This blog has no title. It's like The White Album. What's up?
First things first, for all of you tennis fans, Agassi beat Blake in a fifth set tiebreak. The Semi's will be aired Saturday (12pm-6pm) on CBS.
Agassi beat Xavier too :)
The above was my first technological smile. It is probably my last. Except when I mention that Jim's Whole Milk will be published by Effing Press :) That was the second.
Now onto a response to Jim's post. Jim said:
"...Blogging is about community. Pirooz believes people are excluded here (maybe he will comment on this), but I see it very differently, I see this place as one of the most inclusive places I have been. How often do you walk up to someone of the same sex and say hello? I don’t do it very often. And honestly, when I am on the street minding my own, I don’t like it when others do it. But here, we can always say hello. I like it when people come over and visit. then I can go and see them and meet their friends. I think the community is getting larger..."
In this context, it seems like I'm against blogging. That is not the case. I am not against anyone connecting with people. No, what I was commenting on, specifically, was the literary world, and, on a much broader sense, the exclusion present in all artistic genres.
What do I mean?
Well, I'll tell you. It's about language, baby. Language. For me, language is the key to any situation. In a job, if you got JobSpeak down, you get the job. You got WhopperTalk flowing, you talk Whoppers. If there's some HeartSpeak on the dash, well then dash that out. Right on. Straight up now tell me...
Now my issue, and this is my thing, so take it or leave it, is that my language, my writing language is funky and fresh. It likes to take a dip in uncharted territories. It likes a good car wash. It doesn't mind giving a shout out to Eskimo Pies or Transformers. In short, I dig writing aka language that connects to me and my crew. Mainly, me, so far, and you, my crew, who are reading this.
Now when I go visit other blogs, other circles, if you will, most won't respond to anything I say. They're like, "What is he saying?" My complete guess on this is that I write like I'm doing here. If you've visited this site once, you know I can delve into various voices. Some are a bit more WHACK than other, or like Michelangelo says, "you talk like a little kid and someone stuck in the 50's."
Now you take this G money fake sound chink the change roll busting, and throw that mustard jargon onto an uninformed, or better yet, strange environment, and people tend to dismiss certain comments. They're like, "Hmmm. He is from South Pole. Most abort. Must take sequence A to square root of major silliness."
This judgment factor, which is a fact of reality, has got me thinking about language in general. That maybe, the true unifier for our country lies not in race, religion, etc., but in language. That if we were all given an equal chance at adopting a certain level of language, we would be less inclined to turn certain people off, because they like to sing, "Nothing but a G thang, baby. Two loped out niggaz goin crazy. Death Row is the label that pays me."
Or, better still, have an artistic community that is open to language outside the traditional poetic discourse. That can jam it sideways with a hammer on the porch of goodness. That will say, "I just didn't like the poem. It was too cotton mothball which way wild on the freeloader."
In other words, or Shortspeak:
Wouldn't it be great if I could write a query or memo that starts with Yo? Wouldn't it be easier to write a poem without deciphering astericks marks and back slashes, and just have a line like, "I like milk. Whole milk." It's that simple for me.
I am calling out to the world with my simplicity. I am not excluding anyone. There is nothing wrong with poetic discourse. I simply wonder how change is possible with language. That the true change in our political framework is in direct relation to how we view language within certain settings (academic, government, corporate), and our willingness to subvert old modes of political correctness/propriety/and unwritten laws for the mustard inside all our hearts i.e.
Memo 201.673
Re: This Poem
Yo! Frank
You get my memo? I gave it to Susie. I made it into a Chinese star. You can throw it and everything. I bet it could go through a window. It's sharp. I used cardboard. Well, hopefully, you got it. We got that board meeting at 3. Jim wanted you to use his poem for the presentation. He says if they don't get what you're saying just throw it at Fillmore. His numbers have been slipping. It will send a message.
Anyway, hope it goes well. Let me know if you need another poem. This one took a long time to write. I might use an envelope next time. I think I can use the metal clasp. It will make the Chinese Star that much better.
I'll see you at the meeting, P.
Mars, the Painting
The latest painting. It moves me very much. The script is Japanese and Korean on the side. They say beautiful things. "Samurai" things like that. Anyway, I am going to be finishing Mars or Bust soon. This may be the cover for it. So if you but this painting, take a quality picture for me. The auction ends in 10 days. Bidding starts at $200.
Moksha-- if you want it, make a bid.
Jim--This is in regards to the post I deleted. I am not upset. Just sending a shout to the world. I will do that on occasion. The academy is not my concern though. I think about my family, friends, you, my new apartment...
That's right, folks. New apartment. After moving to L.A. in July, and living on a couch until now, I will finally have a place of my own. Of course, I have no furniture. I also have no money. I am selling this painting to provide me with a bed and desk to write on. If there's any left over, I might get a refrigerator.
Anyway, love to you all. I will post a comic later tonight. For those that visit me during the wee hours (M-'just a wee bit), it's Mars or Bust, baby. Mars or Bust.
Xavier in the Flesh
horsie-3297
Originally uploaded by piroozkalayeh.
Here is my brother and I riding. Look at how big X is. He was a monster.
Xavier or Excalibur: My Horseback Riding Experience
I am here at work. I am so tired. The horseback riding on Sunday killed me. I ended up with Xavier. He was the twice the size of the other horses, and I paid for it. He went into a full gallop, when we were supposed to just be doing one of those single-file-excursions. It was so painful. I may need morphine. I am sure it was funny for everyone else, but reining a 1500 pound monster is no picnic.
Dutch, our guide, and resident cowboy from The Sunset Ranch, and a bunch of movies (Deadwood, Seabiscuit, anything with horses, etc.), told me I did a good job riding the brute.
"But why did he suddenly break into a full sprint?" I asked.
"He's a big, fast horse," Dutch said. "That's what he wants to do."
Leave it to a cowboy to have me speechless. When we stopped off at this cantina 3 hours into the ride, everyone didn't hesitate giving their version of my near-death-experience. The best was Posatko's. I'm sure he's blogged on it by now.
"Your, face, dude," he said. "The terror-"
"I would have freaked," another rider said. "You were pretty graceful. Well, not graceful, but you were calm."
"Dude, your face," John says again. "I was pretty sure you were going to fall. Your ass was like 3 feet off the saddle."
"Yeah, that was the funniest thing I've ever seen," this girl with a Beatles tee shirt that I thought was cool until she said this says.
On the ride back, I catch Dutch for a smoke outside the Cantina. I try and conveince him to give me another horse.
"What about a horse named Lilac or Pansie?"
Dutch cracks up, "Nah, you'll be fine. He's a good horse. I race him with my horse, Cocoa. We made it back from here in about 15 minutes flat. Just Pssshew."
"Yeah, but I'm serious," I say. "I think I'm down with Pansie or Lilac."
But Dutch didn't pay me no heed, as they say at The Sunset Ranch. He just pulled out Xavier's reins, and giggled when he brought him over, "Anybody on Xavier?"
Luckily, I made it back in one piece. I continue to pray for morphine. Tonight, I might just take 17 Ibuprofrens and see what happens. Either that, or just punch myself in the head. My body is out for the count. Xavier 10. Pirooz zilch.
I just hope Agassi was able to beat his Xavier yesterday. If he lost too, then that means I will not associate with anyone named Xavier again. I might not even see X-Men.
"Yeah, but what did you call him?" a voice asks.
"Excalibur."
"That might be why he was so fiesty."
"No," I tell Maria, who just poked up from my subconscious, "He was just a big, fast horse that wanted to run."
Dutch, our guide, and resident cowboy from The Sunset Ranch, and a bunch of movies (Deadwood, Seabiscuit, anything with horses, etc.), told me I did a good job riding the brute.
"But why did he suddenly break into a full sprint?" I asked.
"He's a big, fast horse," Dutch said. "That's what he wants to do."
Leave it to a cowboy to have me speechless. When we stopped off at this cantina 3 hours into the ride, everyone didn't hesitate giving their version of my near-death-experience. The best was Posatko's. I'm sure he's blogged on it by now.
"Your, face, dude," he said. "The terror-"
"I would have freaked," another rider said. "You were pretty graceful. Well, not graceful, but you were calm."
"Dude, your face," John says again. "I was pretty sure you were going to fall. Your ass was like 3 feet off the saddle."
"Yeah, that was the funniest thing I've ever seen," this girl with a Beatles tee shirt that I thought was cool until she said this says.
On the ride back, I catch Dutch for a smoke outside the Cantina. I try and conveince him to give me another horse.
"What about a horse named Lilac or Pansie?"
Dutch cracks up, "Nah, you'll be fine. He's a good horse. I race him with my horse, Cocoa. We made it back from here in about 15 minutes flat. Just Pssshew."
"Yeah, but I'm serious," I say. "I think I'm down with Pansie or Lilac."
But Dutch didn't pay me no heed, as they say at The Sunset Ranch. He just pulled out Xavier's reins, and giggled when he brought him over, "Anybody on Xavier?"
Luckily, I made it back in one piece. I continue to pray for morphine. Tonight, I might just take 17 Ibuprofrens and see what happens. Either that, or just punch myself in the head. My body is out for the count. Xavier 10. Pirooz zilch.
I just hope Agassi was able to beat his Xavier yesterday. If he lost too, then that means I will not associate with anyone named Xavier again. I might not even see X-Men.
"Yeah, but what did you call him?" a voice asks.
"Excalibur."
"That might be why he was so fiesty."
"No," I tell Maria, who just poked up from my subconscious, "He was just a big, fast horse that wanted to run."
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