyman cyrus boyk sina boy robert reich honey jaan Prufrock If Afraid So Today's poem		~ Saturday, November 26, 2005 i'm wearing a bracelet again i'm home for six days this thanksgiving; perhaps the longest i've ever been home not counting the big vacation times. i didn't really realize it's nearly a week until betty shockingly told me over the phone. and they say it's almost over. for me, it's really only halfway done. i got home on tuesday night, feeling guilty. "i was cruel, and i'm never cruel," she says in that one movie. i still found myself breaking into laughter though, remembering faint lines running through my head. maybe part in disbelief, part in awe, part in simple joy, part in regret that i left very little room for cream. i left some, but i guess it's all the room i had. usually, i like to flavor the cream with a little coffee. then on thursday, my mom and i drove out to my aunt's house passing all those unforgiving interchanges. we listened to khayam and hafez on tape, intertwined with music from my childhood. i hadn't heard it in 12 years. and all with rolling hills, and the inevitable road so akin to poetry. it was all very fitting. my mom would comment on really good lines, that i clearly had a hard time understanding, and she'd try to comfort me by saying that she couldn't even understand all of it; that persian historians sit around and analyze this stuff, and they still disagree on meaning. i just sat there for an hour and a half in awe of what i was missing; not knowing quite what i was missing out on, yet i was assured that something intangible was getting absorbed. my mom said she can't believe i've spent most of my life here, and that i'm so detached from those poets. in response i told her that she shouldn't give up on me; that even if it takes a million tries, and years to make me understand these lines, it's still worth it; that even though i may not understand the words, the feelings are still translated, and that the poets are far from dead to me when they try to reach me. after saying that, i sat there starring at the 110 interchange for about a half hour. and again, the laughter. and so now, i understand. the very faint lines running through my head came out of my own mouth, and the spirits laughed at me. what can i say, i deserved it. on friday i did something to anger oscar wilde. i cheated. i read the entirety of kurt vonnegut's a man without a country. i had bought it for my mom the day before, and after reading the first three pages, i found myself passed the point of no return. jenny knows plenty about that point in books. i've just never gotten to it on the first day. i don't think i should buy it for nikolai though; he's plenty pessimistic about humanity already . to that my mom said, "yes, we should return it." but the obnoxious, bitter man of 82 has some beautiful golden lines in there. he mentions a ton of people: everyone from saul bellows to lincoln. i wasn't cultured enough to catch all the references, but i recommend it. my mom's car is "falling apart" as my dad says. we got a flat tire yesterday, which was fixed today. and for the past 5 months, the handle on the door of the driver has been broken, so if s/he wants to get out, they either have to exit from the passenger's side, or pull down the window, and open the door from the outside. this is all very amusing, even after 5 months. i wish sina were here to help absorb all the craziness and the overwhelming humor that is our parents. for now, i'll have to absorb for us both. until next week, goodnight. posted by ...me at 11:33 PM ~ Saturday, November 12, 2005 the border between Greece and Albania have you ever heard of the mountain goats? "Everything that has ever befallen the universe, I have discovered, is written there, if onlyyou know how to read it." --Jeffrey Skinner my hair smells like a campfire, and it isn't sure to come out until christmas. unless ofcourse, i get involved in another campfire before then, which is highly unlikeley. "i took a walk into the mountains and it changed me forever. i walked out thinking i can shake it off, and after twenty years, here i am. people say friends don't destroy one another; what do they know about friends?" we were playing pictionary and i got handed a piece of paper that said "living the lifeless life" and i starred at it for ten minutes. "Our conversations are like minefields/No one's found a safe way through one yet" "Take what you can carry/But let me tell you brother/Still waters go stagnant" "The warning signs have all been bright and garish/Far too great in number to ignore" nightmares come true. posted by ...me at 7:18 PM