Of Erections...

Omg. I haven't gotten horny for about 2 weeks now! I think I've blown a fuse or something.

Or Maybe I'm dying.

Or Maybe I have testicular cancer.

WAKE UP GOD DAMN YOU! WAKE UP! *Khdish!* *Khdish!*

Dude... seriously.

Well...

Look at this world. It's a fucked up mess. Children hating parents, parents hating each other, Sisters hating brothers, brothers hating sisters, husbands hating wives, wives hating husbands, everybody scattering around like a bunch of flies.

What the fuck.

What happened to the simple times? When there was a thing called family? Spending warm nights at home talking to your family in front of the TV or just plain sharing a show together. laughing together, feeling together.

I've never had much of those even in my earlier days of childhood. But I still remember my family having certain bonds and ties which never seemed to brake. Not then, and not in the future. But somehow so many of them have. It's a wasteland now. It's everybody's fault.

I'm sorry to say that things really don't get better. Once you sever a synapse, you pretty much better forget about putting it back together. And this is a whole house of cards crumbled to the ground.

What does the future hold? god knows. I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared. because I am. But you never know what lies at the end of a corner. A whole new era awaits. It may be a little more gray and bitter, but hey... life's a bitch and if there's one thing that living in this shit new world teaches us all, is that the only thing we can do is cope and keep up the hope.

Or whatever's left of it anyway.

Leonard's Night

Here's a little something I dug up from an old file. Wow. I had forgotten all about it. I remember this being a little story I wanted to put on my "2tadige" blog. But I thought nobody would either care or understand it because my posts mostly served as filler material until His Majesty "Lohrasp", the king of all pimps posted something. :-L

Leonard sat alone in his dim-lighted room. The florescent kiss of the moonlight lamp was hugging the air around him. Everything looked much paler and bluer than normal. Especially the six-shooter in Leonard's left hand. The wooden chair he was sitting on squeaked like a sick little rat trying to gnaw its own heart out. He thought how comical it would be if the chair broke from underneath him and let him fall to the ground with a big Thump. It never happened. He might have forgotten his motives if it had. but it didn't.

His breath was constant and mechanical. He felt thirsty. like there was weed growing in his throat and they needed water. He swallowed with pain but the spit wouldn't even reach beyond the end of his tongue. The ringing in his head was getting louder by the minute. He had to do this if he was sure about it. He wasn't sure about it. He thought he was the morning he woke up and loaded the gun with the bullets he had hidden under his mattress. He knew his target. He knew how to use the gun. He knew he had a responsibility to end what he had the power to end. But his finger wouldn't budge. As if it were cut off by volunteering itself.

He didn't move. the chair still squeaked underneath him. He didn't hear the ring anymore. He dropped the pistol and buried his aching head inside the palm of his sweaty hands and whispered to himself something about streams and waterfalls. He remembered a quick cut of a dream he had the last night. It was about these magic glasses that would enable him to grow wings and fly whenever he wore them. Or something like that. It was beautiful. He was sure it was the most beautiful dream he had ever had in his whole life.

Leonard got up from the chair and walked to the kitchen sink. Turned on the tap and buried his face inside the stream of pouring water. He felt the water rub away on his face and he felt his face go numb as the water got colder and colder. And then he imagined he's flying high up in the air. wearing his magic glasses.

Flying like an eagle in the innocent glory of the bright blue early morning sky. far away from the noise. far away from the world he grew in. far away from the pains and miseries of being a human living amongst other human beings.

It was beautiful. But he didn't forget to take his pistol with him.

Just in case.

ماجرای خرید سنگ قبر پدر خدا بیامرزم از حاجی مرزداران مرده شور

قسمت دوم

" شما عزیزم غلط میکنی به من زنگ میزنی وقتی از قابلیت بنده بی خبرین! اوکی پیلیز؟ خدافظ جونم !"

تا رسیدم دم در مغازه اش جرات نکردم وارد دکونش بشم تا اینکه حداقل یک ساعت از این دعوای تلفنی و کوبیدن گوشی اش بر زمین بگذرد. اول تصمیم گرفتم برگردم بروم و به خاله بگم مغازه اش را بسته بود اما ترسیدم گندش در بیاد پس رفتم یک دور زدم و متن روی چند تا از سنگ قبرهای چیده شده و آماده جلوی محوطه مغازه را خواندم. روی یکی از آنها نوشته بود "خداحافظ عزیزم." یکدفعه از پشت سرم صدای یک نفر اومد. "بیچاره زن یه بازاری اصفونی بود. مرتیکه انتر پانصد تا زمین و ملک و ماشین داره بعد تا فهمید که هر چی کلمه و حکاکی روی سنگ بیشتر باشه قیمتش بالاتر میره گفت همینو روی ارزونترین سنگم بنویسم. مرتیکه دیوس. ایشالله میتشو خودم میشورم. یه تیکه چوب هم همچین یواشکی بکنم اون موقع تو کونش که تو اون دنیا هم آخش در بیاد!"

واقعا نمیدانستم چی جوابشو بدم. یک لبخند ناراحت و مضطرب بهش زدم و از ارواح جد و آباد و نیاکان ذلیلم خواستم که عاقبت رو بخیر کنن. "کاری داشتید با من که الان یه ربعه بیرون مغازه بنده پرسه میزنین؟ گم شدین یا آمدید شکار شترگاوپلنگ؟"

"نه نه! من آمدم سفارش سنگ بدم. برای پدرم. خانم ملوکی منو فرستاده. چند سال پیش برای همسرشان از خود شما سنگ گرفته بودند."

"به به! خانم ملوکی! چه عجب از اینطرفا! خوبه اقلا خودش اینطرفا آفتابی نمیشه آشناشو میفرسته برامون! هوای کاسبیمونو داره!" دوباره یک لبخند با اضطراب و زورکی دیگه محض رضای خدا زدم. می ترسیدم اگر آن لبخند را هم نزنم چوبی که برای سوراخ آن آقای اصفهانی کنار گذاشته بود را بیرون بیاورد و بجایش وارد کون بنده کند.

قیافه اش بیشتر به قصابها و لوتی ها میخورد تا کسی که قبلا مرده شوری میکرده و الان هم سنگ قبر میسازد. کسی که نصف بیشتر عمرش را با نعش و مرده میگذراند بعید است که اینقدر پر از حرارت و جوش و خروش باشد. من که سالی یکبار بهشت زهرا می آمدم چنان روی روحیه و جانم اثر میگذاشت همچین افسرده میشدم که انگار خود عزرائیل با بیلش بالای سرم وایستاده چه برسد به کسی که اینجا زندگی میکند! اما خوب، آنگونه که فکر میکردم از آب در نیامده بود. به خودم و آن خاله بی پدر مادرم یک فحش خواهر مادر چرب و چیلی دادم. او هم از بین این همه پیامبر تالاپی انداخته و جرجیس را انتخاب کرده بود!

"حالا خدا بیامرزه! چند سالش بود پدر؟ "

"تقریبا هفتاد و پنج."

"تقریبا؟"

"آخه دو هفته بعدش تولدش بود."

"آخی! حیوونکی!"

بعد ناگهان رو به آسمان کرد و عین نعره فیل فریاد زد "ای جز جیگر بزنی عزرائیل! ای اونجای ننت! اونجای آبجیت!"

موهای روی تنم سیخ شد. آرزو میکردم که اشتباهی آمده باشم سراغش. آرزو میکردم که شاید اسم مغازه اش را اشتباه نوشته بودم و یکی دو پلاک بالا پایین رفته بودم. دوباره تابلوی مغازه را نگاه کردم. "حکاکی و سنگ قبر اعلای مرزداران". نخیر. اشتباه نکرده بودم. کاش کرده بودم. کاش بجای پلاک بیست و سه خونده بودم سی و دو و یک جای دیگر میرفتم.

"پسر عجل آدما وقتی میرسه خیلی چیز عجیبیه! متوجهی؟ دیروز اومدن یه خانواده برای پسر بیست و پنج سالشون یه سنگ قبر سفارش بدن. گفتم ای نامردا! چی شده؟ این جوون مملکت دیگه چرا؟! با داد و شیون ننه اش گفت یه پیکانی بی شرف تو خیابون زد زیرش کرد اما زنده موند. اومد که بلند شه از جاش یه وانت هم اومد از روش رد شد! میبینی تورو جون من؟ آخه این یعنی چی؟ هان؟ بگو دیگه لامسب!"

با بغض حرف میزد. مثل اینکه قبلا یکی بهش پول داده بود که مثل مداحان بیاید و اشک تمساح مرا دربیاورد. دوباره کمی دور خود مثل زنجیری ها چرخید و تا آمد دستهایش را رو به آسمان کند و دوباره عربده بکشد سریع پریدم وسط معرکه گرفتنش و گفتم "خوب، حالا من متنی که قرار است روی سنگ حکاکی شود را آورده ام. فقط مانده سنگ را انتخاب کنم دیگه نه؟"

ساکت شد و به من نگاه کرد. فکر کنم دو سه دقیقه ای مات و مبهوت من شده بود. مثل اینکه از چشماش میخواست خون بپاشد بیرون. پریده بودم وسط موعضه اش و زنجیره صحبت و افکارش را پاره کرده بودم. چشمم یکی دوبار سیاهی رفت و آمد. مثل سگی که ببر دیده باشد ترسیدم. شاشم گرفت و شروع کردم به یه پا دو پا کردن. اما ناگهان رویش را کرد بسمت مغازه اش و شروع کرد به راه رفتن به سمت آن. "باشه. بیا تو انتخاب کن."

فکر کنم این حقیقت که از طرف خاله نیره ام آمده بودم جانم را نجات داده بود. هر چی فحش در ذهن خودم به او داده بودم را پس گرفتم و رله کردم بسمت مثانه بی پدرم که داشت میترکید و دنبالش به داخل مغازه رفتم. داشتم از زور شاش بالا میاوردم.

T.B.C.D....maybe.

On Irony

Irony. It haunts me everywhere I go. It's like a seamless phantom following my every footstep and overshadowing my shadow and besting my actions through its counter actions and reactions. It's a spider's web. And I'm the little moth.

I don't stand a chance.

Every time it strikes it taunts me. It pulls me deeper into the venomous tentacles of the hunting spider. The arachnid, sucking my blood dry. It feels like I'm in a play or a book. even a newspaper column could describe it. Maybe it's an irony in itself that the infinite possibilities I dream of serve as nothing but a paragraph printed on a piece of paper, overlooked because it's written right next to the astrology column.

Irony. My nemesis. I feel powerless compared to it. how can I control the very fabric of destiny? or is it really destiny?

How do you kill irony?

Skit

We all leave

and All that is left of us.

is a piece of paper

in a slim glass display

Or sometimes wood

All the memories

All the tears

All the laughters

All the feelings

All that we were

And All the infinite possibilities

Trapped inside two dimensions

of slowly decomposing paper

A Harmless Little Love Story

Karen. My Karen. I met you by accident. But the way I fell head over heels for you, it was more like destiny. If there's one thing mathematics has taught me, it's that there's always a chance. No matter how the night sky brims with dark matter, you'll always be able to find a star, even in Vegas.

"Why do you always walk like you're in such a hurry?" she asked me every other day when we used to go for a walk in the park. seek shelter from the burning inferno that was sun. like vampires. grim, pale white vampires. That's what we were. "I'm just like that." I'd answer back.

-"One day you're gonna pass right by me and keep going until you turn around and see that I've been left behind."

"Don't worry, baby. I'll never leave you behind."

My sweet, good looking, sweet smelling Karen. Her favorite game was truth or dare. My least favorite game. It only felt good when I got her to dare and got her into bed. She never told me about her father. A scarred mind in Vegas, doesn't stay in Vegas.

the other day I felt something squirming up my ankle. A big fat cockroach. It snack out of the bear bottle she trapped it in. little bastard. I shook it off and she screamed as it ran scared towards her. But she wasn't scared. she was just playing. My beautiful, playful Karen.

When your car brakes down in the middle of highway 74, the only thing you can hope for is either a miracle, or an easy death. The heat was rising from the hot sands like the Devil himself and it was like the sun was trying to murder us with a dull jackknife. Karen didn't care though. She was just fine. Just resting up her feet on the dashboard of the car and trying to listen to the wind howling through the empty desert. I thought she's fainted from the heat. She just fell asleep.

Her stomach was growing. but she still looked beautiful. All this time and we never realized. Blue meant positive but Karen liked blue better so we decided that blue means we're still free.

We were before the puking and headaches started. I wasn't scared. She wasn't scared. We just couldn't believe anything yet. we were like confused mules who had lost their masters.

After shooting the six shots I had promised her we checked into the motel room. it wasn't shabby. We could have afforded more with the money I had with me but I figured that one night isn't going to kill anybody. the room had a neon green light to it. like there was a big, lush greenhouse hidden somewhere in the bathroom. We thought about the color green. then we thought about the color blue. Blue meant positive.

-"I wish mom could see this."

Karen never talked about her mother either. I found that another way to get her into bed when we played truth or dare.

The gurney was dripping with blood as it bashed and bashed through spring doors in St. Joseph's hospital. The doctors looked like monsters and one of the nurses looked like my mother.

-"What's wrong with her?!"

-"Internal hemorrhage. Please wait outside."

We talked about a lot of things that night in the "greenhouse motel". She didn't want a baby. She didn't want the responsibility. She didn't want to loose her freedom. She still wanted to close her eyes and see blue horizons. My beautiful Karen. "I hate blue now. I fucking hate it." I caressed her as strongly as I could. I dried her tears with my fingers. We just lay there and listened to the mockingbirds singing in the bathroom. That night I dreamt I was the first astronaut to land on the sun. I felt sick. I threw up and then the damn mosquitoes didn't let me sleep till morning.

-"We... uh... took the scissors out. and... err... there... but there was severe bleeding. We did all we..."

I woke her up gently. Gave her the water bottle and told her to take a sip. The sky was cloudless. She said she loves that color but she also likes rain. She said there never was a lot of rain in Vegas. "God damned Vegas".

She seemed so happy. Karen. My beautiful Karen whom I had promised a cottage in the distant hills behind the forests. Our very own wooden home with a little fireplace and an antique rifle hanging above the chest drawer. It was going to be perfect.

-"We can do it. We can do anything together. can't we?"

-"Baby, I'd scale mountains for you, that's what I'd do."

Her white, glimmering teeth. The smell of her strawberry breath. they never failed to help me sleep and forget my troubles.

-"I love stargazing. It makes me feel so... special. It's like looking for my home planet. I know it's somewhere out there."

One of the Motels we spent a night or two in had a little roof on top. We could climb up the emergency staircase and just lay there until we fell asleep. Karen was always happy when she was herself.

Karen was happy.

-"I can't keep it in me... I can't. I... I'm too young! I'm just not ready for this I swear I'm just not ready for this! Please don't let me have this baby. please!"

- "I'm so sorry, sir. We just couldn't stop the bleeding. the scissors... they were... lodged too deep inside her... umm... I'm sorry."

Me? I wasn't scared. I just sat there and lit a cigarette. took a good long look at the nurse who looked my mother. She came over and took my name and made me sign a bunch of papers.

I walked out of the hospital. I got on my car. I drove and drove until I reached Highway 74.

I stopped and turned off the car. I scooted over to the passenger's seat and put my feet up on the dashboard and stared up at the cloudless, blue sky. I didn't care about the color.

I was just waiting for the first star to start shining in the quiet, dim nightly sky.

I'm going to name it Karen and I'm going to watch it until I fall asleep.

The End of a harmless, worthless little love story. Sorry if it was shitty. It's 1:30 AM. I have to go to work tomorrow at 7 and I just had to get this off my chest for some reason.

Goodnight.