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=> Just Dropped By For Kishmisheh

Just Dropped By For Kishmisheh
Posted by Emil (Guest) squaremoon@emilsdiary.com - Thursday, December 8 2005, 0:27:29 (CET)
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Website: http://www.emilsdiary.com/
Website title: Square Moon Diary of Emil Keliane

Yes, I stop by and read the threads- almost always dangerously enlightening- but I have been transcribing my handwritten diary so that I may call Dave- a fifty-nine-year-old, funny, generous, veeery quirky, and dear friend- who will talk me, step by baby step, through posting it on “Square Moon”.
And since everyone needs a little Emil now and then, here are two somewhat randomly-selected excerpts I wanted to contribute.
Enjoy. Comments are appreciated…

Oh, and Farid, Jeff recommended I read what’s up and running in the archives and I printed “Islands 2” posted on June 28, 2001, and am reading it. Good stuff.


December 1998

Now about Mitra. She is my age, attractive, has gorgeous brown eyes that sparkle under gracefully arching eyebrows. Her skin is milky and supple, and it seems to glow. She is the product of an Iranian father and American mother. When I first met her through Anna I had been somewhat intimidated not only by her newness, but by her Persian beauty and posture.
But upon further interacting with her at parties in Marin I found my reservations gradually fading as she proved to be an unpretentious, tender, and fun-loving young woman.
Soon we were thrilled to see each other at parties and would hug and kiss playfully on both cheeks!
Two nights ago we had planned to go bowling just the two of us, but decided last minute to seek a quiet bar where we could talk. And this we did for hours as it rained outside. It rained inside too- a sprinkle of words, slow comfortable gestures, so many facial expressions, anecdotes, and low-toned confessions.
At moments we laughed out loud with our heads thrown back into the air, and at others we were solemn and teary-eyed.
Mitra confided that her father, a successful men's clothing retailer, has been fighting cancer and that his future remains uncertain. She was obviously heartbroken about this and asked me not to mention it to any of our mutual friends. Suddenly I saw Mitra for the person she is, real, as fallible and human as any of us, and felt privately shameful for having envied her the privileged upbringing.
I suppose none of it really matters- the money, the palatial home, the fancy car, the trips to exotic places, the fashionable clothes- when in the end all there is for any of us, no matter how rich, is a same death.
We burst into fits of laughter again when long into the night we discovered that Mitra had worn her top inside out!
How human, how same we are without ever really expecting it.
The intimacy I have encountered as a gay man in relation to women is always consummate, freefalling…
She asked about my life.
I said, 'When I was a teenager just coming out I asked my brother out of the blue if he would someday come over to my house for dinner with me and my lover. And he said no.'
Upon hearing this Mitra began to cry literal tears that streamed down her cheeks. We sipped the last of our drink and decided to head home.
Friendship. Intimacy. Just a little tenderness. Just a small gesture, a warm smile, some small effort- that is all I ask of life, of others.

Amy Sonnie writes:
Emil,
Thanks so much for your submission to "Revolutionary Voices". I really think your work makes a great addition to the book. I am enclosing your bio and the entries I would like to use. I edited only for length. Let me know if you are happy with the edits and order of the entries. I have titled your pieces "Diary Entries, 1995-1998". If you would like to call them something else let me know, but I think it's important to make mention of the fact that they are diary excerpts, as so many youth have not learned to value what they write in their journals and diaries as art! Your voice is crisp, honest, and real. I love the humor. I love the poetry of your language and I think you speak so eloquently about exile, assimilation, and the process of birthing yourself of two cultures. Love and warmth, Amy.
And all the while the U.S. bombs Iraq.
The U.S… where George Lucas and I exchange a few humorous words about Christmas shopping while being served at the perfume counter at Macy's.



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