Hiatus

As all my actor friends know, we describe our time between gigs as resting. And resting is what I've been doing since my last blog entry.

Attribute it to the hot & humid weather, the absence of 30,000+ college students, or merely a general malaise, I've not felt the energy nor the desire to update my blog.

But as the fall weather blew into Athens (and all those students rematerialized turning my street into a parking lot once more), I realized how terribly selfish I've been.

To you, my faithful fans & friends, I offer a humble apology. I'm sorry that I've let you down. To my grandparents, who are probably my least critical readers, a special word of thanks for your patience.

This fall I shall be exploring the world of creative arts, mine and others. Look for my first project, coming soon: a collage the subject of which is humans in a dog's world. My 2nd project, also in the works, dovetails nicely with the collage since it explores the same topic through the genre of poetry.

I hope this long hiatus will not deter you from checking back from time to time. I promise to share my newly rediscovered creative productivity throughout the fall season & culminating with my very favorite holiday. Christmas! When once again Santa will read my letter & grace my home with his presence. And presents.

Song of Tehran, Rejoicing Part 1

My dear friends & fans, Mama et Papa have not yet seen fit to travel with me to Iran, and yet I feel I know that country as I would a distant, but precious cousin. Thus I've written a poem to share with you. Part 1 concerns Tehran. Part 2 skims Ahvaz, Brougherd, Doorood and the mountains along the western boarder. Part 3 explores my family and the food I know they'd serve me-- if they had the chance to do so. So please relax and enjoy this arm chair traveler's tribute to Iran. And note that two of the photos above were shot by my friend in Tehran, Soban, whose erudite blog, Culture & Communication, I urge you to visit.

Song of Tehran, Rejoicing
part 1

May 2005, 3 weeks before Iran's national elections.
Among protests and international nuclear oversight, stand amongst it all, The Carpet Museum,
The Museum of Contemporary Arts. Overwhelmed by happiness as I trod ancient
cross-roads,
I meet 100 close relatives, visit tourist sites and also rejoice.

Tehran. Decorated with fresh flowers
With neon sculptures in each [round] square
Tehran's symphony blares cars, cycles, messenger bikes and voices, belching smog.
One longer line for 1 loaf of sangack, a shorter one, two or more.
North Tehran in early evening cools the heat of a day's frenetic work.
Students gather relaxed, eating cooked beans and cherries, chatting amongst themselves,
sequestered from grownups' ears & eyes, boys & girls, boys with girls.

Another northern neighborhood, each apartment a penthouse. Smelling of roses,
Chanel and beckoning everyone.

Bibi [bakery] marks a central location where girls & boys walk to school and later,
run home.


Please revisit my blog soon to discover my impressions of other areas & imagined experiences in Iran, to meet those 100+ relatives, and to enjoy arm-chair traveling with me.

Yours, M²