Idiot Poem II

I am here to be stupid I am here to be dumb

Please don’t be offended, if you are Madame

My freedom is priceless my freedom is good

I don’t wanna die in sadness and gloom.

INSANITY OF BEING A WOMAN

Oh, I am curious If they will think I am not sexy that I am here, sitting alone and writing. I don’t know. See – there is a conflict in me, a wall, a catch 22- a paradox which makes me paralyzed. When I am sexy – they think I am a porn star, or, at least, they think I should be one, or they offer me all this sexual proposals, they chase me, and talk to me without respect – and then I want to tell them to stop treating me like that – to tell them that I have a degree, that I am an intellectual, that they should not touch my ass and so on – but when they don’t do that- I think they find me ugly, or standoffish. Or what if they think that I am a nerd! Oh, come on, people, how old are you! Why are you being so immature! This is crazy – this people- well, this one for example – he is 28 and talking about nerds like we are in an elementary school! Oh, give me a break!

I always have really stupid lovers. But very interesting. This cocaine user for example. Who said that addicts are extremely interesting? I don’t remember, but I agree with it completely. They are fascinating. I fall in love with them at instant. This one was particularly perfect. Crazy ex-addict, absolutely perverted.

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Idiot Poem

I want to create goodness

Evil must vanish

Self defeat and hatred

It’s good to be good

I want to create a kaleidoscope

of happiness

Be a child again.

PROJECT BOREDOM

Information overload. Dying of it. So many projects. Everybody asking for money to fund their useless projects- projects created out of boredom- projects with no content, or content – nobody cares about, narcissistic orgy – what’s the point in creating new art? New entertainment? It’s everywhere. I am so sick of it. Everybody is an artist, out of boredom, really. What is worth doing anymore?   Stuck in the city. No exited enough to do anything anymore. Books. Books. Books. Pictures. Photos. Opinions. Everybody got one. Total isolation. What’s the point of all this?  There was a woman yesterday, sitting on a bench in Central Park with 5 dogs , talking on the phone: She said: what’s the difference if I will live 1 or 2 years longer, who cares? Exactly?? What’s the difference? Where is it all going? I know it’s no funny or uplifting,  for that I am sorry. But there is too much garbage and I am thinking about moving into the woods;)