There was nothing but sand here. Now, a picture-perfect 21st century metropolis stands tall with pride.
It’s Tuesday, and he’s on an Airbus, 32,972 feet above land, waiting for a computer network to ping him and beg him to return.
Fall 2013 will forever be imprinted in my mind with a melancholic pop song about our enigmatic obsession with the Homeland. In my mind’s eye these days, Arabo Ispiryan’s cinematic music video plays in repeat.
Sometimes if you’re watching the clouds, the genius algorithms of our connectivity and oneness in the universe spell themselves out in plain sight.
It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. This wasn’t how it was scripted.
On the edge of this multicultural metropolis, miles shy of the suburban promises of Americana in Orange County, thousands of cars have come to a halt on a massive multilaned interstate in Buena Park. Cars, new and old, foreign and domestic, weave an incomprehensible tale of multicultural harmony in our globalized 21st century.
In a haunting phonograph recording from 100 years ago in Paris, the scratchy and hollow, melancholic and faraway voice of genius priest Komitas comes to life via 0’s and 1’s, bits and bytes, on an iPhone 4S in Hawaii.
“Sone le le” from Andre’s 1000x album is blaring in your earbuds as you battle your default human nature of being unsatisfied, lazy, suffering, lethargic and ennuied.
On Friday, April 24, 2015, I walked among hundreds of thousands snaking through the reflective pathway to the needle monument and concrete slabs nesting our eternal flame.
BY PAUL CHADERJIAN Once there were and there were not… Trade winds keep the Tiki lounge overlooking Waikiki breezy and cool. Frozen and blended tropical drinks with rum, strawberries and bananas have made everyone giddy. “To free and fair elections,” says one of them. They laugh and drink. “Wait, wait,” says another. “To the Genocide…