только одно отрывает от сна

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 01:00:01 GMT

there are two times of day at which pistacchios are necessarily eaten:

- as soon as they are acquired (whether it be in the car, on the bus, in an airplane, etc)
- immediately after dinner, no matter how full you are

moreover, the only way to eat them is to put the shells back exactly. where. they. came. from.

***

f's phrase of the week: [dooneh] no, i can't eat a mobile - so why don't i sit on it?

a dream

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 18:28:00 GMT

perhaps brought about by the dark lady who talks to herself; who always wears the same brown trenchcoat; who is almost always at yonge/steeles:

i was walking with her and i listened. she was expecting to see her daughter that day.. i gathered it had been many years since they met. and she had in her hand a letter written in red ink, in very childish writing - which was her own. i was certain that she was hallucinating; that she had not contacted her daughter who, most likely, doesn't even know her. i imagined that the daughter herself was a hallucination and it worried me that this woman had such expectations.. i didn't know what to say. i fought between telling her the 'truth' and allowing her the fantasy.

we were still on the street in a bad part of town when it began to get dark. i got nervous. suddenly, we were in her apartment, and i saw that the phone had a built-in (removable) blackberry. she could take it with her, i said, and never miss her daughter's calls. i was anxious that she did - that there had really been a call about a meeting that we'd missed..

she wasn't listening.

for some reason, the phone itself was proof to me of the daughter's existence.

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 03:21:43 GMT

i'm reminded of a question about numbers.

what matters, really, if it's 5 million, or 6, or 1, in the global sense. it was enough for generations to have sprouted in its shadow; to have caused a kind of collective dementia; a paranoid, defensive reflex

i'm never surprised that israelis are militant, nor palestinians. each has had a terror. each continues to have, beyond words - beyond even comprehension

you cannot erase something like this from your blood

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 03:48:24 GMT

Magnum Opus

It was midday.

She rose from the bath and went to the bed, splitting lacquered hardwood with the nimble, beaded rain that spun from her fingertips.

Flowered wallpaper tore and grew itself anew as he folded her neatly into his arms and watched the puddles form on his clothing.

Cautiously, she put her tongue to his mouth and met the pulse of resistance.

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 05:18:59 GMT

"You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house-, and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon, you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening"

--rilke

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 00:53:16 GMT

word of the day: ubiquitous

today i was very much aware of my nose...

it followed me unnaturally everywhere i looked

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 15:35:10 GMT

every day i'm less and less impressed with myself. soon i'll dwindle into an absolute nothing.. a minuscule dot in the remotest corner of the earth, trying to bury itself into snow..

i'm absolutely, unambiguously aware of my limits right now.

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 03:40:14 GMT

for hours, i can't even let you know that my heart is ripping itself to shreds from worry...

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 01:20:56 GMT

phrase of the day: i'm historically incorrect

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 03:09:48 GMT

"My heart doth joy that yet in all my life
I found no man but he was true to me."

-- brutus in julius caesar, V, v, 34-5

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 19:56:04 GMT

my hands are so cold i can't feel the glue on these self-adhesive stamps

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 01:30:53 GMT

a moment for ehsan fatahiyan, 28
i will not stain his name with the manner of his death

another family loses a child to the merciless crusade of power

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 17:47:44 GMT

word of the day: goopy

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 23:03:37 GMT

"My whole tendency and I believe the tendency of all men who ever tried to write or talk Ethics or Religion was to run against the boundaries of language. This running against the walls of our cage is perfectly, absolutely hopeless. Ethics so far as it springs from the desire to say something about the ultimate meaning of life, the absolute good, the absolute valuable, can be no science. What it says does not add to our knowledge in any sense. But it is a document of a tendency in the human mind which I personally cannot help respecting deeply and I would not for my life ridicule it."

the rest of wittgenstein's (short) lecture on ethics here

mersi azizam.

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 03:41:01 GMT

death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's claws

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 14:22:21 GMT

i wanted to call you last night but i was afraid to hear your voice..

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 03:24:53 GMT

i hate life. i hate it. you're miserable and i desperately need a bath to relax these muscles but i have to sit here working..

i will die a temporary, frustrated death

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:06:40 GMT

this, too, needs (a lot of) polish - but i'll be collecting my writing here. the idea struck me sometime last week... i'd like not to scroll through pages of rambling to take another look at a poem

everything from the past year has been posted in the order it originally appeared and some have been slightly revised. it was brought to my attention that i'm over-eager with line breaks and occasionally verbose - i will be more careful :)

comic relief

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 02:40:17 GMT

from yahoo's mailer-daemon (and no, this is not a joke):

first: i'm not going to try again; this message has been in the queue too long.

then: i'm afraid i wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses. this is a permanent error; i've given up. sorry it didn't work out.

***

my dad, in translation:

"innulik - beata said that you said that you'd be home on monday. but then i said that you said that you'd be home today.

please clarify."

***

two conflicting personalities:

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 02:38:08 GMT

apartment buildings are an endless source of fascination. everywhere i am, i feel the need to scrutinize living conditions - to wonder about every window; to imagine what it is to live there - not with the people; not in their lives... but in their space.. among their possessions....

***

sometimes the shock is accute - everything we couldn't do... all the time we didn't have...

the 'what if' returns on a wave of tears from every limb and organ..

there's a feeling i get
when i look to the west
and my spirit is crying
for leaving...

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 14:00:08 GMT

shots fired, beatings, another wave of arrests.. and my poor karoubi attacked by police

if they had the audacity to go that far, we can expect a warrant any day now

i don't know what to think..

my nerves are in a bit of shambles.. a 4am text confirmed that two were ok.. only to hear now that you spent three hours near death from worry for the others while i had nightmares of being attacked by basij on a rooftop

they were very young.. in their 20s.. and they were all girls. me and a few others beat them off the ledge with sticks or fired imaginary shots into their heads with our fingers shaped like pistols...

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 04:43:45 GMT

poppies
sowed themselves among
the dahlias

each
grim petal
pinned to the shrunken
air with collected precision

a salience of limbs gropes
for an oblique mouth
to unearth the sour
breath of ages

a damning
stroke rhythmically shatters teeth
jerks the lips
into a vast corrosive howl

***
italicized is virginia woolf - to the lighthouse

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 03:59:34 GMT

The answer lies in changing the culture of two institutions - schools and the police

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 19:44:32 GMT

terrible, north american (or terribly north american?) birthday cake..

buffy_nike@hotmail.com — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 15:03:24 GMT

i'm of the opinion that money can buy nothing.. nothing meaningful.. everything we need is bought with the heart