THESE AWFUL DREAMS
Every thing had been stolen
No idea who the thief was
Got tired of the whole scenario
Wanted to catch the thief
I put the most expensive stuff..
Jewelery etc, (In my real life I have no diamonds)
In the dream I had tons of extremely pricey ornaments
Pearl neklaces
Diamond bracelets
Rings loadd with rubies
And many other things
I got so tired of discovering every morning
that the things have been disappearing
Some one seems to know everything about my safe and secret places
Not so secret any more....
Since I wake up a lot from these horrifying dreams
When some one is chasing me
Or trying to kill me
Or I am stark naked
And can't find any clothes
Or being trapped, (The usual dreams motif)
I thought when I am awake in the middle of these horrifying
cenarios, I will catch the thief
Because he/she or trans will be taking things out
Of my secret drawers I would take my pistol out and stand right behind him/her/trans
and shoot the son of a gun or the daughter or trance withe my
pistol, (Since they didn't pass the gun control law)
I am sure I would have been able to have my gun handy to shoot and kill
The thief of the night....
So I put all my valuables in a plastic bag, (imagine that)
All things with diamonds and in plastic
And put them right outside the secret place and tried to go back to sleep
Luckily or I guess un-luckily I slept for a while
And when I woke up, (Instead of catching the mighty thief
I realized to my horror that all the jewels in the plastic bag were gone
Rushed out of the dooor in a frantic manner...
There was some one else with me in my frantic state of affairs
But who was the person? I have no recollection
I am usually so alone in the busy NY with millions of people that
I would never expect any one living with me or visiting me
Except the thief or thieves....
I do have thieves in my life
People have stolen my time
I let them
Its not their fault
I let them steal my time
While people were busy working and making money
I was calling them
Visiting them
Trying to tell them what I was doing, what I was writing
Then they would go home and steal my Ideas and my actual scripts
Change the names of the characters and put it in pdf files
THEY KNOW HOW TO PUT SCRIPTS ON PDF FILES
I AM THE ONLY IDIOT AND A USELESS PERSON
LIVING IN THIS DIGITAL AGE....
I LET PEOPLE STEAL MY TIME
Like I was letting the thief steal my jewels....
The empty plastic bag was sitting on top of the garbage....
How stupid and naive can you be to trust a thief...
My mouth was open with horror looking at the empty plastic bag
It was of silver cover without the silver and gold and diamonds in it....
The person with me was also aghast
And started to blame me....
Every one blames me for everything
In this situation of course it was my fault but doesn't matter
Every one blames me for everything which happens in the big wide world...
All my fault
My stupidity, me not knowing, my lack of ability and interest in cyber space
all my scripts, (Hard copies) who has hard copies these days
Everything is on pdf files and published
Published, every damn words the mediocre influentiel, politically correct
Ass kissers scribbled is PUBLISHED
They are published writers.
They are so Important
Of course they are Important
They are published
They must be good.
They have the right nams
Right religion
Right gender orientation
You are living in the great democracy of the world
You have to be in the team and play the game
Say, whatever they want you to say
Write whatever they want you to write
Kiss ass
I said, "KIss ass"
"No. "DON'T KISS YOUR ASS"
"FIRST OF ALL YOU CAN'T KISS IT AND SECONDLY
HOW IMPORTANT IS YOUR ASS?"
"KISS IMPORTANT ASS" and you will be
published and the hard copies will be shredded and thrown away
or be archived and bought by an Important University here
So they will be out of your apt....
Right now the only thing which is out of your apt is your diamonds
You silly, stupid, naive, Idiotic, mideval imbecile....
Instead of throwing the fucking unpublished
dusty scripts out...
You threw your diamonds out....
How retarded....
"I didn't throw my diamonds out, they were stolen"
"Stolen by you?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you"
"You are the thief. Your stupidity, your lack of respect for your property
your time, your dignity, your selflessness, your village behavior, you
ethnic cunt.....
'Why do you fucking live here if you can't live like one of them?"
"Lock everything up, lock your possessions, lock your time and sit there wide awake day
and night with a gun and shoot all the mother fuckers who try to steal from you....
but the problem is that its you who steals from yourself...
Yes, you, you stole your diamonds, your talent, your time, yes that precious time
which never comes back, which is your life force, you put your valuable talent
out in a garbage bag and threw it away with your TIME...YOUR TIME HONEY
YOU WASTED YOUR TIME,
YOU WASTED YOUR ABILITY, YOUR TALENT, YOUR ART
ON USELESS PEOPLE, THIEVES OF THE DAY,
YES THEY WERE THIEVES OF YOUR DAYS AND
YOU HANDED EVERYTHING OF VALUE TO THEM FREE OF CHARGE....
YOU GAVE IT TO THEM...
YOU NEGLECTED YOUR TALENT, YOUR VALUABLE TIME.....
ON USELESS CHORES, ON USELESS, THE MOST USELESS AND SELFISH AND NON TALENTED PEOPLE....YOU GAVE AWAY YOUR TIME LIKE YOUR JEWELS
TO THIEVES WILLINGLY......
NOW YOU ARE CRYING....
BUT YOU ARE CRYING OVER SPILLED MILK....
NOTHING YOU GAVE AWAY WILL NEVER EVER COME BACK...
NEVER.....
YOU STOLE FROM YOURSELF...
YOU ARE THE THIEF OF THE NIGHT
YOU ARE THE THIEF OF THE DAY
YOUR VALUABLE DAYS
NOW GONE.....
YOU WERE THE THIEF
THATS WHY YOU COULDN'T CATCH THE THIEF......
THATS WHY...
THATS WHY.....
THATS WHY....
Then I woke up with a jolt....
No jewels were stolen
I didn't have any
Just my time was stolen...
Just my time....
I put my time in a plastic bag to be stolen
And I discovered the empty plastic bag on the heap f garbage in the streets
MAY TIME HAD GONE...........................
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Thursday, June 16, 2016
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
Its actually a dream I am dreaming while being awake
I opened a pandora's box
And now I can't put evverything back in there
It won't fit
I WONDER WHY NOT?
All those things came out of that box
But refuse to go back in there
No space.
Literally,
there is no space
But how come?
Has the pandora's box shrunk?
It looks exactly the same
With dust on it
Thats the only difference
Before I hid it, It was shining
Now its black and blue
But thats the surface
Inside of it
It has become much smaller
I can't put those things which came out of it back
What came out of it is totally scary
Letters, phone numbers of people I neber called
Forgot to call...
But saved i case...
Those people and their phone numbers must be important
Why would I save them otherwise?
NOW I HAVE NO FRIENDS
NOW I WANT TO REACH OUT TO THEM
BUT I DON'T REMEMBER WHO THEY ARE AND HOW I MET THEM?
Some numbers are from foreign countries
Berlin, London, france, Brazil
Seems like I have travelled much
But maybe I only met them in NY
I DON'T REMEMBER
iINEVER THOUGHT THAT i WILL EVER SAY THIESE WORDS
"I DON'T REMEMBER"
My memory was photographic...
But now I don't know whether I throw everything out or not?
In order for me to throw things out I have to look at them
And thats been taking hours upon hours and days upon days
Its not a piece of furnitur
That you look at it and instantly decide to throw it out
Its stuff...private, personal, some not so personal but sti;l under lock and key
Saved up for a rainy day
But now is the rainy day
Rainy days and rainy nights
lIVING ERE FOR ALMOST 40 YEARS AND THE PHONE NEVER RINGS
I guess its a rainy day
And a rainy night
People are busy worried about the rain
And keeping themselves dry
They are for sure dry
Their affection if there is any is dry
Their love, if there is any is dry
Their lies of always, 'being busy"
Is dry
But its amazing how one pick up the bad behavior and bad habits of others
'Now I always say, "HAVE BEEN SO BUSY."
This sentence is so awful but takes care of things.
No one can disputre you on this and you keep walking away from
Humanity if there us any humanity left at all
And then sits allalone and sips some luke warm coffe
You can't complain about the coffee either
Its not polite
But its very polite on the owner's part to take five dollars for coffee with tip and tax but
never giving you waht you enjoy.
Life is built like that.
Keep a fake smile and do not make vibes and keep saying
"Have been so busy,"
Yes, I am very busy right now
Trying to put some order into the disoredrly apt
Actually even me was so busy writing, directing, producing plays and acting in them as well
There was not a moment to take care of anything else.
34 plays so far and counting
That should be considered, "Being busy"
Right?
But I still was social, was happy to see friends
Happy to talk, laugh, cry over the ways of the world.
I always thought it was extremely rude to say to people who come to
You from across the street with a smile on their face, genuine smile some times and
Say to them abruptly, "OH! I am so busy." Can't spend a second with you.
It was a good busy for me.
After writing the whole day I seeked people and friends in the evening to have a chat
I come from chattering classes
Democracy or no democracy in our country back home,
EWe laughed a lot and talked a lot and ate a lot and sat in the sun a lot and sat on the
Green grass a lot....
This ,"DEMOCRACY" Is very lonely. Alone, alone, alone...
Reda a book, good, enjoyable
ave a coffe, Good, enjoyable
Walk around the same Avenue...not so enjoyable...
But no conversation, no debate...nothing
All talks, even if you do talk at all are not deep and not interesting and are opioninated...
Talk to democrat...he/she htes Trump
Talk to a republican. he/she hates Hillary
The end.....
World is bigger than Hillary and Trump...
This democracy doesn't want to deal with the world
And thts a problem
Thats a real problem.
Everything is related to everything else.
Nothing happens out of a Vaccum
Horrible events happen
Their is grief, sorrow, outrage till it dies down
Then something else happens
Then the rage and anger shifts to wards some thing else, some one else...
Then it dies down
No debate, no conversation, no solution.
Presidents come and go
The problems stay
Most of the time the same problems.
How many presidents here have the Issue with gun control?
How many people have died?
Is the Issue solved?
The same kind of lack of solutions happens in everyday life with people and friends
If there is something wrong between two friends or people in general
They would rather silently go away...instead of airing the issue which is upseting them...
They would rather not pick up the phone....
Icredible power of technology....
YOUR NAME APPEARS ON THE CELL PHONE
THEY LOOK AT IT
THEY DECIDE NOT TO ANSWER.
THEY KNOW WHO IS CALLING
THE CALLER ALSO KNOW THAT THE PERSON THEY JUST CALLED
LOOKED AT THEIR NAME AND DECIDED NOT TO ANSWER.
How sad that is for the power oriented receiver and the caller who might
love this person or has something to share or is lonely or want to go have coffee withe the person he/she just called....
ll good intentions on the part of the caller....
The one who doesn't pick up....
I wonder how to describe that persion?
Busy?
Perhaps
Don't feel like talking?
Perhaps
Angry at you?
Perhaps
But you would never know
Would you?
After a while if you have any integrity left you won't call...
Would you?
If you did
You would be considerd needy....
Remember you are in a Western democracy.....
You are not in a thirld world country
Where you have time avaialble and since you are so downtrodden that you
laugh a lot to survive the pain of poverty and everything else
So you get together and eat and laugh and have some fun
But here the function seems like two folds... or three folds...
"POWER" PLEASURE" PROPERTY" MARKET VALUES LIKE HAROLD PINTER SAID...
And those people's pleasure is not shared with ordinary struggling folks.
Its with other people of power and property.
Laughter belongs to the power and property here...........
Not to pick up your phone call when they think not only that you don't have power and property but you will never have in the future.
You got it all wrong in my case.....
I HAVE POWER.
I AM MASHALLAH STRONG
I HAVE WITHE THE BLESSING OF GOD DONE EVERYTHING ALONE
WITH NO ONE'S HELP. NO ONE. I SAY LOUD AND CLEAR.
I HAVE WORDS IN MY POSSESSION.
MANY WORDS
WHICH MADE PAGES AND PAGES OF MY HAND WRITTEN PLAYS....
AND ITS THE WRITING WHICH HAS FILLED MY APT...
ITS THAT PENDOR'S BOX I AM TALKING ABOUT.
ITS SO MUCH WRITING THAT I DON'T BELIEVE THAT I SINGLE HANDEDLY DID IT....
NOW ITS BECOME IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP IN THE APT...
THERE IS LITERALLY NO SPACE LEFT.
BOOKS, WRITING AND MY ART WORK.....
FILLS MY APARTMENT
AND I STILL HAD AND HAVE TIME TO CALL PEOPLE WHO DO NOT PICK UP.....
ACTUALLY I DON'T DO THAT ANY MORE BECAUSE I DON'T LOVE THOSE PEOPLE ANY MORE
BUT ONCE I DID.....
WHY WOULD I CALL OTHERWISE?
THEY ARE SO UN-FORTUNATE...
THEY LOST MY LOVE
AND MY FRIENDSHIP....
I WOULD READ MANY KINDS OF BOOKS AND THEN TELL THEM IN DETAIL
ABOUT WHAT THE AUTHORS SAID...
I EDUCATED PEOPLE UN-KNOWINGLY....
UT I NEVER PAID MUCH ATTENTION TO THE STUFF ACCUMULATING IN MY PLACE....
LAST MONTH I DECIDED TO DO THAT.
ITS UN=BELIEVAC=BLE.
IF ONE NED ANY HELP BY ANY ONE ITS ABOUT CLEANING AND ORGANIZING AND REORGANIZING...
THAT ENORMOUS CHORE YOU CAN'T DO ALONE....
YOU CAN HIRE PEOPLE....
BUT WHERE IS THE MONEY?
IF YOU ONLY WROE PLAYS, YOU OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T MAKE MONEY TO PAY THE MOVERS AND PAINTERS AND CLEANERS...
AND YOU NEVER HAD ANY ONE TO HELP YPU BECAUSE YOU NEVER SHOWED ANY INTEREST....BECAUSE YOU WERE JUST WRITING...
YOU DIDN'T NEED HELP IN THAT....
BUT CLEANING AND THROWING FURNITURE OUT OF A FOURTH FLOOR APT WITH NO ELEVATOR....
PLEASE...DON'T TELL ME THAT I CAN DO IT......
BUT I HAVE REALIZED HOW WASTEFYUL AND UN-CREATIVE THIS WHOLE DAMN THING IS.....
I HAVE WRITTEN NOTHING...
I SAY NOTHING AND I AM THE PERSON WHO DID NOTHING EVERYDAY BUT WROTE, DREW AND READ...................
BUT NOTHING RIGHT NOW....
LOOKING AT THE DUSTY MESS SCATTERED ALL OVER THE PLACE DEPRESSESS ME SO MUCH THAT WITHIN AN HOUR AT THE MOST OF DOIG SOME STUFF IN THE APT I TAKE A SHOWER AS IF THE DUST OF LIFE HAS ENTERED MY BEING...I SCRUBBED MYSELF,TIP TOE, WWEAR SOME CLEAN CLOTHES AND LEAVE
THEN I SIT IN A CAFE ALONE, ALL ALONE, ALWAYS ALONE...
AND DRINK LUKE WARM COFFEE, TOO TIRED TO COMPLAIN AND THINK OF MY LIFE.................
WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LIFE?
BACK HOME THERE WILL BE FIVE STRONG MEN, HIRED HELP WILL DO EVERYTHING IN ONE OR AT THE MOST TWO DAYS...
THEY WILL WASH THE FLOORS, PUT EVERYTHING BACK IN ORDER....GET PAID, NO ATTITUDE, NO CURSING, HERE YOU CAN'T TELL THE CLEANIG LADY THAT YOU ARE DOING A LOUSY JOB...
SHE/HE WILL KILL YOU WITHE GUN SHE HAS IN HER BACKPACK...
SO YOU NEVER COMPLAIN...NEVER FOR COFFEE, NEBER FOR LUKE WARM CLEANING...OR PEOPLE NOT PICKING UP THE PHONE AND NEVER TELLING YOU WHAT'S WRONG....
YOU JUST ST ALONE AND THINK....
WHAT WAS MY PURPOSE TO COME HERE?
I GUESS TO LIVE IN A SHITTY CLUTTERED APT
TO BE ALONE....
TO WRITE PLAYS....
YES, I GUESS....
BACK HOME I WOULD HAVE HAD A GREAT CLEAN HOUSE, EVERYTHING IN ORDER, LOTS OF PEOPLE AROUND BUT NO PLAYS.............
I WONDER WHAT'S BETTER?
NOW MY OWN CREATIVITY HAS BECOME A DREAM/NIGHTMARE WHILE I AM ASLEEP AND WHILE I AM AWAKE......
PEOPLE OF THIS DEMOCRACY KEEP AQUIRING, POWER, PLEASURE AND PROPERTY.
THEY CAN AFFORD AN EASY RENOVATION....
BUT ARE THEY WRITING PLAYS?
I DON'T KNOW
I DON'T KNOW TEM
I DON'T KNOW ANY ONE HERE.........
HOW LONG HAVE I LIVED HERE?
DOES MY PHONE RINGS?
SHOULD I CALL SOME ONE?
PLEASE DON'T
HAVE SOME INTEGRITY.....BESIDE LONELINESS...............
"
Its actually a dream I am dreaming while being awake
I opened a pandora's box
And now I can't put evverything back in there
It won't fit
I WONDER WHY NOT?
All those things came out of that box
But refuse to go back in there
No space.
Literally,
there is no space
But how come?
Has the pandora's box shrunk?
It looks exactly the same
With dust on it
Thats the only difference
Before I hid it, It was shining
Now its black and blue
But thats the surface
Inside of it
It has become much smaller
I can't put those things which came out of it back
What came out of it is totally scary
Letters, phone numbers of people I neber called
Forgot to call...
But saved i case...
Those people and their phone numbers must be important
Why would I save them otherwise?
NOW I HAVE NO FRIENDS
NOW I WANT TO REACH OUT TO THEM
BUT I DON'T REMEMBER WHO THEY ARE AND HOW I MET THEM?
Some numbers are from foreign countries
Berlin, London, france, Brazil
Seems like I have travelled much
But maybe I only met them in NY
I DON'T REMEMBER
iINEVER THOUGHT THAT i WILL EVER SAY THIESE WORDS
"I DON'T REMEMBER"
My memory was photographic...
But now I don't know whether I throw everything out or not?
In order for me to throw things out I have to look at them
And thats been taking hours upon hours and days upon days
Its not a piece of furnitur
That you look at it and instantly decide to throw it out
Its stuff...private, personal, some not so personal but sti;l under lock and key
Saved up for a rainy day
But now is the rainy day
Rainy days and rainy nights
lIVING ERE FOR ALMOST 40 YEARS AND THE PHONE NEVER RINGS
I guess its a rainy day
And a rainy night
People are busy worried about the rain
And keeping themselves dry
They are for sure dry
Their affection if there is any is dry
Their love, if there is any is dry
Their lies of always, 'being busy"
Is dry
But its amazing how one pick up the bad behavior and bad habits of others
'Now I always say, "HAVE BEEN SO BUSY."
This sentence is so awful but takes care of things.
No one can disputre you on this and you keep walking away from
Humanity if there us any humanity left at all
And then sits allalone and sips some luke warm coffe
You can't complain about the coffee either
Its not polite
But its very polite on the owner's part to take five dollars for coffee with tip and tax but
never giving you waht you enjoy.
Life is built like that.
Keep a fake smile and do not make vibes and keep saying
"Have been so busy,"
Yes, I am very busy right now
Trying to put some order into the disoredrly apt
Actually even me was so busy writing, directing, producing plays and acting in them as well
There was not a moment to take care of anything else.
34 plays so far and counting
That should be considered, "Being busy"
Right?
But I still was social, was happy to see friends
Happy to talk, laugh, cry over the ways of the world.
I always thought it was extremely rude to say to people who come to
You from across the street with a smile on their face, genuine smile some times and
Say to them abruptly, "OH! I am so busy." Can't spend a second with you.
It was a good busy for me.
After writing the whole day I seeked people and friends in the evening to have a chat
I come from chattering classes
Democracy or no democracy in our country back home,
EWe laughed a lot and talked a lot and ate a lot and sat in the sun a lot and sat on the
Green grass a lot....
This ,"DEMOCRACY" Is very lonely. Alone, alone, alone...
Reda a book, good, enjoyable
ave a coffe, Good, enjoyable
Walk around the same Avenue...not so enjoyable...
But no conversation, no debate...nothing
All talks, even if you do talk at all are not deep and not interesting and are opioninated...
Talk to democrat...he/she htes Trump
Talk to a republican. he/she hates Hillary
The end.....
World is bigger than Hillary and Trump...
This democracy doesn't want to deal with the world
And thts a problem
Thats a real problem.
Everything is related to everything else.
Nothing happens out of a Vaccum
Horrible events happen
Their is grief, sorrow, outrage till it dies down
Then something else happens
Then the rage and anger shifts to wards some thing else, some one else...
Then it dies down
No debate, no conversation, no solution.
Presidents come and go
The problems stay
Most of the time the same problems.
How many presidents here have the Issue with gun control?
How many people have died?
Is the Issue solved?
The same kind of lack of solutions happens in everyday life with people and friends
If there is something wrong between two friends or people in general
They would rather silently go away...instead of airing the issue which is upseting them...
They would rather not pick up the phone....
Icredible power of technology....
YOUR NAME APPEARS ON THE CELL PHONE
THEY LOOK AT IT
THEY DECIDE NOT TO ANSWER.
THEY KNOW WHO IS CALLING
THE CALLER ALSO KNOW THAT THE PERSON THEY JUST CALLED
LOOKED AT THEIR NAME AND DECIDED NOT TO ANSWER.
How sad that is for the power oriented receiver and the caller who might
love this person or has something to share or is lonely or want to go have coffee withe the person he/she just called....
ll good intentions on the part of the caller....
The one who doesn't pick up....
I wonder how to describe that persion?
Busy?
Perhaps
Don't feel like talking?
Perhaps
Angry at you?
Perhaps
But you would never know
Would you?
After a while if you have any integrity left you won't call...
Would you?
If you did
You would be considerd needy....
Remember you are in a Western democracy.....
You are not in a thirld world country
Where you have time avaialble and since you are so downtrodden that you
laugh a lot to survive the pain of poverty and everything else
So you get together and eat and laugh and have some fun
But here the function seems like two folds... or three folds...
"POWER" PLEASURE" PROPERTY" MARKET VALUES LIKE HAROLD PINTER SAID...
And those people's pleasure is not shared with ordinary struggling folks.
Its with other people of power and property.
Laughter belongs to the power and property here...........
Not to pick up your phone call when they think not only that you don't have power and property but you will never have in the future.
You got it all wrong in my case.....
I HAVE POWER.
I AM MASHALLAH STRONG
I HAVE WITHE THE BLESSING OF GOD DONE EVERYTHING ALONE
WITH NO ONE'S HELP. NO ONE. I SAY LOUD AND CLEAR.
I HAVE WORDS IN MY POSSESSION.
MANY WORDS
WHICH MADE PAGES AND PAGES OF MY HAND WRITTEN PLAYS....
AND ITS THE WRITING WHICH HAS FILLED MY APT...
ITS THAT PENDOR'S BOX I AM TALKING ABOUT.
ITS SO MUCH WRITING THAT I DON'T BELIEVE THAT I SINGLE HANDEDLY DID IT....
NOW ITS BECOME IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP IN THE APT...
THERE IS LITERALLY NO SPACE LEFT.
BOOKS, WRITING AND MY ART WORK.....
FILLS MY APARTMENT
AND I STILL HAD AND HAVE TIME TO CALL PEOPLE WHO DO NOT PICK UP.....
ACTUALLY I DON'T DO THAT ANY MORE BECAUSE I DON'T LOVE THOSE PEOPLE ANY MORE
BUT ONCE I DID.....
WHY WOULD I CALL OTHERWISE?
THEY ARE SO UN-FORTUNATE...
THEY LOST MY LOVE
AND MY FRIENDSHIP....
I WOULD READ MANY KINDS OF BOOKS AND THEN TELL THEM IN DETAIL
ABOUT WHAT THE AUTHORS SAID...
I EDUCATED PEOPLE UN-KNOWINGLY....
UT I NEVER PAID MUCH ATTENTION TO THE STUFF ACCUMULATING IN MY PLACE....
LAST MONTH I DECIDED TO DO THAT.
ITS UN=BELIEVAC=BLE.
IF ONE NED ANY HELP BY ANY ONE ITS ABOUT CLEANING AND ORGANIZING AND REORGANIZING...
THAT ENORMOUS CHORE YOU CAN'T DO ALONE....
YOU CAN HIRE PEOPLE....
BUT WHERE IS THE MONEY?
IF YOU ONLY WROE PLAYS, YOU OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T MAKE MONEY TO PAY THE MOVERS AND PAINTERS AND CLEANERS...
AND YOU NEVER HAD ANY ONE TO HELP YPU BECAUSE YOU NEVER SHOWED ANY INTEREST....BECAUSE YOU WERE JUST WRITING...
YOU DIDN'T NEED HELP IN THAT....
BUT CLEANING AND THROWING FURNITURE OUT OF A FOURTH FLOOR APT WITH NO ELEVATOR....
PLEASE...DON'T TELL ME THAT I CAN DO IT......
BUT I HAVE REALIZED HOW WASTEFYUL AND UN-CREATIVE THIS WHOLE DAMN THING IS.....
I HAVE WRITTEN NOTHING...
I SAY NOTHING AND I AM THE PERSON WHO DID NOTHING EVERYDAY BUT WROTE, DREW AND READ...................
BUT NOTHING RIGHT NOW....
LOOKING AT THE DUSTY MESS SCATTERED ALL OVER THE PLACE DEPRESSESS ME SO MUCH THAT WITHIN AN HOUR AT THE MOST OF DOIG SOME STUFF IN THE APT I TAKE A SHOWER AS IF THE DUST OF LIFE HAS ENTERED MY BEING...I SCRUBBED MYSELF,TIP TOE, WWEAR SOME CLEAN CLOTHES AND LEAVE
THEN I SIT IN A CAFE ALONE, ALL ALONE, ALWAYS ALONE...
AND DRINK LUKE WARM COFFEE, TOO TIRED TO COMPLAIN AND THINK OF MY LIFE.................
WHAT HAPPENED TO MY LIFE?
BACK HOME THERE WILL BE FIVE STRONG MEN, HIRED HELP WILL DO EVERYTHING IN ONE OR AT THE MOST TWO DAYS...
THEY WILL WASH THE FLOORS, PUT EVERYTHING BACK IN ORDER....GET PAID, NO ATTITUDE, NO CURSING, HERE YOU CAN'T TELL THE CLEANIG LADY THAT YOU ARE DOING A LOUSY JOB...
SHE/HE WILL KILL YOU WITHE GUN SHE HAS IN HER BACKPACK...
SO YOU NEVER COMPLAIN...NEVER FOR COFFEE, NEBER FOR LUKE WARM CLEANING...OR PEOPLE NOT PICKING UP THE PHONE AND NEVER TELLING YOU WHAT'S WRONG....
YOU JUST ST ALONE AND THINK....
WHAT WAS MY PURPOSE TO COME HERE?
I GUESS TO LIVE IN A SHITTY CLUTTERED APT
TO BE ALONE....
TO WRITE PLAYS....
YES, I GUESS....
BACK HOME I WOULD HAVE HAD A GREAT CLEAN HOUSE, EVERYTHING IN ORDER, LOTS OF PEOPLE AROUND BUT NO PLAYS.............
I WONDER WHAT'S BETTER?
NOW MY OWN CREATIVITY HAS BECOME A DREAM/NIGHTMARE WHILE I AM ASLEEP AND WHILE I AM AWAKE......
PEOPLE OF THIS DEMOCRACY KEEP AQUIRING, POWER, PLEASURE AND PROPERTY.
THEY CAN AFFORD AN EASY RENOVATION....
BUT ARE THEY WRITING PLAYS?
I DON'T KNOW
I DON'T KNOW TEM
I DON'T KNOW ANY ONE HERE.........
HOW LONG HAVE I LIVED HERE?
DOES MY PHONE RINGS?
SHOULD I CALL SOME ONE?
PLEASE DON'T
HAVE SOME INTEGRITY.....BESIDE LONELINESS...............
"
Thursday, June 9, 2016
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
It was high speed train
Different compartments for different class of people
I don't think that there were any poor people on the train.
It seemed extremely expensive train
Going very fast
Through blue colored mountains
Mountains and valleys
I was also on that train
I must be rich in the dream
Recently I have realized how poor I have been in
this extremely rich country of Billionairs
I went to Crate and Barrel store on Broadway and Housten St
I have never been to Crate and Barrel before...
I mean I have perhapswalked through it with some one else
Maybe my sister in Cambridge
While she was a student at Harvard
The store was in Harvard square
And we used to go to Harvard Square
often for fun and Ice cream and bagels.
My nieces were young girls and
they fell in love with American bagels
There was a tiny bagel store in one of the little Street
and the bagels were delicious and hot, hot, hot
Just coming out of the ovens and me and my nieces
Would just drool while waiting
And putt tons of butter on them which would melt in a second
Oh! I can just taste those delicious bagels right now...
My nieces have grown into young women...
Some with kids even
Ad I can't imagine eating those butter soaked bagels any more
Got heavy, really heavy
I was a thin, skinny even...
Skinny and sexy aunt of those beautiful girls who wanted to just
spend days upon days in Harverd Square
Eating bagels, ice cream and spending hours
in those gorgeous book stores....
I would always had to drag one ofmy niece, Amna from
The children section in the evening
so she can go home and have dinner...
She would read the whole book before leaving the store...
Some times there mother, my sister Haroona was with us also
and we would stop at Crate and Barrel on our way back
to Shaller lane, a beutiful tree lined street
near Charles river where they lived
She was agreat cook as well beside doing her PHD
and liked Crate and Barrel and would buy something
like a cooking knife or napkins etc etc...
I never noticed the prices any way
I have never been interested much
in cooking or buying house hold items
And also it was years ago....
Things have gone rocket high prices
But I remember her mentioning how pricey the store was....
So now after years she, my sister Haroona is going to visit me
Here in NY and I looked at my apt and had a near heart attack
She is immaculately clean and her house is beyond
clean and in such orderly shape....
I thought at least I can buy a small
dining table where she and her husband
would be able to sit properly
and eat something which she might cook
So I have been thinking where to go
and look for that table and four chairs
I asked, Kevin where to go
and he said, Crate and Barrel....
So one afternoon we went there.....
I have been in NY for so long...
I don't go for shopping...
I can't
I spend whatever I have on Theater....
So I looked st some tables....
The store has tons of furniture
If you have money....I mean MONEY
Your apt can be set in one day with great sofa sets
Cocktail tables, grand beds
Bed cvers...
Sheets, pillows....
amps
Chairs
Lounge chairs
Pool tables
Pool chairs
Pichers of lemonades next to those pool chairs...
Finally we reached the section of dining tables
Some were too big for my apt
We looked for smaller tables.....
I have never felt more poor than at that moment....
I got totally depressed and despondent
Oh! my goodness...
"I AM SO POOR."
"I HAVE BEEN SO POOR."
'WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?"
"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?"
"THIS IS MY LIFE IN AMERICA?"
"HOW COME?"
I CAN'T EVEN BUY A SMALL DINING TABLE?"
The tables were going in thousands of dollars
and the chairs...
Give me a break
One chair for $6oo
You mean for four chairs it will be $24oo?
and the table?
I can't even apprehend....
And the rest of the apt will still be so so so poor looking?
I was totally depressed for the rest of the day...
So long have I lived here and this is how my life ended up?
That was a devastating thought which lingered in my mind
All day and all night
And late at night I had this dream that I was
On a high speed expensive train
I was rich in my dream allof a sudden
How can that be?
Who paid for the ticket?
No one has ever paid me a penny for any thing
To buy a ticket to take an expensive high speed train?
You think some one will pay for me?
Impossible
I don't know any one
No one...
I have never ever even had a grant....
No strings attached grant...
Grant comes after an Obie
And I never had an Obie
The village voice critic who is incharge of an Obie
Once said in her review,
"That president Bush should put a mandate
on me to stop writing and performing"
I should have taken her to court
But I am a coward in this country...
An honest coward...
Any honest person here is considered a coward.
Rich are thieves and dishonest
Thats why they are so rich...
Thats how they go to Crte and Barrel....
Coward and poor and honest....
The worst of the worst qualities
or defects yiu should call it to have
The worst defects to have is to be a
COWARD, POOR AND HONEST AND HUMANIST IN THIS COUNTRY....
I AM ONLY RICH IN MY DREAM WHICH DIDN'T LAST LONG
I WOKE UP AND I WAS SWEATING....
I SWEAT WITHE IDEA OF MONEY.....
BECAUSE MOST OF THE MONEY IS STOLEN MONEY
AND OUR PARENTS TOLD US TO BE CLEAN....
YES, CLEAN AND POOR
BUT YOU SEE THEY DIDN'T KNOW
ANYTHING ABOUT AMERICA
AND HOW MONEY WORKS HERE...............
It was high speed train
Different compartments for different class of people
I don't think that there were any poor people on the train.
It seemed extremely expensive train
Going very fast
Through blue colored mountains
Mountains and valleys
I was also on that train
I must be rich in the dream
Recently I have realized how poor I have been in
this extremely rich country of Billionairs
I went to Crate and Barrel store on Broadway and Housten St
I have never been to Crate and Barrel before...
I mean I have perhapswalked through it with some one else
Maybe my sister in Cambridge
While she was a student at Harvard
The store was in Harvard square
And we used to go to Harvard Square
often for fun and Ice cream and bagels.
My nieces were young girls and
they fell in love with American bagels
There was a tiny bagel store in one of the little Street
and the bagels were delicious and hot, hot, hot
Just coming out of the ovens and me and my nieces
Would just drool while waiting
And putt tons of butter on them which would melt in a second
Oh! I can just taste those delicious bagels right now...
My nieces have grown into young women...
Some with kids even
Ad I can't imagine eating those butter soaked bagels any more
Got heavy, really heavy
I was a thin, skinny even...
Skinny and sexy aunt of those beautiful girls who wanted to just
spend days upon days in Harverd Square
Eating bagels, ice cream and spending hours
in those gorgeous book stores....
I would always had to drag one ofmy niece, Amna from
The children section in the evening
so she can go home and have dinner...
She would read the whole book before leaving the store...
Some times there mother, my sister Haroona was with us also
and we would stop at Crate and Barrel on our way back
to Shaller lane, a beutiful tree lined street
near Charles river where they lived
She was agreat cook as well beside doing her PHD
and liked Crate and Barrel and would buy something
like a cooking knife or napkins etc etc...
I never noticed the prices any way
I have never been interested much
in cooking or buying house hold items
And also it was years ago....
Things have gone rocket high prices
But I remember her mentioning how pricey the store was....
So now after years she, my sister Haroona is going to visit me
Here in NY and I looked at my apt and had a near heart attack
She is immaculately clean and her house is beyond
clean and in such orderly shape....
I thought at least I can buy a small
dining table where she and her husband
would be able to sit properly
and eat something which she might cook
So I have been thinking where to go
and look for that table and four chairs
I asked, Kevin where to go
and he said, Crate and Barrel....
So one afternoon we went there.....
I have been in NY for so long...
I don't go for shopping...
I can't
I spend whatever I have on Theater....
So I looked st some tables....
The store has tons of furniture
If you have money....I mean MONEY
Your apt can be set in one day with great sofa sets
Cocktail tables, grand beds
Bed cvers...
Sheets, pillows....
amps
Chairs
Lounge chairs
Pool tables
Pool chairs
Pichers of lemonades next to those pool chairs...
Finally we reached the section of dining tables
Some were too big for my apt
We looked for smaller tables.....
I have never felt more poor than at that moment....
I got totally depressed and despondent
Oh! my goodness...
"I AM SO POOR."
"I HAVE BEEN SO POOR."
'WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?"
"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?"
"THIS IS MY LIFE IN AMERICA?"
"HOW COME?"
I CAN'T EVEN BUY A SMALL DINING TABLE?"
The tables were going in thousands of dollars
and the chairs...
Give me a break
One chair for $6oo
You mean for four chairs it will be $24oo?
and the table?
I can't even apprehend....
And the rest of the apt will still be so so so poor looking?
I was totally depressed for the rest of the day...
So long have I lived here and this is how my life ended up?
That was a devastating thought which lingered in my mind
All day and all night
And late at night I had this dream that I was
On a high speed expensive train
I was rich in my dream allof a sudden
How can that be?
Who paid for the ticket?
No one has ever paid me a penny for any thing
To buy a ticket to take an expensive high speed train?
You think some one will pay for me?
Impossible
I don't know any one
No one...
I have never ever even had a grant....
No strings attached grant...
Grant comes after an Obie
And I never had an Obie
The village voice critic who is incharge of an Obie
Once said in her review,
"That president Bush should put a mandate
on me to stop writing and performing"
I should have taken her to court
But I am a coward in this country...
An honest coward...
Any honest person here is considered a coward.
Rich are thieves and dishonest
Thats why they are so rich...
Thats how they go to Crte and Barrel....
Coward and poor and honest....
The worst of the worst qualities
or defects yiu should call it to have
The worst defects to have is to be a
COWARD, POOR AND HONEST AND HUMANIST IN THIS COUNTRY....
I AM ONLY RICH IN MY DREAM WHICH DIDN'T LAST LONG
I WOKE UP AND I WAS SWEATING....
I SWEAT WITHE IDEA OF MONEY.....
BECAUSE MOST OF THE MONEY IS STOLEN MONEY
AND OUR PARENTS TOLD US TO BE CLEAN....
YES, CLEAN AND POOR
BUT YOU SEE THEY DIDN'T KNOW
ANYTHING ABOUT AMERICA
AND HOW MONEY WORKS HERE...............
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
Its a voyage
A ship maybe/
A boat
Or a canoe
The same people are in it
I don't know those people
But I kind of know that they are the same people
People who appeared in my dream before
Some one, a friend I guess has given me some papaers
with some information on it...
And I don't know where he is gone...
I can't seem to find him
But still holding on to the papers
Thinking that they contain dangerous information
Then there are hiddin musical instruments in the ship
Once in a while some one comes, dig in and pick up a horn
Or a violen and begins to play it...
That part of the dream is a nice part
There is no food on the ship
It may not be a ship anyway
Remember that part
Ships are enormous
But this thing we are on is built like a ship
But its not big
Its not even built like a ship
But I don't know what to call it?
Its built like something
I might have seen ornot seen at all
After all its a dream
And things are not what things look like in the real life
Actually in my life the things really do not look
like the way other people, normal people...
Describe things
The things in my life are more abstract
Symbols if you may call it
Symbyls...of life..of death..of distortion...of surrealism...
Yes, thats the word...
Surrealism
I like this word
I use it a lot in my real life.....
So the person who asked me to hold onto those papers comes back
I give him back the papers
'Whats in them?" I ask
'Nothing of importance" He says
"They look kind of important" I ask
"no, not really" He says
"What does that mean? Not really?" I ask
"JUst papaers with some drawings on it." He says
"What kind of drawings?" I sak
Now I am really curious
"What kid of drawings?"
I repeat myself
'I am an artist" He says. "These are my drawings"
"Oh! really" I say
I am suspicious
But that I am
In my life during the day time
I have become suspicious of everyone
Everyone I say....
Not a very good way to pass the day
But tahts how it is
Actually thats how it has become
I trust no one
No one I say
To me they are all agents
Agents of some kind
Agents of some sort
There are a few catagories
But they are all suspicious
All leaders, all politians, all journalists, all artist, all teachers, all justice people
Justice? Thats for sure is suspicious
When you are not popular
They make up a script
And they are great in writing that script
They tell the world a story about you
That the stupid world always believe...
Then they call it, "Justice" 'Justice is done." They say
We took care of the problem
To me every one in the world is a problem, me included
Because we are in the world and the world is a big problem
The same story over the decades and Centuries repeat itself
Just the new writers, different names, same story
There is a bad guy
and then there is a good guy
That bad guy can be a country,
A people,
A religion,
A color of skin,
A gender,
Pick one ...
And for some decades that is the bad guy
Eliminate that group and then pick another group
Write a scenario
And pick on thst group
And then destroy him..the country, the religion
And then make upanother story and pick on another bad guy....
Ad thats how it goes
Thats how it goes.
The good guy have great writers
They write a script
Very ominous, very scary
People believe that fiction to take care of their fear
And the good guy is allowed to do whatever
to eliminate that fear till a new fear is introduced
And the same story with different names,
different localas and different interests surfaces....
Thats my real life...
You call it paranoia
But I don't care
Do I care what you call it?
I don't....
Maybe I have become a sick person
But I do live in the world which is much sicker thatn me...
If the world was good, kind, humble, without evil, without killings
Would I be dreaming the same kind of
scary, deadly dreams night after night after night?
"Oh! its my fault."
'Oh! I see....Its my fault...my dream is my fault....
Yes, you are right, my birth is also my fault...
Off course according to you, biggots, we should have never been born
So you would then have a snowy White Christmas...
With everything pink and white and pure and nice
And then you would have to get rid of your script writers
and all your liberals shouting and
your conservatives shouting all the time....
They don't even get a fucking sour throat....
We, the poor slobs have one loud arguments withe biggots
and racists of the world and lose our voice completely
We can't talk for a month....
I guess the liberals on Tv and conservatives on tv all have trained voices...
They are all opera singers....
We need to train our voices if we talk about any kind of justice or truth....
But no way...
The big shots are happy if we lose our voice....
So they can shout....all night...
Give you a big fat headache and then you try to sleep
and then come the horror...
Of something you dare call it a, "DREAM"
I mean how boring is that if you turn MSNBC,
you know they are going to talk good of Hillary
And if you turn the, "FOX tv station, you know that they are going to talk good of Trump...
Then you go back to MSNBC and you know that they are going to talk bad of Trump
And then you go back to FOX and you know that they are going to talk bad of Hillary....
And after watching this fucking tv debates that one gets soexhusted with a tremendous headache and try and I say
try to go to sleep and then it comes, THE SHADOW OF THE DARK NIGHT.
Maybe in my dreams/nightmares these both groups from MSNBC and FOX become the suspicious, ominous characters shouting and hitting and pushing people in the sea, and murdering them with daggers before they throw them in the sea....
Actually I ust be the only sane person in this fucking world of horror of all kinds that
I am so connected to the reality and light of the day and the darkness of a nightmare during the night...
You can call me whatever you want....but I don't care for you at all....
No, I don't....
I used to
Actually I used to love you and try to seek you out for affection, love, company, conversation, food, coffee, cinema, theater, art galleries............
But no more...
No, no more
You hurt me to such an extent....that I got broken....
I lost myself
But at the same time I lost you....
I lost,"TRUST" in you.......
I did...
Its a sad thing...
I lost, "TRUST" in humanity....
And now I am haunted by demons...
Now you have actually occupied my night............
"OCCUPATION" is a great word....
And the big shots love this word.
They used to 'occupy people's lands
but they have gone further....
They now ,"OCCUPY" peoples souls....
People's souls are not their own.
Others live in themle while dut
Others who we are not familiar with
Others we don't know
Others we don't really like...........
Others who took everything away from us
Our joy, our peace, our laughter, our trust, our existence.............
When your existence depends on the mercy of the EVIL, you have no chance.....
Might as well dream a horrible dream every night....
At least for a little while during the day you try to wake up...................
Its a voyage
A ship maybe/
A boat
Or a canoe
The same people are in it
I don't know those people
But I kind of know that they are the same people
People who appeared in my dream before
Some one, a friend I guess has given me some papaers
with some information on it...
And I don't know where he is gone...
I can't seem to find him
But still holding on to the papers
Thinking that they contain dangerous information
Then there are hiddin musical instruments in the ship
Once in a while some one comes, dig in and pick up a horn
Or a violen and begins to play it...
That part of the dream is a nice part
There is no food on the ship
It may not be a ship anyway
Remember that part
Ships are enormous
But this thing we are on is built like a ship
But its not big
Its not even built like a ship
But I don't know what to call it?
Its built like something
I might have seen ornot seen at all
After all its a dream
And things are not what things look like in the real life
Actually in my life the things really do not look
like the way other people, normal people...
Describe things
The things in my life are more abstract
Symbols if you may call it
Symbyls...of life..of death..of distortion...of surrealism...
Yes, thats the word...
Surrealism
I like this word
I use it a lot in my real life.....
So the person who asked me to hold onto those papers comes back
I give him back the papers
'Whats in them?" I ask
'Nothing of importance" He says
"They look kind of important" I ask
"no, not really" He says
"What does that mean? Not really?" I ask
"JUst papaers with some drawings on it." He says
"What kind of drawings?" I sak
Now I am really curious
"What kid of drawings?"
I repeat myself
'I am an artist" He says. "These are my drawings"
"Oh! really" I say
I am suspicious
But that I am
In my life during the day time
I have become suspicious of everyone
Everyone I say....
Not a very good way to pass the day
But tahts how it is
Actually thats how it has become
I trust no one
No one I say
To me they are all agents
Agents of some kind
Agents of some sort
There are a few catagories
But they are all suspicious
All leaders, all politians, all journalists, all artist, all teachers, all justice people
Justice? Thats for sure is suspicious
When you are not popular
They make up a script
And they are great in writing that script
They tell the world a story about you
That the stupid world always believe...
Then they call it, "Justice" 'Justice is done." They say
We took care of the problem
To me every one in the world is a problem, me included
Because we are in the world and the world is a big problem
The same story over the decades and Centuries repeat itself
Just the new writers, different names, same story
There is a bad guy
and then there is a good guy
That bad guy can be a country,
A people,
A religion,
A color of skin,
A gender,
Pick one ...
And for some decades that is the bad guy
Eliminate that group and then pick another group
Write a scenario
And pick on thst group
And then destroy him..the country, the religion
And then make upanother story and pick on another bad guy....
Ad thats how it goes
Thats how it goes.
The good guy have great writers
They write a script
Very ominous, very scary
People believe that fiction to take care of their fear
And the good guy is allowed to do whatever
to eliminate that fear till a new fear is introduced
And the same story with different names,
different localas and different interests surfaces....
Thats my real life...
You call it paranoia
But I don't care
Do I care what you call it?
I don't....
Maybe I have become a sick person
But I do live in the world which is much sicker thatn me...
If the world was good, kind, humble, without evil, without killings
Would I be dreaming the same kind of
scary, deadly dreams night after night after night?
"Oh! its my fault."
'Oh! I see....Its my fault...my dream is my fault....
Yes, you are right, my birth is also my fault...
Off course according to you, biggots, we should have never been born
So you would then have a snowy White Christmas...
With everything pink and white and pure and nice
And then you would have to get rid of your script writers
and all your liberals shouting and
your conservatives shouting all the time....
They don't even get a fucking sour throat....
We, the poor slobs have one loud arguments withe biggots
and racists of the world and lose our voice completely
We can't talk for a month....
I guess the liberals on Tv and conservatives on tv all have trained voices...
They are all opera singers....
We need to train our voices if we talk about any kind of justice or truth....
But no way...
The big shots are happy if we lose our voice....
So they can shout....all night...
Give you a big fat headache and then you try to sleep
and then come the horror...
Of something you dare call it a, "DREAM"
I mean how boring is that if you turn MSNBC,
you know they are going to talk good of Hillary
And if you turn the, "FOX tv station, you know that they are going to talk good of Trump...
Then you go back to MSNBC and you know that they are going to talk bad of Trump
And then you go back to FOX and you know that they are going to talk bad of Hillary....
And after watching this fucking tv debates that one gets soexhusted with a tremendous headache and try and I say
try to go to sleep and then it comes, THE SHADOW OF THE DARK NIGHT.
Maybe in my dreams/nightmares these both groups from MSNBC and FOX become the suspicious, ominous characters shouting and hitting and pushing people in the sea, and murdering them with daggers before they throw them in the sea....
Actually I ust be the only sane person in this fucking world of horror of all kinds that
I am so connected to the reality and light of the day and the darkness of a nightmare during the night...
You can call me whatever you want....but I don't care for you at all....
No, I don't....
I used to
Actually I used to love you and try to seek you out for affection, love, company, conversation, food, coffee, cinema, theater, art galleries............
But no more...
No, no more
You hurt me to such an extent....that I got broken....
I lost myself
But at the same time I lost you....
I lost,"TRUST" in you.......
I did...
Its a sad thing...
I lost, "TRUST" in humanity....
And now I am haunted by demons...
Now you have actually occupied my night............
"OCCUPATION" is a great word....
And the big shots love this word.
They used to 'occupy people's lands
but they have gone further....
They now ,"OCCUPY" peoples souls....
People's souls are not their own.
Others live in themle while dut
Others who we are not familiar with
Others we don't know
Others we don't really like...........
Others who took everything away from us
Our joy, our peace, our laughter, our trust, our existence.............
When your existence depends on the mercy of the EVIL, you have no chance.....
Might as well dream a horrible dream every night....
At least for a little while during the day you try to wake up...................
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
THESE AWFUL DREAMS
Dreams never stopped.
I stopped writing about them.
I needed some co-herence
And nothing was coherent
And it seemed like day time activity
And not while you are sleeping
Wondering about a happy dream
The word dream implies happiness rather than torture of the dark night
But last night the dream seem more co-herent
I mean it made sense
I was seeking , "A cup of tea"
Which I never got
Then I wa looking for a place, a corner of my own
All corners, all chairs, all beds were occupied by some one else
"Its mine"
People would announce in the dream.
"OH1 Ok then." I would say and look for an other corner to settle
"Go downstairs" Some one said to me.
"Oh! Ok then"
I went downstairs
Lots of furniture covered with white
It seemed like you were not supposed to sit there.
Some people lying on the floor covered with white
'I am not going to sit next to the dead people."
I heard myself in my dream
I came back upstairs.
"YOu didn't find any place to settle?"
Some one asked me.rs is a morgue.
"This one is a morgue too
"No. All the people sleeping downstairs are dead."
I said
'Can't be."
Some one said
'We are not in a cemetry."
Some one said
'Go back downstairs again and find a place."
Some one who didn't want me there said.
"OH! I am not going down>"
I said
"There is no space here for you."
Some one said
'She wanted to make sure I don't stay upstairs.
'You can say whatever I am staying here."
I said
'Are you going to stand next to me all night while I sleep?
Some one asked?
"I don't know but I do know that downstairs is a morgue."
I said
'Upstairs is a morgue too"
Some one said
"Are you dead?"
I asked
"Arn't you?"
Some one in a loud, clear voice asked me
I was frightened
I woke up
I was soaking wet and shivering
'I neeed some hot strong tea"
I said
"You won't get it, no you won't."
Dream was continuing ...
The room was hot and dusty
'I need to clean this place"
But its so much work
I need help"
"What?"
"Help"
'Help?"
"Yes, help"
"Go look, and trust me you won't find help, no not any more.
Every one is a busy robbot now. They don't see you, they don't hear you, they don't care about you or your needs, why would they help?"
"OK, I won't clean.
Let the dust settle
Then it won't disturb me.
'But something else will disturb you>"
"What?"
'The night, the night, the oncoming night, every night will disturb you."
Dreams never stopped.
I stopped writing about them.
I needed some co-herence
And nothing was coherent
And it seemed like day time activity
And not while you are sleeping
Wondering about a happy dream
The word dream implies happiness rather than torture of the dark night
But last night the dream seem more co-herent
I mean it made sense
I was seeking , "A cup of tea"
Which I never got
Then I wa looking for a place, a corner of my own
All corners, all chairs, all beds were occupied by some one else
"Its mine"
People would announce in the dream.
"OH1 Ok then." I would say and look for an other corner to settle
"Go downstairs" Some one said to me.
"Oh! Ok then"
I went downstairs
Lots of furniture covered with white
It seemed like you were not supposed to sit there.
Some people lying on the floor covered with white
'I am not going to sit next to the dead people."
I heard myself in my dream
I came back upstairs.
"YOu didn't find any place to settle?"
Some one asked me.rs is a morgue.
"This one is a morgue too
"No. All the people sleeping downstairs are dead."
I said
'Can't be."
Some one said
'We are not in a cemetry."
Some one said
'Go back downstairs again and find a place."
Some one who didn't want me there said.
"OH! I am not going down>"
I said
"There is no space here for you."
Some one said
'She wanted to make sure I don't stay upstairs.
'You can say whatever I am staying here."
I said
'Are you going to stand next to me all night while I sleep?
Some one asked?
"I don't know but I do know that downstairs is a morgue."
I said
'Upstairs is a morgue too"
Some one said
"Are you dead?"
I asked
"Arn't you?"
Some one in a loud, clear voice asked me
I was frightened
I woke up
I was soaking wet and shivering
'I neeed some hot strong tea"
I said
"You won't get it, no you won't."
Dream was continuing ...
The room was hot and dusty
'I need to clean this place"
But its so much work
I need help"
"What?"
"Help"
'Help?"
"Yes, help"
"Go look, and trust me you won't find help, no not any more.
Every one is a busy robbot now. They don't see you, they don't hear you, they don't care about you or your needs, why would they help?"
"OK, I won't clean.
Let the dust settle
Then it won't disturb me.
'But something else will disturb you>"
"What?"
'The night, the night, the oncoming night, every night will disturb you."
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
THERAPIST AND A PATIENT CONTINUES
THERAPIST AND THE PATIENT CONTINUES
SCENE FOUR:
PATIENT:
You said, some one is coming later. Who is that person?
THERAPIST:
What did I say exactly?
PATIENT:
You said, that an FBI agent is coming later."
Why the FBI agent is coming later?
For what reason?
THERAPIST:
To see how I am conducting my work?
PATIENT:
Why should he be interested in your work?
THERAPIST:
Its their job to be interested
PATIENT:
But why?
THERAPIST:
For security
PATIENT:
What kind of security?
THERAPIST:
A patient can be violent
PATIENT:
Am I violent?
THERAPIST:
Not yet...
PATIENT:
What do you mean?
THERAPIST:
You are not violent yet but you can become violent
PATIENT:
Why would I become violent?
THERAPIST:
Because you are very angry and the anger leads to violence
PATIENT:
If you were in my position, you will be angry too...
THERAPIST:
What's your position?
PATIENT:
Thats what I am here to find out
THERAPIST;
You live in a big city. The most cosmopolitan city in the world. The most happening place on this
planet. And you feel nothing is happening for you...
PATIENT:
You think I am wrong to feel that way?
THERAPIST:
Its upto you to make things happen for you in the most happening city in the world
PATIENT:
How am I going to do that?
THERAPIST:
By being less angry
PATIENT:
I don't think I am angry. I think I am direct and outspoken
THERAPIST:
There is a difference in being outspoken and being agry. Anger is a negative emotion
and being outspoken is admirable. But when you entangle anger with direct speech it only resumes
the form of venom
PATIENT:
Thats a strong word, "Venom" I like it. I know people who are nothing but venemous towrds me
THERAPIST:
You have a persecution complex
PATIENET:
Thank you for telling me that. There must be a reason
THERAPIST:
What's the reson?
PATIENT:
Lets not go there...
THERAPIST:
In order for me to treat you, I have to know your feelings. All kinds of feelings.
PATIENT:
If I have the persecution complex there is a reason and you do know the reason
THERAPIST:
Why would I know the reason?
PATIENT:
Because you are a therapist, goddamn it
THERAPIST:
Don't damn god, he has nothing to do with it
PATIENT:
Who should I damn then?
THERAPIST:
Yourself
PATIENT:
Myself?
THERAPIST:
Yes, yourself
PATIENT:
So I am to be blamed?
THERAPIST:
We are all responsible for our actions
PATIENT:
But I didn't do anything
TERAPIST:
You are a Muslim right?
PATIENT:
What that has to do with anything?
THERAPIST:
It has to do with everything
PATIENT:
Like what?
THERAPIST:
Like your persecution complex
PATIENT:
What about that?
THERAPIST:
Muslims came and destroyed our city, our buildings...
PATIENT:
Wait a minute...wait a minute...I can't believe what I am hearing...
THERAPIST:
You are hearing what I am saying. Muslims, all Muslims are responsible for the destruction
and since they are involved by association they developed this fake persecution complex to
justify their actions...you can feel other feelings, feelings such as Isolation, loneliness
PATIENT:
You are not a therapist. You are some one else. I need to get out of here
THERAPIST:
Not so fast, not so fast. In order for you to face your reality, your situation, your anger
you have to hear things like this. Things which make you wake up, smell the coffee and take care of
your anger which is directed towards us, us who had been the victims of your people.
You have to take some responsibility insted of being ferocious, cursing, angry, angry, angry...
You are in a big city where the damage happen. Instead of being angry you can feel other
feelings such as Isolation, Loneliness...Those feelings are more justified for you because not many
people like your group so its understandable that you will have the big city blues and you will be
lonely. We are the one's who should be angry. Anger soesn't justify your situation.
Anger is ours in this case.
PATIENT:
But I have nothing to do with anything. I am just a patient...
THERAPIST:
Yes, a patient with misplaced anger.....which will lead
to more destruction...it need to be restrined and I am trying to help you before you get into real
trouble........and by the way, (pick up the bell from the table, ring it and then says) Time is up. See
you next week.................
SCENE FIVE
PATIENT AND THE PATIENT'S SUBCONSCIOUS
SUBCONSCIOUS:
I am not angry and its not the big city either. I am used to the big cities. Its not the big city
Its the emptiness of the big city. Its just big with buildings, cement and steel. Yes there are crowds.
Millions of people rushing about, going places of importance, (thats what they think)
glued to their phones, unaware of any human being on their left or their right, pushing ,shoving
like herds of cattle. The big city is un-aware of its peope. People are un-aware of other people.
There is no conversation whatso ever.
'Do you text?"
People ask me
'No, I don't."
I say
"Call me."
I say
"I don't call."
They say
"Ok then. Don't call me."
I say
My phone doesn't ring
No it doesn't
"How long have you been living here?"
"I am sad to say, A life time."
"Friends?"
'What does that mean?"
'The word friend has a different definition now."
"What definition?"
'If out of desperation and loneliness one goes out with someone,
(called a friend?) for a glass of wine, they end up having nothing to say, nothing to talk about...
They either keep texting or keep looking at their phones or pound on you for being an outsider, from
another country, not their favorit country either, for being a Muslim indirectly and sometime not so
indirectly. They keep talking very badly about the country you came from right to your face and
then get on the religion, Muslim religion of course because they un-fortunately happen to know that
you were born in a Muslim country and keep doing a monologue about the muslim religion and how
horrible and violent it is and they completely forget about any other religion as if the oher religions
never existed or they were all mighty innocent and pure and then with a phony, fake smile say,
'have you ever thought of going back?"
Its like such a classic. It never goes away. I always know its coming whenever I make a mistake to
go out with any one....
"Going back where? To your.......
Lets forget it.
Its better not to see any one.
They make me so angry, extremely angry when I come back home
And my therapist told me anger is
going to lead towards violence....
She is already hinting for some homeland agent coming to her office to check it out.
She is right when she says, "loneliness and Isolation is a million times better than anger."
So its better not to see any one. Not to be social. Just be alone, lonely and quiet.
Once I was a social animal but now I am just an animal I guess and angry on top of it...
I better stay home by myself.
Te big city is also full of animals anyway. And if there are people in the city, they have lost
all ethics, all manners, all sophistication. They are rude, mean, hostile, angry, racists, insincere
and totally miserable.
If I were as smart as Victor Hugo I will write the modern day novel, Les miserable...
But alas the human beings of 21st Century neither know Victor Hugo nor are they worth
sweating over a novel even when its going to be about them and called, Les-miserable.
People are un-interesting and very rude. There is no one to go out with even if you want to...
'What for?"
'Yes, what for are you seeing people?"
There is no discussion, no debate, No opinons about anything, (that's incase they have any opinons
at all) Their opinions are already set in a rigid, narrow framework.
They shout and scream on TV where every one is an expert especially about other people's
religion, (Muslim religion for sure) They shout their racist crap and then the hour is up and then
they go to an after party freeloading on cheap wine....
And my therapist tells me that I am angry. Actually she asks me, "Why am I so angry?"
I wonder myself...Why? Why? Why? I am so angry?
How much and for how long one can hear to the same bullshit crap....
Every one is so innocent all of a sudden and so so calm.
And the problem is what to do wih myself being so alone all the time?
How much can I read?
My apt is overflowing with books. No place any more for books...
and beside the limitation of the space, my knowledge of things after reading so many books
has made me very aware of human nature and their tendencies for power and greed and
un-ending wars and that has frigtened me and my knowledge has actually become a disadvantage
and thus the source of my anger... I can see things happening before they happen.
It has made me astute but in a scary way.
How many more plays can I write? How many topics are out there which interest any one
beside all those mediocre politically correct plays?
And by the way I am the only one who calls myself a ,"Playwright"
Go ask the NYT if I am one...
They will set the record straight...
And why should I write more plays?
About what?
The racist ass holes?
Why waste any more of my time?
How many more drawings I can store in my F*** apt?
How many times I can check my god-damned emails?
And what for?
Its all spam anyway.
I should be like Woody Allen.
He doesn't do emails
Doesn't have a computer either
He just keeps making movies and keep going to South of France with Sooni...
his wife/his daughter...see he doesn't give a shit, he doesn't need a computer to be successful.
We do. He is not an Immigrant. He was born here. So you see, that's the answer, you have to be
born here and you can't be Muslim. Success will happen, computer or no computer.
"Learn computer"
People, those awful people I used to see kept saying to me.
"You can't be successful without you having your plays on the computer."
They kept saying to me all day long....
"Go f*** yourself"
"Liers"
Now I have the f*** computer and where is the f*** success?"
Go f*** yourself and leave me the F*** alone.
The only two things I like about America is the word, "F**. And F*** you too.
And aluminum foil.
I love aluminum foil.
You can wrap the myonaise drenched tuna sandwitch in aluminum foil and you are perfectly
safe that the myonaise won't drip in your torm Michael Kore's hand bag....
Everything else is very sick, very sick, sick, sick, sick.
Everything is very sick all over the world but I f*** live here, here, here....
What the F*** should I d with my time every day? No people, no dog....no review....nothing.
I guess I should go every day to the therapist and give her all my remaining pennies.....
and get my anger out somehow befor she calls someone and they take me out of her office in a
straight jacket like the one they brought for Blanche in Street car named desire till the nice gentlman
in a hat tilted his hat and told the nurse not to use the straight jacket and offered his arm to Blanche
and she was so thankful and relieved. :"I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers."
No one is going to save me in that office when homeland security comes....
No man in a hat...looking like a gentleman ...no gentlemen or gentle ladies any more...in 21st
Century....
Hustlers and vulgarians....thats all but I guess I have to take this anger out somehow...
Maybe lobotomy is the answer. But I am not a kennedy and won't be able to live in a posh nursing
home as a safe, polite, gentle lady withe half of my brain missing but what is my brain good for any
way? Not good, not good at all....Too many thoughts, too many conversations with myself...
too many ideas...and no one to share them with....
I better take my therapist seriously....But I have taken her seriously already. Given her all
my money and I am more sick than ever. This psychiatrist branch of modern medicine
is not working either.
And then came this, "TECHNOLOGY" to give false importance to all the herds who
had no importance at all....
If all human beings only think of themselves, their life, their health and happiness, their success...
how successful are they?
If you don't give a shit about people dying by the millions, oppressed, hungry, poor, suffereing from
disease, injury, war, all the childen dying all over because of poverty and wars all over...
How successful are you with your indifference towards the suffering human race?
HAVE A HEART HUMANITY....
DO SOMETHING MEANINGFUL... TO SAVE THE PLANET...
Get off of your ,"TEXTING" and call some one...help some one and try, at least try to be a friend...
a sincere, affectionate friend.
Yes, like my therapist said, I use the word ,:AFFECTION" a lot. I like the word. Its a good word.
Its a comforting word.
Yes, Be an affectionate friend. Try to feel other peopl's pain,
their sorrow, their sadness, their rootlessness, their joy.
Have you ever heard of a word called, :SHARE?"
Or you only share a tiny closet in the East Village for $3000 so you can be hip and "TEXT"
someone about it...
Call some one...Find out if they are ok...
When my phone rings its always my sister or my nieces and nephews calling from abroad...
Thank god for that.
Otherwise my phone doesn't ring....
I only run to my therapist and now she is also asking me, "Have you ever thought of going back?"
And that was the reason I STOPPED SEEING ALL MY PHONY FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY
ALWAYS ASKED ME THE SAME QUESTION.
"GO BACK"
"GO BACK"
"GO BACK WHERE?"
"DORTHY OF WIZZARD OF OZ, GO BACK HOME.'
"WHICH HOME?"
"WHICH HOME?"
"I LOST THE ADDRESS."
"BUT ALL OF YOU KEEP TEXTING"
"WHO IS THE ONE YOU ARE TEXTING?"
"SOME ONE AT YOUR HOME?"
"TOO BAD I LOST THE ADDRESS OF MY HOME."
"AND THE PHONE NUMBER."
"WHEN THE HOME WAS GONE SO WAS THE LANDLINE"
"THERE WAS NO CELL PHONES THEN..."
CAN'T CALL BACK "
"CAN'T GO BACK"
"NO HOME ANY MORE."
"STOP SAYING IT TO ME."
"HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF GOING BACK?"
"IT HURTS."
"STOP"
"YES, I HAVE THOUGHT OF GOING BACK HOME."
"BUT THERE IS NO HOME TO GO BACK TO"
"STOP ASKING...'
"PLEASE STOP."
"THATS WHY I DON'T SEE YOU."
THATS WHY I DON'T SEE ANY ONE OF YOU ANY MORE."
"STOP PROVOKING."
"DON'T EAT MY BRAIN, MY HEART, MY SOUL MY SPIRIT"
"DON'T BE A VULTURE"
I WOULD PREFER LONELINESS OVER ALL THOSE VULTURES
CALLED, HUMAN BEINGS.
'YES, I AM ANGRY"
"YES, ITS NOT GOOD, THE ANGER."
MY THERAPIST EVEN TOLD ME THAT LONELINESS IS BETTER THAN ANGER."
BUT I HAVE THAT ALREADY, THE LONELINESS, THE ISOLATION...
"YES GO AHEAD, CALL ME ANGRY...
"YES, WE ARE ALL ANGRY AND EVERY ONE ELSE IS SO INNOCENT, SO PURE,
SO PEACEFUL, SO CALM, CONTENT WITH A CLEAR CONSCINCE, CALMLY
DESTROYING, DESTROYING SO CALMLY THE ANGRY ONES............
SCENE FOUR:
PATIENT:
You said, some one is coming later. Who is that person?
THERAPIST:
What did I say exactly?
PATIENT:
You said, that an FBI agent is coming later."
Why the FBI agent is coming later?
For what reason?
THERAPIST:
To see how I am conducting my work?
PATIENT:
Why should he be interested in your work?
THERAPIST:
Its their job to be interested
PATIENT:
But why?
THERAPIST:
For security
PATIENT:
What kind of security?
THERAPIST:
A patient can be violent
PATIENT:
Am I violent?
THERAPIST:
Not yet...
PATIENT:
What do you mean?
THERAPIST:
You are not violent yet but you can become violent
PATIENT:
Why would I become violent?
THERAPIST:
Because you are very angry and the anger leads to violence
PATIENT:
If you were in my position, you will be angry too...
THERAPIST:
What's your position?
PATIENT:
Thats what I am here to find out
THERAPIST;
You live in a big city. The most cosmopolitan city in the world. The most happening place on this
planet. And you feel nothing is happening for you...
PATIENT:
You think I am wrong to feel that way?
THERAPIST:
Its upto you to make things happen for you in the most happening city in the world
PATIENT:
How am I going to do that?
THERAPIST:
By being less angry
PATIENT:
I don't think I am angry. I think I am direct and outspoken
THERAPIST:
There is a difference in being outspoken and being agry. Anger is a negative emotion
and being outspoken is admirable. But when you entangle anger with direct speech it only resumes
the form of venom
PATIENT:
Thats a strong word, "Venom" I like it. I know people who are nothing but venemous towrds me
THERAPIST:
You have a persecution complex
PATIENET:
Thank you for telling me that. There must be a reason
THERAPIST:
What's the reson?
PATIENT:
Lets not go there...
THERAPIST:
In order for me to treat you, I have to know your feelings. All kinds of feelings.
PATIENT:
If I have the persecution complex there is a reason and you do know the reason
THERAPIST:
Why would I know the reason?
PATIENT:
Because you are a therapist, goddamn it
THERAPIST:
Don't damn god, he has nothing to do with it
PATIENT:
Who should I damn then?
THERAPIST:
Yourself
PATIENT:
Myself?
THERAPIST:
Yes, yourself
PATIENT:
So I am to be blamed?
THERAPIST:
We are all responsible for our actions
PATIENT:
But I didn't do anything
TERAPIST:
You are a Muslim right?
PATIENT:
What that has to do with anything?
THERAPIST:
It has to do with everything
PATIENT:
Like what?
THERAPIST:
Like your persecution complex
PATIENT:
What about that?
THERAPIST:
Muslims came and destroyed our city, our buildings...
PATIENT:
Wait a minute...wait a minute...I can't believe what I am hearing...
THERAPIST:
You are hearing what I am saying. Muslims, all Muslims are responsible for the destruction
and since they are involved by association they developed this fake persecution complex to
justify their actions...you can feel other feelings, feelings such as Isolation, loneliness
PATIENT:
You are not a therapist. You are some one else. I need to get out of here
THERAPIST:
Not so fast, not so fast. In order for you to face your reality, your situation, your anger
you have to hear things like this. Things which make you wake up, smell the coffee and take care of
your anger which is directed towards us, us who had been the victims of your people.
You have to take some responsibility insted of being ferocious, cursing, angry, angry, angry...
You are in a big city where the damage happen. Instead of being angry you can feel other
feelings such as Isolation, Loneliness...Those feelings are more justified for you because not many
people like your group so its understandable that you will have the big city blues and you will be
lonely. We are the one's who should be angry. Anger soesn't justify your situation.
Anger is ours in this case.
PATIENT:
But I have nothing to do with anything. I am just a patient...
THERAPIST:
Yes, a patient with misplaced anger.....which will lead
to more destruction...it need to be restrined and I am trying to help you before you get into real
trouble........and by the way, (pick up the bell from the table, ring it and then says) Time is up. See
you next week.................
SCENE FIVE
PATIENT AND THE PATIENT'S SUBCONSCIOUS
SUBCONSCIOUS:
I am not angry and its not the big city either. I am used to the big cities. Its not the big city
Its the emptiness of the big city. Its just big with buildings, cement and steel. Yes there are crowds.
Millions of people rushing about, going places of importance, (thats what they think)
glued to their phones, unaware of any human being on their left or their right, pushing ,shoving
like herds of cattle. The big city is un-aware of its peope. People are un-aware of other people.
There is no conversation whatso ever.
'Do you text?"
People ask me
'No, I don't."
I say
"Call me."
I say
"I don't call."
They say
"Ok then. Don't call me."
I say
My phone doesn't ring
No it doesn't
"How long have you been living here?"
"I am sad to say, A life time."
"Friends?"
'What does that mean?"
'The word friend has a different definition now."
"What definition?"
'If out of desperation and loneliness one goes out with someone,
(called a friend?) for a glass of wine, they end up having nothing to say, nothing to talk about...
They either keep texting or keep looking at their phones or pound on you for being an outsider, from
another country, not their favorit country either, for being a Muslim indirectly and sometime not so
indirectly. They keep talking very badly about the country you came from right to your face and
then get on the religion, Muslim religion of course because they un-fortunately happen to know that
you were born in a Muslim country and keep doing a monologue about the muslim religion and how
horrible and violent it is and they completely forget about any other religion as if the oher religions
never existed or they were all mighty innocent and pure and then with a phony, fake smile say,
'have you ever thought of going back?"
Its like such a classic. It never goes away. I always know its coming whenever I make a mistake to
go out with any one....
"Going back where? To your.......
Lets forget it.
Its better not to see any one.
They make me so angry, extremely angry when I come back home
And my therapist told me anger is
going to lead towards violence....
She is already hinting for some homeland agent coming to her office to check it out.
She is right when she says, "loneliness and Isolation is a million times better than anger."
So its better not to see any one. Not to be social. Just be alone, lonely and quiet.
Once I was a social animal but now I am just an animal I guess and angry on top of it...
I better stay home by myself.
Te big city is also full of animals anyway. And if there are people in the city, they have lost
all ethics, all manners, all sophistication. They are rude, mean, hostile, angry, racists, insincere
and totally miserable.
If I were as smart as Victor Hugo I will write the modern day novel, Les miserable...
But alas the human beings of 21st Century neither know Victor Hugo nor are they worth
sweating over a novel even when its going to be about them and called, Les-miserable.
People are un-interesting and very rude. There is no one to go out with even if you want to...
'What for?"
'Yes, what for are you seeing people?"
There is no discussion, no debate, No opinons about anything, (that's incase they have any opinons
at all) Their opinions are already set in a rigid, narrow framework.
They shout and scream on TV where every one is an expert especially about other people's
religion, (Muslim religion for sure) They shout their racist crap and then the hour is up and then
they go to an after party freeloading on cheap wine....
And my therapist tells me that I am angry. Actually she asks me, "Why am I so angry?"
I wonder myself...Why? Why? Why? I am so angry?
How much and for how long one can hear to the same bullshit crap....
Every one is so innocent all of a sudden and so so calm.
And the problem is what to do wih myself being so alone all the time?
How much can I read?
My apt is overflowing with books. No place any more for books...
and beside the limitation of the space, my knowledge of things after reading so many books
has made me very aware of human nature and their tendencies for power and greed and
un-ending wars and that has frigtened me and my knowledge has actually become a disadvantage
and thus the source of my anger... I can see things happening before they happen.
It has made me astute but in a scary way.
How many more plays can I write? How many topics are out there which interest any one
beside all those mediocre politically correct plays?
And by the way I am the only one who calls myself a ,"Playwright"
Go ask the NYT if I am one...
They will set the record straight...
And why should I write more plays?
About what?
The racist ass holes?
Why waste any more of my time?
How many more drawings I can store in my F*** apt?
How many times I can check my god-damned emails?
And what for?
Its all spam anyway.
I should be like Woody Allen.
He doesn't do emails
Doesn't have a computer either
He just keeps making movies and keep going to South of France with Sooni...
his wife/his daughter...see he doesn't give a shit, he doesn't need a computer to be successful.
We do. He is not an Immigrant. He was born here. So you see, that's the answer, you have to be
born here and you can't be Muslim. Success will happen, computer or no computer.
"Learn computer"
People, those awful people I used to see kept saying to me.
"You can't be successful without you having your plays on the computer."
They kept saying to me all day long....
"Go f*** yourself"
"Liers"
Now I have the f*** computer and where is the f*** success?"
Go f*** yourself and leave me the F*** alone.
The only two things I like about America is the word, "F**. And F*** you too.
And aluminum foil.
I love aluminum foil.
You can wrap the myonaise drenched tuna sandwitch in aluminum foil and you are perfectly
safe that the myonaise won't drip in your torm Michael Kore's hand bag....
Everything else is very sick, very sick, sick, sick, sick.
Everything is very sick all over the world but I f*** live here, here, here....
What the F*** should I d with my time every day? No people, no dog....no review....nothing.
I guess I should go every day to the therapist and give her all my remaining pennies.....
and get my anger out somehow befor she calls someone and they take me out of her office in a
straight jacket like the one they brought for Blanche in Street car named desire till the nice gentlman
in a hat tilted his hat and told the nurse not to use the straight jacket and offered his arm to Blanche
and she was so thankful and relieved. :"I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers."
No one is going to save me in that office when homeland security comes....
No man in a hat...looking like a gentleman ...no gentlemen or gentle ladies any more...in 21st
Century....
Hustlers and vulgarians....thats all but I guess I have to take this anger out somehow...
Maybe lobotomy is the answer. But I am not a kennedy and won't be able to live in a posh nursing
home as a safe, polite, gentle lady withe half of my brain missing but what is my brain good for any
way? Not good, not good at all....Too many thoughts, too many conversations with myself...
too many ideas...and no one to share them with....
I better take my therapist seriously....But I have taken her seriously already. Given her all
my money and I am more sick than ever. This psychiatrist branch of modern medicine
is not working either.
And then came this, "TECHNOLOGY" to give false importance to all the herds who
had no importance at all....
If all human beings only think of themselves, their life, their health and happiness, their success...
how successful are they?
If you don't give a shit about people dying by the millions, oppressed, hungry, poor, suffereing from
disease, injury, war, all the childen dying all over because of poverty and wars all over...
How successful are you with your indifference towards the suffering human race?
HAVE A HEART HUMANITY....
DO SOMETHING MEANINGFUL... TO SAVE THE PLANET...
Get off of your ,"TEXTING" and call some one...help some one and try, at least try to be a friend...
a sincere, affectionate friend.
Yes, like my therapist said, I use the word ,:AFFECTION" a lot. I like the word. Its a good word.
Its a comforting word.
Yes, Be an affectionate friend. Try to feel other peopl's pain,
their sorrow, their sadness, their rootlessness, their joy.
Have you ever heard of a word called, :SHARE?"
Or you only share a tiny closet in the East Village for $3000 so you can be hip and "TEXT"
someone about it...
Call some one...Find out if they are ok...
When my phone rings its always my sister or my nieces and nephews calling from abroad...
Thank god for that.
Otherwise my phone doesn't ring....
I only run to my therapist and now she is also asking me, "Have you ever thought of going back?"
And that was the reason I STOPPED SEEING ALL MY PHONY FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY
ALWAYS ASKED ME THE SAME QUESTION.
"GO BACK"
"GO BACK"
"GO BACK WHERE?"
"DORTHY OF WIZZARD OF OZ, GO BACK HOME.'
"WHICH HOME?"
"WHICH HOME?"
"I LOST THE ADDRESS."
"BUT ALL OF YOU KEEP TEXTING"
"WHO IS THE ONE YOU ARE TEXTING?"
"SOME ONE AT YOUR HOME?"
"TOO BAD I LOST THE ADDRESS OF MY HOME."
"AND THE PHONE NUMBER."
"WHEN THE HOME WAS GONE SO WAS THE LANDLINE"
"THERE WAS NO CELL PHONES THEN..."
CAN'T CALL BACK "
"CAN'T GO BACK"
"NO HOME ANY MORE."
"STOP SAYING IT TO ME."
"HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF GOING BACK?"
"IT HURTS."
"STOP"
"YES, I HAVE THOUGHT OF GOING BACK HOME."
"BUT THERE IS NO HOME TO GO BACK TO"
"STOP ASKING...'
"PLEASE STOP."
"THATS WHY I DON'T SEE YOU."
THATS WHY I DON'T SEE ANY ONE OF YOU ANY MORE."
"STOP PROVOKING."
"DON'T EAT MY BRAIN, MY HEART, MY SOUL MY SPIRIT"
"DON'T BE A VULTURE"
I WOULD PREFER LONELINESS OVER ALL THOSE VULTURES
CALLED, HUMAN BEINGS.
'YES, I AM ANGRY"
"YES, ITS NOT GOOD, THE ANGER."
MY THERAPIST EVEN TOLD ME THAT LONELINESS IS BETTER THAN ANGER."
BUT I HAVE THAT ALREADY, THE LONELINESS, THE ISOLATION...
"YES GO AHEAD, CALL ME ANGRY...
"YES, WE ARE ALL ANGRY AND EVERY ONE ELSE IS SO INNOCENT, SO PURE,
SO PEACEFUL, SO CALM, CONTENT WITH A CLEAR CONSCINCE, CALMLY
DESTROYING, DESTROYING SO CALMLY THE ANGRY ONES............
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
THERAPIST AND THE PATIENT CONTINUES
THERAPIST AND THE PATIENT CONTINUES
SCENE THREE
PATIENT:
I am not complaining. I never complain. I hate complaining.
I hate people who complain as well.
You see, when you are with your therapist and you talk about your life it obviously shouldn't be
considered a complaint. Right?
THERAPIST:
(Sarcastic)
Right...
PATIENT:
Its amazing how people label you. They call you a, "Complainer" even before one opens one's
mouth. You see the nature of things are different in different people'.s heads. Some are constantly
busy and some not busy at all. Its like some are billionaires and some are on the doll.
The one's who are on the doll are condemned by fate as well as by themselves. The rich people say
its the condemned's fault ...I guess it is. Its his fault.
Some are born condemned and some have condemnation thrust upon them.
But never on the rich or the busy people.
Rich are busy because they have meetings to go to. They have business breakfasts to go to...
They have Opera to go to. Some one else invited them.
Amazing thing is that the rich never pay for anything so they do lots of things. For them everything is.........
possible on this planet. Met Gala is free for them. For poor people the ticket is 30-000$
And the table is for $270-000. I am not kidding. I read it in the NYT. They told me its the most
elegantly democratic liberal paper. So is the Met. They know how to keep the poor people away.
So the poor people of Manhattan have nothing to do with their time.
No power breakfasts, no Opera, no gala at the Met and no entry at the white house correspondent's
dinner. Un-believable. I am also a journalist, (laughs) as well a comedian, (Laughs)
and my sister went to Harvard like Obama, so I do have some connections with elite
but some how I am not on their list, neither on the list of Met Gala as well as the power lunches.
I wonder how one gets on the list? I am a blogger and I see lots of bloggers on those lists.
"Hi, how come you are going to the Gala?''
"I am on the list."
"How did you get on the list?"
"I don't worry about that, I am just on the list."
"'Some of us have to worry about that. Us, who are not on those lists, we need to know how to get on
the list."
:You must be on some list?"
'What do you mean?" "As far as I know I am not on any list."
"You must be on Obama's list"
"What?"
"Obama has a list, you must be on it."
'Why would I be on Obama's list? And what kind of a list is that?"
"Obama has a list. He has a list of the one's he wants to assassinate and I am sure you are on it."
"Oh! my lord, you want to go to the Met Gala and you want me to be assassinated? What have I
done to you for you to have such deadly wish for me?"
"No, its not that. I have no wish for you good or bad, I don't care about you, I am not concerned
about you, I am successful, I am on so many lists, what the f** do I care about you but since you are
dying to be on some list I wanted you to know that you must be on Obama's list."
Thats the kind of people I know. Ok? So you say I complain....
THERAPIST:
(Interrupt)
I never said that you complain...
PATIENT:
Your body language said it.
THERAPIST:
I hardly moved my body in any direction...
PATIENT:
I know. Thats why. Your body language is of stiffness and not of affection...
THERAPIST:
You are always looking for affection. What happened to you in your childhood?
PATIENT:
Nothing F*** happenend in my childhood. everything shitty happenend here, here, here....
THERAPIST:
You talk about affection a lot. You must seek it.
PATIENT:
Don't you? Don't you F*** seek affection?
THERAPIST:
Not from every Tom, Dick and Harry...
PATIENT:
They are all Tom, Dick and Harry here....
THERAPIST:
Have you ever thought of going back?
PATIENT:
(Laughs)
I knew its coming. I knew it. Every one asks this question. Is this the form of your treatment?
To ask me if I have ever thought of going back? Going back where?
THERAPIST:
Since you are not happy here....
PATIENT:
Are you? Is everybody happy? Everyone who was born here.... Are they all happy?
Are any of your patients who were born here unhappy? When they talk to you about their lonelliness
or other difficulties of existence, do you ask them the same question, "have you ever thought of
going back?" How do you treat those patients of yours? Which country do you send them back to...
What the f***. Waste of my money....
THERAPIST:
You don't have much money...
PATIENT:
Because you took it all...
THERAPIST:
There wasn't much...
PATIENT:
Whatever I had, you took it so before you send me back...whereever that, "BACK" is
Could I have my money back so I can buy a f*** ticket...
THERAPIST:
Maybe Obama should take care of that. Put you on a list. Then you won't need money to buy a
ticket.
PATIENT:
Are you a f*** therapist or an FBI agent?
THERAPIST:
I am not but he will join us later.......................
END OF SCENE THREE
SCENE THREE
PATIENT:
I am not complaining. I never complain. I hate complaining.
I hate people who complain as well.
You see, when you are with your therapist and you talk about your life it obviously shouldn't be
considered a complaint. Right?
THERAPIST:
(Sarcastic)
Right...
PATIENT:
Its amazing how people label you. They call you a, "Complainer" even before one opens one's
mouth. You see the nature of things are different in different people'.s heads. Some are constantly
busy and some not busy at all. Its like some are billionaires and some are on the doll.
The one's who are on the doll are condemned by fate as well as by themselves. The rich people say
its the condemned's fault ...I guess it is. Its his fault.
Some are born condemned and some have condemnation thrust upon them.
But never on the rich or the busy people.
Rich are busy because they have meetings to go to. They have business breakfasts to go to...
They have Opera to go to. Some one else invited them.
Amazing thing is that the rich never pay for anything so they do lots of things. For them everything is.........
possible on this planet. Met Gala is free for them. For poor people the ticket is 30-000$
And the table is for $270-000. I am not kidding. I read it in the NYT. They told me its the most
elegantly democratic liberal paper. So is the Met. They know how to keep the poor people away.
So the poor people of Manhattan have nothing to do with their time.
No power breakfasts, no Opera, no gala at the Met and no entry at the white house correspondent's
dinner. Un-believable. I am also a journalist, (laughs) as well a comedian, (Laughs)
and my sister went to Harvard like Obama, so I do have some connections with elite
but some how I am not on their list, neither on the list of Met Gala as well as the power lunches.
I wonder how one gets on the list? I am a blogger and I see lots of bloggers on those lists.
"Hi, how come you are going to the Gala?''
"I am on the list."
"How did you get on the list?"
"I don't worry about that, I am just on the list."
"'Some of us have to worry about that. Us, who are not on those lists, we need to know how to get on
the list."
:You must be on some list?"
'What do you mean?" "As far as I know I am not on any list."
"You must be on Obama's list"
"What?"
"Obama has a list, you must be on it."
'Why would I be on Obama's list? And what kind of a list is that?"
"Obama has a list. He has a list of the one's he wants to assassinate and I am sure you are on it."
"Oh! my lord, you want to go to the Met Gala and you want me to be assassinated? What have I
done to you for you to have such deadly wish for me?"
"No, its not that. I have no wish for you good or bad, I don't care about you, I am not concerned
about you, I am successful, I am on so many lists, what the f** do I care about you but since you are
dying to be on some list I wanted you to know that you must be on Obama's list."
Thats the kind of people I know. Ok? So you say I complain....
THERAPIST:
(Interrupt)
I never said that you complain...
PATIENT:
Your body language said it.
THERAPIST:
I hardly moved my body in any direction...
PATIENT:
I know. Thats why. Your body language is of stiffness and not of affection...
THERAPIST:
You are always looking for affection. What happened to you in your childhood?
PATIENT:
Nothing F*** happenend in my childhood. everything shitty happenend here, here, here....
THERAPIST:
You talk about affection a lot. You must seek it.
PATIENT:
Don't you? Don't you F*** seek affection?
THERAPIST:
Not from every Tom, Dick and Harry...
PATIENT:
They are all Tom, Dick and Harry here....
THERAPIST:
Have you ever thought of going back?
PATIENT:
(Laughs)
I knew its coming. I knew it. Every one asks this question. Is this the form of your treatment?
To ask me if I have ever thought of going back? Going back where?
THERAPIST:
Since you are not happy here....
PATIENT:
Are you? Is everybody happy? Everyone who was born here.... Are they all happy?
Are any of your patients who were born here unhappy? When they talk to you about their lonelliness
or other difficulties of existence, do you ask them the same question, "have you ever thought of
going back?" How do you treat those patients of yours? Which country do you send them back to...
What the f***. Waste of my money....
THERAPIST:
You don't have much money...
PATIENT:
Because you took it all...
THERAPIST:
There wasn't much...
PATIENT:
Whatever I had, you took it so before you send me back...whereever that, "BACK" is
Could I have my money back so I can buy a f*** ticket...
THERAPIST:
Maybe Obama should take care of that. Put you on a list. Then you won't need money to buy a
ticket.
PATIENT:
Are you a f*** therapist or an FBI agent?
THERAPIST:
I am not but he will join us later.......................
END OF SCENE THREE
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