296/365

there was so much light at the house on the water
pouring in through the giant bay window, reflecting
off the yellow table. yoko was absorbed by heat
and delivered her kittens in my parents underwear drawer
one day after school when i was home alone. wolfie died
their. the chronology in a knotted mess. kaveh cried
throughout the night, but it was okay, i was finally not alone.
there were smiles and sunday boat parades. they bought
me a boat from marin surplus that could take me to the sea.
i manoeuvred it in between the yatchs and sailboats through
the canal. one night i took my dad to the mouth off the bay.
it was dark. he sipped his wine. the waves were strong.
i was only twelve maybe thirteen. i had kissed a girl and drunk
until i puked already, but he didn’t know about either.
he trusted me to steer the boat. i felt like a man. this was
the house where i knew i didn’t need them anymore.
the sunshine and the boats brought smiles and freedom.
i learned about led zeppelin and bob dylan there. i learned
about the power of turpentine to dilute stiffened dried paint
and release it unto a canvas. i learned the beauty of being alone.
sitting on the roof at night watching the stars, leaving the window
open, a cool breeze on my naked chest, as i fell asleep.
there was so much light at the house on the water
pouring in through the giant bay window, reflecting
off the yellow table.

115/365

i don’t remember
ever doing laundry
in my twenties:
not in san diego
not in san rafael
not in novato
not in san francisco
not in new your city.
there must have
been jars of quarters
and laundry bags
and laundromats,
hours of hungover
waiting. reading
big sur, tropic of cancer,
hells angels and love
is a dog from hell.

as a matter of fact,
i don’t remember
ever buying clothes
in my twenties.
things fell
into my lap.
picked up
from the floor.
here and there.
took that shirt
from his places
in santa barbara and la,
cut up those
fox motorcross pants
and wore them to
classes before
dropping out.
checkered chef’s pants
worn as long shorts
with a singlet
to pier 23.
maybe some
goodwill slacks
and vintage tees.

but i must have
washed the clothes
somehow. somewhere.
because,
the one time
jeff brought home
jewel that pitbull
when we all shared a room
in that place on mary lane  
and all our clothes
jumbled on the floor
and the dog
was seldom walked
and it got stuck
in the room overnight
and in the morning
the whole room stank
and we couldn’t find
the turd;
i probably didn’t
leave the house
smelling like dog shit.

or maybe I did.
i don’t remember
ever doing laundry
in my twenties.

101/365

what does it mean
to be from a place?

to be born there?
go to school there?
to learn english there?
have your first kiss there?
fall in love there?
make friends there?
learn your place there?
do everything to escape there?
never want to go back there?
miss it more than anywhere there?
want to rest there?
hope to die there?

the 101
is the aorta of the state,
hell maybe the whole country,
of the world for me.
especially
the twenty eight
point three miles
from novato to the city.

i know every exit:
south novato boulevard
mission avenue to central san rafael
lucas valley road and smith valley road
sir francis drake boulevard.

every little town:
fairfax, corte madera, larkspur, mill valley, tiburón.
the artery to the mountain, the bay, the ocean, the redwood forest.

lived in san rafael, fairfax, novato
worked at the ice cream shop, the jc penny’s,
the movie theatres and the banks.

the world felt so small
growing up there.
home is never
a big enough place to
tether a wandering heart.

but the 101
proves to be a rugged
lodestone.

northbound over the horse hill preserve
southbound out of the robin william’s tunnel
onto the bridge
into the city
always feels like home.

where are you from?
born in iran but grew up
in the states,
california,
san francisco bay area

i am from marin county
i am from the 101.

Red Neck

We did not take the California sun seriously enough. Their air was cool, there was a breeze, and it did not feel Singapore hot, so we went easy on the sunscreen. As a result we are all burned. Not majorly, but enough so that we are red and it hurts, but it was worth it. Beautiful day out at Stinson. Sat around and watched kids- play in the freezing surf, play in the sand while we chatted with Richard and Anja. I love how old solid friendships pick up right where you leave them.

Then we were off to Erika’s for dinner. And oh my god! What a dinner. Such a nice evening catching up with Josh and Lacey, Hilary and her husband (Jimmy) and Erika and Mike. Great food. Nice wine. Kids playing. A fire. Music. Old Yearbooks. I was having such a good time I didn’t take any photos. I know Erika took one so I hope she posts it soon, but I cannot say thank you enough. Way too much. Way too kind. And perfect.

Our kids were troopers. They did a full day at the beach and then up till eleven swimming and playing with strangers’ kids. And not one breakdown. It’s time to take this sun burnt, slightly buzzed and totally satisfied body to sleep. I can’t believe we have only be in the US for three days. This is going to be an amazing summer. We are just getting started. 

Summertime And The Living's Easy

I don’t want to jinx it but, Raisdana’s 1- Jet Lag 0.


Had a great night of sleep last night. All in bed around nine and pretty much slept straight through until eight am. After a quick breakfast at The Depot and a not so quick trip to Verizon and AT&T, we headed toward Samuel P. Taylor Park.


The air smelt like childhood, the sun was warm and the breeze cool. The girls went wild on our short but beautiful hike. It was so great sharing one of my favorite childhood spots. I wish we had more time to actually do some camping or to take a longer hike, but we will have lots more opportunities in the Redwoods, Oregon, Washington and Squamish.


Some random thoughts and observations:


Americans can’t park. Taking up two spots. Parking way outside of the lines. Singaporeans would be appalled. Having said that, they actually let you in when you signal and merge lanes.


Customer service people actually talk you. Erik at AT&T was super helpful and talkative. In Singapore there is no small talk among strangers.


Whole Foods is a Vegetarian/Vegan paradise.


San Rafael is looking a bit rundown. So many empty shops and older buildings. I always forget how many homeless people there are in the USA. Even beyond that there is definitely fringe culture in here that you seldom see in Singapore. People looking a bit wild and dangerous, and this is Marin country of all places.


We had a long talk with the kids about operating on a shorter leash here in the US. We let them navigate malls and public spaces on their own in Singapore, as it is super safe, but we are a bit more concerned here in the US. We might have over done it, as was evidenced when Skyelar asked, “Are there kidnapper and thieves in California?”


First thing Kaia asked before she brushed her teeth, “Can we use the tap water?”


The kids are so excited by everything American. They have each said on a few separate occasions how great and pretty everything is in America. Weird/funny where this pride comes from.


We spent the afternoon visiting with The Doherty’s. Little Tommy was a huge hit. OMG that kid is cute. And now, it is nine pm and we are all ready of bed. Big day tomorrow with friends at the beach.