CLOSETS

How the closets are so stuffed.
What for ?
Who the hell knows
Nothing fits
Nothing
And nothing will fit ever again

Throw the damn things out
What the hell are they there for ?
Give it to some one
There is no some one
Everyone is very rich here
No one wants charity

And the charity shops want you to pack the stuff and bring it to them
Such arrogance
Have to spend your own dollars on the cab to give charity...
Can't do it...
Throw the damn things out
What a waste....
So what ?
Life is wasted
What are things ?

To hell with it...
Air the place...
Throw everything out
Everything
Clothes
Books
Papers
Furniture
Jewels
Dishes
Spoons

Who are you going to feed /
Who is coming for dinner ?
Where are the guests ?
Where is the dinner party ?

Throw the china out
Throw the crystal out
Throw the candle holders out
Throw the candles out

No one is coming....

Throw the sofa out...
Throw the mirrors out
Mirrors have gained weight
A lots of weight
Scary gain
Frightening
How the hell did that happen ?

No movie star is this fat
No movie star lives here...
No movie star is coming for tea....
Who is the writer /
No body
Why are there two computers ?

Who the hell knows...
What are these note-books about ?
They are full of writing
But there is no writer here
Thats what I heard...
What are these note books about then ?

Some scribblings about nostalgia
Nostalgia of what ?
Good old days gone by...
There were good old days here ?
Some
What happened ?
Gone by....

Whats the scribble about /
Regret...
Regret ?
Yes...
About what /
About the days gone by....

And ?
And more regret
About what ?
The stuffed closets...
Empty them
Not so easy...
Throw things out

Not that easy
Need help ?
Who is there ?
No one....
Throw the things out one by one....

One mirror at a time...
One lamp at a time
One vase at a time
One coat at a time
One book at at a time
One dry rose at a time

That will take a lots of years
So what ?
Who has so many years ?
Things have to be thrown out...
Closets have to be aired
Why ?
Why not ?
But why ?

Why do closets need air when the inhabitants can't breath...
They will breath when the closets are empty....

What happened ?
Happened what ?
Why the closets got so stuffed ?
Exile....
Exile ?
Yes
What exile has to do with stuffed closets ?
Everything....

Throw the things out...
Empty out your exile
Exile is pretty empty....
Then why are the closets stuffed ?
Don't know....
Exile is a strange thing
Works in its own unique way

People loose touch with themselves
They exile themselves from the will
The will to do things
Like empty their closets....
They loose the will to do things
Exile does that....

WHAT'S THE ANXIETY ?

What's the anxiety ?
Do I know?
Wouldn't it go away if I knew...
Its of so many things, the usual stuff

I don't know if its because of the Un-ending cold weather or Obama never forgetting
to mention how he is going to take care of Pakistan and its terrorists...
Anxiety starts there whenever Obama is going to make any speech of any significance
I know he is going to mention Pakistan somehow somewhere....
And it never fails...Never
And how do I know that he is going to do that ?
How come I am always sure that he is going to mention the word, Pakistan ?
I know...Because he never fails to do that...
And then people stand up and give him another standing ovation...
They used to do the same for Bush also....Standing ovations and applause
They show the world that they are really serious in having some kind of conflict some-where all the time
And everyone in the congress stands up and give them standing ovations....

And you ask me where is the anxiety coming from ?
"I never ask you anything....I hardly know you. you are a recluse now, you are not the same, the same social animal,
going out, having passionate debates about Issues and expressions of concerns about the human demise."

And why should I have concerns about human demise ? First of all no one is human any more...
Only the poor and down trodden and slum-dwellers...
The Influential stand up and applaud at the mention of wars and missiles and kills...
Which human beings are having debates about the concerns of other human beings ?

'many...for example, the human rights groups, the Amnesty, the Ngo's>"

What are they doing ?

'They are travelling, going to different countries, having lunches, having cocktails, having disscussions, trying, at -least trying...."
You are right, they are trying while they are travelling...thats a good Idea...to reduce my anxiety I have to travel...yes, thats the answer...and who is going to pay the travel expanse and the lunch money ?

'Thats your job...Find a way...join human rights groups, Amnesty groups, join them, go travel like all the good will ambassodors like, Angelina Jolloie and Cloony ect."

Oh, you mean the stars ?

'They are good will people."
So am I
"B ut you are sitting at home...you have to travel to the down-trodden poor, conflict ridden countries such as Pakistan now and have disscussions with other humanitarian groups.."
After lunch or before lunch ?
'Doscussions take place after and before lunches and there are many coffee breaks."
That sounds really good
'Yes, its really good, you do the humanitarian work and they pay you and you talk and talk and eat lunch and go sight seeing."
There are sight to see in the conflict areas?
'Yes many sights to see, many hungry children, diseased with running noses and shivering legs in the flies ridden areas."
Oh! thats sad....
'But you can have faboulous lunch after that. Other people's poverty and hunger makes one very hungry."
So if I joined all those groups and travelled with them will Obama stop talking about Bombing Pakistan ?
'Whether he stops or not, your anxiety will go away because now you will be having discussion with other peace loving people and eating ."
But my anxiety is from Obama talking about Bombing Pakistan...
'What the hell would you care about Pakistan if you al ready belong to a peace movement, you will be clearing your own mind
with action."
And Obama's action will destroy my parents graves....
"Oh! I see....I didn't see it this way....I am American....
Thats the source of anxiety and it gets more aggravated every time Obama mentions Pakistan in very ominous way....
and...and
"Still you should join some peace loving NGO'S and have debates....get out of the apt and Do not watch any of Obama's speech ever again....."
Something to think about....thank you...I am going to throw the tv out....
"I thought you already did that...you threw your tv out when Bush was waging war against Iraq."
I did...but then I bought another TV set when Obama was running for president because I loved him and had lots of hope for the change....
'" Change is there honey....No more Iraq....lets move on...to new frontiers...thats what America means....I know, I am American
and thus has no anxiety of any kind...missiles will always fall in other place ...Terror ridden places...Well if you didn't come from places like Afghanistan and Iraq and Iran and Pakistan, you won't be anxiety stricken. Think American, be American, Stand up and give standing ovations and applaud for your safety....come on cheer up...lets go have breakfast, scrambled eggs, with whole wheat toast, and salad on the side with oil and vinegret, eat healthy and your thoughts will become healthy, you will start to see things differently....let Obama drop bombs on Pakistan, and if your mind is healthy, you will begin to think he is dropping flowers, Chamli flowers and Nargis flowers and Jasmine flowers....all your favorite flowers and you will smell the exotic smell of all those childhood flowers of yours and all your anxiety will go away."

CONTINUE THE MESS MADE LONG TIME AGO

The greatness is in the continuation of things long passed and remembered
The memory and its reflection in everything present, past and future is one of them
Future ? A cynical term
Who ever had no present has no future
What's in the present which will last for so long ?
Who says, its going to be long...
Who knows when it will happen whatever is going to happen to every one

And what's that ?
Different things happen to different people
And still the result is the same
The road between the crawling, standing, walking and running is the same for every one
And the long distance covered till it comes whatever is going to come is just exactly the same

Its nothingness silly
Nothingness...
and thats all.
End of the beginning
And the beginning of the end

We will go the park and celebrate the beginning of whatever it is...
Its better to celebrate than mourn...
Every one is going to mourn eventually
Life's other name is....nothingness

If you think about it....
Nothing is there
The bed is the only reality
No matter where you go, eventually you go to bed...
The bed can be a queen size bed, or a king size bed or a mattress on the floor
You end up there eventually...

From the theater, from the dinner, from the ball...
Bed is the only eventuality...

You better not have a messy bed....
There will be no place for you to lie down eventually....
Clear up the bed
Make space for your tired body after all the drinking and eating and drugs...
Keep the bed clean
If any thing which must not ne messy is the bed....
Don't continue the mess....

So many nightmares you will encounter otherwise...
Nightmare of not finishing
Not finishing
never finishing whatever you started..........
Thats the nightmare of nothingness....
Nothing achieved...
Nothing is there to be achieved
Its beyond your grasp
Beyond your reach....
Ultimate thrill is in clearing up the mess and then sleeping

COMEDIAN IN A COMA

That sounds like a muslim comedian.
She or he can't get up....from the haze they are in.

"Stand up for yourself and fight for your rights."
This is not meant for the muslim comedian.
Muslim comedian, if there is one is in a slumbering deep coma.

If the comedian is invited on David Letterman show or on Jay Leno
If that is ever possible at all, they would have to bring them on for their funny comedy routine on a strecher.

THAT CAN BE FUNNY IN ITSELF.
A HALF DEAD MUSLIM ON A STRECHER WHO GETS THREE MINUTES ON JAY LENO SHOW TO MAKE HIS OR HER MARK...

'Hey, guys, we can be funny, if you can let us stand up, we can crack a joke or two and make
all of you giggle at least.

That can be hilarious...
I want to be that muslim comedian....
Who can have the belly to get a laugh out of and get it transported to the whole world
at mid-night to change their attitude of thinking that a muslim person even in a coma can be funny...

I want to do this act.
Its my Idea
My copyright
my conception
my execution
my direction

STAGE DIRECTION:
A MUSLIM WOMAN COMEDIAN
BEING BROUGHT TO SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE SEMICOMATOZED
MUSIC PLAYS,
SHE IN A SLOW MOTION FORMATE LIKE A SILENT MOVIE RISES SLOWLY AND ELEGANTLY
AND WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY SAYS A FEW WORDS WHICH NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND...

SHE GETS A LITTLE MORE ENERGY AND MOVES A BIT
SHE CLEARS HER THROAT
AND ANNOUNCES,

"I AM A MUSLIM WOMAN COMEDIAN WHO HAS BEEN IN A COMA FOR THE LONGEST POSSIBLE TIME OF HER LIFE
AND NOW WANTS TO WAKE UP, MOTIVATE HER SELF AND BOUNCE BACK TO FULL, FUNCTIONING, HEALTHY, LAUGHING LIFE. {Muslim women don't laugh, they are usually seen on camera all over the world crying and beating their breasts over the constant deaths of their children} SO IT WOULD BE SO ORIGINAL AND OUT OF THE ORDINARY IF FIRST OF ALL THERE IS A MUSLIM WOMAN COMEDIAN AT ALL AND SECOND SHE IS BEING INVITED TO THE TOP MOST TALK SHOWS EVEN WHEN SHE IS IN A COMA AND MIGHT NOT HAVE A TRACE OF A JOKE IN HER DEFEATED AND EXHAUSTED, LIMP ANSD SUPINE BODY.

What a great Idea...
So what's the title ?

"MUSLIM WOMAN COMEDIAN IN A COMA."

That might works....
Listen to me... Nothing will work, Remember, after all she is muslim and the whole Western World and the Whole European World and the whole Whoever calls themselves liberal and free and democratic is allergic to the word, "MUSLIM,"

But that might be the only reason that this act might work....
You shouldn't be so negative and down and a martyr and a victim like its expected of you...
Be opposite of what had been defined for you....
Show them that you can be really original and unique.....
Now tell me how many comedians on the late night shows appear in a coma ?

They might now, because the bastards will just steal your idea right now...And next David Letterman you will see some in...from the background of, Culture of oppression will be on the show....Never saying anything but in a coma...try ing to get up at least and that would be their victory and surprisingly funny for the audience,....

What do you say ?
Now you have a new title of a show,
Your new show
Your new one woman show
Your new hilarious one woman show...

By, by, to all the tragedy...
Tragedy of suffering
Tragedy of politics
Tragedy of war...
Tragedy of sorrow
Tragedy of regrets
Tragedy of oppression...
So much tragedy.....
Gee how did you handle it ?

Thats why I am able to create a new show with a woman in a coma...
A funny woman in a coma...
Out of all the tragedy here was born a new show....

"A MUSLIM WOMAN COMEDIAN IN A COMA."

And now don't you go stealing my title, you hear....You are not an oppressed muslim, you can't come up with a title like this....
Only a suffering tragic Muslim woman can be the owner of this concept.....

You are free, you are always happy, always laughing, always standing up.....

What's so original about that ?

MELANCHOLY OF WORDS

So many words
So, so many words I found in my house
Like the specks of dirt flying all over the house which has been just cleaned but not properly
They have been resting until they were disturbed
And then they started to fly
And they were al over the place
Where did they all come from ?

So much sense, they made and still
There was so much in-coherence...
What was in the mind of the person who penned them ?
Confusion ?
Lack of clarity ?
Anxiety?
Separation ?

Yes, separation...
Separation of a coherence
Separation of a thought connecting to the next
What was the next thought ?
The words couldn't tell
But they were there
The words...

On napkins..
on brown bags
on manilla envelops
On the note books
Who was writting them ?
And why ?

Just to write
Just to fill the hour or two or three
Just for the heck of it
For not knowing what else to do with the time's passage
The words were the memories forgotton and the memories blurred and the memories intact
Almost forgotton words gathering dust

" From dust we came
And to dust we will return..."
Did the words say that ?
They were dusty...
Because the place hasn't been cleaned

No, thats not the reason
The un-published words gather dust...
Why weren't they published ?
Thats a great question and has many possible answers...
"Tell us."

I swear to god I don't know the answers...
And my head is in a total spin to find, to discover so many words in my own house...
I am dizzy, yes, dizzy...
No, not giddy....
I would have been giddy with the discovery of so much wealth of happy words,
Sad words,
Disturbing words
Words reminding me of liberty
And slavery
And torture
And occupations
And murder
And love
And love making
And then no love making
Regret
And shame
And time
And time passing....

I would have been very giddy if There was a possibility of a publisher putting them in some thing called, "A BOOK."
So they will be preserved and taken on a tour and had question answer sessions with the citizens of the world
So the words could become the citizens themselves

But there sudden discovery and no promise of a beautifully bound book made me dizzy....
Nausea, or something of its likeness was felt sharply in my forehead...
Fear of your own ability or lack of....
All of a sudden the feeling of hunger came in....
No, not the hunger of fame or fortune which comes from the printed word if you are lucky
And many are very lucky....
But just the hunger...hunger to put some food in my throat to stop the spinning of the head...
Something....
But there was no food in the house....
No food and all those words...
Thousands of them.....
No food...
Not at all...
No food and so many words....
Some one feeds himself on words....
Not possible...not possible at all...
What kind of a house is this ?
And who lives here ?

Do you think its gone ?
Gone where ?
I don't know..........
Get rid of this terror
I can't...
Where did it come from ?
Don't know
You are destroyed
Yes
Shame
Yes
Terror is a dangerous thing
I know
But you have it, you are always terrified...
Yes
Why ?
Scared
How ?
Since childhood
Who scared you ?
People
Which people ?
People who yell at me
Who yells at you ?
People
Why ?
To have power
Why ?
To control me
Why do they want to control you ?
It gives them power
But you are a no body
They are a no body too
Then you shouldn't have terror of them...
I do
Why ?
Because they are a no body and thats dangerous...
Every one wants to be some body...
But you need to get rid of it
Otherwise ?
It will eat you, terror is hungry..........

CAN'T

Looking for things
Can't find them
What things ?
Don't know
How can you find them ?
Still looking
Looking for what ?
Things
What things ?
Things
Its so frustrating
Yes, it is
People snapping
At you ?
No, snapping at themselves
No one snap at themselves, they snap at others

Snapping at others is snapping at themselves
Why ?
Control
Control over what ?
Control over things
What things ?
I don't know
You say that a lot
What ?
'I don't know."
But I don't
Don't say it
Why not ?
Because you sound stupid
But I am...

Oh! well then...
Well what ?
Go ahead, be stupid
Its good to be stupid
Yeh ?
Yeh...then people leave you alone...then they don't argue with you..
Let them argue with you
But their arguments are stupid
Oh! thats a laugh...stupid people calling other stupid people, "Stupid."

We all are
What ?
Stupid
I am not
Thats why everyone always arguing with you

I like arguments better than things
What things ?
The things you have been looking for and can't find
I have too many things, thats why I can't find things

Throw them out
What ?
Things
What ?
Yes, throw them out
I spend so much money on them
And now you can't find them
No...
What good are those things then ?

No good, I guess
So throw them out

I have to find them to throw them out
Are they hidden ?
Do you see them /
I don't
So how can I throw something which I can't see...

You hid them somewhere
There is no place to hide
Look, its only one room apt
Oh, sorry...
So where are things, things that you can't find
Thats what I asked you
I don't know...
Please don't say, "I don't know." It gives me the creeps

But you are the one who doesn't know where your things are...

I know where things are, but I can't find them
What good is your knowledge of things if you can't find them

Its still good to have knowledge...
Too much knowledge of things is harmful
Knowledge of things is not harmful
It is...it depends on what kind of knowledge it is

Knowledge helps you find things
Maybe I don't want to find things
Well thats different, but you didn't say that
What did I say ?
You said that you Can't find things

Well, what"s the difference?
A lot of difference...
"I can't," and,"I don't want to."
There is a lot of difference...
Ok then...
I don't want to find things, thats why I can't find things....
Thats better but still where are your things, the things you can't find ?

In my storage
You have a storage ?
Yes
you pay for storage ?
Yes
You are wasting your money
No money is involved
Its for free ?
Not really
So how do you pay /
Eith my blood and sweat...with my memory and the loss of it...
I don;t get it
Things are stored in my memory and now I can't find them...
I can't
Can't

CULTURE IS ANOTHER SMELL

I want to be a part of the larger culture
Where the things have rotton smells
And children play in the streets with running noses
And women give birth under abnormal circumstances
With healthy babies who grow up on their own
With God's blessing and hardly any food
They crawl and then they walk and then they run
And then they grow up and look for a job
And jobs are hard to find
And they sit and chat and imagine dreams
And create with broken objects from the streets and make art
And write poems about their dreams in foreign lands
Where they think all their dreams will come true and they will be sitting
At the pool side watching curvacious women taking a dip in the bluest of the blue pools
And some of them will get to those lands where they will be janitors and cleaners and construction workers
And no pool or a curvy Alabaster skin woman in site
They don't hang out at the construction sites
They are at the sea in Bahamas...
And they will think of the street back home with lots of noise and dirt and the smells of greasy food
In their snowy Iciness
The slush and the wind and their rough hands dying to slide on their Imaginary Juliet's
But feel lucky to come back to the one room flat where other ten cleaners or janitors or construction
Workers from their lands cooking Daal and chapati to feed themselves for the job tomorrow
In the land of their feverish past's imagination...

I want to be part of that culture not here but there
There, where all of them came from
With the dream of returning one day with the fist clenched with gold
With which they will buy a nice house in their own land
But they had a house in their own lands which they left behind...
A house in the street under the stars and a clear sky where the children played and the smell of fried food
Filled the air....
And the people fought over not having enough food and who ever had extra
Gave it to the other to make them not feel hungry ...
And the music all night which people made under the warm sky
Thinking of cold lands abroad and the curvatious women and the swimming pools
And a life of comfort
But they were lucky if they found a janitor's job or rotted in a kitchen cooking for some one else
While they were not allowed what they cooked for others...

I want to take a journey into that culture where I would be able to sleep under a clear sky
Without being murdered in the middle of the night or shot dead with a stray bullet.....

It sounds abnormal
But I want to be abnormal
I am abnormal

I want to keep this long, narrow, dark room in this city from where I depart often
for adventure into new atmosphere of sound, smell, noise and learning.

THE SIN OF LETHARGY

Where the hell did it come from ?
Not from back home
No, not at all
All hard working, active people, working from dawn to dusk and from dusk to dawn...
Every day the same thing
The same melancholy of lethargy and sadness and despair engulfs the souls of certain people
People of an other race and faith in the land of free
Never understood the meaning of the word, "The land of free."
Who is free ?
The one playing tennis ?
Or the one doing yoga ?
Or the one on treadmill ?

Thats one kind of freedom, for sure...
Activity of the body keeps the mind fit and away from melancholy

Time to go to the gym
and what to do there ?
Can't even operate those machines...
And where to leave the mind,
That active and questioning mind...
Always questioning...

Why are you wasting your life ?
Why did you come here ?
What"s your purpose in life ?
Why are you getting so lethargic in body and mind ?

I guess one can ask the same question while on a tread mill
At least some pounds of fat will melt
Even if the mind is never going to be cured of this mysteriously present malady
Where did it come from ?
And how it never left ?

Curious about its origins if not its disappearance
It likes certain people
Their smell. their aura...
Not much of an aura any more..
Just the fat...

Where did the lumps come from ?
Lumps of sugar perhaps...
But there is no sugar available in this room...
Too much sorrow of leaving the house full of sugar
Amazing...
In a house full of sugar one was very slim...
Happiness perhaps cut the effects of sugar
In a room starved of sugar
The heart is heavy so is the body
The lethargy and melancholy drags one from avenue to avenue....
Which road to take today on a sunday ?
The same one you took yesterday, saturday....
The same one ?
Yes, the same one....

Oh! the sameness, the sameness, the sameness.......

I WALK LIKE A TOURIST

The city is ever new and a stranger to me
As if its the first time I am seeing it
Excitement is mixed with some kind of sadness as if I am not sure about my past in it
My past is not in it
I am just passing through it
But I have been passing through it for a long long time...
I am still a tourist
Good or bad /
I don't know it
I want to feel that I am familiar with it
Perhaps I read about it
Perhaps I passed through it before
But the city doesn't feel like mine
It doesn't accept me
Maybe I don't accept it either
Some thing is not right

The walk is familiar and non familiar
Like a dream in the rainy foggy night
Mist all over the city when the sun is also shining
Is it my city ?
It can be
Then why do I feel like a tourist ?
Because you are stubborn
Or the city is....

Its all right to be tourist also
One spend a lot of money to be a tourist
One takes long journeys into the unknown
Expecting it to be fun
And its just a disaster
Or expecting a disaster
Which turns into fun...
But thats not the case
No one expects a tour to be a disaster
Otherwise they won't go on the tour
And who ever takes the tour is a tourist
And if one is a tourist one doesn't own the city

But no one owns the city
The natives do
The natives think that they do
But they don't
Some time when onr is a tourist one asks a native for directions
And they don't seem to live in the city
They seem like they are also passing by
They don't know what's in the next street
Or where is the next street
Perhaps they don't understand the accent of the tourist
Or they just simply resent the tourist

But its always good to be a tourist
You find new roads, new lanes, new parks, new cafes, new galleries
It cheers you up
For a week or two or a month
Thats a blessing
Cheering up....

One should walk in the city like a tourist
Then you won't be depressed of the sameness of the day
Take a different route going...
Going where-ever you are going
And take a different route from where-ever you are coming back...

Turn towards different corners
Who knows what one will find there
Maybe a mugger, or a murderer...
Or a lover...lost for a 100 years searching for you...

Didn't you leave some one behind when you left ?
Perhaps that person has been looking for you
Perhaps that person is around the corner......
Perhaps that person is also a tourist
Walking around for a very long time, looking for you.

THAT BULBUL, (SINGING BIRD)

Do you love singing or the bird who sings ?
Singing won't be anything without the bird
and the bird won't be anything without the singing...
But some birds don't sing
I feel bad for them...
They should sing

They are not allowed
By whom ?
I don't know
I don't like the words, "I don't know."
People who suggests things should be able to explain without always saying, "I don't know."

Some people don't know
Those people shouldn't be part of the conversation
Like the birds ?
Which birds ?
The birds who don't sing...
Birds should sing
They are not allowed...
By whom ?
Silence.....

A;ll birds must sing from now on and ...
And ?
And any one who thinks can stop that doesn't exist.
The fear is only in your head...
Stop fearing
Stop fearing
Stop fearing....
Who do you fear ?

See there is no one there who has such power over you
You have the power to sing or not sing
Its you
You are the bird...
Sing...
Who is stopping ?
I don't see any one...
Sing...
You used to...
You have a great voice...
Lyrical, anguished, rhythmic, like a Bulbul.......
Do you know what Bulbul means ?
No....
How sad...
You should know
I should know many things...
But you should know what being a Bulbul means...
Why ?
Because you are the Bulbul.........
You used to sing and now you have stopped.......
They stopped me.......
Who ?

The stoppers.......
No stoppers are here
They are here but you can't see them
If you can't see them, they are not here, they are in your head only
They are here, the stoppers, they have stopped me....

If they had the power to stop you, they would have stopped you long time ago
You would have never sang.........
I sang...........
Then, they didn't stop you before...why would they stop you now ?
Thats interesting....
Yes, it is... think about it
You sang, then you stopped
Now you can start again....
That simple ?
Yes, that simple....
Are you going to sing ?
I will try
Thats the spirit..........
You have to sing............
You are a singing bird....
You are dead without singing....are you going to sing ?
Yes............

Never have known the anguish which engulfs one in the morning and in the evening.

Never ?
What a surprise ?
Its present in every existence every minute of the day and night
Not knowing what to do in the morning...
Not knowing what to do in the evening...
Thats the problem.
Do what all ladies do...
And what do all ladies do ?

They clean
They cook
They do the laundry
They do dishes
They clean
They cook
They do the laundry

I don't know those ladies
Those are not ladies
Those are house wives
What's wrong with being house wives

You have to have a house to be house wives

Don't be so literal
Life is a metaphor
The,"HOUSE" means an apt, a studio apt, a dark, narrow strip where you enter and throw yourself
on a rickety mat.

Ok then, throw yourself on the mattress and cry your heart out day and night
Do not do the dishes
Do not do the cooking
Do not do the laundry
Do not clean

Just cry your heart out.
In Manhattan you can do that
In Manhattan you can do anything

Stay in and rot
Go out and have fun
Go to the gallery openings
Drink a lot of cheap free wine and become an alcoholic
Sit in a coffee shop over a lousy coffee and chat on the internet
Go to the cinema and watch Lian Neeson kill every bad guy in Paris single handedly where no one dare stop him
and he brings his daughter back home to Los Angeles with only a broken wrist and his ex wife, the daughter's mother and her super rich new husband doesn't even have the decency to give you a ride, neither does his lovely daughter, Kim whom he saved from the jaws of the most corrupt Arab Sheikh who buys her for $5oo-ooo offers her dad to come along in their fancy car, nor does she insists that her dad who just saved her life after killing almost 100 sex trafficker Albinians in Paris must not take a cab from the airport to his simple dwelling. She can't plead to her mother or to her rich step=dad, "Oh1 for heaven's sake we must give my real dad who brought me back from death in Paris to real life in Los Angeles, he deserves a ride in our fancy car and maybe a decent meal...
No, no one insists on giving him a ride from the airport. They get into their fancy car and Kim, the lovely daughter whom Liam Neeson just saved after killing every one in the streets of Paris without any police ever showing up to ask him a question or two just says, "Thank you dady." with teary eyes and they all ride into the sunset happily ever after and Liam Neeson, the star takes a taxi ....

Yes, go to the cinema, see movies like this one, this one is called, "TAKEN" and you won't ever have to think of doing cleaning or cooking or laundry...the real life doesn't have to be dealt with in Manhattan...its a fantasy Island and who ever treats it like a fantasy doesn't ever have to do the dishes....but just Do NOT WAKE UP EVERY DAY WITH ANGUISH AND DO NOT EVERY NIGHT GO TO THE MATTRESS WITH ANGUISH....Forget the cleaning and cooking and laundry...you live in Manhattan....
go to the cinema...go to the gallery...go get drunk...throw the dirty dishes out...don't clean them....throw them out the window...break the neighbor's neck...throw the dirty clothes out, don't clean them...if you clean things such as dishes and clothes, they get dirty again...and again...throw them out, you live in Manhattan....do what Manhattan offers....and it offers a lot....you are just crying over nothing.....now get up and start throwing things out of the window and then go to the cinema....
Think of Tennessee Williams and whenever you have anguish over anything go to thecinema and see how everything is possible in a movie....
Live your life as if you are in a movie.....be a star...stars don't do dishes, they are in a movie....they are called, "Movie stars."
Do you ever see them having anguish over dirty dishes or cooking or laundry ?
Where do you think you live ?
In a typhoid and malaria stricken village full of mal=nourished African children in the third world ?
No honey, you live in Manhattan...so you do...now get up and be a Manhattanite.....go to the gallery opening and get drunk over the free wine and sneak in the cinema and live a movie star's life....Be in the movie while you are watching the movie...
and be in the movie when you come back and be in the movie when you look at the squallor around you.
You are in a movie which takes place in Manhattan...the daily and nightly anguish has no room in it....edit those scenes from your movie.....

Now wasn't that helpful ? Your morning therapy session....
Now get up and take a shower....ok ? You have abusy schedule ahead of you....
Museums, movies, galleries, theater and cinema, yes, CINEMA....A MOVIE....A MOVIE STAR....

Risky ?
Adventurous ?
Compelling ?
Exciting ?
challenging ?
Thought provoking ?

All very scary ideas if you want to get a decent review from a constipated, conservative and a racist critic.
Race always come in in anything here no matter how people claim that they have moved on and are much more liberal.
They are not liberals at all.
Go ask an Immigrant who comes from a politically incorrect country or belongs to a politically incorrect religion.
A muslim ? And hoping to get a good review in the theater ? Especially the one who wants to challenge the racist's
Idea of a religion.
They don't review the work, the review the country one come from and the religion one come from and if they don't like it...God have mercy on you...just enjoy no review or the most vicious dismissal from the bastards.
But never let them affect your spirit and if you do then you have failed. Bad review and a very bad review is your biggest success.
Don't ever let them get you down because they are no bodies and thats the bottom line and never be politically correct if you have any guts or passion or creativity in you.
The world is huge and has its complexity and so does a person and his belief and doesn't depend on a sleepy, tired, opinion.

LOOK AT HIM
LOOK AT HER...

Look at him
how he is growing
look at her
Look, how she is growing!

He is so anti-culture
Doesn't read
Doesn't go to the cinema
Doesn't go to the theater
Doesn't go to the museums
Doesn't have a cultural debate
Just money, money, money, money, money
What is it good for ?
Power
Power of money is immense
Power of money can buy a museum, a theater, a cinema.

To make money one has to make every darn thing about oneself...me..me..me
No other person or thing matters.
The only way to get what you want, including loads of money is to be extremely selfish and cut throat
Is that you are learning now ?
What a surprise to you...

You, you, you and only you.
Your time...
Your enjoyment...
Your priority...
Your goal...
Your sucess...
Your money....
What culture ?
Where is culture ?
The bucket full of money is the culture sweet heart....culture is money and selfishness and aggression and hatred and envy of others.
Thats the culture of power.
Power is the thing
And money is power
Why do you think every one is doing Ponzi ?

I wonder what happened to the picture ?
I wonder what happened to the piece, DDISAPPEARANCE OF ME ?
Its just so frustrating not to know...
Not to know how to do things
Are things disappearing or just hiding themselves somewhere ?
Somewhere where I can't see them, can't reach them
I need to know everything on my own...
Even when people help, things disappear...
When they do it, then all things appear again...
Things hide from me
Why ?
Lack of knowledge on my part perhaps
Certainly, its lack of knowledge and despair
Despair takes over and even the things visible are no longer visible...
What will make me feel good ?
Thats a big question...
In the search of feeling good, mostly I am feeling bad
Are all human happy ?
What kind of question is that ?
Even the retards don't ask a question like that
What was your dream like ?
Mydrem was...was...was...was...
I forget.
It was a long time ago
Now I want to dream the dream I had once.

CONVERSATIONS ON THE CELL PHONES IN CAFE'S

She is like...like, chill, like i graduated like,like when it happened like, like, ya....ya...ya like, like, she is like a boy like, like buying the right person...sorry like, like, she is like, people are like, hold the pay, like have a lot of experience, like, can't find some one like, like exactly, like hold the pay, like have lots of experience, exactly like, unbelievable like I said, you are like, like, my brother, like, like who got into relationship like, like, he is 27, like the relationship like goes no where like, no where,
just no where, like my relationship, like, like, likethe last one and like, like, like the one before and like the one before, you know what I mean ? like...like...like....

I just want to wander around. Wander around in new towns in comfortable weather in comfortable shoes and walk and walk and turn which ever way I want to without any particular purpose other than to walk in new streets and when I can't walk any longer
sit in a cosy, comfortable, exciting cafe or a bistro and have a steaming hot coffee and then maybe eat something, a little snack,
(usually I have emotional difficulty with that ) and then walk some more and then get back whereever I am staying (always want to stay in a room of my own ) a rented room with the key of my own in my own pocket and then take a long hot bath and wear something nice and go out for dinner with someone....a friend ? some one I just met while I was walking or in the bistro ?
A stranger ? someone....
Well that's the hardest part of the dream...to go out for dinner with some one in a new town. And I don't like having dinner alone when I am traveling.........
I wish I was traveling this very second in a sunny place with winding tree lined roads and a familiar childhood friend will suddenly show up from no where and we will burst into our usual hearty laughter and embrace and go have a spicy tikka masala and a paratha and laugh and laugh and disturb every body with our laughter..............
Do you ever laugh on a cold, cold, freezing day ?