MEMORIES OF TIME PAST AND PRESENT: Written at BALTHAZAR, Aug 12, 2010

 MEMORIES OF PAST AND PRESENT Written at Balthazar, 2010

You need. a notebook girl

Sunday is not a good time. 

He is arriving and I have to be home

To receive him.

I want to get back home at a decent hour

I was never like that.

What about your repressed family memories?

Memories?

What memories?

Mine?

Or your memories?

It must be yours because I don't have any.

You never had a family?

Never...

He dropped out of nowhere

No where? 

 Hhhh,  ahahahha

Nowhere, (Start to sing) Nowhere...nowhere, nowhere...

I just made it up

You must be a genius

I am. 

 You didn't know that?

How would I know? 

 I never met you before

Doesn't matter. 

 You had to know Geniuses all over the planet

They throw off these vibes

 over the sky, 

over the occeans,

 over the mountains.

I am a genius and you need to know that. 

 I am smarter than all of you 

Sons of bitches...

and you need to know that.

I am going to get everything in this world

And you need to know that

And if I can't get the things that I want, 

I am going to steal them,

Frome everybody.

You need to know that.

I am going to hustle

I am going to be the biggest crook, 

biggest criminal,

Biggest snake, 

biggest fox and you need to know that.

My purpose is to get what I want and I am going to get it.

No stopping me.

No person, 

no memory, 

no mother, 

no father, 

no wife, 

no goddamed

Children are going to stop me from what I want.

You gys---you losers, 

you can have all the suppressed,

 repressed,

Melancholic romantic memories of your past 

...and thats all

You are going to have.

The lousy, 

miserable, 

stinking, 

awful memories.

 And you are going...

To wallow in your shitty,

pissy memories for the rest of your miserable

Lives.

"Oh!my life,

 Oh! my life, 

it was so woderful,

 it was so faboulous,

Oh! my garden full of roses..."

Liers, 

All of them, 

They never had a garden and no roses in those gardens.

Maybe some dry, 

Thorny bushes on a dusty corner of a desert look alike Oasis.

Which pricks their subconscious and remind them of the imaginary garden.

They are all liers. 

Liers, liers, liers.

Any one who raves about his/her past is a raving maniac in denial.

They do know that they had the lousiest possible birth, 

lousiest...

Possible childhood, 

lousy parents, 

lousy one room flat in a horrible ghetto...

No food in the house, 

father, a clerk, 

a clerk, 

a goverment clerk...

Very glamourous slavery and you are behaving as if your father

Was the chairman of a hedge fund with unlimited reources. and

Connections with other corrupt hedge fund bankers and financiers,

All over Switzerland and Mayfair of London...

Your mother perhaps was a cleaning lady.

I am sure everyone here who came from somewhere else,

Their mother was nothing but a. cleaning lady because they,

Are always bragging about how clean their houses were.

And who cleaned those immacually clean houses for them?

Their mothers did that.

Their mothers were cleaning ladies in their own houses.

They got up

, put a scarf over their heads, 

got a broom,

In their hands and startted cleaning like witches.

Clean--clean--clean. 

  Clean again. 

Scrub--scrub--scrub. 

Their,

Sons and daughters can impress  us, 30 years later with their clean houses

And wonderfully romantic memories of their mothers holding brooms

In their hands with bent backs so they can substitute them with

The image of "A cleaning lady."  

'A servant."

  'A serf."

 Who bring memorie and sulk for the rest of their lives.

Memories of

 Scrubbing their floors so they can impress us with their clean memories.

So they can sit on their memories 

And sulk for the rest of their lives.

No I don't have memories. 

Memories of no one. 

 None.

No mother holding a mop.

No father a goverment's clerk, 

Bowing to the corrupt boss 14 hours a day.

And bring only a few Copeks,

 A few pennies, 

A few coins home...

And then beat up his hungry children

 Whom he couldn't feed even after

The slavery of 14 hours a day job.

No, I don't want memories.

Why would I have horrible memories like these?

I am going to let all the memories go out of my way.

Infact I have already taken them out of my path. 

To achieve success of a world class crook with billions

Of dollars of other people's money at my disposal so,

I can have yachts, boats and villas and chateaus.

I like the word, "Chateaue." 

It's so romantic.

Makes me feel like I am  an aristocrat, 

French aristocrat with,

Great taste in excellent cuisine, 

wines and chcolates and paintings.

Oh! the French painters...

I will learn all the names of all the important

Painters.

 I know some of the names already.

It's extremely essential to know the names of the important

Painters and designers and chefs and jewelers and stars.

One has to memorize the most important names of all

the people with important careers

 And crafts so you can drop names...

When you are in the company of other billionaire crooks.

That's all they do.

Drop names all night...

"Oh! I just bought Picasso for 100 million dollars."

"Oh! I do know Jack Nicholson." 

"He is a good friend of mine."\

"I had lunch with him the other day at. Balthazar."

Oh! He didn't mean the actor, Jack Nicholson,

 He meant the painting by Picasso called, "The actor."

Oh! I have that painting as well.

I bought it a while ago

It's hanging on one of the walls of one of my villas in Normandy.

I also have villas in Provance and Burgundy.

I know all these beautiful places because,

 I have villas and Chateau's all over.

I even know the name of Louise the sixteen, 

So I can drop his name....In the company of others

When I am in the company of other clever and cunning crooks,

Who know how to steal millions and never get caught.

They were all lawyers.

Or they knew top most lawyers

Who can get them out of all kind of frauds.

I am not a lawyer.

I don't need. to be one...

I am already a bigger crook than all the lawyers.

I can teach them a thing or two.

I also know the names of important restaurants and important chefs,

So I can drop them like a bad waiter who in a bad, cheap restaurant

 Can drop all the spagetti and meatballs on your Gucci dress.

Right on your lap...

 ruining your  artner's expansive Tom Ford's suit, 

(See I know his name too)

It's all a game and crooks play that game to get ahead. 

  One has to.  Play the game, I mean...

One can just go home some time 

When one is too tired to play games,

Send all servants home,

 Shut the door, 

make a scotch, 

(McCanne...$60 a shot at Balthazar,

Gulp it down and curse all groups.

 All people you don't like and curse them till,

Doom's day in  the privacy of your own home.

 But outside in the corrupt world of money,

You have to behave as if you like everyone

 And you like them so much that you buy everything tey make, everythin,

They design,

 eat all the food by gourmet chefs,

 See plays by famous writers,

 Get invited to

Their yachts, 

drink $4000 a bottle wine

 With them and do every other damn thing of importance in a cheerful manner

I do all what I have to do.

Part of the job

And the job is to make money...tons and tons of it.

'Money,

 Money, 

Money...

So much money that no one would be able to count.

But don't worry about counting your billions, 

Just have them in your safe locked up...

You just make money and let the accountant count it.

The bigger the crook the accountant is better will be his counting skills

Accountant who is a crook who counts other people's money would know

How to cheat you of a million or two and you would never know it...

That's the accountant for you.

Thats part of their job

You cheated some one else,

 Let them cheat you,

 At least they are keeping your money safe,

From. the corrupt govt.

 But don't worry, 

Corrupt govt never touch corrupt billionair's money.

That's part of their job as. well.

Everyone has a job to do

And they are doing it to the best of their ability.

Give some money to the govt, like you let the accountant have it.

Be silent and discrete about it.

It's all part of the game

Everyone involved have to know how to play it.

And if you don't know, learn.

Learn the game of money.

And to play the game of  corruption,

 You have to cut the part of your brain to forget all morals,

All decency, all integrity.

The part of the brain...

Which stores your painful memories,

 Of your clean and honest childhood,

Which you are trying to twist around,

 To change the nature of your memory,

 which is not part of your new game.

Not the part of the the game of making millions.

Millions of corrupt dollars.

 Your memory was to be a decent, honest, clean human being.

Just like your honorable parents, 

poor but honorable. Etremely honorable people with character.

That memory of your extremely honest parents is always there,

To haunt you....

Image of your mother with the bent back mopping the floors...

Well,  that particular memory stood in the way of your honest, hard earned success.

And the memory of your tired clerk father coming home every,

 Evening exhausted,

Bitter and angry,

 Unable to feed his children properly,

 That poverty and the trap...

Of that routine of misery...

Made you who you are today.

You who sold his soul to the devil

You are the character in Faust.

You are the black, dark soul of the devil

Unlike your noble, honorable, struggling parents.

You wanted to forget that part of your memory...

At any cost...

At any cost...

And the cost was corruption

But it doesn't matter

Because your aim was not to have any mention

Of that memory...that painful memory, that reflection of poverty...

There shouldn't be any talk of that misery in a chateaue...

That was the decision you made...

Which made you the most corrupt financier in the world.

No one talks about that memory in any of their Chateaus...

Because they are all so cunning, 

Corrupt crooks, 

hey want to believe that they never ever never ever had those...

Honest parents with bent backs and miseryof centuries..

.Crushing their hopes and dreams...

Those people from miserably honest and kind families 

With fear of god and feel for humanity 

Could not have become what they became,

But they lost all decency and became billionairs.

Now they own a chateu or two rave about

How wonderful their past life was...

And that's the very reason for their brilliant success here in the present

While they are drownig themselves in chamagne...in a group

Of huslers with the same past of misery...

But they are just raving and raving about their theft.

  People like that talk about money only and whatever that money can buy.

Most of them talk about their slim mistresses, 

flowers they send them,

 holidays, 

jewels,

 paintings and 

Caviar...Yes, thats what they talk about...

But people with an ounce of humanity and love of their parents

 Always cherish their memories of the past

 No matter how sad and tragic they might have been. 

The others looters have no time for that.

They talk with money people how to make more money..

.Never the right way though...

Its wonderful to make money the honest way...

But no one can make a billion the honest way...

And for them mnoey is never enough.

There is always more money to be made.

Money has an imagination, so do the money makers...

Money knows many ways how to make more money

Money knows how to be spent

Money knows how to impress others

Money knows how to travel fast and vast

Money knows how to get to the. most beautiful mountains and valleys

And lakes and occeans.

Money's imagination is not limited.

No, not at all.

Not like the narrowest possible,

 limitations of a memory.

"A memory" which is always stuck in one place,

 In one spot...

Like glued to the part of the brain with the strongest possible glue.

Memory is stuck in a moment of pain even if by an extraoridanry miracle.

A memory is a good memory...but still gives you pain.

Memory's function is to give you pain and make you sad

And when. you have pain and when you are sad...

You can never make money.

And to make so much money like I have made have made, 

Sadness becomes the enemy of that kind of money

But not me...I am far from sadness...

The one who don't make money are the sad ones

The ones who don't make money are the one's who feel pain

Pain is the biggest obstacle in your way...

The failures of the world

The losers of the world

With memories

Memories of their past

The mother withe bent back

And a broom in her hand

Father a clerk, how embarrasing

To mention that in a Chatuea....

Corruption is never sad.

Neither are the corrupt ones...

They never have pain

They are always busy

Thinking, 

Planning...

How to make a deal.

THEY DON'T HAVE THE TIME FOR ROMANTIC SADNESS.

THEY DON'T HAVE TIME FOR A PAINFUL MEMORY

THAT IS THE JOB OF A POET

TO BE SAD...

TO REMEBER HIS PAINFUL MEMORIES

LIKE A BRILLAIANT ACTOR

WHO MEMORIZE HIS SCRIPT METICULOUSLY

AND IN A FRACTION OF A SECOND CAN RECITE 

WITHOUT LOOSING ONE SENTENCE,

 ONE WORD....

A POET CAN'T BE A POET WITHOUT HAVING THE

POWER OF RCALLING A MEMORY,

VERY PAINFUL MEMORY AT A MOMENT'S NOTICE

A MELANCHOLIC MEMORY OF HIS MOTHER

HIS FATHER

HIS BROTHERS AND SISTERS

OF HIS NEIGBORS

OF HIS NEIGBORHOOD

OF HIS LONG LOST CITY

WHERE HE WAS BORN

OF HIS LANUAGE

A MELODIOUS LANGUAGE

WHICH NO ONE UNDERSTAND

IN A CHATEAU

WHICH NO ONE SPEAKS IN A BILLION DOLLAR CHATEAU

ONY MONEY SPEAKS THERE

THAT'S ALL...

ONY MONEY

THERE IS NO POET THERE

NO POET

AND NO MEMORIES.

Well, have you ever seen a billionair poet ever?

Never...

ONLY THE POET

ONLY THE POET

WHOSE PAINFUL MEMORIES BLOCKED HIM

FROM MAKING MONEY...

MONEY OF SUBSTANCE

MONEY OF CONSEQUENCE

MONEY OF CORRUPTION

MONEY WHICH BUYS CHATEAUS AND VILLAS. 

ALL OVER THE WORLD.

POET DOESN'T HAVE CHATEAUS.

HE IS ALWAYS DREAMING ABOUT THE VERSE

HE WILL COMPOSE,,,OR THINK ABOUT THE,

 THE VERSE HE WISH TO COMPOSE...

But it would have been nice if he ever owned a villa

Thats where he would have put the memory of his. mother

With the bent back and mopp in her hand

And his poor, angry, frustrated govt clerk of a father...

They passed on....

Passed on before he could buy a villa

But he could have never been able to buy that vialla

Even if he dreamt of it sometime

Because he was an. honest man

Who was a poet and all his possessions were

Just memories.

Memories of his past and present

No memory of the future

He had no future...

Just the memory of a sad childhood

Which occupied his mind day and night

AND THEN THE POET WOKE UP

AND A FLY WAS BUZZING ALL OVER THE

DARK,

 DAMP, 

DIRTY ROOM MAKING THE 

BUZZ, 

BUZZ, 

BUZZING SOUND

WHICH INTERUPPTED ALL HIS DREAMS

AND NIGHTMARES....

ANOTHER HAPPY DAY: PART TWO

 ANOTHER HAPPY DAY: PART TWO

P: Look, another happy day!

B: Oh! another happy day is upon us.

P: Arn't you happy about another happy day?

B: Of course I am. I am thrilled. Look how grey, dark

     and cloudy the sky is. Oh! look, it's snowing too...

    That sleet kind of snow., not the fluffy, white Santa claus kind

     but the icy, cold slippery, bone breaking kind of snow.

P: I love it. I love mornings like these, waking up to the feeling of shiver

     which goes right trough my spine.

B: Yes, get out of bed and welcome the coldest possible floors.

      Get your feet cold.  It's healthy to have cold feet. Fire places

      are good but cold makes you breath better.  Now get up and smell the coffee.

P: Oh! there is coffee as well?

B:  Of course, of course...

P: Isn't life wonderful? What a happy day! Snow,  cold floor and hot coffee...

    I hope coffee is hot...I detest luke warm coffee...Oh! I love waking up to

    another happy day...

B: Me too. I welcome my happy day every day.  What would I do if there was

     no happy day to wake me up?

P: You. will keep. sleeping.

B: Yes! I am sure of that. I will never get out of bed. Unhappy days keep one drowsy

     and depressed.

P: You are using two words which are the enemy of a happy day, Drowsy and depressed

     That certainly brings an unhappy day and we can't afford any unhappy days.

      Every day in our lives we have to have a happy day.  We don't live in the third world

      though we look like the third world but luckily we don't live in the third world

     because. that world never ever have a happy day...

B:  They can't.  Because all the happy days are reserved for us, the people of the first world.

P:  I know, I know. You are also part of the first world though you too look like the 3rd world...

     but we can't let that depress us because then we won't wake up and we would be depressed

     in bed for a long time like the 3rd world people.

B:  The 3rd world people are not depressed- they are dead mostly.

P:   Yes, I forgot.  Most of them are dead and the rest are poor,  thus depressed. Even the hot

       sun in those parts of the world doesn't make them smell a happy day.

B:  It's not the hot sun, it's the coffee which starts our happy day...they drink tea...where is the coffee?

P:  the coffee? The coffee? oh! I forgot.   Let me make it.

     (goes to the stove, try to turn it on. it doesn't work)

P:  B?

B: Yes?

P:  Do you mind having a cold coffee?

B:  What?  A cold coffee on a cold day,  on a cold floor?  How happy can that be?

       You told me, "We are waking up to a happy day?"

P:   Yes, we are.  We have another happy day upon us.  It's just the gas is turned off

       and water can't be boiled if there is no gas.  We don't live in the 3rd world where

       they do all kind of cooking by burning the cow's dung

B:   I know, I know, we are the first world thus need coffee first thing in the morning

       when we wake up...

P:   Yes, we do.  I agree.  But most of the time coffee in the first world is luke warm. Hot coffee with 

       the freezing colld milk...that makes it luke warm at it's best. So I will make you cold coffee

       and you just imagine that you are in a fancy cafe in the west village where coffee has to be

       lukewarm. The fancier the cafe, colder is the coffee.  Use your imagination and think you are at 

       Balthazar..

B:   My imagination is very angry at me.  I always want my imagination to do things which do not

       exist...and are always in my imagination, and it has told me that I refuse to play the game

       any longer.

P:    It's not a game.  It's a fact of creation.  You create hot coffee out of existing cold coffee.

       You create a fire place out of a frozen brick wall. You travel to South of France and Tuscany

while you are dozing off in your shitty apt.  You go to Uffitzi gallery in Florence while you are sipping

         your unboiled nescafe.  That's the function of imagination.  Imagination is to imagine things, 

         things you don't have, things you do want...and because of that you have your happy day every day

         every day.

B:    Yes, i agree.  I am an imaginative person but my imagination warned me yesterday and told me

        that it has a grand headache because of the lack of nourishment.  I think my imagination needs

        some eggs.  Are there any eggs in the fridge?

P:     Let me check.

        (She goes to another side of the stage, after few seconds she come back)

P:     Oh!

B:     What?

P:      I am looking for the eggs in the fridge but I can't find the fridge

B:      What do you mean? You can't find the fridge? What happened to the fridge?

          What can happen to the fridge? All that food in it.  Salmon, truffles, the leg of lamb,

           fillet Mignon, bourbon soaked chicken, veal dipped in glazed pears and apricots.  All that food

           bought from Balthazar for holidays and all those people coming...our friends.  What am I going

           to serve them? They have such good taste.  I can't believe that all our gourmet, organic food

           so delicately prepared is already stolen on the bright morning of such a happy day.  Not only

           the food is stolen, the whole frigidair is gone.  My god, what a surprise, what a shock actually.

           I mean isn't the fridge heavy?  I know the first world frigidaires are heavy and huge because

           we buy a lot of food.  Look at us.  We are quite healthy.  We are.  We are so healthy.  We have to 

B           be.  We are from a healthy,  happy country where every day we have to have the strength to 

                wake up to another happy day and you know how sterneous it is to encounter such enormous

           happiness every day?  One has to prepare for such a happy day.  Now I can't even have eggs...

           My organic, mega 3D, F, B, G, H, L, M, K, healthy, healthy chickens from an organic farm where

           they only eat grass, grass fed organic eggs...that's all I can eat.  I can never imagine eating

           eggs from the supermarket.  Please give me a break.  All those injections given to the chickens..

           by all the pharma...I will get instantly sick and I simply can't get sick...I have to be healthy to

           welcome my healthy day.  I need my lox, my eggs, my salad, my freshly squeezed orange juice

            and, and, and...(Sobs)

P:        Calm down.  You are not fully awake yet.  Take your time.  Wake up first and then we can worry

            about our fridge and the food in it.  Maybe some people from the third world countries came in

             the middle of the night and took the fridge out of the apatrtment. I understand that. They need

             the food too you know...their children are starving.

B:         They might be starving but they don't need our food.  They won't know what to do with it.

             They won't know how to eat the bib lettuce.  They would think they are eating grass. Have 

              pity on them.  Give them real food.  White bread and some salty canned beans for proteins-

              They can't eat salmon, come on, wake up...try to figure out who came in the middle of the night

               to take our food and fridge away from us...I mean how did they carry such a heavy fridge down

               all thosy rickety staircase?  We are on the six floor,  arn't we?  Do we have an elevator?

               I clearly remember that we don't have an elevator.  It was our choice not to have an elevator.

               We didn't want one.  We could just imagine that there is an elevator.  But the third 

                world thieves don't have an imagination.  They can't create an elevator in their heads.  They

                had to carry that fridge downstairs by themselves all the way into the street where it was 

                snowing last night and I am sure was slippery.  They could have slipped and broken their 

                backs.

                The fridge could have easily fell on their backs.  Third world people are not used to the snow.

                 They are not from Buffalo...They are not used to walk on the slippery streets.  I am sure they 

                 fell.  I am sure they are dead. Let me see. (goes towards the window and is surprised, calls P)

                 Come here P,  look, there is no window pan on our window...

                 What happened?  Cold wind is howling...shushing through.  it's overpowering...Oh! our

                  fireplace! The thieves didn't only stole our food, they broke all the windows, the fire place is

                  gone...(She begins to cry)

P:              Don't cry.  Please don't cry B.  It's all good for us.  The happy day also demand some tension.

                  Tension creates excitement.  Excitement creates adrenalin and epinephron, all good for the

                  brain. And when brain is excited secreting all those happy hormones,  the body doesn't need

                  any food no matter how gourmet and healthy that food is.  The body needs to be lean and

                 agile to be happy-- to feel happiness, to welcome the wonders of all future happy days to 

                 come.  Everything has a purpose, a plan. God plans for us.  If our food wasn't stolen, we 

                  would have been eating it right now and would have been more healthy than we need to be,

                  We are already so fit and fat.

                 We can donate some of our healthy flesh, (touches her belly) to the third world people.

                 then they won't have to come and steal our food in the middle of a snowy night, if they 

                 got part of our first world organic flesh parcelled to them as charity with the permission

                 of our govt of course.  We need the permission because charity to the third world can be

                 suspect.  Yes, with the permission we can send part of our well preserved healthy flesh to the

                 poor and hungry children. Our government will be very very happy.  They want us to be lean, 

                 muscular and strong to fight all those wars.

P:             We are not fighting any wars.  That's for soldiers to fight and we didn't force them either...

                 They volunteered.  Do you know what that mean B?  Let me tell you.  They said, they want

                 to happily go to fight wars on our behalf.  On our aristocratic behalf.  We make war plans

                 and they happily volunteer to fight it. They are so blessed, our soldiers.  Every day they 

                 encounter another happy day to serve their country.  I admire them so much. They are 

                 permanently happy.  I mean, they wake up happy because it's their own choice.  If you

                 make a choice and put it into action then life is a continum of one long, unending happy

                 day.

B:            I agree.  We are unfortunate, you P and me B.  We are not out there fighting a war on our

                country's behalf.

P:            But we are fighting a war as well for our country B.  We are very emotionally involved.

               We might not use our physical presence for the war but our emotions are totally available.

                We plan the war, we make maps, create borders, draw imaginary lines in the sand and then

                we send our glorious volunteering soldiers to fight over those imaginary lines on our maps.

                We have archealogists. doing research to find where the goods are.  Goods which are really

                 GOOD for our nation.  We write articles about the war, informing the un-informed such as

                 the people in the mid-west.  We have panel discussions about the permanent fear of terror

                 and the benefits of eradicating tht terror once and for all.

                 I mean, we are not just laymen, we are actively involved in pursuit of our goals and our

                 happiness.

                We need to pursue our happiness every day, every day and only then we will have the months

                  and years and decades and centuries of happiness and safety.

                When we wake up luckily...because you never know about the danger and the terror out

                  there and some day its possible that we might not even wake up...Those people who stole 

                the fridge full of food can come back, strangle us in our sleep or rape us and then strangle us

                  or rape us and then cut our throats...they can do that and that would be the end of our happy 

                  day. We have to be positive and optimistic and move forward. We are forward moving 

                  people. We don't look at the past even if its a happy past. Past is just gone. Dead, buried, 

                  done with.  "Done and dusted."  As the English say.

                  I like the English. They can put any one they don't like in solitary confinement in their

                  still existing Victorian prisons.  They are aristocratic people of conscionce and they fight 

                  wars their own way...in a way they are also like us.  We are constantly fighting a war as well

                  but our war is for happiness.  Our demand and desire is to recognize when we wake up

                  that we are so fortunate to have another happy day upon us and we have to take real 

                  advantage of that.  That's the courage of happy people of a happy nation and we are those

                  people, you and me, P and B.  We are those healthy happy people no matter if our food

                  was stolen at night, no matter our windows were smashed,  no matter our stove doesn't light 

               up, no matter that we live on 6th floor without an elevator, no matter if our fire place has no fire

                  in it, no matter if we can't make hot coffee, no matter if our floors are cold, no matter if our

                  blankets have holes in them...we are still blessed with a happy day every morning, the happy

                  day is always there to welcome you back from your nightmarish sleep.

                  Now get up from your slumber and welcome the wonderful, amazing, ever present happy 

                  day.

                  Now repeat after me, "Hi, happy day welcome, welcome to our home, welcome to our

                  happy household, welcome.

                  Now get up and wear your bright red Channel lipstick and let's go out and smile at other

                  happy people on the slippery streets breaking their bones.  Let's smile at them and wish

                  them happy days, come on, wear your bright red lipstick...

                ( B searches for her lipstick,

                  in her pocket book, amongst her clothes, on the bed sheets, inside the pots and pans, makes

                  a real mess and starts to scream)

        B:     OhI my god, oh! my god, I can't find my Channel lipstick.  I spent 99 dollars and 99 cents for

                 it just yesterday and I can't find it anywhere.  Oh! my god, oh! my lord...those thieves from

                 the third world not only stole our food, they also stole my lipstick.  Why would those men

                 steal my Channel lipstick?

      P:        How do you know the thieves were men?

      B:       They carried the fridge downstairs from 6th floor, they had to be men

      P:        Oh! I see.  But why men would steal your lipstick? Men don't wear lipstick.

      B:        Those must be gay...gay men of third world.

      P:        Third world doesn't have gay men. To be gay is very fashionable and third world is backward.

      B:        They might just behave as if they are backward to fool people like you but they must be gay

                  nevertheless.  They took my expensive Channel lipstick, they steal a good thing when they 

                  see it and I simply can't encounter a happy day without my Channel. ( begin to cry)

      P:        Listen B, I am getting tired of your crying.  Ok? Stop. Be a positive, forward moving,   

                 creative  person.

                  Here... (She take out a lipstick from her own pocketbook and offers it to her)

                 Here...look, I got you a lipstick.  It cost me 99 cents from the 99 cent store but it's bright red.

                 Just Imagine its Channel.  Ok? God gave you a glorious imagination.  Use it, otherw it is 

                          going to rot. 

                 If god gave you a gift and you don't use it then your self destruction is assured.

                 Take the lipstick and imagine it's Channel...here...

                 (B takes the lipstick, put it on, look at herself in the mirror and screams with joy)

       B:      (Immensely happy)  Great, great...I found my Channel, my bright red lipstick.  I found my 

                  Channel lipstick...the thieves didn't steel it... The thieves were certainly not gay men

                  afterall.  Just some small time terrorists but I can't worry about them right now.  I got my

                  lipstick and it's Channel on top of it...and with that I am ready for aother happy day.

                    

     P:        Thats my girl...thats my girl, thats my brilliantly positive and imaginative girl...

                (To B)

                 Come here, come to me, come to mama...let me put the lipstick on your plump, cherry

                 blossom lips myself, come...)

                 B comes near P,  P takes the lipstick from her hand, opens it and in a very sexy manner put

                 it on B's lips... Look, how gorgeous you look. 

                 B: Oh! P, oh! P...you have no idea how much I love you and now love you so much more

                 since you found my channel lipstick...

                (P, laughs heartily and hug B, they kiss and starts to walk towards the door)

                B: Oh! I need my coat.  It;s snowing outside. (she looks for her coat and can't find it)

                P: Don't worry about looking for your coat.  Thieves took our coats as well.

                B: But it's freezing cold outside...

                 P: (interupts her) Darling,  just imagine that the summer has come back and it's

                 the month of August and it's boiling hot...Don't forget that god gave you the power

                 of imagination...

                 B: Oh! I always forget how blessed I am.  Thanks for reminding me. (Very happy now)

                 I love the hot wind of August blowing my beautiful hair and me perspiring intensely...

                P: That's my girl...always blessed with the seasons and with happy days...

                B: Another happy day P

                 P: Yes, another happy day B...

                              (they kiss and starts to walk towards their exit door without coats as the lights

                 begins to slowly fade.)

                                                                      BLACKOUT

                                                                    END OF PLAY

                      

                

                  

                  

                

KEEP THE DISTANCE

 KEEP THE DISTANCE:

It doesn't work

Nothing works with people

Neither love nor kindness

Nor fondness...

I tried

What works is,  cold,  polite,  un-involved distance

Keep a polite distance

That perhaps is the only thing which might work

But no surity of that either

No fighting

No, no fighting

No arguments either

No confrontations

No disagreements

Just agree

And then,

Make an excuse

And leave...

We are so lonely that we want to call

Every one we meet in the street, "A friend."

They are not friends

They are acquaintances

Not friends...

We want them to be friends

But that's not the case

"Friend" is just an odd name given to them

Because of necessity...

So you need to know that you have no

Friendly possession of them...

Or rather, friendly affection for them...

So have no expectations

Expect no long lasting relationship with them...

Just polite, "Hello", "Hello"

Some fake pleasantness...

Some fake smiles...

Keep the distance

It will help you with that fake smile

Actually distance is the source of that fake smile...

It creates the smile...

Distance really works...

That's the only thing which works

It works in health and illness

Keep the social distance...

Necessary

Really necessary...

KEEP THE DISTANCE

A HOMELESS WOMAN IN TOMPKIN'S SQUARE PARK, NYC

A HOMELESS WOMAN IN TOMPKIN'S SQUARE PARK

SHERRY, HOMELESS WOMAN:

"Mother died yesterday or was it today?"

Then who sends me the letter every day?

The letter from my mother...

A MAN, PASSER BY:

MAN: ( asks her)

Do you have a last wish before you die and join your mother?

SHERRY:

Yes.  Give me a dollar so I can get a letter from my mother.

MAN: (Confused)

What do you mean?  A dollar? To get a letter from a dead mother?

Doesn't make any sense...

SHERRY:

Yes, give me a dollar so I can get a letter from my mother.

You see a man comes to me from the other side of the park

Every day.  I give him a dollar and he brings me a letter from my mother

Today, I don't have a dollar so I couldn't give it to him

And he refused to bring me my mother's letter...

SHERRY: (Asks other passerby) 

Do you have a dollar?  Do you have a dollar?  Sir, do you have a dollar?

(They all keep going)

MAN, THE FIRST PASSERBY:

(Gives her a dollar, she takes it happily and says to him.)

SHERRY:

Ok, here is the dollar.  Oh! I got the dollar, soon I will have my letter from my mother

(To the man). Could you please go and get me the letter because i don't see my daily contact?

MAN:

(Takes his dollar back and says)

Ok, I will get the letter for you.

(Man goes away and come back after a few minutes and give her a blank piece of paper.

Sherry is over joyed and begins to read)

SHERRY:

"ON THE WAY TO GRANADA"

"ON THE WAY TO GRANADA"

BY

BINA SHARIF                                   copyright:binasharif 

A Muslim man meets a Catholic woman

on the way to Grenada and tell her the story of his ancestors

                                         OR

A Muslim woman meets a Christian man and start

reminessing the stories of her long lost ancestor's glorious past.

By the end of the journey they fall in love...(Too obvious)

                                           OR

By the end of the journey,  they part for ever...

Too much sense of failure and exaggerated self reproach

WOMAN:

Confident

Self assertive

Have yearnings

Sad struggles

Lives now in a city of no trees

A city of no rivers

A city of no squares

             0R

WOMAN:

A woman of lack of courage

Of no confidence

Full of sad struggles and conflicts 

No self assertiveness

Hopeless yearnings

Lives in a city of no trees

A city of no rivers

A city of no squares

MAN:

A man of great confidenc

Of great courage

Full of positive yearnings

Proud of his heritage

No infriority complex

Self assertive

Lives in a city full of trees

A city full of rivers,  full of squares

A city full of flowers

              OR

A man of no confidence

Full of sad struggles

Great sense of failure

Feel all alone in the world

 Past glory all the time.

Hopeless desires and dreams

Full of sadness

Think of past glory

No sense of belonging

Complete lack of courage

In-capable of telling his story

Still want to tell it

Not proud of his present

Lives in a city of no trees

A city of no rivers

A city of no squares

A city of no flowers

Just autum leaves

Just autum leaves every where

Just autum laves

It's always autum in the city where he lives

Always autum...

A city full of fallen autum leaves...

His behavior is of a fallen autum leaf

Which looks stunning before it falls

And then is trampled under thousand feets...

THAT'S THE STORY OF THIS MAN AND THE WOMAN

WHO ARE ON THEIR WAY TO GRANADA AND MEET BY AN ACCIDENT...

THE STORY IS JUST A STORY.  IT CAN GO EITHER WAY.

BUT IT'S NOT WRITTEN YET....

DEPRESSION MEMOIR

DEPRESSION MEMOIR

(NOTES)

Do not take. anything too seriously.

People

Career

Money

Politics

Success

NOTHING TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY FROM NOW ON

FUCK IT........

One should be fortunate not to belong to that

Crowd of nothingness

Preserve your spirit at all cost

Thats your creation

Be yourself amongst all odds.

Be sincere and honest

Let them play games

Understand the game silently and calmly

Do not play it

You must not be bothered about the crowd.  

Even the thought of them is dangerous to your spirit

It's like a virus which has no treatment

Do not let it crawl under your skin

Once it has crawled, it will crawel and crawel

And will take a life ttime to get rid of that habit of total

Waste of time and energy.

YOUR THOUGHT S ARE YOUR PROPHET

WORSHIP IT

DON'T CORRUPT IT

IT'S NOT YOURS

IT'S A GUEST

RESPECT IT'S PRESENCE BECAUSE THE PROPHET, (your thought)

IS GOD SENT.

YOU HAVE NO RIGHT OVER IT'S PURITY

PURITY IS NEVER CORRUPTED

THATS WHY ITS CALLED, "PURITY"

AND IT'S A GIFT OF GOD BESTOWED UPON YOU

BECAUSE YOU ARE FORTUNATE. YOU HAVE YOUR HONESTY

ANFD WARMTH TOWARDS HUMNITY AND THATS WHY GOD SEND YOU THIS GIFT,

YOUR, " BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS"

HE SENT YOU A GIFT WRAPPED IN THE MOST ELEGANT GIFT WRAP.

PROPHET IS THE GIFT.

WRAP AROUND THE GIFT WITH MORE PRECIOUS AND ORIGINAL THOUGHTS.

BOTH THINGS TOUCH EACH OTHER FOR SUSTENANCE...

THERE IS NO PROPHET WITHOUT CLEAN THOUGHTS, WITHOUT A PURE THOUGHT

AND THERE IS NO PURE THOUGHT WITHOUT THE GIFT...

FORGET THE UPWARDLY MOBILE MOB WITH GLITTER ON THEIR SURFACE  WHICH IS

 NOTHING BUT...

BACTERIA WICH WILL INVADE IT AND ALL OF A SUDDEN THE GIFT OF GOD

WILL PERISH.

GIVE THANKS FOR YOUR GIFTS.

IT'S THE FERTILIZER FOR YOUR GENIUS WHICH IS THE PRECIOUS GIFT FROM ABOVE....

CREATE A MASTERPIECE.

MONEY LADEN PROJECTS ARE JUST PROUCTS...

VULGAR, SILLY, OBTRUSIVE,  A DEFENCE FOR THE BAD ART...

ALL GLOSS AND GLITTER AND NOTHING DEEPDOWN.

GLOSSY PEOPLE CREATING GLOSSY ART ARE SO FEARFUL TO THE NAKED ART.

THE UNCOVERED TRUTH IS FRIGHTNING...

PEOPLE RUN AWAY FROM THE COURAGEOUS, CREATIVE ARTISTS CALLING THEM,

"FAILURES" AND AVOID THEM AS PLAGUE BECAUSE THE GLITTER AND THE SHIMMER

IS MISSING IN THE NAKED TRUTH.

ACTUALLY, THEY ARE TERRIFIED OF THEIR OWN LACK OF TALENT WHICH

THEY ARE COVERING UP IN A NICELY TYPED AND PRINTED SCRIPT ON THEIR LAPTOPS

WRITHING NOTHING IN IT.

"SIT DOWN"

ONE CHARACTER SAYS

"STAND UP"

THE OTHER CHARACTER SAYS

"WANT A DRINK?"

THE 3RD CHARACTER SAYS

"SURE"

THE FOURTH CHARACTER ANSWER.

THE PAGE IS FILLED

SENT TO THE PUBLISHER

IT'S PUBLISHED

THE PUBLISHER IS THE BOY FRIEND

IT'S A CROWD OF NOTHINGNESS

A COMMUNITY OF NOTHINGNESS....

COMPARE YOURSELF ONLY WITH YOURSELF

YOU ARE

YOU ARE

YOU ARE

YOU ARE.

AND NO ONE ELSE

AND NO ONE ELSE

AND NO ONE ELSE

YOU COMPARE YOURSELF WITH ONLY YOURSELF

ALL OTHERS ARE ACQUAINTANCES...

IT'S NOT THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TRUE FRIENDS

THER ARE NO FRIENDS PERIOD.

YOU HAVE BEEN MISTAKEN LOOKING FOR REAL FRIENDS

HAVE YOU LEARNT YOUR LESSON YET?

YOU MUST NEVER ARGUE WITH ACQUAINTANCES...

YOU MUST NOT SHOW ANY EMOTIONS

JUST, "HI", "HI"

YOU DON'T SHARE SECRETS

JUST, :HI:, :HI"

AND YOU MOVE ON

LIFE WILL BECOME EASY

KEEP YOUR SPIRIT UP

SPIRIT IS THE THING

WITH HEALTH, THE SPIRIT GETS UPLIFTED AD YOU CAN DO THINGS WITH VIGOUR

IMAGINATION, WITH WHICH ONE CREATES.

 ONLY GENUINE SPIRIT MATTER.

THEN WITH THAT BLESSING OF THE SPIRIT YOU CAN CREATE,  NOT WITH MONEY...

YOUR BEAUTIFUL SPIRIT IS THE ONLY THING WITH WHICH YOU CAN CREATE...

MONEY IS BULL SHIT...

MONEY IS AN OBSTACLE TO ART.

BECAUSE THE MONEY REPLACES THE MASTERPIECE

THEIR SCRIPTS ARE ONLY TO MAKE MONEY.

WHEN THE INFLAMATION WILL GO AWAY, YOUR MIND WILL MOVE FREELY...

YOUR HEART AS WELL...

TAKE IT SLOW

CURE IT FIRST

THE INFLAMATION OF THE BRAIN.

THEN UP AT DAWN

PRAY

MOVEMENT

BRING THE THOUGHTS TO THE SURFACE AND RECORD THEM

MOVEMENT

WITH THE FLOW OF YOUR HAND AND ARM AND YOUR MIND.

THEN PUT SOME NOURISHMENT IN YOU TO REFRESH YOUR THOUGHTS.

THEN PRESERVE ALL THOUGHTS OF THE MORNINGS AND THE EVENINGS

AND THE AFTERNNOONS.

THEN REST AT THE TIME OF DUSK AND PRAY...

THEN SLEEP

A LONG, COMFORTABLE SLEEP AND THINK OF YOUR LOVED ONES

ONLY...ONLY..ONLY.

EVERYONE ELSE AND EVERYTHING ELSE IS UN-NECESSARY,

AN INTRUSION TO THE PRAYER IS SURPLUS...

SURPLUS IS NOT GOOD...

JUST THE PRAYER.

 THANKS WILL BRING PEACEFUL SLEEP

YOU HAVE AN EYE IN THE DEPTH OF YOUR HEART WHICH SEES THE UNSEEN...

MAKE YOUR EYE IN THE HEART SEE GOOD THINGS ALWAYS...

MEMOIR AND TRAVEL LOGUE

"A perpetual desire to move between places

And towards unknown."  Baudelaire

"Inexorable urge to run away."  Baudelaire

"I let it take me away to a safe bucolic, landlocked 

Place escaping from my escape."  Baudelaire

"The moment,  the disequilibrium is all."  Annonymous

"DOMESTICITY STIFLES ME."  BS

"It was all a mirage."  BS?

"Unease at the damage done to herself."? Annonymous

" Fear drives even strong minded people to otherwise

"un accountable thinking." ?

"Searingly, unflatteringly honest."?

"Each trip, however seductive has it's price."?

"Distance from materialistic distractions."?

"Restless professionally and disappointed

Romantically." ?

"Tired, sleep deprived, stressed out, too busy

People who shirked downtime in the service

Of making money."?

"Claustrophobia, I bled myself dry."?

"The hideous vipers knot of blood connections."?

"I suddenly realized at such a late date that my mind

Has gone beyond...trying to have a discussion or

Explanation of any kind or argument based on strong

Opinions or expression of desire and dream, adventure

Or sadness is just totally useless with most of the people

I know and especially with some, all of a sudden I get

Reduced to zero...feel a person of no significance...

Because for them everything even the most mundane

Take precedence over my entire being.

My passions, my desires get reduced to dust and I have to

Just pass the time obeying their silent demands or to be just

Quiet and do whateever need to be done because my mind

Has surpassed, travelled, learnt, gone a different direction

which they most probably don't understand and I end up becoming

An obedient daughter, sister, an aunt, a friend who has to fulfill their needs

Theire desires, their ignorances...

Under all circumstances and it's getting harder to instantly reduce

Myself into zero of nothingness who must obey other's needs

"CAN'T DO IT..."

"JUST GOT EXHAUSTED FROM DOING THAT ALL MY LIFE." ?

"Let them come to you.

Let them come after you

Then you can deal with it perhaps...

Only get it out of your head right now..

So controlled, so repressed, so uninterseting, so boring...

Need a break...stop being a fakirni...stop the sacrifice." ?

"You always want to cross the bridge before coming to it...

Worry about crossing it when you are at the edge of the bridge." ?

 

SYBIL'S DESPAIR

 SYBIL'S DESPAIR

(Order of the scenes)

IST ORDER ?

1: Actors with torch lights roaming around in the dark not knowing where they are)

2: Prologue: Dead People

3:Therapy: Patient and Therapist, (Importance of being Important)

4: Monolouge, Ohio

5: Therapy, Patient Therapist, 3

6: Harvard Yard, is for sure in

7; Another happy day

SECOND ORDER?

1: Actors in the dark with torch light

2: Prologue. Delivered by me, to be written about the chaos in the world.

                     Wars, illness, Climate, Politics, Immigration, racism?

3: Therapy: Patient and therapist

4: Monologue, politician

5: New Yorker

6: Therapy, patienet and therapist no 2

7: So many people, to be looked at

8: Dead people

9: Dead people can be the prologue?

10: Kevin's monologue, Importance of no Importance, inspired by Oscar Wild's , Woman of no

 importance.

11: An hour of fun with Mona

12: Transition? New thinking Take it or leave it?

13: Retired non artist from Timbuktoo

14: Karima Ullah

15: Ferocious dog?

16: Dress/

17: Bowl of cherries?

18: Let's deal with it today

ONE WOMAN SHOW

1: karima Ullah

2: Blow Job

3: Nude monolgue

4: I watch tv

5: Dialogue in mirrors cracked

6: Excerpt from Afghan Woman

BIG, DEEP, WIDE TALENT

BIG, DEEP, WIDE TALENT                               copyright:binasharif:2020

(A solo performance piece, a satire )

By:Bina Sharif

Character: Abbigail Vitali, a performance artist from New York performing in Kentucky

Time: 1993-1994

Abbigail Vitali:

I am a monument

I am a mountain

I am not famous doing sitcoms

I am famous doing the mighty performance art

I am me.

I am Abbigail Vitali...

I have been doing this for the last twenty years.  I started when I was 19

I could have been very famous as an actress in the theater or a singer or a dancer...

I mean I am famous now...I am in Kentucky, No,  don't laugh...

Only famous people are allowed in Kentucky for that matter.

When I say, "FAMOUS" I mean famous doing performance art.

You know what I mean...

It's a brand new art form and I am an expert of that.  I do twenty shows in fourteen weeks

Some times twenty five shows in ten weeks.

Audience love me...

(Audience clap)

See what I mean...

People who love me don't love the ones who do sitcoms on tv

Those people had to change many things to become famous

They had to change the shape of their breasts,  (they have to have big-tits...)

Their hips

Their noses

Their schedules

Their lives.

I became famous without doing all those things.

I don't have to do all those things

I already have good tits...

(People laugh and applaud)

Good nose

Good hips

My things seem like they are pretty much in order.

All I have to do is to inform my audience

That I am performing tonight

And they leave everything aside and rush towards the venue in drovs.

They come, trust me.  They do come to see me.

They even come to see me in Kentucky.

Of course they have heard of me

I am from New York

The mighty New York

The Mecca of culture

And I am a monument in that Mecca...

All the folks everywhere have heard of performance artists from New York.

The famous ones especially

Do you think people of Kentucky are going to rush to see

Some one un-knowns from NY?

Let me tell you something...

The un-known performance artists from NY can not be in Kentucky.

They are all sitting in some rotten coffee shop in Manhattan moaning

Over their rotten fate...

Un-famous performers moan and groan a lot sitting in coffee shops.

They are not in Kentucky.

I am in Kentucky because I am famous in NY.

(People laugh, shout, holler and applaud)

You get my drift?

I am here because people of Kentucky have heard of me.

If I wasn't famous in NY, You, people of great Kentucky wouldn't have heard of me

Right?

(People yell, "Right, right.")

You were expecting to see a big woman

Because my talent is so big...

But you don't have to be big to have a big talent.

You know what I mean?

Big talent has nothing to do with big tits or big lips...

But sometime it can be a coincident that you can have big tits and all and also big talent

That's kind of nice...

A big woman with a big talent performing in Kentucky...sounds kind of nice too...

In that case everything is big

You can't fail. Your big success certified especially if you have big tits...

Listen guys...

The fact of the matter in show business is that you don't ever have to be

Big...Only your big tits can accomplish big success...

That's why all of them rush to have artificial tits.

The producers love to squeeze them, the bigger, the better...

Like big, ripe juicy plums...

But it's a gift of god to be small with regular tits and have big, actually huge talent like mine...

In my case everything is under control

Actually people of Kentucky are more amused by my big talent and my smaller size...

Because it was a novelty for Americans of Kentucky...

I mean  America is big and Kentucky is in it and they were expecting some

One big and busty but they got over it because I am a small time American

With big talent.

You see America is real big...

It's big in size and big in talent

You know what I mean?

Look at us

So many talented people all born in  talented America

You can imagine the depth and breadth of talent in this country

It's deep and wide.

Thats a rare combination

Usually when something is deep, it's not so wide

And when it's wide it's not so deep...

(Audience laugh and repeat,  wide and deep, deep and wide)

But here in our country, America...only in America, we have BIG, WIDE, DEEP TALENT.

I feel so good about my big, wide, deep talent that I often thank Virgin Mary for it.

I do believe in her once in a while...

She told me once, that she herself never believed in miracles till the miracle

Happened to her.

She was a true lesbian

Never touched by a man in her life and still ended up having a child...

Not only that she had a child, that child was no ordinary child.

It was a child of god.

I think that's why we have godly talent.

We are really and truelly close to god, and that's a miracle too.

And thats why god has bestowed such deep talent upon us...

Especially the performance artists from NY...

Who can be invited to Kentucky

All expenses paid...

And thats the reason we must pay attention to our god for our gift from him...

And that gift is our talent.

And let me tell you, if we don't thank god for his gift

We will be punished.

And our punishment would be to be doomed by misery, cynicism, bitterness and jealousy

Of other performance artists with big talent and believe me thats some punishment...

By having that curse our amazing talent will just whither away...

Trust me.

I am a Catholic and Catholics are supposed to care for other fellow artists with big, deep, wide talent

and not be jealous of them.

We can't afford to bring misery and poverty to our artists, thats our govt's job.

And god right now is punishing the govt because it seems like that we have no govt any more...

I mean they are here but they are not here.  We have an invisible, blind and deaf govt.

That's a curse from god.

We want to protect our talent and our fellow artists talent from that curse

We can't be jealous of other performance artist's talent.  You see there is nothing

More dangerous than jealousy in show business.

It eats you up alive and your talent vanishes.

I want to keep my immense takent alive so I can always come back to kentucky

and also go to Oregon, Wisconsin, Arizona, Michigan...

All the battle state...to battle...Show business is a battle and I have won it

And now want to keep winning...

Once a winner...can't imagine to be a loser

Thats not the American way...

We need to appreciate our talent

Especially the artist with not such huge tits...

If god gave us something and we don't appreciate it

God is going to take it away...

It's like a president

If he doesn't do a good job, god take the presidency away from him

After four yers...

(Audience cheer)

What are we going to do if our talent  was to vanish...

I am always thankful to the divine power for my talent.

There is nothing a critic can do if god gave you talent

And it's only the divine power can punish you and take it away if you

Are not grateful.

I and my god, that's all I have.

Yes, and my brilliant talent...I am here, am I not?

How could I be here in Kentucky without my brilliant talent?

Staying in a nice hotel, a car to pick me up and then grand dinners after the show...

Oh! people of Kentucky I am so happy and grateful and to NewYorkers as well

Without my fame in NYC,  I could have never made it to Kentucky.

My love of divine power keeps me in a nice hotel and takes me for a fancy meal.

I am a success because I have talent.

Success in America spread like a virus

One day you are an unknown and second day millions of people know your name

AND THEN THEY NEVER FORGET IT. Success is like chain stores.  Once a chain store is successful

They spread all over America...That's success and I love success.

Once I had a dog and i gave her the name , which was, " success". She was stolen  from me and I looked for her every where so desperately...

(People applaud)

I shouted in the streets, "Success, where are you?  Please come back.  I miss you so much."

And then I found her and I told her, "Listen, success, promise me that you will never leave me again."

and she shook its tail promising me that she will be with me for ever and ever...

And then one day she died....

(People say, "Oh! no, oh! no)

Becaus she was almost a human being and nature affects humn beings...but success is so strong,

Once you have it it's for life...nothing can kill it...

Look all the successful people keep coming back

We find ways to bring them back...

Maybe they never went away

Maybe they are just testing us and we don't disappoint them...

Maybe they are just lucky...

Do you think I am lucky?

No, darling I am not lucky...

My talent is lucky

And I have talent.

I mean how many people get flown to Kentucky to perform?

You paid for my flight...didn't you?

You think any one would bother to pay for some one's flight who was completely talentless but

happened to be lucky?

GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK

(Actress get angry and start screaming)

People who have no talent are not takeing aeroplnes to come to Kentucky.

They are rotting in their narrow,  stuffy rooms on Ave C in NYC 

If they had talent, I promise you they will be here right now talking to you,  amusing you, 

Entertaining you,  you the people of KAENTUCKY, WHO PAID FOR THEM TO COME HERE...

You paid with your hard earned dollars,  dollars don't grow on trees,  dollars are earned with hard work 

and dedication...You are smart people...you are not going to waste your dollars on some miserably 

talentless performance artist bitch...you are not going to fly her here because the bitch is bored with

Having no name in NY...

No, no, no, no.  You are not going to do that.

I am here because you invited me here and paid for my flight

And why did you do that?

Oh! come on, tell me why did you bring me here?

(People shouting, (

"Because you are famous in NY...because of your big, wide, deep talent)

That's it.

That's exactly right

I am here in kentucky because I have BIG, WIDE, DEEP TALENT AND AFTER MY PERFORMANCE

I AM GOING TO GO HORSE BACK RIDING.

AND I KNOW HOW TO DO THAT AS WELL.

TALENTLESS NY PERFORMANCE ARTISTS SITTING IN

LOUSY COFFE SHOPS THINK THEY CAN GO HORSE BACK RIDING

WITHOUT KNOWING HOW TO RIDE A HORSE?

THEY HAVE SOME WORK TO DO TO PERFECT THEIR CRAFT

AND YOU INVITED ME HERE TO KENTUCKY BECAUSE MY CRAFT IS

AMAZINGLY PERFECT...

IT'S BIG

IT'S WIDE

IT'S DEEP...AND, I CAN RIDE A HORSE AS WELL.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU...

(Audience cheer, shout, and give her many standing ovations.)

END OF SHOW.

TORMENT CONTINUES

 TORMENT:

TWO:

What to say and how to say it?

ANSWER:

Politely make a point

No aggression

No repetition

WHAT TO SAY?

ANSWER

Attitude change

Distant but friendly

THE MESSAGES ON FACEBOOK

Hang out soon...love you

AS A JOKE

Cross over to the other side

Dealing with people

My meeting with M

Please no contact with M

WHAT TO SAY FIRST?

Start with facebook messages first

Attitude like sunday

MESSAGES ON FACEBOOK

Friend

Cross over to the other side

Meeting with M

No contact with M PLEASE...

Drop it

DON'T START RIGHT AWAY

Wait

Have a glass of wine

Small talk

Ask H about others first

Attitude on last sunday

Drop it, drop everything.

DON'T START RIGHT AWAY

Wait again

Have another glass of wine

Do small talk over that second glass of wine...

Ask H about others first...

MISSING SCENES

Put the script together

Scenes in order

EXERCISE

Shoulder

Leg

Knee

Pain

Pain

Pain

AVOID ALL PAIN

Eat salads, salads, salads

Very little meat

WAKE UP

AND EXCERCISE

Fruit and yogurt

Go to the city and walk

Areas to explore

Queen st

College st

Water front

That market in between colleg and queen st

Contact theater

Museums

Parks

WEEKENDS

Friday evening?

Saturday and sunday, day and night?

GERARD ST

Buy some shalwar and kameez

COMPUTER WORK

Download pictures

attachments

PDF

Type script

Print blog

THINGS TO DO

Legs

face

Nails

Socks

Book

Brazier

Forever 21

IN GENERAL

Don't talk too much

Don't come close to any one

No expectations of D, L, D ?

Or, L and D,  but be discrete

No favors to any one

Only hire people with experience

No friends

No friends of friends

No non actors for a job

BOOK THE SHOW

Try to book now

THINGS TO BUY

Eyeliner

Mascara

Underwears

Chocolate

Give kids $100

A BILLION THOUGHTS GATHERING A STROM

HOUSE OF A BILLION THOUGHTS

Interrupted

Broken

In-coherent

Un-necessary

Irrelavant

Piercinhg

Penetrating

Disturbing

Evil

Murderous

Loving

Desiring

Misunderstood

Foggy

Rainy

Dramatic

Passionate

Melancholy thoughts

NO MORE THAN TWO TOPICS AT A TIME

FIRST TOPIC

Facebook

love messages

Attitude on last sunday

SECOND TOPIC

Mother's day

Package

NOTHING MORE

NOTHING ELSE....

DUPATTAS

Dupattas to bring

Black and silver

Maroon

White

TAKE THEM OUT OF THE SUITCASE

SHOWS DAZZLE

But it's diplomatic, polite-fake

Be ware of the fakeness of the word, "Love"

Get rid of the fear

Replace it with hope no matter how hopeless it sounds.

The word, "Hope" is better than the word "Fear"

People who say they love,  honor,  respect but actually do none of the above can have

Feelings of affection,  fondness,  closeness,  sincerity?

They can't just claim that they just suddenly lost all those skills

And turned towards deafness,  dumbness,  lame excuses, while actually

Cross over to the enemy side.

NONCHALANT

Nonchalantly delegating the oppositions to themselves.

"I came not to cede control of my narrative...

I can't lose control of my own narrative and my narrative is of expression,

Of honesty,  of warmth and of playing no games or playing two games at the same moment.

LOYALTY

Your loyalty only belongs to one side.

Chose the side and then stick to it.

COLLABORATION

Never ever in your life do collaborative, creative work.

Have your own individual copyright.

Don't give control of your work to any one as long as you are alive.

You can't control my creativity or my creative work.

You can't dictate to me your way of working.

Go ahead and do your own work the way you want to

Instead of ordering me around to change this,  to do this,  don't do this,  don't do that...

Let me do my work my way.

DO YOUR WORK ACCORDING TO YOUR OWN WAYS AND CHOICES.

THE END FOR NOW....

"TORMENT OF THE PATIANT AND THE ADVICE OF THE THERAPIST.

"TORMENT"

Suffering from the impossiblity of choosing

Between two trivial and absolutely immeterial

Options.

"TRIVIAL OPTIONS"

All my life I persued trivial options.

All my life I worried about trivial people

And their selfish desires at the expense of my time,

My goals,  my plans,  my routine.

How sad.  How silly.  How tragic actually...

The whole life turned into trivia...

Vacilation of the mind...

The mind which oscilate from nothingness

To nothingness...discerning nothing.????

The mind argues against arguing.

The mind argues against nothingness,  discerning nothing.???

They mock and incite me

And when I make a profound statement

According to my own belief-my own truths,

My own feelings...they kind of disregard it

With a sleigh of hand as if what I am saying

Is totall nonsense.

It can be for them,  but why indulge me in that?

Why incite?  Provoke?  Stimulate?

To ridicule...to reduce...to dismiss.

"SHOULD HAVE"

Should have gone to Florida

Should have gone away in February...

Two weeks perhaps in Florida

And in June--

To Denmark for the whole month

Maybe two weeks in London?

Maybe two weeks in Spain...

Two weeks in Morroco?

I feel tired of the long,  hot,  miserable summer.

Though it's over now

It sure exhausted me.

Not only me but it exhausted my aesthetic

My creativity...

I feel no vigor right now...none.

The breaks from this tense city are so important.

There is some kind of depression here in this city,

In these avenues...in it's cafe's, in the apt.

This kind of deep sadness I don't feel in other cities

I wonder what it is?

"LACK OF WORK"

Lack of work perhaps...

Lack of acknowlegment of any kind?

But whose acknowlegment are you seeking?

You of all people havef to be alone and just keep working.

You of all people can never have serious friendship with any one...

Not that you are not capable...

But you give in...

Your time,  your time,  your time for others

Others,  who you think are friends...

It's either because of other people's selfishness

Or your own stupidity...

But it's confirmed that deep,  serious friendship

Is impossible somehow....

"NOT CAPABLE"

Ok, let's say that you are not capable of maintaing deep friendship...

Because one of the reason maybe that you start your relationship

As an extremely polite and giving person and if after a while you show

Some kind of distress,  disagreement,  snap,  or raise your voice

For some genuine reason...they,  your so called friends can't handle it...

They don't know you that way...

They consider you humble

Agreeable

Compromising

Accommodating

Generous and giving...

Then,  all of a sudden they are startled

Or behave that they are startled

Because so far,  they were the only ones

Who could afford to snap

And assert themselves.

They got used to you not assertive

Because that was beneficial to them.

They wanted you to stay that way.

"MEEKNESS"

Your meekness,  (a bad word) suited their

Aggressiveness... and self interests.

Once you showed,  (actually,  too late in the game)

Your assertiveness by raising your voice and

Of your interest in the matter under discussion

It was too much of a shock for them and too

Late for you.

Because this was not how they wanted you.

They wanted you to be subservient, (Another extremely bad word)

Especially for you...dear friend

You come from a subservient culture.

You have to run far away from the word, "Subservient."

Run away when you hear this word

Run away when you smell this word...

When you perceive thats the role they want you to adapt to...

You need to run away from all of it even if you expect

Any benefits for you...

THE PRICE

The price is too heavy to pay.

You ran away from an obedient and subservient culture

for women especially...

You absolutely can't be in that situation any longer

Never...

You are not in that kind of a culture any more.

Why would you be obedient to any one?

That's pathetic...

You either have to be in the position of power

Where you can assert your own personality with 

Freedom of expression...

Where you don't have to be on guard, fearing

That you might offend them...

Screw that.

No benefit is worth it

Your out-spoken, free, creative nature is priceless

No price is big enough...

For your free and bold expression

Your expression can't be capped.

Be alone if you can't be in the position of freedom

And it's free flowing expression.

Be alone

ALONE...

Your creation is your friend...

Is your relative...

Is your companion...

Is your reward...

Don't be a slave

Slave of anyone

Slave is a bad word

 Really a bad word

Don't be a slave even for a million dollars

It's not worth it...

And to be a slave for nothing?

That's murder. You murder yourself.

You and your mood of obedience did it.

The mood of obedience,  sbservience did it.

Was that mood arested?

How long was the prison sentence?

CONDITIONED

I understand...

I fully understand that you are condioned

By your culture and tradition...

But you have been out of that culture for so long...

By now you should have assumed western values

Wear jeans...

Assume a new dress code...

A new way. 

Then you will be able to assert yourself with more confidence

And say, "Fuck you." a lot

Your native pants and shirts have a sense of obedience

Stop wearing clothes which makes you more ethnic

Than you already are...

Wear jeans and say to everyone you  ever come across,

"Hi,  can't talk. 

 Extremely busy.

 Have to run. 

 Zoom meeting"

"Zoom meeting"

 Is a pretty new excuse,

 For a new attitude,

 To just get away from every one. 

Before zoom, it was like this,

"Hi,  can't talk,  extremely busy. 

 Have to run to a meeting."

That's the western way...

The western excuse to be rude in a polite way.

In the west every one says, "So busy."

Whether busy or not,  they say it.

Busy means,  success.

Amazing,  words always have hidden meanings and purposes..

You must say it too.

Say to everyone who you come across

Even a dog...

SAY IT..

Say that you are busy.

 "Can't talk,  have to run,  need to run."

Always be on the run.

That's the western way.

You have forgotten that you are in the west

And in the west for ages...

WAITING

Do not sit and wait for any one.

NEVER.

THAT'S A MUST.

Do not sit and wait for nothing.

Waiting for some one is the worst thing you can do for yourself.

Waiting for people is the subservient way...

"Do not wait for anyone...

Nobody period.

Don't even have the desire to see anyone

It's you who is number one on your list.

Don't be second on your own list.

LAST ADVICE OF THE THERAPIST.

YOU ARE NUMBER ONE

YOU ARE BUSY

YOU NEED TO RUN

CAN'T TALK

GOT TO GO...

And now time is up for this session

Till we meet again......

THE END

"TO MY MEMORY A LETTER SENT"

"TO MY MEMORY A LETTER SENT"

ONE: I,  KARIMA ULLAH 

JAMES BALDWIN

 JAMES BALDWIN 

"THE WORDS LIBERTY, FREEDOM ARE TERRIBLY 

MISUSED WORDS."

"WE HAVE MADE A LEGEND OUT OF A MASSACARE"

"SPEECHLESS IN THE MOST TOTAL SENSE OF THAT WORD

ON YOUR WAY WHERE?"

"YOU HAVE TO SURVIVE---ONCE YOU GOT HERE---MANAGE SOMEHOW HOW TO

OUTWIT THE MASTER."

"COLLISION BETWEEN YOUR TERMS AND LIFE'S TERMS OCCURS." ???

"YOU REPRESENT,  YOU ARE THE RECEPTACLE OF AND THE VEHICLE OF, ALL THE

PAIN, DISASTER, SORROW WHICH WHITE AMERICANS THINK THEY CAN ESCAPE." ???

WHITE POPULATION IS BEYOND ANY CONCEIVABLE HOPE OF MORAL 

REHABILITATION."

"THEY ARE UNABLE TO CONCEIVE THAT THEIR VERSION OF REALITY

WHICH THEY WANT ME TO ACCEPT IS AN INSULT TO MY HISTORY AND A

PARODY OF??  AND AN INTOLERABLE VIOLATION OF MYSELF."

 "FOR THE SAKE OF ONE'S SANITY, ONE SIMPLY CEASES TRYING

TO MAKE THEM HEAR."

I, KARIMA ULLAH AND HER VISIT TO HER HOME

 I, KARIMA ULLAH:

ONE:

We were ten in the family

No we are fiive

Now five of us are going to get together

Not in the house where we were born...

Where we grew up...

Where we had parents

Where we studied and studied har to make something of ourselves

Where we had long conversations, arguments, fights, laughter,

A great deal of laughter...

Where we had great intimacy.

We knew everything about our house, about our parents, about our existence,

Though we weren't aware that it was called, existence...

We also knew what was putside our door...

We knew the neighbors

They were our friends.  Whenever they cooked something special they would send it to us

And we did the same.

towerThe custom was that not to send the empty plates back but hold on to them till we cooked

Some thing special and send those plattle jazzy soundses back full of delicious food.

We also knew the bazars in our town and which bazar had what kind osf things.

cleWe had eight bazars around a clock tower.  One would hav great fabrics, the other furniture,

One full of jewellery, glass bracelets, my favorite, exteremely colorful and made subtle jazzy

Sounds. One bazar was full of vegetables, fruit, grains, fresh spices, meats, fish, almonds, apricots.

The bazar next to the this garden of delights had all the bed covers, handmade quilts, bed sheets, 

towels and a million other nick knacks.

and a million other things. 

One avenue only had public buses which went to all other towns in so many different directions

And all those bazars met at one point, a great circle and in that circle were shops full of ice cream and 

hlab Jamin, luddoo,rus ki -malai, all these shops weown wherete called, Mithai shops.

tAnd  in the middle of this vast circle was the clock tower called ghunta ghar.

On the outskirts of those town bazars were wide tree lined roads.  Some of those roads lead to public

otgardens and parks, in that town where all of us grew up.

It was a routine to go to those pearhtks for walks in the mornings and evenings with the family.

Near our house was a tandoor, (Brick oven) where we will take our dough  to get nans baked, hot,

crispy, fresh nans for lunch. I used to go to tandoor after school.  I loved doing that.

We ate everything which was foodf can fresh.  No can food-no, not at all.  We never heard of

can food.

t night in summer time we slept on our roof on jute beds covered with sparkling white matresses and 

white sheets. We sang songs lying in our beds looking at the stars, thto the same housee clear sky and 

beautiful blue 

moon dreaming of going abroad and that's when our tragic journey began

Now I am taking a journey back but not to the same house, not to the same town.

That house is sold. Parents are dead, so are two sisters and one brother.

Five dear family memberes are gone.

Five out of ten are dead.

Only five of us are left.

Two brothers and three sisters.

Now, we will all meet in a different town, in a different house.

All of us hven't been together at the same 

. time and one place for years. All five of us haven't been together at the same moment

 for years, for decades actually.

Some of us have been living abroad which we dreamt  about while we lay on our comfortable

beds on our beautiful roof singing songs.  Now we are going from being abroad to a new town where 

one of our sister lives, in a town which is...

 so familiar to us, where we don't know any neighbors, where we do not know the way to any bazar.

Some one will take us whereever we want to in a car.  Now every one has a car.

We used to walk to those bazars. We didn't have a car.

Walking to those bazars to buy fish, chiken, fruit, sweets, shoes, fabrics was real fun.

Every one knew us.  All shop keepers were our friends.  All of them.  The ones who sold hand made 

mango Ice cream especially. If we didn't have money by any chance on any day, we could still buy 

everything we wanted and pay on another day.

But the town where we are going to gather soon, no one knows us....not a soul...

We have been living abroad too long.

But the sad irony of it all is that no one knows us here either where we have lived for decades.

We live abroad everywhere...anonymously...

No neighbors...we have neighbors but no one knows their names,no sweetshop owners, no mango 

icecream man is here...and no friends...no friends at all.

AND NOW WE ARE GOING THE COUNTRY WHERE WE WERE BORN...where we grew up.

Where we studied so hard to make something of ourselves.

That house is sold.

We don't go that town where the house once stood.

Too painful...

But now I am preparing for the painful journey to a country where my ancestor's house is now sold.

tTthe town where we don't have a house of our own. I don't even have proper clothes to wear in that 

country, no proper shoes either.  When I land there, the unknown town, the unknown country where I 

was born and once lived and prospered, I will have to buy some ready made clothes, the kind of clothes 

 everyone wears who live there. No one buys fabrics in that country and take it to the tailor.

They want to copy the motif of Western world's polyester,

Going to the tailor was an experience unlike any other.

We knew where the tailor's shop was...

We knew where the washerman lived...

We knew where the tandoor for nans was...

Now we will gather in a town wherego to the town where we were we will be total strangers.

The whole painful past will strike us severely.

The big mistake of leaving our home and our country would sniff and bite us like a snake.

We will be too afraid to go to the town where we were born.

There is no home of our own there....

We have no home of our own anywhere....That's the pain we will have to encounter when all five of us 

will gather soon...I am always preparing for this painful journey back and forth...backhe  and forth.

I can't seem to get ready.

My body have the listless heaviness of sorrow, the weight of tragedy created by myself unknowingly.

I can't seem to get up and start to pack.

We have been living in other people's countries, other people's homes for so long, for so-so-long and we 

grew old without noticing that we don't really have a home of our own anywhere...

Now all five of us will meet.

We are older and different.

According to the atmosphere and circumstances of the places we have been living and not really living 

for so long...

We will also look quite different and older to each other.

We won't talk of our pain.

We will just smile once in a while.

We won't talk about our past

We won't talk about our old home...far too painful.

We won't talk about our bazars.

We wo't talk about our parents for sure.

Too painful...far too painful...

We won't talk about the tremendous mistake made long time ago...

Mistake of leaving our country...

I can't et up and get ready...

Can't get ready for the journey back home

Which home?

That's the question...

Thos two words, "Back home."

Sound ominous.

There is no home.

No home there...

No home...

We are going to a country, once our country

Where we have no home...

We are going from a country where we have no home of our own either.

We have no home period.

Why am I going?

Thats another painful question...

I have so many questions which I can't seem to answer and that has exhausted me completely.

I can't get up to go home....

JEFF BUCKLEY

 JEFF BUCKLEY

"WHEN WE WERE YOUNG"

 "WHEN WE WERE YOUNG"

When we were young

And pretty

Now old and life is shitty

It's a shame

Life was just a game

All threads are torn

Like the ligaments

And bone

Oh! we forgot

That we were born

With a promise to be gone...

Life was a one act play

We forgot that the curtain was drawn

No promise of a second act

That was an untold fact...

We were out at the first run

       But kept having fake fun

No bail was allowed

       In a jungle or a jail

Losers and winners

        Success and failure

No difference in a strom

         Oh! we forgot that we were born...

In a moment

The wind blew

And the autum leaves were all torn...

Nothing remained in the mirrors of shame

        It was a game

It was a game...

Some played it well

        Some were amature

Many different kinds were born

         That's for sure...

What was the meaning of this experiment?

             The journey wasn't of meriment...

But when we were young and pretty

            We never knew

Life would be so shitty?

Flowers bloom

      Then wither

Leaves fall

      Then return

Seasons go away

       Then come back

But alas!

            We forgot

That we were born

           To be finally gone...

And never to be born again

            But we were young once...

And so pretty

Wish we went then...

          When the youth was ripe

Like a juicy plum

            We became old

And life took a different shape...

             It escaped

It escaped...

We forgot that we were born

           To be soon gone...

Finished our first act

            And became extinct...

Curtain fell

              And the darkness came

House lights were turned off

           And we were never to be heard again...

But we always remembered 

             That we were born

With a solid promise to be gone...

               If some one wrote a second act of our existence

We would have to come back

               After we had our brandy

To show once again

               The expertise of our craft

To make our play live for ever....

               But alas!

Life was only a one act play

             To get old and wither away...

This eternal fact

          Was never revealed at our birth

Oh! we forgot

           That we were born

To be gone,  gone for ever...

            Who will feel sad for us?

That question remain...

           Our ashes were thrown at the sea...

The waves will come back to look for me.

The waves will come back to look for me.

The waves will come back and look for me.

copyright:binasharif:2020