De Dood (dutch)

Ik heb mijn keuze gemaakt

en weet wat me te wachten staat

Ik speel scenario's in mijn hoofd

van de dood,

van de terreur.

Stel me voor dat ik beschoten word

in mijn been, mijn arm, of recht door mijn hart.

Zal ik dan nog blijven leven?

Zal ik mijn ledematen kunnen bewegen?

Zal ik denken dat het best-wel meevalt?

Of zal ik hulpeloos blijven liggen

als het leven mijn lichaam uitholt?

Zal ik in de buurt zijn van een familiaire omgeving?

Of zal ik omringd worden door vreemde gezichten?

Wie zal ik als laatste zien?

En wat zal er zijn in mijn gedachten?

Of zullen ze mij ergens in een smalle steeg

ver uit het oog van ieder, slachten?

Zal ik dagen vermist zijn?

En gemist?

Of maar uren?

Of zal niemand het merken?

Ik zal weer op reis zijn

denken dan de buren.

Dit zijn de dingen waar ik aan denk

de laatste tijd

als je me in de verte ziet turen.

~Fari Naz

P.S. (out of the context) For the short-movie lovers: The last resort of Amin Haghighizadeh is finally out there... Hereby, my support to the young movie director :D

Secret Life

“She was a very promising agent who showed all the attributes of a very
promising career. She was very well thought of.” said Ephraim Halevy, the former director of Mossad, who for security reasons declined to specify which outfit Ms Livni had served in between 1980 and 1984 [editor. while she was 21-25 years old].

source: Times Online, September 2008

P.S. Jus Ad Bellum...

Will you explain?

Tiziano Ferro & Laura Pausini - Non me lo so spiegare

Body Language

(Click on the picture to enlarge)

Source: The Boston Globe

Don't try to cross

Amir Ace - Shakh Nasho

P.s. Adel Ferdosipour's program will be shut down as of today. Adel has the most popular soccer analyses program in Iran called "90". His fame is due to his outspoken ideas and questions, getting shuts from behind the scenes and broadcasting it out to the public. He is the first in his field giving so much critic to the mafia-sport-authorities, and getting so much behind the scenes out to the public.

p.p.s. (A week later) an sms campaign launched a couple of days ago to make certain Adel stays on the screen. Over one million text messages were sent to Iran's channel 3. And Adel's show is still on, so... What does that tell you?

Shahin Najafi

Shahin Najafi - We are not men

A couple of months ago, I attended a conference organized by my leftist Iranian friends in Koln (Germany). I met Shahin Najafi there, he performed some of his songs during the break. He was so good, it brought tears to my eyes. I was really touched by his songs. After his performance we talked for a while, exchanged phonenumbers (though I don't know where I put that piece of paper anymore), and the only thing I could do to support him, was to pay a couple of euros for his CD...

PS. Doggy life

Pps. tha Thing

Missed (dutch)

published in Brabant Cultureel December 2008

anoniem
bel je, stilletjes
mijn mobiel
die ik vergeten wil
al dagen
of een eeuwigheid...

ik hoor je niet
'k zie je pas later
als gemist

~Fari Naz

David Hume

"Reason is but the slave of the passions."

P.S. Keep breathing

Enjoy your meal, darling!

The only thing you should know

The title is a translation of Dutch: “Het enige wat je weten moet”, which is also the title of the poem by Andrew Cartright at the end of this text.

Monday, 5 January 2009
I faded
My face out of every newspaper
My name out of every interview
My pictures ripped off the walls
My title given away
My crown stolen
My fame running off with him;
who is inspired by me
whose poetry takes my breath away.

I am fading

I am fad...

I am ......

I .. ......

...

..

.

~Fari Naz

A week before the new Campus Poet (2009) was crowned with the title, I text messaged a head organizer of the event, to ask when the ceremony will be held. The answer I got back was: “It is on 5th January, we didn’t ask you because of your busy schedule but of course you are welcome”.
It put a bad taste in my mouth; the taste of "fame fading away".
I imagined going to the event, and sitting somewhere in a dark corner of that big room. I realized it was a cliché scenario, which gave me a victim role. I hate victim roles. So I just forgot about the whole thing. I totally forgot about the event.
That evening when I was standing in the station, waiting for my train, I saw one of the people who had also sent a poem for the contest. We sat in the train, we talked and among other things he mentioned that today the new campus poet was announced.
“Really? Was that today?” was my response. “Who was it?”
“Mr. Cartwright!” was the answer.
How relieved was I to hear that answer. I was so happy. I remembered following his class, last semester. In our first class he asked whether I was the Campus Poet, and I nodded, while feeling a blush. I felt a little bit shy, every time anybody asked that question. But that was my only moment of shyness. His classes were one of the most fun places I have been to, in my whole life. The course was about presenting skills. But there were other things also that we learned.

It was a very cozy and small classroom, and I remember being one of the chattiest, noisiest, students of the class, giving Andrew, who is one of the most active teachers in the universe (!!), comments of all sorts!
He once told me in the break-time, that he had given it some thought to write some poetry for the contest, this year. I encouraged him to do so, and even more, when I heard that he was going to write some poetry in a mixed language form. I thought it was brilliant. I wished that day, he would win.
So now I heard that the one taking my fame away was, Andrew. It was comforting. I was going to write him an e-mail first but then on Tuesday, I changed my mind. I called the university and checked his schedule, then went and bought a beautiful flower in a vase.
I was looking for his room in P building when I heard his voice in the corridor; I followed the voice and met him standing in a room alongside some other teachers of the language center.
I knocked, calling his name, he came and we went to his own room. We talked for a while, he told me he is going to open a web log, and showed me some pictures he was thinking of putting on the “profile part”. When I was ready to leave, he told me: “You actually inspired me to send the poems”. I don't think that sentence shall be forgotten, anytime soon...

Dit examen begon voor dat jullie verwekt werden
Het heeft geen einde
Doe je best
Zorg ervoor dat je GSM aanstaat
de hele tijd, en voor altijd
Kijk even bij je buurman
Maak gebruik van spiekbriefjes,
rekenmachines,
en woordenboeken
Ga online
Kijk goed naar de notities die je op je palm van je hand hebt geschreven
Praat tijdens het examen
Bel je vrienden en familie
Als het moet, praat met elkaar
Eet en drink
Denk, reflecteer
Ga bij je zelf ten rade
Beantwoord alle vragen, en geen van de vragen
Dagdroom
Neem een dutje als het moet
Kijk bij iedereen af
Pleeg plagiaat in Godsnaam
Zet je horloge to infinity and beyond
Test je limiet
Steek je hand op als je een vraag hebt
Roep en schreeuw als je ergens onzeker over bent
Relax, be cool
Dit examen is oneindig

~Poem by Andrew Cartwright