ا.س.ت.ک.ه.ل.م

هنوز هم اگه نون داری بده سق بزنیم.
 
the man who eats his nerves
ساعت ٥:٤۱ ‎ب.ظ روز ٢٩ تیر ۱۳۸٩ : توسط : شوکا بهاری

 

Hey, listen to me , there is a serious problem here, oh I know you are  going to ask  me one thousand questions and stop me every minutes, let me tell you what happened here…

First of all I have to say I’m in the hell , yes the real one but it’s not too much bad as you think , I mean hell is hell, nothing more but the problem is there is a big chaos here. Yes I’m talking about a real chaos. Honestly I arrived yesterday and everything was normal like a normal life in hell but suddenly , bad luck , this morning God died. Don’t ask me how cause I really don’t know. All I know is God died and now everyone is panic. They don’t know what will happen next. There is no one who can fix and organize everything. Keep it as a secret even the Satan was crying this morning. I don’t know about your place  but here is a big chaos.

I was a normal man, I mean a normal one like others. A man who had love in his life , and was living because of his love … a happy life, the kind of life that are similar to the colorful advertisements in newspapers or on the billboards beside the highways. The life with big smiles with happy faces with making love really hot … the kind of life that you never ever imagine an end for that. I was such a kind of man with that kind of life.

Maybe you ask so what I am doing in hell in this chaos right now! I can start my story from earlier. During the normal life – I mean the happy , colorful one – there are some moments, when you are alone and you think. Everybody has these kind of moments that want to think about everything and everything and evaluate everything and just want to be sure if he or she is really , truly happy . In the beginning I thought it’s some kind of betraying to the life, to the happiness , but after a while I decided to do that. I mean I didn’t do it consciously, the only thing I can remember is it was a rainy afternoon and I was alone home sitting in the kitchen drinking a coffee and smoking walking around in my mind. I was thinking what my real dream was about my future when I was young or younger. I start to find myself , maybe discover is a better word for it . I was drinking the coffee without sugar and was trying to convince myself if I am happy with my life. At first it was fun, remembering every single moment in past , the parents, the school time, the first love or maybe the first kiss, it was fun to remember the old habits the old friends. I was searching my mind for hidden memories, my dreams …

You know forty nine years ago the first man walked on the moon , I was watching the documentary movie about it on TV , the first man who walked on the moon, shacked hand to me,  I was staring on the first man thinking about my dreams … the girl was walking around the house complaining about the mass in kitchen , in living room . I smiled to the first man on the moon , he was trying to fix the US flag on the moon , she was trying to find the other pair of my , I was thinking about running away . the man was trying to walk normally but he was jumping in a funny way , I smiled to that funny effort, she shouted on me that i could put the fucking dishes in the dish washer. the first man asked me fucking dishes? I answered her shut up in my mind , i was staring on TV ,the happy first man who was walking on the moon happily ,i started betraying her again and again in my mind , which made my nerves to stretch from here to there from this leg to another one , came to my mouth , went down to my stomach , surrounded my heart came back to my mind and I was in the middle of nowhere with some stretched, chewed nerve  and I wanted to keep betraying her in my mind every time and she was just keep complaining about the normal happy life I mean the colorful one. The first man stopped and said shut up to her , he said she is eating his nerves , I told him she was eating my nerves also and I was doing the same, the first man cried and confessed he was doing the same with his nerves . he said that trip to moon was really hard and he is not happy walking on the moon to be the first idiot and he preferred to had a normal happy colorful life like others in advertisements . She start shouting that I didn’t care about her , she said I have no responsibility about life. I was with a pretty girl in my mind robbing a bank and escaping for a dream island and she was crying and throwing my one pair of sock away and I was kissing the girl after robbing the bank and we were happy together .the man was pretending to walk on the moon happily , he was pretending shaking hand for the whole world, making the whole other normal people happy for conquering the moon finally and destroying the virginity , she went to kitchen started  crying and smoking and I was thinking of buying a nice boat with the money and travelling around with the girl . the first man said he wanted a boat also and he cried again . I kissed the girl again and she was crying in the kitchen and shouted she is leaving me again . the first man said go to hell , I repeated go to hell , she said go to hell .

Now I’m telling you … don’t care about my story ,I’m in the real hell , warm, crowded, God is dead , here is a big chaos , think about yourself. 

 


 
اتود سه
ساعت ٤:٢٢ ‎ق.ظ روز ٢٦ تیر ۱۳۸٩ : توسط : شوکا بهاری

تلفن را پس از نیم ساعت قطع کرد با یک خداحافظی سرد و بی احساس گویی که دارد از همکارانش همانند هر روز خداحافظی می کند و می داند دوباره روز بعد آنها را با همان لباس ها ، با همان عقاید ، با همان کلمات و عادات خواهد دید. گریه کرده بود گفته بود دلش تنگ شده است برای همه چیز ، و وقتی گفته بود همه چیز چنان روی "همه " تاکید کرده بود که آن طرف خط بداند واقعا دلش تنگ شده است . ولی وقتی گریه اش تمام می شود ، آن طرف خط هنوز کسی حرف می زند ، او به دیوار خالی روبه رویش خیره می شود ، به کتابخانه ای که به دیوار تکیه داده است و خالی است از کتاب و پر است از روزنامه هایی با چهره های خندان ، شاد و سالم ، به میز نگاه می کند، به حداقل مبل های موجود و آن طرف خط کسی حرف می زند ، از کوتاهی موهایش گله می کند، می گوید از کوتاهی موهایش توی عکس دلش گرفته است ، این طرف او چایی سردش را هورت می کشد و احساس می کند مغزش خسته است برای این همه فکر ، این همه فشار ، این همه تصمیم و تا کی می تواند خودش را به نفهمی بزند و تا کی می تواند به اصطلاح اینها cool باشد و به روی خودش نیاورد و تا کی می تواند خواب ببیند که آن طرف خط دیگر آن طرف خط نیست و آمده است این طرف و همه ی آنها آمده انداین طرف و دیگر خواب نخواهد دید و عین واقعیت خواهد بود و دلش دیگر برای اتاقش تنگ نخواهد شد و قدر همه چیز را بهتر خواهد دانست  ...  دستی به سرش کشید که دیگر خالی خالی بود و می شد پوست سرش را به راحتی دید و او گفته بود اعصابش ریخته بود بهم و این طرف او می دانست که شاید فکر می کنند دیوانه شده است و او هم فکر می کند شاید آنها دیوانه شده اند و این تناقض بین عقلانیت و دیوانگی از این سر تماس تا آن سر تماس کش می آید و آنقدر کش می آید که از درون گوشی وارد گوشهایش می شود و در رگهایش سر می خورد و او هنوز دارد به منفی بیست و پنج درجه فکر می کند که اینجا تنها بود و چمدان سنگین بود و سر ناسازگاری داشت و او می کشید و چمدان نمی آمد و برف می بارید و انگشتانش یخ زده بودند. نه ماه زمستان رویش تاثیر گذاشته بود . سرد خداحافظی کرد . روی کاناپه ولو شد به دیوار روبه رویش خیره شد ، به کتابخانه که مامن روزنامه ها شده بود ، به گذشته اش فکر کرد و اینکه حتی دیگر پول ندارد  سیگاری بخرد! 


 
the second etude
ساعت ٦:٢۱ ‎ب.ظ روز ۱٦ تیر ۱۳۸٩ : توسط : شوکا بهاری

The second etude  

“ I’m not a writer. I’m just writing about the things I missed , the feelings which left me , made me empty, emptier and now after all these moments that passed , I think somebody inside me cries, every night in silence. I’m not a writer , I’m just trying to find the things I missed, in words .”

If you ask me what I was doing there, there is no answer. I don’t know! I think I’ve just been there cause I was, no desire, no force.  I was such kind of witness of something without name, painful , colorful but without name. I was alone between them. They were  laughing all the time, they were happy , there are happy , I was there cause I need to see them , to write them, to forget myself, to be brave enough so they wouldn’t understand they won. I was there cause …. I don’t know.

The queen

The queen asked why? I just answered that’s life.  She closed her beautiful eyes and started singing, singing , some strange words came out from her mouth surrounded with red lips, her black hair was moving with wind, with words, with voice. He answered because I like you, your eyes are beautiful, there is something in your eyes which make me stare at you all the time. The queen answered I prefer to be liked because of myself not my eyes. My eyes will bury sooner or later but my thoughts are eternal.

 “ that’s life”.

 The queen opened her eyes, looked at nowhere , between air and light. She smiled at me. I left the room.

 The passion

I couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see, I didn’t want to be the looser of a story , the   looser of life. But you as a reader must understand that they won. Their magics, their colors, they faces which covered by masks all of them were stronger than my desire. They won and you know I’m the looser of this story.

I left the queens room , the golden room. Passion passed me in corridor , she was the youngest one, the most colorful one. For her life had meaning in bed, in making love, in touching and to be touched. For her life was short and full of joy. She entered the room , undressed , white as milk , soft as silk. I closed my eyes. I became the witness of sounds, lips, arms, legs … full of joy. I  was listening  to the sound of being a normal human. Passion was the one who was far far from me, she was the winner. She was herself all the time.

“ I can feel the loosers”  

The Japanese harem

I went to harem in Berlin, beside the wall where God was female and black, collection of impossible and phantasy. I left the harem near a lake, when sun was doing it bests to be a normal sun, collection of logic and attempt. You as a reader want an ending, but I told you I’m not a writer. 


 
اتود اول
ساعت ۱۱:٠٤ ‎ب.ظ روز ٥ تیر ۱۳۸٩ : توسط : شوکا بهاری

این روزها دلم زود می گیرد . از آفتاب است یا ابر ، از باران یا باد ، از دستهای ناآشنا و نامه های بلند بالا ، نمی دانم . این روزها دلم می گیرد آن هم زود . در حرمسرا نشسته ام ، دلبرکان ژاپنی می آیند و می روند ، هشت نفر هستند ، رنگارنگ ، زیبا و ملوس . هفت رنگ رنگین کمان با اضافه سوگلی که چیز دیگریست . من نشسته ام ، نظاره می کنم داستان عشق بازی را ، داستان دلبری های مداوم را ، من نشسته ام و به چیزهایی فکر می کنم که در این حرمسرا نیست ، در بیرون هست ، آنجا نیست ، در حرمسرا هست . " ای شادی  ، ای آزادی  ، روزی که تو بازآیی " آه روزی که تو باز آیی .

این روزها دلم زودتر از قدیم ترها می گیرد . بغل دستی ام در قطار مدام حرف می زند ، می مانم به شاهزاده نیجریه ای چه باید بگویم ، هیکلش درشت است و بیش از اندازه سیاه ، دخترکان می ترسند ، دلبرکان ژاپنی هم ، من نمی ترسم. لبخند بر لب به حرفهایش گوش می کنم اما ذهنم جای دیگری است ، به کک مک های نقش بسته بر روی بازوان می اندیشم. در حرمسرای دلبرکان ژاپنی آنها را دیده بودم ، آنجا نظاره گر بودم ، تنها و نظاره گر. شاهزاده نیجریه از آینده ای خوشایند صحبت می کند ، من حسرت چشمان بادامی دلبرکان ژاپنی را می خورم ، آنها از من برده اند ، آنها در واقعیت و خیال از من بردند ، کک مک ها رفتند ، شاهزاده نیجریه در ایستگاهش پیاده شد. من تنها ماندم و نظاره گر.



 


 
تو
ساعت ٥:۳۸ ‎ب.ظ روز ۱ تیر ۱۳۸٩ : توسط : شوکا بهاری

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