Send My Love to Anyone | Issue 6

with Khashayar Mohammadi and Jessica Le

Jul 01, 2021

Send My Love to Anyone is a newsletter on all things writing (and art and film) by Kathryn Mockler & guests. Subscribe here.

Hello friends,

Welcome to Issue #6 of Send My Love to Anyone.

This month’s micro interview features poet and translator Khashayar Mohammadi who shares a first memory of writing creatively and tells us about his debut poetry collection, Me, You, Then Snow (Gordon Hill Press, 2021).

Poet Jessica Le shares three poems.

And I write about navigating in-person literary and art events.

ICYMI here are the June Recommendations — a grab bag of calls, events, recommended reads, and links.

I’d love to hear from you!

You can write to me at admin@kathrynmockler.com or anonymously here.

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Kathryn

Micro Interview with Khashayar Mohammadi

Kathryn Mockler: What is your first memory of writing creatively?

Khashayar Mohammadi: My first memory of writing is under severe mental duress. Me and a friend were running through a mall until two security guards approached us, twisted our hands behind our bags, and carried us to be humiliated through the shopping centre next to our school where everyone knew us (this happened back home in Iran and this is not a story of racial profiling, but a simple story of the abuse of power). We were held in custody for a few hours and talked to aggressively constantly, letting rage build up while being held down and screamed at. After being let go, I came home and having always been happiest in solitude, with a piece of paper, I wrote a fantasy short story about power politics and heroism. I consider that my first ever instance of “writing as coping” which is all writing is to me really.

You say you hear us and that you understand the urgency*

the year is unknown and we are running

through alleyways. again and again we pass

by poster ads for strangely-shaped watermelon,

get it in a square! get it in a triangle! hell, get it

in whatever shape you like. they drip red paint

onto the ground. lives spent chasing and being chased,

breaking into houses already broken

into — green-leaf wrath and choking. behind the

ivy we make fun of graffiti covered walls, turning weather warnings

into dance numbers, and in the background there is always

the record playing on repeat: it's not too late. it's not

too late. it's not too late. so by the time we make it

to the dust street, clambering onto the top of the car,

it's nearly dawn. we're taking in the prairie, arms extended,

wondering if the dove will come down

on its own or if it needs to be beckoned.

*from Greta Thunberg's speech at the U.N. Climate Action Summit on September 23, 2019.

Previosuly published in Watch Your Head: Writers and Artists Respond to the Climate Crisis (Coach House Books, 2020).

Kathryn Mockler @themockler

One thing I don't miss is chatting with someone at a literary event while they look around the room for someone better to talk to. Let's not do that anymore when we go back.

The response to this tweet to it got me thinking about what it used to be like interacting at literary, film, and art events, conferences, and festivals.

I’m sure I’ve unintentionally caused harm — reintroduced myself to someone I’ve met before or not introduced someone because I couldn’t remember their name or looked around the room nervously which could be interpreted as looking for someone else to talk to. I’m stressed at social gatherings, and if I’m one of the readers it is impossible for me to converse beforehand which is why I usually hide in the bathroom until the event starts.

Given my own social anxiety, I try to look for good intentions in most people. And if I sense that their behaviour could be operating out of something other than ego and careerism, I will give the benefit of the doubt.