Stig Dagerman: An Elegy

Stig Dagerman has had the touch of magic on my soul, irritably shaking the core with his shockingly direct and masterfully aggressive style. Daggerman epitomize the very simple and defenseless intellectual exposed to harsh reality of 20^th century. Sweden, his homeland was passing a crucial period with much pressure hinging on the low-income working class. Anarchism and syndicalism was surging all across the Europe stirring up the calm nature of region. Joining syndicalism was the fruit of a complicated political/social background which is less dignified in Dagerman's profile. Like all well-known public black-outs, a surging interest in his works has appeared since 1980s and a reward is called to his honor. He was the full-view representative of intellectuals highly affected in the wake of post-world war II era. His writings convey the themes of existentialism via artfully expressed feelings of fear and uncertainty. Imagine Kierkegaard’s level of consciousness stripped of all arbitrary chase for spirituality (Kierkegaard’s 2^nd and 3^rd layers) more focused on aesthetics of social conducts and family affairs. A malicious anxiety woven in the very texture of his words, a hail of abhorrence and rejection (look at his heart-wrenching short story "Surprise"), all and all a very unique, a very uneasy and yet a very modern experience for the readers. Ideologically i must confess i'm against his political school of thinking. I rate the line pretty  premature then and outdated now. Yet I still like him and his works. I respect him as the son of his harsh circumstance, who stands for some principles and express his thoughts artfully.

I think something, still unrecognized or less understood dominate his lines. Some of the features in his short stories and novels are so hard to decipher, like the man himself. Definitely some sorry themes in Dagerman’s family life and emotional conflicts have made the fair ground for his outstanding streak of writing to flow. I’ve spent a number of my desolation days with the highly emotive pulsation of Daggerman’s “Snake” under my skin. Feeling insecure, lonely and hopeless is not a heavenly gift but admittedly transformed into some literary masterpiece, as history has shown.

Pedram, June2013

Unseen

Torn from my body,

A part of me, 

You will never know!

Benighted In Golgotha

Seashell wails
"Damned is this chasm,
The words laden with sarcasm,
Armored the tongue of the whore,
To unseal the gate to abhor !"

Seashell wails
For those lovelorn frails,
For all the vigils, in vain.
As lust rules the parlance
to decay!

Thorns, unmoved, 
As were his wounds,
The redeemer rest, 
In sanguine rheum
Sickened by the irksome hassle,
Flew to the unearthly dazzle, 
As buffoons were dancing ensemble,
On debris of light embalmed!

Storm crow fleets the chasm,
Shrieks inly... 
"Charade is this plight! Damned is this kind!" 

Pedram, May 2013
Image: Emiliano Merjado

In Memory of Chi Cheng

Should I take the banner off?
Will the cause rest futile?
Will the memory of him fade?

No, the animated banner will be there
As my love remain unaffected.
No, it wasn't a cause of mundane nature, 

You're with us,
Today, Tomorrow and forever,
Thank you for all the magic you created!
Those who appreciate music will appreciate your art.
Thank you !

Back To "Running Days"

Wednesday and Friday, 10 km and some room for improvement.
Wednesday: "From Oceans To Autumn" and "Daylight Dies"
Friday: "God Is an Astronaut" and "Joy Wants Eternity"

My Nowruz And My Friends of Gloom

It's true, I'm  busy these days, wasting my time and energy somewhere devoid of any delicate artful merit, but that doesn't mean i don't follow my dear friends, and pursue some precious obsessions. Holistic doctrine dictates some extra features to your life which apparently doesn't help your everyday life affair but serve the ultimate picture which i still faithfully cherish. So, I'm not the  ignorant preppy who looks after himself and himself only. No, no, no... that's not and won't be my area of interest. I care and I care vividly about issues that are not directly related to my interest. In the marrow of my spirit i feel the pain of the suppressed, the ones that the system has failed. I am the one who never celebrated a feast naturally in a delightful mood. The reason always remained masked interwoven into its mystic intangible fabrics. 

So here remain the old repeated questions:  "What's the use of all this?", "What's the point in the long frustrating path some choose?"... These are the first questions one must elicit. Otherwise death slowly encircles hope down into the well of despair. 

Pedram, April 2013

Sowilo Rune

Who sleep shall, awake. .
Greeting the shadows from the sun.

Who sleep shall awake. .
Watching the thunder of our lives.

Waiting for the moment to arrive.
Show us the silence in the rise.

So that we may.
Someday understand...

Lord Summerisle: "Now, those children out there, they're jumping through the flames in the hope that the god of the fire will make them fruitful. Really, you can't blame them. After all, what girl would not prefer the child of a god to that of some acne-scarred artisan?"

Sergeant Howie: "And you encourage them in this?"

Lord Summerisle: "Actively! It's most important to teach new generation born of Summerisle be made aware that here the old gods aren't dead."

Sergeant Howie: "And what of the true God? To whose glory churches and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now shall what of Him?"

Lord Summerisle: "Oh, He's dead. He can't complain. He had his chance and in modern parlance. 
Blew it."

Agalloch

Three Weeks at Consolidation Phase

Walking 5 km on fridays
Listening to Swallow The Sun and my mighty Evoken.