A lot of throaty noises......

I have written for a year, haven't done a push up in weeks. Intention. Once again sitting in front of the computer, and finally a few words gouge away.

How to describe this trip to Urmia. The place of my family, my fathers family....and so often forgotten

My family, they are my family as well.  

They have been so accommodating, I haven't cooked a meal since I got here (not necessarily how I prefer it). It has also been difficult to find oneself, but then again not, such is the duality. I treasure my alone time, and have been catching up on some books from the queue, and some books graciously donated to me by friends before I left. 

I burned through the fiction quite quickly, and now I am once again stuck with the depressing non-fiction history of the murderous greed of the human race. Thanks Howard Zinn and David Dorado Romo.

But despite this depressing history of oppression in the United States, I am currently in a more oppressed country. Iran. The Islamic fucking republic of Iran. 

IF you didn't know, everyone drives like a total asshole, take every Jersey d'bag driving a BMW, and that is little old women driving a Paykan running you off the road.

this shit is Chaos.

If you know me, I can go on a tirade about the complete lack of discipline of drivers in this country. Your screen would be hot to the touch if I went down that road. You know my cousin actually got a seat belt ticket?    I am not sure what blows my mind more, that they actually have a seatbelt law. Or that as the cop has us pulled over, drivers are blowing past us at ungodly speeds, on the wrong side of the road, which requires the other driver to head into the shoulder, all in front of a cop. Fucking chaos. 

I had hoped to stay here for two months, or at least my father wanted me to do so. But reality is, this country is no place for young people. The most fun one can have is drinking moonshine at your parents place, with nothing but your cousins of the same sex. 

 Dance clubs, forget about that, holding your partners hand in public, you might end up in jail. You might get away with going to the Kurd town of Band and drinking a tasty melon drink, or some fermented yogurt (shits real good man).