January 15, 2010

2009: Persimmons

A year ago around this time I came back to Austin from Tehran. It seems like it was only yesterday that I was harvesting the heavily soot covered urban persimmons from the one lonely tree in my concrete Tehran backyard. They were so ripe that with the slightest amount of pressure to their skin, the balls of fruit would burst and ooze into an amorphous puddle of chaotic golden goo. Its juices would flood hands and fingers, stain shirts and red winter cheeks, and wet the dry throats on cold snowy days. It would be impossible to manage one of these sweet dumplings without a plate, knife, and spoon. Like the persimmons, we too have spent the summer and fall waiting for this final ripening in the snow. I am sure that my lonely persimmon tree in Tehran will continue to bear fruit, and the future persimmons will naturally ripen again, and again, and again.

August 24, 2009

NYC Hunger Strike

I traveled from Austin to New York City to be a part of the hunger strike in front of the United Nations. I fell asleep on the plane and awoke to vivid nightmarish visions. I see myself amongst other young Iranians running for our lives down Vali Asr street. These sorts of images have now become a recurring theme in my dreams. They have a sense of urgency knotted in with fear and frustration. Yet, I some how manage to wake up with renewed hope and courage. "Natarseen, natarseen, ma hame ba ham hasteem. | Do not fear, Do not Fear, For we are together."

The skies were already sobbing in New York City when I arrived there. With every drop of rain that landed on my skin, I could hear the distant echo of a name, maybe someone’s lost brother, sister, or missing child. The rain began to pour as I approached hundreds of Iranians huddling together underneath green umbrellas. As he held a red rose, Noam Chomsky encouraged and supported the green protestors. Someone held an umbrella over his head. History was being made in the moment, and I knew I would remember it till the day I live. Every so often we would glance at the United Nations across the street, as if we anticipated any minute now Ban Ki Moon’s personal messenger would walk out of the door and into the rain to tell us that everything was going to be all right, reassure us that the perpetrators of human rights violations were not going to get away with their crimes, assure us a nullification of Ahmadinejad’s widely disputed victory, and to promise a new fair, and open election. But, no one ever came out of the U.N. doors, and the protestors remained vigilant.

Smiling children ran around passing out flowers, musicians sang of freedom and hope, and the sun finally came out. From rain to sun shine! Change is the only constant - nothing ever remains to be the same, and today we can sense it with all our senses that Iran is changing. We are changing, and Iran has changed. "Ghatre Ghatre, agar che aab shodeem, abr boodeem o aftab shodeem | Drop by drop, though we became water, we were clouds, and then became sunlight."

March 31, 2009

Santa Ana & Genghis Khan Both Attacked my Home

TEHRAN
I moved there in the Winter of 07. Coming from a sluggish beach town, I had entered an unfamiliar maze of speeding cars and fast walkers. Tehran blew my mind! The youth engage in flirtatious traffic jams, while hungry accordion players serenade from car to car for a few tomans. Walking the hectic streets with no destination, I became one of the many who stared aimlessly into running streams along the side pavement. The seasonal changes take turns coloring Vali Asr street with leaves, snow, flowers, and soot. I now know where the best haleem & ash-e reshte can be found, where all the books are, where the old gardens still exist, and where chain smokers sip on coffee all day long. Soon the sounds of traffic became familiar and calming, just as the crashing of waves once were. Since August of 2008, I spent every day at the studio in Tehran. I finished Behind The Seas on the 21st of December, and I flew back to the states a few days afterwards.

CORPUS CHRISTI
When I got back home, I hung out with my friend Pedro on the beach, looking at gigantic tropical cumulus clouds droop low off of the Bay. They were like ancient sailors who found their way to the T-heads , Padre Island, and Laguna Madre. I squashed sea weed with my feet, and clean salty air was once again of the essence! I had missed the waves.

AUSTIN
Back in the shire, the aquifers are still wishing wells. It hasn’t been raining as much, but Spring time has taken the Hill Country into full bloom. Meanwhile, everyone is starting an indie rock band in their living rooms, and bed hair is very cool! I am getting ready for my first debut concert in San Francisco on April the 4th!