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Arash “Pearls” monologue

Where is the bottom ?where is the bottom?

You was here today. you all want everybody to carry a flag and a spear and sing some songs huh?

you wanna spend your life looking into things and trying to find the right and wrong part?


yeah. you know whats going to happen to you someday.

You will findyourself sitting in a dungeon.locked for ever. …and te yakers will have the key.

tobe continued….


So this what this holiday is about now.
Buying (fuck you)
Spending (fuck u)
Getting (fuck u)
Greed (fuck u)
You’re all just being manipulated by corporate overlords who play with your emotions – does this little gadget really matter?
(Fuck you)
Norooz should about helping others. It’s the day an innkeeper helped a homeless pregnant woman about to have a baby. And then there’s Hanukkah – it should be about celebrating miracles. But everything became about this.
People should still focus on spending time with family, friends, and the ones they love. That’s what the holidays should be about.
Instead we spend it in pursuit of the best deal on something meaningless that we’ll just toss aside in a year for something better.  I’m tired of being tossed aside.  I’m tired of being less important than a gadget. I want our family and friends and loved ones to be important again.  I want people to matter.   If things keep going they way they are going, then we’ll all end up alone with nothing but this junk to keep us company.
So go home. There are no more toys or gadgets. Or better yet, take some of that money you were going to waste on this thing that you already have an older version of – and give it to the bell ringer so they can help people in need who can’t even afford to eat let alone buy some useless gadget that they’ll hate in a year because it’s never good enough and never new enough and never really makes them happy. I never could make my family happy enough. Nothing I would buy was ever right for them. Or they’d like it for 5 seconds and then toss it aside wanting more. That’s what this consumeristic holiday season did to my family. I’m sick of it.
I’m more sick of my american people caring more about things than each other.



No, it’s not a tattoo, it’s a scar. It’s a scar….yes, I’m serious…. well, it’s hard to describe, but I’ll do my best.

It was a summer i cant remember. Not like today. It was one of those summer nights when rage-filled clouds obscured the sky and the night birds and the cicadas were silent. I had gone outside to bring my bicycle in before it rained. In the distance, I could hear the familiar hush of the ocean.

Shhhhhh. And everything else was quiet. I grabbed the rings in my jewelry box, and then came the roar. A clap of thunder so loud it shook the very ground beneath my feet. What happened next felt instant and slow motion all at once. I had barely moved my ring, when the BOOM came. A white-hot flash far away and everywhere, and my body in the air and then nothing. And then lying on the grass, my body like lead, my head splitting with pain, and the sweet, overpowering fragrance of grass. My mother was screaming over me, but she sounded far away. In the hospital, they told me that I had ok.

My mother had not seen it from the kitchen window because i was alone. scar broke the sky outside and traveled along the ground and through my bicycle. I was lucky. They call it ‘not fractal.’ A few more feet and I would have died.

I still have headaches,cringes and I cannot hear in my ears. And this scar? At first it was blisters. A white-hot searing that bled and pussed and crusted over. And now it’s this. This beautiful pattern like a n sign reverse. Forever trying to reach the ground, and not quite making it. It will never go away. And to be honest, I don’t want it to. My eyes are open now…to the richness…and also the complications of life. I am here. With you. On this warm summer evening. The night birds are singing and the cicadas are humming along.

It’s a wonderful scar, don’t you think?

my “The shape of water line “monologue


When I was a little guy- I found a turtle sitting out in the middle of the road. Crossing it slowly. Car could run it over any minute.

So, I picked it up, took it to a pond way back behind my house… and I laid it down under a big camphor tree, and I thought… “Mmmh- It’s gonna be so happy here”. And I left it there.

But that night I figured out I had no idea where it was going… Far as I know it was bringing food to its nest or- looking to porcreate- or escaping an owl. And maybe the worst place to keep it- maybe the place it was running from was that pond under that camphor tree.

I didn’t care. I just did what I wanted with it.


Last year when i was still 38 year old – I found a squirel crossing out in the middle of the road. Crossing it fast. Car ran it over in a minute.

So, I looked at it up, didnt touch it it to a pond way back behind my house… and I thought it down under a big camphor tree, and I thought… “Mmmh- It’s gonna be so happy there”. And I forgot about it.

But today I figured out I had no idea where it was going… Far as I know it was bringing food to its nest or- looking to porcreate- or escaping an owl! And maybe the worst place to it wanted to go to- maybe the place it was running from was that pond under that camphor tree.

I didn’t care. I just didnt what I wanted with it.



Food for my thought

It’s more than that. She’s tapping into my ideas. I shared a story with her about a woman who is in love with a humanoid and now she’s writing a story about a woman who is in love with a humanoid.

I almost feel like she’s competing with me. I get this strange vibe from her, like she’s using me for data and then going at it alone to generate similar concepts with her own imagination and it’s irritating me. I haven’t been able to write for weeks and I am so frustrated cause I feel like a traitor to myself for sharing my ideas with her and the best part of it all is that she’s spitting back her own story concepts at me as if they are her own and it’s like rubbing crap in my face. It stinks so bad and I want to call her out on it but if I do it’s gonna make me look like I’m crazy because how do you prove that someone is stealing your story ideas and passing them off as their own?!

I need a break…from her. I can’t have these weekly get togethers about her writing progress because it’s draining me, clearly it’s bringing me down and she’s off floating around like a butterfly and everything’s bright and happy and now I’m the miserable one. It’s like we’ve changed places.

“imagic” monologue dedicated to my belate grand mother

Oh yes, I remember her.i imagic her. The way her hair smelled like food and every time she bent down to pick me up, it brushed against my face. I remember the way she laughed often and easily, her voice a chime of happiness. I remember that she seemed to always be awake. She wasn’t one of those grand ma”s who liked to sleep in late and have breakfast in bed.

One night, I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. There she was, a cup of persian tea in her slender hands, staring at the fridge. I watched her in silence for a moment. She was so still. As if she were contemplating something. I had the overwhelming feeling that I didn’t really know my grand mother at all. But then, she saw me. “What are you doing, mamani?” I asked. She snapped out of her trance. “Just taking at the pills, June Bug. Do you need a glass of water?” She always knew what I needed.

She was just that way. People are amazed that I remember so much about my grand mother, because the heart attack took her. I think her love for me pressed those memories into my heart and mind forever. I remember her telling me, right before she died, that she will always be with me, watching over me like the moon.

Oh yes, I remember her. I imagic her.

“Arash is a secret time traveler who owns a jewelry store. In this monologue he’s talking to Davis, his best friend, about an important decision that lie ahead: Stay in the now and accept what you have, or leave this world behind for the unknown.”

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The unknown known

Davis, I want to ask you something. We’ve known each other a long time and we’ve seen each other through life’s ups and downs. If you were to choose to go back, back to when we were young, back to when your hopes were still present and your whole future lay ahead, would you do it? Right now,

if I told you that I knew how to time travel, would you go back to that night when you got drunk and ran naked into the pond behind my house?

Would you make a different choice so that you didn’t go through high school with the nickname Streak? What about the time that you lied to Elizabeth about never having dated Joelle and she found out and broke up with you…breaking your heart, really.

Would you go back and be at least honest with her? I think about this a lot. Mostly, I think about Thomas, and how if I would have been paying attention at the river, he would still…he would…be here. Would you do it all over again and have a chance to reverse doing everything you’ve regretted? Or… would you go forward and take the unknown future and be whisked away to a place where everything could be totally new…

like a fresh start? Just stay here…and have that be enough.

My twin

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I know it’s not your fault, but Arash, it’s me. Your inhibitions. Maybe if I tell you about all the things we did, and who we used to be together, you’d remember. Yes? Let’s try. I promise that my feelings won’t be hurt if this doesn’t work, but I have to try, okay?

Okay, when we were kids, we always got into trouble together. We used to sneak out of my house when it was clearly crazy. We’d create imaginary worlds, complicated worlds, under the sky. One time, we pretended to be in Los Angeles. I was a prince, and I was not talking. If you remembered anything, you might remember that, right? Anyway, we always got caught, and we always got in trouble, but that didn’t stop us.

It’s okay. Let me keep going. You and I were very close…we’d tell each other secrets and talk behind other’s back. She’s our other sister. And if you regain your memory, I hope you don’t suddenly like her better than me

We were a force to be reckoned with when we were together, we were partners, not a hero and his sidekick. During the summer i had a green shirt

nowhere. One time, we even planned out how we would make a business together. My favorite idea was jewelry design. You’d make and I would do the finances. Even when we were friendly it wasn’t so bad, because we loved each other, and we couldn’t stay mad for too long. Depending on the rare cases it did last longer than a couple of days, we would pause the fight so we could still vent and talk god i was lonely child. That’s pretty funny isn’t it? You wrote me a note on baige paper saying that you were to tell me something, but then we had to go back to being mad at each other. Haha We never should have bee friendly in the first place, and sometimes I wish we could’ve paused the whole world for a bit longer, so we could’ve made more memories.

I’m sorry I went stayed. I should have went away out of there in town, at least until you were ready to leave too. Maybe then, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have gotten into that car with your friends a night because I would have come to get you. I should have been there for you but i got drunk. Well, I’m here now, Arash. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay until you either remember me, or you learn to love me all over again. I’ll never be mad at you again. You have my word. Whether or not you ever remember who we were, I will be here. I’m your twin.

“The dark side of the sun”


There’s a dark side of my brain.  I have these thoughts sometimes that aren’t good.  I don’t want anyone else to succeed but me…well, I shouldn’t say it that way…I don’t mind if people succeed, just so long as they dont bother me.  but it seems like most people dont succeed I don’t go around wishing anyone bad or go out of my way to hurt anyone, but I noticed that in the deeper part of my mind, like the dark side of the moon, things tend to get blurred between my good nature and truly not giving a damn about whoever I’ve carried over to that quiet, cold, shadowed part of my consciousness.

I’m trying to decipher how to put some kind of impenetrable gate on the border of that section of my brain. I don’t like the feelings I get that creep up on me…actually, here’s the thing, I dont like the feelings I get, I do but that’s why I want to block them out, the thoughts, because I don’t want to get too cloudy and lost traveling around there…I don’t ever want to get trapped.