A Slumber did my spirit seal
A slumber did my spirit seal:
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
William Wordsworth
Thursday, November 19
A Slumber did my spirit seal
Friday, November 13
Some talk!
Call me selfish, but I want to live a long life, and because hearing or reading “the news” will shorten its span, therefore I have decided to be done with the news! The day I made my decision I thought to myself, I have a right to live life and enjoy it, so why should I have to upset my stomach by reading the news at 6:30 a.m. when I am trying to swallow my breakfast and run out to work?
Recently, I am the only person in our house that dumps the papers—thee daily-papers—into the waste-paper-recycling-basket located in our basement. Done with those damned papers, I read them no more! Well, that’s just a rhetorical damnation. Because I still read the news. It is my luck that someone always digs the papers out of the waste-paper-basket, as soon as I am out of their sights, and as they read along its columns they highlight some lines and words, names, and even advertisings, only to draw my attention to the papers, when later on I see them on my desk! Yes, they leave the papers on my desk, as if my wish and promise does not mean anything! I suppose they do it out of charity and good will! They know that at night, I will scan the papers, even if it is only for a few minutes short of an hour!
The bizarre thing is that, people in general don’t believe me when I tell them that I do not wish to hear the news, and therefore they ignore my wish. Respect? Well, listen to this: I have even tried to explain to them that even if the news is a good one (which never is) please don’t inform me of it, instead try to keep the good news to yourself, because I don’t want to hear about it. But they ignore my wish and go about their business of informing me of This and That.
At work, my colleagues are news-eaters. They cannot spend an hour in a day without receiving their proper dose of the news, national or international it won’t matter they must know the news. If reading the paper is too much, they’ll try to watch it on TV or hear it on the air or read it while on the net. Silly, I know, but try to deprive them from eating their news, they’ll sue your ass, and go on hunger-strike in front of the UN headquarter in New York.
Anyway, listen to this:
A colleague asked me today, “Did you hear the news?”
“The news about what?”
“The hostage-taking in Iran and all that has followed and is about to follow. Really, you are an Iranian and you don’t read the news about Iran?
Aha, thought I, you need to argue.
“That’s news to you, my friend?” asked I.
“Oh, come on. It is the government of Iran…” And on and on for more than ten minutes the colleague foamed at the mouth, and by “providing” substantial evidence (like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his top-hat, in a jiffy he pulled out a file containing newspaper’s clips out of his drawer) tried to convince me that “the Islamic Republic of Iran has a point, and that point is made very clear”!
Oho, is that so?!
“How well-done! How marvelously well-done!” said I calmly, “you’ve unraveled the truth, my friend. And to answer your question about my not-reading-the-news-about-Iran, well, it upsets my delicate digestive system and attacks my nerves”.
“That’s just a nonsensical respond,” said my agitated colleague.
“What’s nonsensical? Digestive trouble in North America? That’s a continental ailment, my friend”.
“That’s a patronizing little-big-talk. Don’t you see, it is your government’s fault”.
“What do you mean my government? Oh, wait a minute! Are you suggesting that Mr. Harper has had any hand in it?!”
That was a blow below the belt. A very long pause and a peace-making colleague smiled, “Oh, you’re jokers, both of you! What’s this nonsense about the news? Both of you should be ashamed of yourselves for being bitchy this morning. Let the Americans solve their own issues, while we enjoy our international fame as peace-makers. Vivre au Canada. Let’s purchase The Bishop Man and talk about the innocent souls carrying the guilt of their brethrens.
So, at night, I skim through the news: Two murders in the city. No vaccine for the homeless. Some cries over vaccination of the detainees in Afghanistan. Chavez’s recent jokes. Prince Charles and his wife’s cold reception in the province of Quebec. Obama’s performance. Oil’s down. Interest rates are up. We are badly screwed!
Good night!
Recently, I am the only person in our house that dumps the papers—thee daily-papers—into the waste-paper-recycling-basket located in our basement. Done with those damned papers, I read them no more! Well, that’s just a rhetorical damnation. Because I still read the news. It is my luck that someone always digs the papers out of the waste-paper-basket, as soon as I am out of their sights, and as they read along its columns they highlight some lines and words, names, and even advertisings, only to draw my attention to the papers, when later on I see them on my desk! Yes, they leave the papers on my desk, as if my wish and promise does not mean anything! I suppose they do it out of charity and good will! They know that at night, I will scan the papers, even if it is only for a few minutes short of an hour!
The bizarre thing is that, people in general don’t believe me when I tell them that I do not wish to hear the news, and therefore they ignore my wish. Respect? Well, listen to this: I have even tried to explain to them that even if the news is a good one (which never is) please don’t inform me of it, instead try to keep the good news to yourself, because I don’t want to hear about it. But they ignore my wish and go about their business of informing me of This and That.
At work, my colleagues are news-eaters. They cannot spend an hour in a day without receiving their proper dose of the news, national or international it won’t matter they must know the news. If reading the paper is too much, they’ll try to watch it on TV or hear it on the air or read it while on the net. Silly, I know, but try to deprive them from eating their news, they’ll sue your ass, and go on hunger-strike in front of the UN headquarter in New York.
Anyway, listen to this:
A colleague asked me today, “Did you hear the news?”
“The news about what?”
“The hostage-taking in Iran and all that has followed and is about to follow. Really, you are an Iranian and you don’t read the news about Iran?
Aha, thought I, you need to argue.
“That’s news to you, my friend?” asked I.
“Oh, come on. It is the government of Iran…” And on and on for more than ten minutes the colleague foamed at the mouth, and by “providing” substantial evidence (like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his top-hat, in a jiffy he pulled out a file containing newspaper’s clips out of his drawer) tried to convince me that “the Islamic Republic of Iran has a point, and that point is made very clear”!
Oho, is that so?!
“How well-done! How marvelously well-done!” said I calmly, “you’ve unraveled the truth, my friend. And to answer your question about my not-reading-the-news-about-Iran, well, it upsets my delicate digestive system and attacks my nerves”.
“That’s just a nonsensical respond,” said my agitated colleague.
“What’s nonsensical? Digestive trouble in North America? That’s a continental ailment, my friend”.
“That’s a patronizing little-big-talk. Don’t you see, it is your government’s fault”.
“What do you mean my government? Oh, wait a minute! Are you suggesting that Mr. Harper has had any hand in it?!”
That was a blow below the belt. A very long pause and a peace-making colleague smiled, “Oh, you’re jokers, both of you! What’s this nonsense about the news? Both of you should be ashamed of yourselves for being bitchy this morning. Let the Americans solve their own issues, while we enjoy our international fame as peace-makers. Vivre au Canada. Let’s purchase The Bishop Man and talk about the innocent souls carrying the guilt of their brethrens.
So, at night, I skim through the news: Two murders in the city. No vaccine for the homeless. Some cries over vaccination of the detainees in Afghanistan. Chavez’s recent jokes. Prince Charles and his wife’s cold reception in the province of Quebec. Obama’s performance. Oil’s down. Interest rates are up. We are badly screwed!
Good night!
Friday, October 30
Irving Layton (1920-2006)
From Colony to Nation
A dull people,
but the rivers of this country
are wide and beautiful
A dull people
enamoured of childish games,
but food is easily come by
and plentiful
Some with a priest’s voice
in their cage of ribs: but
on high mountain-tops and in thunderstorms
the chirping is not heard
Deferring to beadle and censor;
not ashamed for this,
but given over to horseplay,
the making of money
A dull people, without charm
or ideas,
settling into the clean empty look
as into a legacy
One can ignore them
(the silences, the vast distances help)
and suppose them at the bottom
of one of the meaner lakes,
their bones not even picked for souvenirs.
Saturday, October 24
Oh, those characters!
After a long time, I now know that to enjoy life as much as one can, one must look at some people as characters. However poorly or richly a character is developed, he or she is the salt of life; without them life would be a dull thing.
Whether a pompous ass or a jealous mutt, or a successful self-made-type-of-a-lowest-cast-of-mind, or a self-proclaimed authority on some sort of a shim-sham, these characters are as real as the reality of life is. And therefore, it would be ignorant of us to dismiss or disregard them, just based on our own dislike of their suspicious development. Having said that, tolerating them is even more difficult than understanding their development, if that happen to be too rich for our taste. Nevertheless to enjoy life one must endure, tolerate and accept things.
That was all I wanted to say for tonight!
Katayoun
Whether a pompous ass or a jealous mutt, or a successful self-made-type-of-a-lowest-cast-of-mind, or a self-proclaimed authority on some sort of a shim-sham, these characters are as real as the reality of life is. And therefore, it would be ignorant of us to dismiss or disregard them, just based on our own dislike of their suspicious development. Having said that, tolerating them is even more difficult than understanding their development, if that happen to be too rich for our taste. Nevertheless to enjoy life one must endure, tolerate and accept things.
That was all I wanted to say for tonight!
Katayoun
Saturday, October 17
Fear no more th heat o’ th’ sun
A poem for you? No, a poem for both of us. Something to take us away from all that is unreal, that has us in its grips, that we need a great poet to release us from its hold. Yes, someone with a rhythmic imagination, who rhymes in meaning, will give you what you want to hear! You don’t agree? Oh, well, hear what Master Shakespeare has for you.
Fear no more th heat o’ th’ sun
Fear no more the hear o’ th’ sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta’en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o’ th’ great
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke,
Care no more to clothe and eat,
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash.
Nor th’ all-dreaded thunder-stone.
Fear not slander, censure rash.
Thou hast finish’d joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!
Katayoun
PS: Design by Katayoun
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