Les Bavard

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

2011-03-24T20:27:00.000-07:00

I am in a no man's land. Work as an assistant at some sort of a youth correction facility. The administerator is a hunky Johnny Depp type character with a lot of mistakes in the past, which he's made up for by striving to be the anti-authority figure of the year. He's a little nuts of course, and crazy grumpy, but there's something mysterisouly charming about the place. It has a Makarenko-esque quality to it, and I don't want to miss a day.

Then something goes wrong while Mr. Admin is away on a trip, I'm not sure what. We might have spent a month's budget on a house party (which for some reason involves a congregation of old spinsters). All I know is I'm in real trouble.

Mr. Admin returns, and he's furious of course. Fires me on the spot. On the way out I ask for my personal stuff. In the duffle bag I've brought with me into the house, I find a very old story of mine (about an awkwardly familiar colony), which I'd long forgotten about. I start to flip through pages, and to my great surprise, find Mr. Admin's notes on them. In his uniquely offensive language, he has complemented me with great interest. I'm thrilled. I don't know why, but I am. Someone has loved my stories. Eventually.

Friday, March 18, 2011, early morning

2011-03-18T08:16:00.000-07:00

I need to submit pages to class today. It's early morning and I'm rushing it. The phone rings. It's mom from Iran. She tells me she's just awaken from a coma (caused by "concussion" as she fluently describes). I kick myself for not having called her in the last few weeks, but am still not very pleased with her tone. Is she trying to taunt me for not calling her?

A middle-aged couple (whom I know have been walking into the house a lot lately) walk in and stand at a corner talking. I need to rush to class. Want to embarrass them by asking "Do you want me to leave the door open for you?" But they don't even hear me. They walk to a corner and start fidgeting with a cable on the wall, or maybe a gass pipe, I'm not sure.

The glass-paned backdoor (which didn't use to be there a minute ago) opens and in walks my cousin (much smaller that he must be right now, but looking exavctly like how I remember him). He is not happy about school. Takes off his clothes and throws them at a corner, grumpy.

I rush out, it's getting late for class. It's still dark out there. I remember I haven't written a page. Fuck it, I have to go anyway.

There are large rescue huskies on the street, with complete red cross gear. One darts towards me of course. I run away but the dog shoots by. I turn back to walk across the junction but a second husky follows. This one's more black than white. I don't run away but do the good old trick. I jump into the air and float up there until he's gone. Fuck, I should've written a page at least.

Friday, March 18, 2011

2011-03-18T07:34:00.000-07:00

I'm at school. An important conference is coming up. All are rushing to get a ticket. I manage to get one.

I'm at the conference. Inside a small classroom, Francis Ford Coppola gives the closing lecture. He's dressed in his usual flashy beachwear. Leans on the edge of a tableand starts to speak. Advices us all to attend the upcoming one-on-one sessions with two important young filmmakers in LA. After the lecture, I ask one of the admins who the people are. She shows me pictures, C.V.s. They're big shots.

I'm on a beachside boulevard, presumably to attend the one-on-one sessions. Walking down the sidewalk, I see a row of monstrous ants, each carrying a large maroon leaf, like ones you see on the Discovery Channel or other wildlife series. They start to chase after me of course, and I dart off. A passer-by laughs aloud: "Are they really after you?"

I run across the boulevard, but one of the ants is too stubborn. Leaves the group to pursue the chase. Still pretty scared and running, I tell myself: "These are tropical leaves they're carrying. If it's not Florida, then it's California. I finally made it!"

F3

2010-01-04T12:11:00.000-08:00

سینزده سالش بود که دادنش به اصغر سیبیل
سیبیلم گرفتش و شوتش کرد سمت زمین حریف
درست جلوی پای کمک داور چپ فرود اومد
طرف پرچمشو سیخ گذاشت روی پیشونیش
سوتش بالا اومد و جیغ کشید: چرا فرار کردی سلیطه؟
-ب...بابام...نیومد نیمه نهاییِ بین ایالتیِ نوجوانان، بازیمو تماشا کنه. همه ی هوم‌ران‌ها رو ریدم حاج آقا

E4

2009-02-24T18:03:00.000-08:00

Nevermind the fists
Nevermind the fence
God's on our side
and few other invisible friends