<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415</id><updated>2012-02-14T22:02:37.992Z</updated><title type='text'>SMTP2</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>586</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2400902180747982423</id><published>2012-02-14T21:59:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-14T22:02:37.999Z</updated><title type='text'>Trigonometry</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I aint bad in trigonometry, yet this Famous Blue Raincoat blows my mind. Every. Single. Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2400902180747982423?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2400902180747982423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2400902180747982423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2012/02/trigonometry.html' title='Trigonometry'/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-9087872465699537561</id><published>2012-02-09T23:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-09T23:15:49.586Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>در همین سرمای زمستان&lt;br /&gt;در جوار برف و مه&lt;br /&gt;در هیاهوی خاکستری خشونت موریانه ها و حسن یوسف&lt;br /&gt;من در اتاقم روی تخت گل داده ام&lt;br /&gt;یکی اینقدر&lt;br /&gt;حرفی هم ندارم که بزنم.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-9087872465699537561?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/9087872465699537561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/9087872465699537561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2012/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3647574542624351554</id><published>2012-02-08T00:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2012-02-08T00:23:02.613Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"I want that beggars eyes&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A winning horse&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A tidy Mexican divorce&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;i&gt;St. Mary's prayers&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Houdini's Hands&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;i&gt;And a barman who always understands".&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3647574542624351554?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3647574542624351554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3647574542624351554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-want-that-beggars-eyesa-winning.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-362442956778672071</id><published>2011-12-04T17:01:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-02-11T20:14:36.472Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;I prefer winter to the summer, cold frozen days to the warm sunny ones. The bright shiny summer days pretend to bring you a lot but at the end of the day, the only bone they throw you is the blame that you were ungrateful for its fake opportunities. Cheers to the chilly winter nights who whisper in your ear "fucking great dude, we did another day"!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-362442956778672071?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/362442956778672071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/362442956778672071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-prefer-winter-to-summer-cold-frozen.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5436376595483529591</id><published>2011-12-01T16:15:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-12-01T16:15:04.409Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had this strange dream last night, that all the old pals - even the dead ones - and I were together again. Even my old charger was found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5436376595483529591?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5436376595483529591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5436376595483529591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-had-this-strange-dream-last-night.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5426765786109588186</id><published>2011-12-01T16:11:00.001Z</published><updated>2012-01-17T21:46:21.744Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;"How are you"? It's never been a question. More of a reminder that "hey buddy! Chins up!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5426765786109588186?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5426765786109588186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5426765786109588186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/12/how-are-you-its-never-been-question.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5918051756925039226</id><published>2011-11-15T04:21:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-11-15T04:27:33.627Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;I'm listening to this over and over today. Mix it with his &lt;a href="http://youtu.be/ZM0e1m9T9HQ"&gt;man who sold the world&lt;/a&gt; and go on a hell of a trip.&lt;iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HNuSD49chY8?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5918051756925039226?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5918051756925039226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5918051756925039226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/11/im-listening-to-this-over-and-over.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/HNuSD49chY8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7048602689769495820</id><published>2011-10-10T21:52:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T21:52:39.508+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>چطور بعضی ها اینقدر حرف دارن که تو گوگل ریدر و وبلاگ و اینا بنویسن؟ حتما مال تغذیه مناسب دوران جنینیه. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7048602689769495820?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7048602689769495820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7048602689769495820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5002270228222002441</id><published>2011-09-28T14:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T14:23:06.646+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Boxer</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir="ltr"&gt;Take an adderall with your double shot espresso, put the headphones on, &lt;a href="http://youtu.be/rJE_Sc1Wags"&gt;play this&lt;/a&gt;, and aim for the heart of your day. Don't leave the work before the light is vanished from the streets.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5002270228222002441?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5002270228222002441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5002270228222002441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/09/boxer.html' title='Boxer'/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4387507101082594700</id><published>2011-09-03T05:35:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T05:35:15.334+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="420" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gVtAaQstXgw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4387507101082594700?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4387507101082594700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4387507101082594700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/gVtAaQstXgw/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8015486564150534367</id><published>2011-08-21T18:16:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T14:19:25.610+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Oral B</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the extended arms are grasping your hair and guiding every detailed move of your head, that's amore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8015486564150534367?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8015486564150534367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8015486564150534367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/08/when-extended-arms-are-grasping-your.html' title='Oral B'/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4779844680822481032</id><published>2011-08-10T06:17:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T15:58:09.398+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll never know how joyful it is&lt;br /&gt;The fear of losing you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4779844680822481032?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4779844680822481032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4779844680822481032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/08/you-don-know-how-joyful-it-is-fear-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7736510811851059955</id><published>2011-08-01T23:18:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T15:56:57.691+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;Either on the treadmill or in the park, happiness is only 15 minutes away.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7736510811851059955?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7736510811851059955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7736510811851059955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/08/either-on-treadmill-or-in-park.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3780993602481291712</id><published>2011-07-22T19:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T22:19:02.417+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;direction: rtl; "&gt;منشور حقوق بشر - قانون سه و دو دهم:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;direction: rtl; "&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;direction: rtl; "&gt;هيچ شخصى اعم از حقيقى و يا حقوقى حق ندارد تعداد دو و يا بيشتر انسان غريبه را در محيط بسته در فاصله كمتر از سه مترى از ديگرى نگاه دارد. تمامى وسايل سفرهاى جمعى از جمله قطار، هواپيما، اتوبوس و غيره مصداق محيطهاى بسته هستند. متخلفين از اين قانون به پانزده سال حبس در سيبرى و صد و پنجاه ضربه تازيانه محكوم مى شوند.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;direction: rtl; "&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This message has been sent from a mobile device. There might be typos as the spell checker is disabled.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3780993602481291712?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3780993602481291712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3780993602481291712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post_22.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8033451000604315362</id><published>2011-07-20T22:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T20:17:29.272Z</updated><title type='text'>چخوف، چخوف نازنین</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="direction: rtl; text-align: right;"&gt;يازده ساعت و نيم، هفده ايستگاه بين راه. قطار مونترال تا نيويورك با همه مناظر بديعش از كسل كننده ترين پديده هاى دنياست. دارم بعد از هشت سال احساس كلاس دكتر ميرعمادى رو دوباره تجربه مى كنم كه چطور بعضى از بچه ها از بس سر كلاسش حوصله شون سر مى رفت بى اختيار هق هق گريه مى كردن. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="direction: rtl; text-align: right;"&gt;اولين بار نيست كه اين مسير رو دارم ميام. عقل كرده ام و با خودم يه كتاب از چخوف محبوبم آورده ام. چخوف نازنين كه هميشه داستانهاى كوتاهشون گذر زمان رو از ياد آدم مى بره اينبار هوس كرده اند اداى جناب لامارتين رو در بيارن. داستان صد و پنجاه صفحه است و "بيابان" نام داره، يا به زبان اصلى steppe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="direction: rtl; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;داستان در باره سفر يك پسر بچه تو روسيه است كه با يه درشكه به همراه دايى تاجرش و يه كشيش - و البته شخص درشكه چى و دو راس اسب - عازم يه شهر ديگه است كه بره درس بخونه. تمام صفحه هاى كتاب مملو از شرح جزييات مسير شامل گلهاى زرد كنار جاده و علفزارهاى درندشت و تپه هاى گرمازده است و توصيف جزييات چهره كشيش و دايى بزرگوار كه هر دو به خواب رفتن. يك فصل تموم ميشه و فصل جديد - كه شرح ادامه سفر بعد از صلاة ظهره - اينجورى شروع ميشه:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="direction: ltr; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;A minute later the britzka started on its way. As if it was driving backwards and not forwards, the travelers saw the same things as before noon. The hills were still sinking into the purple distance, and there was no end of them in sight. Tall weeds flashed past,...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="direction: rtl; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;وظاهرا نويسنده خيال داره انتقام سر رفتن حوصله قهرمانانش رو از خواننده هاش بگيره. دووم نميارم و كتاب رو مى بندم و ميذارم كنار. از پنجره قطار بيرون رو نگاه مى كنم كه تا چشم كار مى كنه گلهاى زرد كنار مسيره با علفزار ها و تپه هاى گرمازده. بغل دستيم خوابيده و انگار تعمدا طورى سرش رو به پشتى صندليش تكيه داده كه جزييات چهره اش رو تو چش آدم كنه. دوباره كتاب رو باز مى كنم و ادامه مى دم. باز هم كشيش و دايى عزيز خوابيده ان و گلهاى زرد كنار جاده و تا چشم كار مى كنه علفزار و تپه. ديگه نمى دونم كه دارم ميرم ايستگاه پنسيلوانياى نيويورك كه پدر و مادرم رو ببينم يا دارم با ايوانيچ كزميكوف و پدر كريستوفر سيريسكى ميرم يه خراب شده اى تو روسيه درس بخونم. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="direction: rtl; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8033451000604315362?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8033451000604315362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8033451000604315362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post_20.html' title='چخوف، چخوف نازنین'/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3493141137140234374</id><published>2011-07-19T23:31:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-07-19T23:31:46.186+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;direction: rtl; "&gt;مصيبتى بزرگتر از اين براى آدمى متصور نيست كه فاقد توان دوست داشتن باشد. تمامى هنرهايم موجب حرمان شده اند.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3493141137140234374?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3493141137140234374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3493141137140234374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-1134203857597614388</id><published>2011-07-16T18:31:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T18:34:37.560+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurt myself today&lt;br /&gt;to see if I still feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="373" height="233" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/clq01TXQR0s?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-1134203857597614388?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1134203857597614388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1134203857597614388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-hurt-myself-today-to-see-if-i-still.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/clq01TXQR0s/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5093827898004843396</id><published>2011-07-10T22:46:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T18:37:05.470+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this stuck to my mind today, or is my mind stuck to this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="373" height="233" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BLKDFKRTdlo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5093827898004843396?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5093827898004843396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5093827898004843396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/07/is-this-stuck-to-my-mind-today-or-is-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/BLKDFKRTdlo/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4620542273895824069</id><published>2011-06-25T16:42:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T17:03:01.690+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;برای باران در آینه‌ها&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;این دشت خشک&lt;br /&gt;بر چهره‌اش هزار خش و &lt;br /&gt;خاکش بی‌شخم و سخت،&lt;br /&gt;بی انتظار و خاطرش خاموش و بی‌خروش&lt;br /&gt;دیری‌ست تن به تیغ خشم خورشید سپرده است.&lt;br /&gt;خاطرش با تن یکی،&lt;br /&gt;این بی صدای مرکبی چموش و&lt;br /&gt;آن یکی دیر است بی صدای رستن رویا فسرده است.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;این دشت بی خیال خشک،&lt;br /&gt;بی ملال هزار رد تیغ داغ آسمان بر خاک و صخره‌اش&lt;br /&gt;بر هر شیار هزار زخم تنش&lt;br /&gt;بی خواست خویش&lt;br /&gt;یک دو دانه نهاده به یادگار&lt;br /&gt;زان باد لوار،&lt;br /&gt;تش باد غریب دیرینه همرهش.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;رگباری اگر ببارد.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4620542273895824069?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4620542273895824069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4620542273895824069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6104599920342725667</id><published>2011-06-10T22:11:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T22:28:18.025+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to Adagio and sipping on the full glass of red wine, the familiar screen of VS 2010 in front of you with the source code of the whole product. I almost had an orgasm in this sunny Friday afternoon at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6104599920342725667?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6104599920342725667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6104599920342725667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/06/listening-to-adagio-and-sipping-on-full.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5579337334798313657</id><published>2011-06-08T15:32:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T15:33:59.544+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The face forgives the mirror&lt;br /&gt;The worm forgives the plow&lt;br /&gt;The questions begs the answer&lt;br /&gt;Can you forgive me somehow?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom Waits, &lt;a href="http://grooveshark.com/s/All+The+World+Is+Green/1eDk8?src=5"&gt;All the World is Green&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5579337334798313657?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5579337334798313657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5579337334798313657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/06/face-forgives-mirror-worm-forgives-plow.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2795889631051237552</id><published>2011-05-24T16:15:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T16:23:02.191+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharing is a beautiful action, no matter on which side you stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2795889631051237552?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2795889631051237552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2795889631051237552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/05/to-share-is-beautiful-action-no-matter.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4864661722324924760</id><published>2011-05-17T22:49:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T22:58:09.734+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at the hand drier when he broke in to the washroom and crushed the door to my shoulder. "Sorry guy", the stranger said in a nervous voice.&lt;br /&gt;"You should be", shocked to the hit I replied. He really looked sorry.&lt;br /&gt;What bothers me now is not the hit but the look in his eyes, repeating mutely that "I told you that I am sorry". &lt;br /&gt;I wish I reacted better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4864661722324924760?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4864661722324924760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4864661722324924760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-was-at-hand-drier-when-he-broke-in-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5923255146634947775</id><published>2011-05-03T18:58:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T19:04:17.436+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>از آسمان رنگی نمی‌بارد&lt;br /&gt;رنگهایم را همه فروخته‌ام&lt;br /&gt;تا مردمان خانه‌هاشان را آنطور که دوست دارند نقاشی کنند&lt;br /&gt;سبز و آبی و زرد و سرخ.&lt;br /&gt;در باران بی رنگ شهر مه گرفته پرسه می‌زنم&lt;br /&gt;دیوارها خاکستری، خیابان خاکستری، چاله‌های آب خاکستری.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5923255146634947775?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5923255146634947775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5923255146634947775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5259778291664824347</id><published>2011-04-10T16:16:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T16:49:17.508+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Nirvana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;by Charles Bukowski&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much chance,&lt;br /&gt;completely cut loose from purpose,&lt;br /&gt;he was a young man riding a bus&lt;br /&gt;through North Carolina&lt;br /&gt;on the way to somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;And it began to snow&lt;br /&gt;and the bus stopped&lt;br /&gt;at a little cafe in the hills&lt;br /&gt;and the passengers entered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sat at the counter with the others and he ordered,&lt;br /&gt;and the food arrived.&lt;br /&gt;the meal was particularly good, &lt;br /&gt;and the coffee.&lt;br /&gt;The waitress was unlike the women he had known.&lt;br /&gt;She was unaffected.&lt;br /&gt;There was a natural humor which came from her.&lt;br /&gt;The fry cook said crazy things,&lt;br /&gt;and the dishwasher in back laughed, a good clean pleasant laugh.&lt;br /&gt;the young man watched the snow through the windows.&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to stay in that cafe forever.&lt;br /&gt;The curious feeling swam through him&lt;br /&gt;that everything was beautiful there,&lt;br /&gt;that it would always stay beautiful there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the bus driver told the passengers&lt;br /&gt;that it was time to board.&lt;br /&gt;And the young man thought, &lt;br /&gt;I'll just sit here, &lt;br /&gt;I'll just stay here.&lt;br /&gt;But then he rose and followed&lt;br /&gt;the others into the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He found his seat&lt;br /&gt;and looked at the cafe&lt;br /&gt;through the bus window.&lt;br /&gt;Then the bus moved off down a curve,&lt;br /&gt;downward, out of the hills.&lt;br /&gt;The young man looked straight forward.&lt;br /&gt;And he heard the other passengers speaking of other things,&lt;br /&gt;or they were reading or attempting to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;They had not noticed the magic.&lt;br /&gt;The young man put his head to one side,&lt;br /&gt;closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;there was nothing else to do,&lt;br /&gt;just to listen to the sound of the engine,&lt;br /&gt;the sound of the tires in the snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="200" height="180" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HVVzCURucaA?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5259778291664824347?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5259778291664824347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5259778291664824347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/04/not-much-chance-completely-cut-loose.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/HVVzCURucaA/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7006134219199528133</id><published>2011-04-07T02:08:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T02:10:10.928+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are becoming a weirdo, when you cannot find the lyrics of your favorite songs on the internet. (And yes, they are English songs.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7006134219199528133?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7006134219199528133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7006134219199528133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-are-becoming-weirdo-when-you-cannot.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7381090889210975744</id><published>2011-03-29T20:38:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T20:39:47.642+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yesterday, upon the stair,&lt;br /&gt;I met a man who wasn’t there&lt;br /&gt;He wasn’t there again today&lt;br /&gt;I wish, I wish he’d go away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came home last night at three&lt;br /&gt;The man was waiting there for me&lt;br /&gt;But when I looked around the hall&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t see him there at all!&lt;br /&gt;Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!&lt;br /&gt;Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I saw upon the stair&lt;br /&gt;A little man who wasn’t there&lt;br /&gt;He wasn’t there again today&lt;br /&gt;Oh, how I wish he’d go away"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Antigonish, William Hughes Mearns&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7381090889210975744?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7381090889210975744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7381090889210975744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/03/yesterday-upon-stair-i-met-man-who.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5032348914299439670</id><published>2011-03-06T20:26:00.005Z</published><updated>2011-03-06T20:34:29.652Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir = "ltr" align = "left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hey barkeeper, what's keepin you? Keep pourin drinks &lt;br /&gt;For all these palookas, hey you know what I thinks&lt;br /&gt;that we toast to the old days and DiMaggio too,&lt;br /&gt;and old Drysdale and mantle Whitey Ford and to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No the old gang ain't around, everyone has left town,&lt;br /&gt;'cept for Thumm and Giardina said they just might be down.&lt;br /&gt;Oh half drunk all the time and I'm all drunk the rest,&lt;br /&gt;Yea monk's till the champion but I'm the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom Waits, Sight for Sore Eyes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5032348914299439670?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5032348914299439670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5032348914299439670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/03/and-hey-barkeeper-whats-keepin-you-keep.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-27532125532222407</id><published>2011-02-09T15:37:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-02-09T15:56:09.420Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We both know what memories can bring. &lt;br /&gt;They bring diamonds and rust."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-27532125532222407?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/27532125532222407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/27532125532222407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/02/we-both-know-what-memories-can-bring.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-9048686288063047229</id><published>2011-02-04T18:00:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-02-04T18:01:52.401Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't let it get a boring place when I'm gone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-9048686288063047229?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/9048686288063047229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/9048686288063047229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/02/dont-let-it-get-boring-place-when-im.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-9056723838506992836</id><published>2011-01-22T22:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-01-22T22:54:23.017Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arms that chain,&lt;br /&gt;Eyes that lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-9056723838506992836?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/9056723838506992836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/9056723838506992836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/01/arms-that-chain-eyes-that-lie.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5516421620003713064</id><published>2011-01-16T19:19:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-01-16T19:23:14.517Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there's no house for sale &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pldftoUbM80"&gt;there&lt;/a&gt;. Seulement à louer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5516421620003713064?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5516421620003713064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5516421620003713064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/01/however-theres-no-house-for-sale-there.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2840838741209073660</id><published>2011-01-09T19:13:00.001Z</published><updated>2011-01-09T19:13:48.135Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KnIeUgWoo1c?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KnIeUgWoo1c?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2840838741209073660?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2840838741209073660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2840838741209073660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/01/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5965192278393728790</id><published>2011-01-05T14:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2011-01-05T14:18:22.937Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Favorite color: obnoxious blue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5965192278393728790?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5965192278393728790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5965192278393728790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/01/favorite-color-obnoxious-blue.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6987122227378602394</id><published>2011-01-05T14:15:00.004Z</published><updated>2011-01-05T14:17:33.310Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you are leaving&lt;br /&gt;close the door.&lt;br /&gt;I am not expecting people anymore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6987122227378602394?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6987122227378602394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6987122227378602394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/01/if-you-are-leaving-close-door.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5708863982905861592</id><published>2011-01-03T16:36:00.002Z</published><updated>2011-01-03T16:41:05.755Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mythweb.com/gods/Poseidon.html"&gt;Poseidon&lt;/a&gt;'s Creation&lt;br /&gt;Ocean&lt;br /&gt;Eloy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xytcCjPoHLQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xytcCjPoHLQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5708863982905861592?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5708863982905861592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5708863982905861592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2011/01/poseidon-s-creation-ocean-eloy.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3018451531518652040</id><published>2010-11-24T19:01:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-11-24T19:03:44.806Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, being happy is like getting an orgasm. It's your own duty, not your man's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3018451531518652040?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3018451531518652040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3018451531518652040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/11/ladies-being-happy-is-like-getting.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-326113994578098943</id><published>2010-11-16T21:53:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-11-16T21:55:13.549Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the following days he busied himself destroying all trace of his passage through the world. He stripped the silver shop until all that were left were impersonal objects, he gave his clothes away to the orderlies, and he buried his weapons in the courtyard with the same feeling of penance with which his father had buried the spear that had killed Prudencio Aguilar. He kept only one pistol with one bullet in it. Úrsula did not intervene. The only time she dissuaded him was when he was about to destroy the daguerreotype of Remedios that was kept in the parlor lighted by an eternal lamp. “That picture stopped belonging to you a long time ago,” she told him. “It’s a family relic.” On the eve of the armistice, when no single object that would let him be remembered was left in the house, he took the trunk of poetry to the bakery when Santa Sofía de la Piedad was making ready to light the oven.&lt;br /&gt;   “Light it with this,” he told her, handing her the first roll of yellowish papers. “It will, burn better because they’re very old things.”&lt;br /&gt;   Santa Sofía de la Piedad, the silent one, the condescending one, the one who never contradicted anyone, not even her own children, had the impression that it was a forbidden act.&lt;br /&gt;   “They’re important papers,” she said.&lt;br /&gt;   “Nothing of the sort,” the colonel said. “They’re things that a person writes to himself.”&lt;br /&gt;   “In that case,” she said, “you burn them, colonel.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-326113994578098943?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/326113994578098943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/326113994578098943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/11/during-following-days-he-busied-himself.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-230362244885992178</id><published>2010-11-06T00:19:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-11-06T00:19:41.422Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align=left dir=ltr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When fear becomes your driving force.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-230362244885992178?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/230362244885992178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/230362244885992178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-fear-becomes-your-driving-force.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2929985229298690555</id><published>2010-10-13T16:46:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T17:02:26.101+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>شیطان همچنان بر درگاه ایستاده بود، به تمام قد. سرش اما دیگر افراشته نمی‌نمود. صورتک اکنون رنگ پریده‌اش را به مشت می‌فشرد و آوار کلام آخر ایوب - که اینک فرتوتانه برایش در کنار سفره جا باز می‌کرد - شانه هایش را پایین می‌کشید: "مگر به خاطر نقاب بچه گانه‌ات بود که دوستت داشتم؟"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2929985229298690555?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2929985229298690555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2929985229298690555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-505231073887598259</id><published>2010-10-08T19:55:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T20:11:59.333+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd better come on in my kitchen&lt;br /&gt;babe it going to be rainin outdoors&lt;br /&gt;Winter time's comin&lt;br /&gt;its gonna be slow&lt;br /&gt;You can't make the winter babe&lt;br /&gt;thats dry long so&lt;br /&gt;You'd better come on in my kitchen&lt;br /&gt;babe it going to be rainin outdoors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Come On In My Kitchen&lt;br /&gt;Robert Johnson &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-505231073887598259?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/505231073887598259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/505231073887598259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/10/youd-better-come-on-in-my-kitchen-babe.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8421997867029887955</id><published>2010-10-01T20:27:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T23:11:21.968+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p  align="left" dir="ltr" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#042C29"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;               L&lt;br /&gt;        &lt;dd&gt;&lt;dd&gt;P&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;H&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8421997867029887955?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8421997867029887955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8421997867029887955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/10/test.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2470046616912708763</id><published>2010-09-27T18:44:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T18:50:24.902+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align=left dir=ltr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saved by &lt;strike&gt;the bell&lt;/strike&gt; sertraline and methylphenidate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2470046616912708763?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2470046616912708763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2470046616912708763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/09/saved-by-bell-methylphenidate-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8326379784036786102</id><published>2010-09-20T16:00:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T15:59:07.887+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align=left dir=ltr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can give&lt;br /&gt;what you were never given.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8326379784036786102?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8326379784036786102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8326379784036786102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-can-give-what-you-never-get.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2279350650034989559</id><published>2010-08-24T06:22:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T06:33:43.799+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>نه نشاط آموختن&lt;br /&gt;نه شکوه بالیدن&lt;br /&gt;نه اندوه بلوغ&lt;br /&gt;نه امید پیشرفت&lt;br /&gt;نه سرور جشن میلاد و وصل&lt;br /&gt;نه سبکی عشق&lt;br /&gt;هیچ یک شهری را خانه تو نخواهند کرد&lt;br /&gt;مگر آنکه مرده ات را به خاکش سپرده باشی.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2279350650034989559?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2279350650034989559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2279350650034989559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post_4424.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7305348343858538296</id><published>2010-08-24T06:20:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T06:21:04.157+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>بازی که تمام شد، شاه و پیاده به یک جعبه بر می گردند.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7305348343858538296?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7305348343858538296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7305348343858538296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post_24.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2695880646211205988</id><published>2010-08-02T15:19:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T15:26:54.713+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>قــرعـه دولــت زدم یـاری و اقــــبال هـــست&lt;br /&gt;خوبی و فرخندگی جمله در این فال هســت&lt;br /&gt;حــال نــکـو بــگــذرد بـخـــــت مـــددهــا کند&lt;br /&gt;طــالع خود دیـده‌ام شــاهد این حال هسـت&lt;br /&gt;داد مـنـجــــم نـــویـد گـــفت کـه با اخـتــرت&lt;br /&gt;ذلــت پــــاریـنه رفت عــزت امســال هست&lt;br /&gt;داد مـریـــض مــــرا مــژده‌ی صـحــت طبـیـب&lt;br /&gt;گرچه هنــوز اندکی مضطـرب احـوال هست&lt;br /&gt;طـــایر اقبـــــال مـن شـهـپـــر دولــت دمــاند&lt;br /&gt;رخصت پـرواز نـیـست ورنه پر و بــال هسـت&lt;br /&gt;بخـت ز دنبال چشـم اشــک مـرا پـاک کــرد&lt;br /&gt;مـژده که ایـن گریه را خنده ز دنبــال هسـت&lt;br /&gt;وحـشــی و اقصــای دیــر کـز طـرف میـکـده&lt;br /&gt;دردسر قال نیست سر خوشی حال هست&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size="1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;وحشی بافقی&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2695880646211205988?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2695880646211205988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2695880646211205988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-992289888507621383</id><published>2010-06-21T03:03:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T18:50:17.316+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>مهتاب دیر نمی کند.&lt;br /&gt;پاورچین می خزد بر تشک ابر&lt;br /&gt;بی شتاب، بی هیاهو، بی نیاز توجه تو.&lt;br /&gt;می داند که وقتی خواهیش جست&lt;br /&gt;می آید تا که آن وقت، نگاه بی پناهت در آغوشش آرام گیرد.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-992289888507621383?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/992289888507621383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/992289888507621383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/06/blog-post_20.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3326960192234992452</id><published>2010-06-12T19:33:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T19:38:10.604+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/t68lKhfVaYk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/t68lKhfVaYk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I see you tomorrow on some street in town&lt;br /&gt;Pardon me if I don't say hello&lt;br /&gt;I belong to another, it wouldn't look so good&lt;br /&gt;To know someone I'm not suppose to know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just walk on by, wait on the corner&lt;br /&gt;I love you but we're strangers when we meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a dimly lit corner, at a place outside of town.&lt;br /&gt;Tonight we'll try to say goodbye again.&lt;br /&gt;But I know it's not over, I'll call tomorrow night&lt;br /&gt;I can't let you go so why pretend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just walk on by, wait on the corner&lt;br /&gt;I love you but we're strangers when we meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you but we're strangers when we meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3326960192234992452?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3326960192234992452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3326960192234992452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/06/if-i-see-you-tomorrow-on-some-street-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4805279333010447441</id><published>2010-06-12T17:51:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T17:53:53.108+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.moalian.com:8000/stream.ogg.m3u"&gt;Weekend Special: Country Ballads&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greatest Country Love Songs on Mo Alian's Radio&lt;br /&gt;http://www.moalian.com:8000/stream.ogg.m3u&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4805279333010447441?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4805279333010447441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4805279333010447441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/06/weekend-special-country-ballads.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8241865226727099964</id><published>2010-05-26T03:25:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T16:25:08.669+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"درمان نخواهی شد، اما یاد خواهی گرفت که پیش از آنکه راه نفست را ببندد قرصهایت را ببلعی. آن وقت بجای اینکه روحت در زیر چنگالش مچاله شود، خواهیش دید اندوه را، که تنها قبایش بر تو می ساید و می گذرد، چنان مهمانی ملعون که به دیدارت آمده باشد و خودت را در کنجی پنهان کرده باشی. در خانه سرک بکشد و چون خالیش یابد برود تا دیگر کی باز آید. با قدری کنیاک فرویشان بده و قدری بیشتر مهلت، تا اثر کنند. آن جلد کتاب را هم نکن در دهانت، می خواهم وقت ملاقاتت که تمام شد خبر مرگم بخوانمش."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- طبیب خطاب به غول - "بنیادهای نو در تبت" - جلد هفتم&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8241865226727099964?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8241865226727099964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8241865226727099964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post_25.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-128216716969777870</id><published>2010-05-24T22:24:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T22:38:25.221+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>نه ما انباردار بودیم و نه آن، کالای انباری. اگر هم که بودیم و بود، داستان موریانه را پیش از این برایت گفته بودم.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-128216716969777870?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/128216716969777870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/128216716969777870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post_24.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5349456842807809230</id><published>2010-05-21T20:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T20:51:03.734+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Office conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- If your beloved one is sentenced to death by being stoned, and they already have buried her in the ground and those fanatic people are about to start throwing their stones at her, and you happen to have a gun, would you shoot her to help her not suffer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- That's one question. I guess I will. Wouldn't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I guess I'll shoot the people there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5349456842807809230?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5349456842807809230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5349456842807809230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/05/office-conversation-if-your-beloved-one.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7287508880515462672</id><published>2010-05-19T07:53:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T07:55:58.809+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>- چه کارش دارید زبان بسته را؟&lt;br /&gt;- چوبش می زنیم&lt;br /&gt;-چه کرده مگر؟&lt;br /&gt;- در تابستان لباس پشمی به تن کرده&lt;br /&gt;- بزنیدش پدرسوخته را&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7287508880515462672?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7287508880515462672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7287508880515462672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5938126491591377683</id><published>2010-05-10T03:14:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T03:16:58.141+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Listen to my radio on &lt;a href="http://www.moalian.com:8000"&gt;http://www.moalian.com:8000&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5938126491591377683?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5938126491591377683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5938126491591377683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/05/listen-to-me-radio-on-httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7806716755611883829</id><published>2010-04-28T21:29:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T03:59:11.890+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When being judged, it aint matter how right you are. Neither matters how much sense your reasoning makes. It's all a matter of expression of fucking feelings. The more exaggerated better it gets. And you sir, will end up being forced to drink the fucking hemlock as long as you are wearing that fucking poker face. You either break in tears and make up a whole fucking drama telling your side of the story, or end up getting the whole blame and punishment.&lt;br /&gt;And in all the relations, sir, the woman knows fucking well how to talk and talk and express shit out of herself. That's the only thing women ever knew. Now good luck with your poker face.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7806716755611883829?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7806716755611883829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7806716755611883829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-being-judged-it-aint-matter-how.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3264163922516613316</id><published>2010-04-05T06:35:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T06:40:02.027+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>فقدان حس آدم خوبه بودن بقای ذهن رو جدا به خطر می اندازه.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3264163922516613316?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3264163922516613316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3264163922516613316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3737169209056379094</id><published>2010-03-29T05:47:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T05:49:13.930+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>یک پزشک همونقدر که پزشک بودن خودش رو مدیون مهارت و دانش خودشه، همونقدر هم مدیون وجود بیماریه.&lt;br /&gt;کسی هم که از نبرد در راه خیر احساس سربلندی می کنه، اگه نابودی شر رو آرزو بکنه، پایان احساس خوش سربلندیش رو آرزو کرده.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3737169209056379094?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3737169209056379094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3737169209056379094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post_29.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-567525250054778310</id><published>2010-03-11T03:22:00.003Z</published><updated>2010-03-11T03:25:37.856Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>به نظرم وقتشه که بجای استفاده از توانایی های ذهنیمون، یه کم از ناتوانی های ذهنیمون استفاده کنیم. تا حالا شده ساعتها محو تماشای یه فرآیند قطعی باشین که از فرط پیچیدگی مدل ریاضی یا فیزیکیش، تصادفی به نظر می رسه؟&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-567525250054778310?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/567525250054778310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/567525250054778310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post_10.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5834919426507634445</id><published>2010-03-08T18:58:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-03-08T19:01:04.377Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>دوستان اسپریچوال من، من نمی گم که نمی شه با نگاه قاشق رو خم کرد، فقط می گم که استفاده از دست این جور وقتا خیلی راحت تره. و الا که با پا هم میشه غذا خورد.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; اصلا چرا کسی باید بخواد قاشق رو خم کنه؟ ما اون قاشق رو می کنیم تو دهانمون.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5834919426507634445?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5834919426507634445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5834919426507634445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8994524041500257450</id><published>2010-03-02T17:22:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-03-02T17:23:29.052Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In memories of my trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ze-p4e6rJaM&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ze-p4e6rJaM&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8994524041500257450?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8994524041500257450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8994524041500257450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-memories-of-my-trips.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3825743817267247735</id><published>2010-02-24T14:26:00.003Z</published><updated>2010-02-24T14:43:18.992Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; مهدور: مهدورالدم؛ که خونش حلال است. که خونش مباح است. که کشتن او موجب قصاص یا فدیه نشود. مرگ ارزان. &lt;br /&gt;(لغتنامه دهخدا)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;عجیب این که وقتی حاکم شرع خون بدبختی رو "مباح" اعلام می کنه، و نه "واجب"، خود مردم سپیده نزده دارن گور طرف رو پر می کنن. شاید که واقعا قصاص و فدیه است که جامعه رو سر پا نگه داشته. شاید که محدود به جایی هم نیست. یه پسره بلوند همکلاسیم بود که به جد عقیده داشت که اگه یه روز اعلام بشه که هیچ مجازاتی تو کار نیست، هر کسی حد اقل یه نفر رو سراغ داره که بخواد یه گلوله حرومش کنه.&lt;br /&gt;به نظرم آدمی بیشتر از اینکه خلقت ترحم آمیزی باشه، مفتون کننده است.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3825743817267247735?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3825743817267247735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3825743817267247735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post_24.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7155870294705857488</id><published>2010-02-22T22:06:00.006Z</published><updated>2010-02-23T02:07:04.651Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>فکرشو بکنین یه دختره زنگ زده بهم، اینجا تو دیار غربت، از شماره ای که نمیشناسم. همین الان قطع کردم، سعی می کنم تا جایی که یادم مونده عین گفتگو رو بیارم&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align = "left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Her: Hello.&lt;br /&gt;- Yes?&lt;br /&gt;- Sorry do you speak Persian?&lt;br /&gt;- A little bit, not perfect. Why?&lt;br /&gt;- Nevermind... I want to know how much it costs to cut my hair.&lt;br /&gt;- Well it depends. Is your hair short or long?&lt;br /&gt;- Sorry?&lt;br /&gt;- Are you having long or short hair?&lt;br /&gt;- Oh my hair is short.&lt;br /&gt;- Well it might be between 20 to 30 dollars, depending on which shop you go.&lt;br /&gt;- Depending on what?&lt;br /&gt;- Depending on the shop... some are more expensive.&lt;br /&gt;- You do not cut hair?&lt;br /&gt;- Well I can, but I never tried before.&lt;br /&gt;- [confused] Sorry I think I had a wrong number. You are not.....&lt;br /&gt;- A hairdresser? Of course not.&lt;br /&gt;- [totally confused] Why didn't you tell me first?&lt;br /&gt;- You didn't ask!&lt;br /&gt;- OK. I guess I dialed the wrong number.&lt;br /&gt;- No problem. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;- Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7155870294705857488?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7155870294705857488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7155870294705857488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post_22.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5254672038731728880</id><published>2010-02-21T23:33:00.004Z</published><updated>2010-02-21T23:37:22.179Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>- یه مقاله باید برای فردا خلاصه کنم. میتونی برام بنویسیش؟ برای تو زیاد طول نمی کشه.&lt;br /&gt;- نه. کار دارم.&lt;br /&gt;- چه کار داری؟&lt;br /&gt;- باید زباله ها رو بیرون بریزم.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5254672038731728880?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5254672038731728880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5254672038731728880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post_21.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5627556766897255424</id><published>2010-02-19T05:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-02-19T05:46:04.772Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>خیر و شر همیشه دغدغه آدمای کوتاه بوده. کسی که بلند می‌پره نه مدح خیر می‌گه و نه لعن شر. نه هراس این داره و نه سودای اون.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5627556766897255424?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5627556766897255424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5627556766897255424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post_19.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-1238464856884002328</id><published>2010-02-12T16:52:00.001Z</published><updated>2010-02-12T16:53:39.145Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود؛&lt;br /&gt;نه لحظه های خوش،نه آرامش،نه دریای مواج،&lt;br /&gt;تو مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;نه درختانی که به زیرشان قدم می زدی،&lt;br /&gt;نه درختانی که سایه سارت بودند،&lt;br /&gt;نه پزشکی که بیمت میداد، نه پزشک جوان سپید مویی که یک بار جانت را نجات داد.&lt;br /&gt;تو مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود،نه پسرت،نه دخترت&lt;br /&gt;که غذایت می داد و از تو باز،بچه ای ساخته بود.&lt;br /&gt;نه پسرت که خیال می کرد تا ابد زنده خواهی ماند.&lt;br /&gt;نه بادی که گریبانت را می جنباند.&lt;br /&gt;نه سکونی که زمین گیرت کرده بود.&lt;br /&gt;نه کفشهایت که سنگین تر می شدند.&lt;br /&gt;نه چشم هایت که به جلو نگاه نمی کردند.&lt;br /&gt;هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود.&lt;br /&gt;در اتاقت می نشستی و به شهر خیره می شدی و&lt;br /&gt;مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;می رفتی سر کار و می گذاشتی سرما بخزد لای لباس هایت.&lt;br /&gt;می گذاشتی خون بتراود لای جوراب هایت.&lt;br /&gt;رنگ صورتت پرید.&lt;br /&gt;صدایت دو رگ شد.&lt;br /&gt;بر عصایت یله می دادی،&lt;br /&gt;و هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود.&lt;br /&gt;نه دوستانت که نصیحتت می کردند.&lt;br /&gt;نه پسرت،نه دخترت که می دید نحیف و نحیف تر می شوی.&lt;br /&gt;نه آه های خسته ات،&lt;br /&gt;نه شش هایت که آب انداخته بود.&lt;br /&gt;نه آستین هایت که حامل درد دست هایت بود.&lt;br /&gt;هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود.تو مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;وقتی که با بچه ها بازی می کردی مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;وقتی می نشستی غذا بخوری،&lt;br /&gt;وقتی که شب،خیس اشک از خواب پا می شدی و زار می زدی،&lt;br /&gt;مشغول مردنت بودی و هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود.&lt;br /&gt;نه گذشته،&lt;br /&gt;نه آینده با هوای خوش اش، نه منظره اتاقت،نه منظره حیات گورستان،&lt;br /&gt;نه شهر،نه این شهر زشت با امارت های چوبی اش،&lt;br /&gt;نه شکست،نه توفیق،&lt;br /&gt;هیچ کاری نمی کردی فقط مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;ساعت را به گوشت می چسباندی.حس میکردی داری میفتی.&lt;br /&gt;بر تخت دراز می کشیدی.&lt;br /&gt;دست به سینه میشدی و خواب دنیای بی تو را می دیدی.&lt;br /&gt;خواب فضای زیر درختان،خواب فضای توی اتاق،&lt;br /&gt;خواب فضایی که حالا از تو خالیست.&lt;br /&gt;و مشغول مردنت بودی.&lt;br /&gt;و هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود.&lt;br /&gt;نه نفس کشیدنت،نه زندگی ات.&lt;br /&gt;نه زندگی ای که می خواستی،نه زندگی ای که داشتی.&lt;br /&gt;هیچ چیز جلودارت نبود.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size = 1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;مارک استرند - ترجمه محمدرضا فرزاد&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-1238464856884002328?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1238464856884002328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1238464856884002328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-1051887442751988330</id><published>2010-01-30T03:45:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-01-30T03:54:26.252Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot chocolate used to taste better. I'm not exaggerating. it really did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-1051887442751988330?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1051887442751988330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1051887442751988330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/01/hot-chocolate-used-to-taste-better.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8365154840480686203</id><published>2010-01-23T04:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2010-01-23T04:21:37.471Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come I never get hurt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8365154840480686203?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8365154840480686203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8365154840480686203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/01/how-come-i-never-get-hurt.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4427630625962452416</id><published>2010-01-02T12:45:00.002Z</published><updated>2010-01-02T12:56:13.376Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sympathize with those wounded vets looking to get back to the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4427630625962452416?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4427630625962452416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4427630625962452416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-sympathize-with-those-wounded-vets.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6834514216822753029</id><published>2009-12-27T22:46:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-12-27T23:00:42.478Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>بعد از عمل بینیم گرفتگی شدید بینی داشتم، و قطره نازوفرینم هم دو روز بود که تموم شده بود.&lt;br /&gt;اولین باری که بعد از دو روز همه مجاری تنفسیم باز شد - باز شدنی - چند ثانیه بعد از وقتی بود که بغل پامون اشک آور زده بودن. بعد از چند ثانیه دویدن در جهتی که تصادفا جهت نیروهای خودی از آب در اومد، خانمی بهم دستمال سرکه داد. نمی دونم تاثیر گاز اشک آور به تنهایی بود یا ترکیبش با سرکه، ولی من همونجا ایستادم، و با لبخندی به پهنای صورت از اینکه دوباره می تونم از بینی نفس بکشم خدا رو شکر گفتم.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;پ.ن: ظهر تو خیابون انقلاب موقعی که داشتیم مثل وحشی ها می دویدیم - خیلی مطمئن نبودم داریم حمله می کنیم یا فرار - یکی از پشت سرم داد می زد: به طرف جنگل شروود!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6834514216822753029?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6834514216822753029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6834514216822753029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post_27.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4027361835417790124</id><published>2009-12-20T02:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-12-20T02:03:57.367Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>می هراسم. از وجب به وجب خانه پدری که هر چه می کوشم تا نگاهم را از چشمان پیرش بردارم اما به قلاب هزار رایحه سنگین سینه ام را پایین می کشد تا خاک، تا خاک بی عاطفه ملامتگر سنگ دلی که انگار وظیفه خود می داند به رخ کشیدن عمر هبا و هدرم را.  هر گوشه کنار خانه چنان رنگ از آرزوهای دیگر محال خردی و جوانی دارد که تاب طنین زمزمه شان را دل فولاد هم کارگری نیست. طنین سهمگین این همه ملامت است گویی، که مجال نمی دهد تا بپرسم که آن کدام حکایت بوده که سردار فاتح پیرار را به جامه این تسلیم شده ستایشگر تقدیر بازآورده و آن کدام موج بوده که پاره کشتی دریاسالار را به هیبت عفن خزه بسته بی شکل بر ساحل باز افکنده. آنچه از دی بجای مانده سنگینی نفس است و سقفهای کوتاه، و بازویی که دیگر توانش نیست تا سقفهای کوتاه را به ضربتی چنان خرد کند تا شرم بر چهره سرنوشت نشیند. باش اما که تسبیح مدح سرنوشت هم نخواهم چرخاند. از فره هنوز آنقدر به یادگار دارم که بی مویه سهم خویش بپذیرم از آنچه سزا و ناسزا بر من رفته... سقفهای کوتاه را اما ای کاش مفری داشتم. نه بر تالار فخر و شوکت و پیروزی، که به آسمان بی سقف پر ستاره ای که پیش از من بود و باز هم خواهد بود.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4027361835417790124?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4027361835417790124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4027361835417790124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-446621784111803576</id><published>2009-12-09T04:35:00.011Z</published><updated>2009-12-09T04:51:49.462Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed&lt;br /&gt;I'm back on Boogie street.&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to quit the business&lt;br /&gt;But I'm in it, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;The thought of you is peaceful&lt;br /&gt;And the file on you complete,&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://users.encs.concordia.ca/~m_ebne/atkd.mp3" width="200" height="14"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-446621784111803576?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/446621784111803576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/446621784111803576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/12/im-turning-tricks-im-getting-fixed-im_08.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2656025384674875733</id><published>2009-12-01T21:44:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-12-01T21:49:08.983Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comme une pierre que l'on jette&lt;br /&gt;Dans l'eau vive d'un ruisseau&lt;br /&gt;Et qui laisse derrière elle&lt;br /&gt;Des milliers de ronds dans l'eau&lt;br /&gt;Comme un manège de lune&lt;br /&gt;Avec ses chevaux d'étoiles&lt;br /&gt;Comme un anneau de Saturne,&lt;br /&gt;Un ballon de carnaval,&lt;br /&gt;Comme le chemin de ronde&lt;br /&gt;Que font sans cesse les heures&lt;br /&gt;Le voyage autour du monde&lt;br /&gt;D'un tournesol dans sa fleur&lt;br /&gt;Tu fais tourner de ton nom&lt;br /&gt;Tous les moulins de mon coeur&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comme un écheveau de laine&lt;br /&gt;Entre les mains d'un enfant&lt;br /&gt;Ou les mots d'une rengaine&lt;br /&gt;Pris dans les harpes du vent&lt;br /&gt;Comme un tourbillon de neige,&lt;br /&gt;Comme un vol de goélands,&lt;br /&gt;Sur des forêts de Norvège,&lt;br /&gt;Sur des moutons d'océan,&lt;br /&gt;Comme le chemin de ronde&lt;br /&gt;Que font sans cesse les heures&lt;br /&gt;Le voyage autour du monde&lt;br /&gt;D'un tournesol dans sa fleur&lt;br /&gt;Tu fais tourner de ton nom&lt;br /&gt;Tous les moulins de mon coeur&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce jour-là près de la source&lt;br /&gt;Dieu sait ce que tu m'as dit&lt;br /&gt;Mais l'été finit sa course,&lt;br /&gt;L'oiseau tomba de son nid&lt;br /&gt;Et voilà que sur le sable&lt;br /&gt;Nos pas s'effacent déjà&lt;br /&gt;Et je suis seul à la table&lt;br /&gt;Qui résonne sous mes doigts&lt;br /&gt;Comme un tambourin qui pleure&lt;br /&gt;Sous les gouttes de la pluie&lt;br /&gt;Comme les chansons qui meurent&lt;br /&gt;Aussitôt qu'on les oublie&lt;br /&gt;Et les feuilles de l'automne&lt;br /&gt;Rencontrent des ciels moins bleus&lt;br /&gt;Et ton absence leur donne&lt;br /&gt;La couleur de tes cheveux&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KnJWtUfHH-o&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KnJWtUfHH-o&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2656025384674875733?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2656025384674875733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2656025384674875733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/12/comme-une-pierre-que-lon-jette-dans.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-1064380136211119248</id><published>2009-12-01T20:58:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-12-01T21:15:22.547Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir= "ltr" align = "left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What matters is that when it comes to action, who will pull the trigger. There one can tell a gigolo from a soldier.&lt;br /&gt;I wont trust it no more. Not that it hurts, but I simply dont want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-1064380136211119248?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1064380136211119248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1064380136211119248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-matters-is-that-when-it-comes-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6599174307314236953</id><published>2009-11-30T20:25:00.007Z</published><updated>2009-11-30T20:32:38.432Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2l47NxDj4VM/SxQqTXeognI/AAAAAAAAA2k/NGA4qHtV6ew/s1600/ticket2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand; width: 303; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2l47NxDj4VM/SxQqTXeognI/AAAAAAAAA2k/NGA4qHtV6ew/s400/ticket2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409995564587188850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align = "center" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have escaped if it was not James Bond after me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6599174307314236953?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6599174307314236953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6599174307314236953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-would-have-escaped-if-it-was-not.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2l47NxDj4VM/SxQqTXeognI/AAAAAAAAA2k/NGA4qHtV6ew/s72-c/ticket2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5030793381482385736</id><published>2009-11-13T18:20:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-11-13T18:24:47.118Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CpL6EWpM6oo&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CpL6EWpM6oo&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck all that we've got to get on with these&lt;br /&gt;Gotta compete with the wily Japanese.&lt;br /&gt;There's too many home fires burning&lt;br /&gt;And not enough trees.&lt;br /&gt;So fuck all that&lt;br /&gt;We've go to get on with these. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;font size = 1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Not_Now_John#Composition"&gt;Not Now John&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Final Cut&lt;br /&gt;Pink Floyd&lt;br /&gt;1983&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5030793381482385736?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5030793381482385736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5030793381482385736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/11/fuck-all-that-weve-got-to-get-on-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8763811592432734609</id><published>2009-11-09T00:10:00.003Z</published><updated>2009-11-09T00:12:16.097Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"... در این سال‌ها برخي نویسندگان وسوسه شده اند که تنوین را در واژه‌هایِ عربی‌تبار به جایِ شکلِ نوشتنِ آن به شیوه‌یِ زبان‌تگاره‌یِ سنّتی، یعنی [-ًا]، بر اساسِ واگویه‌ (یا تلفّظِ) آن به [-ن] در فارسی تبدیل کنند. برایِ مثال، «تقریباً» را «تقریبن» بنویسند. این گرایش نخست به صورتِ شوخی و بازی از وغ وغ ساهابِ صادق هدایت آغاز شد و سپس کساني آن را در روزگارانِ بعدی جدّی گرفتند و تقلید کردند. هدایت در نوشته‌هایِ دیگر- اش هرگز این شیوه را دنبال نکرد. ناصر وثوقی شاید نخستین کسي باشد که این شیوه را، در مجلّه‌ی اندیشه و هنر، به صورتِ جدّی  کار برده است و اکنون کساني از نویسندگانِ نسل‌هایِ جوان‌تر آن را دنبال می‌کنند. امّا، به نظرِ من، این شیوه هیچ مشکلي را حل نمی‌کند و تنها بر ابهامِ خطِ فارسی می‌افزاید..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;- &lt;a href="http://ashouri.malakut.org/2005/10/post_15.html"&gt;نگاهي به یک مقوله‌یِ زبانی: داستانِ تنوین&lt;/a&gt; - داریوش آشوری&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8763811592432734609?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8763811592432734609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8763811592432734609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/11/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2317525292985638354</id><published>2009-10-30T16:31:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-12-07T19:56:45.914Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Every rock you throw at her is a poisonous bite of your sadistic super ego to the dreams you always suppressed in you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2317525292985638354?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2317525292985638354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2317525292985638354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/10/every-rock-you-throw-at-her-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2454554186523267171</id><published>2009-10-12T17:37:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T20:51:55.416+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every once in a while I wake up to see I am living the life of an asshole. I try to change those of habits making me feel so, and it only takes couple of more yeas to realize I again have gained the symptoms of another asshole. I aint going to give up yet though. In the end, my life might be lying between these states.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2454554186523267171?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2454554186523267171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2454554186523267171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/10/every-once-in-while-i-wake-up-to-see-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7644042601966738746</id><published>2009-09-24T22:47:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T22:51:00.734+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>تا حالا دیدین پدر مادری رو که بچه شون مرده و اتاقش رو دست نخورده گذاشتن، و بعد خیلی سال یه بار که مهمون دارن و مهمونشون یه بچه بانمک داره اسباب بازی های بچه شونو میدن به یارو تخم سگه واسه خودش؟ به نظرم خیلی لحظه باشکوهیه.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7644042601966738746?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7644042601966738746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7644042601966738746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post_24.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-3334666103379158100</id><published>2009-09-20T18:31:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T18:32:08.004+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>از دوران دبستان یکی این یادمه که ازمون می خواستن دایره ای بکشیم به شعاع دوسانت.&lt;br /&gt;الان که فکرش رو می کنم می بینم که خیلی هم لزومی نداشت.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-3334666103379158100?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3334666103379158100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/3334666103379158100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5209622439906765076</id><published>2009-08-24T05:37:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T05:43:21.181+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Kinda quality khaltoor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" width="335" height="28" id="divplaylist"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.divshare.com/flash/playlist?myId=8273935-00b" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.divshare.com/flash/playlist?myId=8273935-00b" width="335" height="28" name="divplaylist" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5209622439906765076?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5209622439906765076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5209622439906765076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7851744921948335670</id><published>2009-08-06T21:44:00.021+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T06:00:45.946+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old fellow is hoping to make about 5000 KM in 11 days:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&amp;amp;ie=UTF8&amp;amp;msa=0&amp;amp;msid=110683290434896847046.000470a86ffcd0848133f&amp;amp;ll=46.619261,-68.115234&amp;amp;spn=10.565943,18.676758&amp;amp;z=5&amp;amp;output=embed"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;small&gt;View &lt;a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&amp;amp;ie=UTF8&amp;amp;msa=0&amp;amp;msid=110683290434896847046.000470a86ffcd0848133f&amp;amp;ll=46.619261,-68.115234&amp;amp;spn=10.565943,18.676758&amp;amp;z=5&amp;amp;source=embed" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left"&gt;Eastern Canada tour &lt;/a&gt; in a larger map&lt;/small&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riding along the shores of the river, breathing in the fresh salty air coming off the water, believing in the freedom of the open road. Motorcycle riding creates an amazing feeling of being part of the vast natural landscape around you. I am trying to share this experience with my friends on my personal web TV channel. Starting from Tuesday August 11th - stay tune. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="295" width="353" id="live_embed_player_flash" data="http://www.justin.tv/widgets/live_embed_player.swf?channel=mo_alian" bgcolor="#000000"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="all" /&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.justin.tv/widgets/live_embed_player.swf" /&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="channel=mo_alian&amp;auto_play=false&amp;start_volume=25" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.justin.tv/mo_alian" style="padding:2px 0px 4px; display:block; width:345px; font-weight:normal; font-size:10px; text-decoration:underline; text-align:center;"&gt;Watch live video from Mo Live on Justin.tv&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2l47NxDj4VM/Sn5Xqmn_T-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/7_SHPXrDFIA/s1600-h/motorcycle03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 173px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2l47NxDj4VM/Sn5Xqmn_T-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/7_SHPXrDFIA/s400/motorcycle03.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367824195306606562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7851744921948335670?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7851744921948335670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7851744921948335670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/08/view-larger-map.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2l47NxDj4VM/Sn5Xqmn_T-I/AAAAAAAAA1U/7_SHPXrDFIA/s72-c/motorcycle03.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7843170799111994503</id><published>2009-07-23T18:11:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T18:12:17.644+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yK9IdHBNR5Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yK9IdHBNR5Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7843170799111994503?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7843170799111994503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7843170799111994503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_23.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4790112424284112509</id><published>2009-07-16T16:49:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T21:29:16.561+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday dawns at me trying to put together the shattered pieces of nightmares I had had all night long. While the echos of voices of dead and alive are still whispering parts of their everyday miserable lives in my head, I confusedly ask myself where am I. The blurry gray sky out of the dusty wooden window frame patiently waits for my eyes to open to give me the answer: "Montreal". "And alone", I add.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4790112424284112509?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4790112424284112509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4790112424284112509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/everyday-dawns-at-me-trying-to-put.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6630525235659495624</id><published>2009-07-11T18:03:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T19:46:49.170+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"- آنها کجا می روند؟ می میرند؟&lt;br /&gt;- آری پسرم، اما بدان که اینگونه مردن، سوغاتی خداوند است.&lt;br /&gt;- این همه سوغاتی؟ آیا کافی نیست؟"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6630525235659495624?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6630525235659495624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6630525235659495624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_11.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6573281906659704766</id><published>2009-07-07T15:01:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T15:01:18.815+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;لا اقسم بهذا البلد&lt;br /&gt;و انت حل بهذا البلد&lt;br /&gt;و والد و ما ولد&lt;br /&gt;لقد خلقنا الانسان فی کبد&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6573281906659704766?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6573281906659704766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6573281906659704766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4353654003987432081</id><published>2009-07-06T22:32:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T22:36:09.199+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"بس بگردید و بگردد روزگار&lt;br /&gt;دل به دنیا درنبندد هوشیار&lt;br /&gt;ای که دستت می‌رسد کاری بکن&lt;br /&gt;پیش از آن کز تو نیاید هیچ کار&lt;br /&gt;اینکه در شهنامه‌هاآورده‌اند&lt;br /&gt;رستم و رویینه‌تن اسفندیار&lt;br /&gt;تا بدانند این خداوندان ملک&lt;br /&gt;کز بسی خلقست دنیا یادگار&lt;br /&gt;اینهمه رفتند و مای شوخ چشم&lt;br /&gt;هیچ نگرفتیم از ایشان اعتبار&lt;br /&gt;ای که وقتی نطفه بودی بی‌خبر&lt;br /&gt;وقت دیگر طفل بودی شیرخوار&lt;br /&gt;مدتی بالا گرفتی تا بلوغ&lt;br /&gt;سرو بالایی شدی سیمین عذار&lt;br /&gt;همچنین تا مرد نام‌آور شدی&lt;br /&gt;فارس میدان و صید و کارزار&lt;br /&gt;آنچه دیدی بر قرار خود نماند&lt;br /&gt;وینچه بینی هم نماند بر قرار..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ساقی! به افتخار شیخ اجل پیاله همه رو پر کن. رفقا مهمون منن.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4353654003987432081?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4353654003987432081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4353654003987432081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_06.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-2100077048245433832</id><published>2009-07-01T21:40:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T21:44:02.932+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align = "left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the music's still the same&lt;br /&gt;It has a bittersweet refrain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xYLEYm6BWoc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xYLEYm6BWoc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-2100077048245433832?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2100077048245433832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/2100077048245433832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/though-musics-still-same-it-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-813636444858788118</id><published>2009-07-01T21:38:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T21:44:36.195+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>اگر که به اسطوره نرسیدیم، از درازی قامت اسطوره نبوده. کوتاهی از ما بوده.&lt;br /&gt;شما برو جان برادر، می رسی.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-813636444858788118?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/813636444858788118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/813636444858788118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-6574957988172085824</id><published>2009-06-04T22:34:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T22:45:03.753+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>تقدیم به همه رفقای تاس شکم گنده، که یه موقعی زلفشون افشون بود و هیکلشون قلمی و شلوارشون پاچه گشاد، و برای دفعه سوم می رفتن سینما که "جوانان زیرآفتاب" آلبانو و رومینیا پاور ببینن.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;p dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Felicita:&lt;br /&gt;Is to turn off the lights to make peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vE5coeBAZBY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vE5coeBAZBY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-6574957988172085824?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6574957988172085824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/6574957988172085824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4140830322723562493</id><published>2009-05-19T02:04:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T02:19:00.373+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>روزهایم با خرسندی و غنای پنهانی که اغلب مردمان در آرزویش هستند طی می شود. تقریبا هر کاری را که می کنم دوست دارم. بی آنکه روال اصلی روزانه عوض شده باشد، چیزی هست که هرآن چیز را که هست خوشایند تر می کند. آنچه را که تا پیش از این یا از سر هجوم ناخرسندی انجام نمی دادم و یا فقط به عنوان درمان به سراغشان می رفتم اکنون با آرامش و طیب خاطر انجام می دهم. کارهایی چون دیدن فیلمی که زمان مدید به انتظار نشسته بوده و یا امتحان یک غذای جدید و یا کد کردن ایده جدیدی برای کار دانشگاه و یا ثبت نام برای کلاسی که هیچ وقت برایش وقت نداشتم. بازمانده پس اندازم که یکسره رو به افول است همچنان اجازه چنین خوشی هایی را می دهد، آنقدر که هنوز تقریبا هر چه را که میل دارم تهیه می کنم. و عجیب اینکه این سرخوشی از زندگی، هراس از آینده را هم محو کرده. می دانم که پس اندازم هم که به ته برسد راهی خواهد بود. کاری پاره وقت یا شبانه در کافه ای یا می خانه ای، یا ایده جدیدی، هر چه که باشد. سالها آرزوی چنین زندگی را داشتم و اینک در آن غوطه ورم. خرسندم، بی آنکه نیاز باشد قدر دان کسی باشم، و این خود خرسندیم را می افزاید.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4140830322723562493?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4140830322723562493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4140830322723562493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-1772068992921804426</id><published>2009-05-16T06:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T06:17:42.361+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WO4wcNVbYOQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WO4wcNVbYOQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align = "left" dir = "ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You remember this one, don't you old chaps?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-1772068992921804426?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1772068992921804426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/1772068992921804426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-remember-this-one-dont-you-old.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4629376248823455403</id><published>2009-04-15T16:59:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T17:04:39.197+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>موعد اپلای برای یه جایزه است که فقط به یه نفر تو کل دانشگاه - شامل همه دپارتمانها - می رسه. به استادم یادآوری می کنم که امروز ظهر موعد تحویل مدارکه، بهم توصیه نامه میدی؟ یه دو ساعت بعد ایمیل می زنه که بالاخره آماده شده، گذاشته تو دفتر تحصیلات تکمیلی. بهش یه ایمیل می زنم و میگم:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align = "left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you very much. You and all your students will be my guest for a dinner at Baton Rouge if I win this award!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;چند دقیقه بعدش جواب می ده که:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align = "left" dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apply for more grants, and I will write you more letters!&lt;br /&gt;As to the animal sacrifice at Baton Rouge: I think&lt;br /&gt;this usually has a probably effect on the gods when the&lt;br /&gt;sacrifice is offered prior to and not after the required event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4629376248823455403?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4629376248823455403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4629376248823455403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/04/blog-post_15.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-5286800169816375659</id><published>2009-04-04T23:21:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T23:24:31.904+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"بعد از شستن برنج، مقدار معینی باقالی سبز به آن اضافه کنید"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;البته ایشون نگفتن کسانی که مقدار نامعینی باقالی سبز دارن تکلیفشون چیه.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-5286800169816375659?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5286800169816375659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/5286800169816375659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4532136560239934876</id><published>2009-03-30T20:24:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T20:32:34.769+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are mornings which even coffee or gym cannot shatter the depression. Ask for Johnny Cash then, and he will put you together. The guy knows his job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lRGzQYoijO8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lRGzQYoijO8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4532136560239934876?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4532136560239934876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4532136560239934876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/03/there-are-mornings-which-even-coffee-or.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8812203906456188992</id><published>2009-03-25T14:52:00.004Z</published><updated>2009-03-25T16:30:37.101Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>کسی متنی از قرن دوازدهم به قبل سراغ داره که توش از ضمیر "شما" برای خطاب احترام آمیز دوم شخص مفرد استفاده شده باشه؟ تا جایی که من یادم میاد اولا کسی فرادست خودش رو مخاطب قرار نمی داده و از وجه مصدری التزامی استفاده می کرده (1) و یا از صفتی برای تکریم و بعد از اون از سوم شخص استفاده می کرده (2) و یا اینکه همینجوری از دوم شخص مفرد استفاده می کرده(3). یحتمل که این استفاده "شما" به جای "تو" هم کار "بنجوق موسیو" های فرنگی نسل اول باشه که موقع برداشتن کلاه فرنگیشون به Tu می گفتن Vous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;به طارم بنشینید، که حسنک را آن جا خواهند آورد&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;به طارم بايد نشست، که حسنک را آن‌جا خواهند اورد&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;باید فرمان خلیفه را در این باب نگاه دارید&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;فرمان خليفه در اين باب نگاه بايد داشت&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;نخواهم رفت تا آن‌گاه که شما بخسبید، که نبايد رقعتي نويسید به سلطان، در باب حسنک به شفاعت&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;نخواهم رفت تا آن‌گاه که خداوند بخسبد، که نبايد رقعتي نويسد به سلطان، در باب حسنک به شفاعت&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;توقع به کرم و اخلاق شماست که به بخشیدن خون او بر بنده منت دهید&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;توقع به کرم و اخلاق خداوندیست که به بخشیدن خون او بر بنده منت نهد&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;گفت ای ملک چو گرد آمدن خلقی موجب پادشاهیست شما مر خلق را پریشان برای چه می کنید مگر سر پادشاهی کردن ندارید؟&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;گفت ای ملک چو گرد آمدن خلقی موجب پادشاهیست تو مر خلق را پریشان برای چه می کنی مگر سر پادشاهی کردن نداری؟&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ملک را گفت اگر فرمان دهید من او را به طریقی خامش گردانم&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ملک را گفت اگر فرمان دهی من او را به طریقی خامش گردانم&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8812203906456188992?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8812203906456188992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8812203906456188992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/03/1-2-3.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-4629534035865049120</id><published>2009-03-11T03:14:00.001Z</published><updated>2009-03-11T03:16:46.310Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ترا گمه ميرزا کوچک خانا&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1SfA-DBkHts&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1SfA-DBkHts&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;چقد جنگلَ خوسی، ملت و َسی، خسته نُبُستی، می‌جان جانانا٬ تَرا گَمَه ميرزا کوچک خانا&lt;br /&gt;خدا دانه که من، نتانم خفتن، از ترس دشمن، می دل آويزانا٬ ترا گمه ميرزا کوچک خانا&lt;br /&gt;چِر ِه زوتر نايی، تندتر نايی، تنها بنايی، گيلان ويرانا٬ ترا گمه ميرزا کوچک خانا &lt;br /&gt;بيا ای روح روان، تی‌ريشا ‌قربان، بهم نوانان، تی کاس چومانا٬ ترا گمه ميرزا کوچک خانا&lt;br /&gt;اَمه رشتی جَغَلان، ايسيم تی‌ فرمان، کُنيم اَمه جان، تی پا جير قربانا٬ ترا گمه ميرزا کوچک خانا&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-4629534035865049120?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4629534035865049120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/4629534035865049120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post_10.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-8716107000053869137</id><published>2009-03-01T05:35:00.002Z</published><updated>2009-03-01T05:39:59.119Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>رنگ خـون دل مــا را کـه نهــان مـی​داری&lt;br /&gt;همچنان در لب لعل تو عیان است که بود&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-8716107000053869137?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8716107000053869137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/8716107000053869137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smtp2.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Mo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3921415.post-7736572805649283406</id><published>2009-02-25T16:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2009-02-25T16:32:02.229Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>بیشتر از سه سال آزگار از اون روزایی که میرفتم پیشش - تو اتاقش تو اون خونه همیشه تاریک همیشه ساکت تو اون شهر نم گرفته ابری - گذشته و حالا دیگه اون آدمای دیگه ای رو می بینه و من هم. جای اون بچه میمونی رو هم که پوسترش رو به اتاقش داشت و من همیشه بعد از اینکه کارمون تموم میشد غرق معصومیت چشمای درشت سیاهش می شدم و تنهاچیزی بود که از اون همه نگرانی درم میاورد و تا مدتها بعد هم با هر کسی که بودم وقتی چشمام رو می بستم باز همون نگاه حیرون معصومانه اش بود که آرومم می کرد، این اواخر فکر کردن به این گرفته که یه روز با یه هوندا وی تی ایکس سیاه گنده تو یه بیابون برهوت گشاد برم که تا چشم کار می کنه نه آب هست و نه آبادی. از وقتی این بیابون برهوت گل و گشاد با شنهای دوطرف جاده اش جای چشمای اون بچه میمون اومده، حس می کنم آخرین ارتباطم باهاش هم قطع شده.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3921415-7736572805649283406?l=smtp2.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7736572805649283406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3921415/posts/default/7736572805649283406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' 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