For L.

Eternity happened to me in a gloomy night some years ago. I was there, She was there, in a cozy party. Nothing was exchanged between us, other than usual small talk meant to break the barriers of solitude. I can't remember what she was wearing or to which music she danced or what scent her perfume was. Actually, there is nothing earthly capable of reminding me of her. Her name is all I have. I probably wouldn't recognize her if someday we come across by the vagaries of fate. It all keeps things less complicated and yet mysterious. It keeps her virgin; virgin from the penetration of truth. downgrading her to reality is the last thing I want to do. I came to know women through her. To me, she represents everything feminine. She is the reincarnation of my flame, my obscure object of desire, the orgy of my longings. Through the years, she's been stripped away of all the carnal attachments, I forgot her face, her figure, her curves and her voice. Not that I forgot her for every woman I meet reminds me of a perfection, of a being I always idolized and idealized, whose name I never cease to murmur: Leila.

Compromises

Sometimes I feel jealous towards animals. The privilege given to us, homo sapiens, is the power of reasoning which boils down to compromises. It looks good per se but denies us the chance of being absolute winner (or loser). I envy the animals when they happily hunt and don't care if there are other moving preys around while they are feasting on their conquest. I envy them when they are mating, not giving a shit if they have chosen the best mate. The sheer joy they experience is quite far removed from our utmost mirth. We are condemned to think and decide and then regret. Life is a fucking chain of fucking compromises. Something inside me is telling me don't get too philosophical. Ok, I give up...

Life is ...

Life is a succession of successes and failures. Fortunately, most people have an equal share of each. Unfortunately, they don't even each other out.

Myth and fact

One of the worst and unfortunately widely-accepted stereotypes:
the more taciturn and introverted you are, the more thinking person you are.

The glory of ancient Rome resurrected

Well, I was neither on Italy's nor on France's side. My favorite teams either didn't make it into final 32 (Denmark) or were kicked out of the tournament at an early stage (Czech, Croatia, Spain). My only hopes in the final 8 teams (Argentina and Portugal) couldn't make it to the final match. However, it was fun to watch the game among Italy's die-hard fans. The only thing that truely made me sad was Zidane's weird approach to catharsis. I can't really dig what was in his mind when he did that (I should admit that scene is a guilty pleasure to me). I bet he made a very good case for parody-makers.
I don't want to write more about world cup. As the final note, read the following dialogue happening today in the middle of the match. Who can beat them in relating sex and soccer?
After one of France's shots went past the right bar and very close to the target, my friend, Kaveh, said: "This is a game of inches."
And a Ukrainian girl responded: "Yeah, not much unlike sex!"

Deus ex Machina

I think it is a common experience for all of us when things don't work the way they should. Sometimes we find ourselves in such an awkward predicament (either self-imposed or not) that any kind of remedy only seems to deteriorate the situation. Deus ex Machina is a latin phrase referring to those situations in a work of art (either play or novel or film) that a divine intervention or mere luck or anything out of the logical sequence of unfolded events, saves the characters from their plight. Examples abound: you wake up and realize it was all just a nightmare, or despite the mortal wounds the loved one comes back to life or any other artificial gimmick leading to a (not very realistic) happy ending. Yeah, Deus ex Machina belongs to the world of tales but once in a while one might wish it would happen in the real life.

Life

"Don't take life seriously, because you can never get out of it alive."
I just saw this quotation attached on a wall somewhere in the university campus and kinda liked it. Ok, I promise not to take it seriously anymore (one of those promises I can't keep!).

Pushing the limits of absurdity

I've started reading Albert Camus's The Plague (La Peste in French). It's far less impressive than what I expected. Maybe that's because I compare it with Stranger, my all-time favorite. Stranger was the first serious book I read in my teenage years. I was fascinated by the objectivity and impassiveness of the very first line, "Mother died today or was it yesterday" and the rest of the book never diminished my infatuation. It was the first time I confronted a book dealing in such an explicit manner with absurdity of life and death. Actually, the reason I decided to learn French was to read Stranger in its own language (I had read it in Farsi), something I've never done yet and ended up with reading French lyrics (which I enjoy and feel indebted to Camus!). Even now, I'm shamelessly reading The Plague in English.

In praise of God!

One thing I like about God is that he hasn't lost his sense of humor over zillions of years.

In the realm of artificiality

Sometimes it's harder to fake a smile than to fake tears, isn't it?