Keren Cytter

AZ Life Coaching
Keren Cytter
AZ Life Coaching
A 5

A
went to LA because she wanted to refresh her driving skills.
A went to LA because she loved the city.
A went to LA because of her unrealized love for L.
The first thing that A did upon her arrival was to take a cheap
drivers course and spend a week cruising through the city,
guided by a silent Chinese teacher. Am I doing alright?,
she asked. Her guide persisted with one laconic answer.
Denying her weaknesses was As greatest source of power.
She wasnt discouraged by thin communication. A passed
the final test successfully without even knowing it. On a late
afternoon of the seventh day of her study, she received an
American drivers license. Her face was printed on plastic.
She looked electrifiedher hair unkempt, her smile forced,
and her eyes wide open.

A feared American highways. Her new drivers license

and her first seven days in LA encouraged her to get into
her secondhand car and drive off the road. She planned to
merge fearlessly with the traffic and drove as heartlessly
as the cars around her. After a while, A noticed a red light
heading her way. When it turned to orange, she decided
to stop. A minute later, the whole vehicle shuddered and a
horrific metal squawk filled and echoed in her ears. A white
BMW had just crashed into the back of her car. It was bad.
The car was squashed like an accordion. The owner of the
stronger vehicle behind her was a sympathetic middle-
aged doctor, seasoned and wise enough to insure his car.
He was also generous enough to give her his details and
equally kind to apologize for assuming that she would drive
off when the light changed from red. A apologized for her
lack of confidence and admitted that she should have kept
driving, but the doctor hushed her and said thatno, its his
fault. He shouldnt have been reading the newspaper and
driving simultaneously. A was impressed by his confidence,
honesty, and kindness.

After they returned to their cars, the doctor passed A and

drove into the sunset. A sat alone in her broken vehicle, a
step from the highway, in front of the traffic light, and tried to
start it with little success. Her car caused a little traffic jam.
Passing cars were honking behind and beside her.
A 6

A was absolutely demoralized. She called L and asked him

to pick her up. The sun will soon be setting and gone, and
A will be gone with it. They both will be forgotten in eternal
darkness. L was irritated, but after A loosened her voice
and it broke with distress until it shuttered into pieces, he
consented to pick her up. The sky was getting darker, and the
homeless were walking sporadically along the sides of the
road and between the cars when the traffic lights allowed it.
After another hour, a traffic jam of angry trucks arose behind
her. They honked like container ships entering the harbor,
trying to bypass A. They signaled at her loudly to move to
the side. A couldnt move anywhere. A vagabond peeked
his head through her window. Baby, baby, its okay, dont
worry. Men wrapped in rags appeared from the darkness,
surrounding Aa force from the past, dressed in dusty
fabrics, covered with long beards and dreadlocks. They
counted to three, lifted the car up five inches, and moved it
to the side of the road.

A was relieved. She thanked her saviors several times,

repeating the same words over and over. Then she leaned
back, closed the car windows, and waited for L to arrive. She
didnt dare to drive in LA again.

Few days later, on the same trip, A was walking back from
Venice Beach. Her mind was racing from A to B and back
to L, when she lifted her head and saw two wooden boards
leaning on one another. On one side was written in red
letters on yellow background: Life coaching First session
is free! On the other side, same colors: Puerto Morales
fish seafood restaurant second floor. The last two words
were written in a different font.

How can I help you? The life coach was a successful-

looking young man. His seat was made of leather, based on
a silver-metal-modern design. A sat on a similar chair in front
of him. A heavy glass coffee table on a glossy chopped log
separated them. A spoke to him for thirty minutes, about
her father and L and her ex and her latest rebound and D
who joined the trip but was washing dishes loudly before
she went to the beach, because he couldnt confront her
directly, but thats not as important as L and his date and his
ex-girlfriend and his latest rebound. The latest rebound is not
important, thats why its just a rebound, but still she would
like to hear a second opinion. When she finished, she stared
 A 7

at the life coach who seemed exhaustedYou dont need

a life coach, you need a shrink, he replied.

When A told that story to D, he replied: Hes right, You

definitely need a shrink. A good one.
When A told that story to L, he laughed out loud: This is so
fucked up!
When A told that story to I, she replied I can be a life
coach. Why not? A fresh wind of autism might be helpful
for the one who seeks self-improvement.

After A left Is apartment, I texted her friends and pressed

them to disclose their fears and desires to her. Life coaching
turned out, at times, to be what they needed, and I gladly
deepened her involvement in their lives.

ABC Zoo A visited D at his new apartment. He opened the door and
asked her to wait in the kitchen until he finishes hypnotizing
himself in the bedroom. She sat next to the kitchen table
and noticed a thick beige book by Michel Foucault. To As
surprise, the introduction was compelling and the story was
inspiring. She told it later to E, who spoke about it with B,
who informed C, who might have told it later to U and I,
but when U was searching for the book on the Internet she
couldnt find any link between Foucault and that story. She
emailed D and asked for that book, but D denied he had ever
had a book by Foucault and innocently added, I heard hes a
very interesting philosopher. D asked A if she remembered
more details from the book. She didnt. On the Internet,
U found a shorter version of that story in the form of a
childrens book that helps youngsters to memorize the ABCs.

In a remote area, far from any place known to man, was a

foreign country that was so alien that even its own citizens
couldnt pronounce its name. This specific story is focused on
the zoo. The zoo in that country placed the animals according
to their names, and not by their size, or nature. Alligators
lived next to alpacas and Arctic foxes, pigeons nested with
parrots and panthers, baboons with bats, octopuses with
orcas, ostriches, owls, and oysters, and so on.

Thats what was left from that story, and it was good enough
for U.

Advice If you have no time to read the book, read instincts.

 A 8

Afterword The Roman changed the names of the Greek gods to the
planets of the solar system. Zeus became Jupiter, Neptune
was Poseidon, and Ares turned to Mars.

Age The men of the Iron Age suffer from continuous misery.
Their behavior was immoralchildren dishonored their
parents, siblings were fighting one another, and social
respect was completely forgotten. People didnt feel shame
or guilt. Babies were born seasoned and nothing could stop
evil. There were no gods in the Iron Age. They abandoned all
men a long time ago in the Silver Age. This is the Iron Age.
That time exactly. Lift your left arm and look at your watch
yes, it is.

Anger One might develop an addiction to it. The heat that rage
produces leaves its mark in body and mind days after
the temperature has dropped. A patient with compulsive
tendencies is more likely to follow the marks and re-
experience the sensation. Possible acts can be used against
those trends: Avoid any means of communication with
society (emails/text messages/letters/phone/oral) until the
symptoms are gone. Consume marijuana, opioids, or/and
depressants drugs such as Valium, Xanax, or Demerol until
the symptoms are gone.

Answers I knows them all.

X is clueless.

Alcatraz I J was lucky enough to avoid prison. Body? No thank you,

I prefer to be jelly in a womb.

Alcatraz II Q will never leave that place and why would she? Shes has
her aquarelle portraits, and now she even learned from J
and other inmates a few chords on the ukulele (A, C, and D
are her favorites). Shes just a number. Someone stepped on
her more than once. She couldnt say no, so now shes Q.
An inefficient letter. Dont ask, dont telllets not talk about
it, dont you even dareits just too much. Shes here and
here and now. Every conversation makes the sound of a
metal gate closing or opening behind her. They all sound the
sameand whats the point anyhow? What does it matter if
they are closing or not? Shes here to stay and thats . . . and
thats . . .

Anti-Hero Lack of interest.

 A 9

Apology I The content of these pages can come across as lighthearted

and overly thin or faint. Most of it was written while watching
a movie, a basketball game, or just scrolling on Facebook,
Instagram, and news sites. Part of the text is based on
Wikipedia pages and historical documentaries that were read
and watched previously and throughout the writing of this
book.

Apology II Warning starts with the letter W.

Art I Ds exceptional eloquence and confidence and his love for

art and poignant criticism granted him immediate respect
at social events. An art collector dined with A and I in a
Russian restaurant. He spoke about his love for the works
he buys. D listened carefully. He was silent throughout the
conversation. Later on, he told I: In contemporary art, one
must express strong emotions toward objects and adore
their producers. A calm or reasonable response can invite a
discussion that can attract possible critics. The foundations
of art production and its outcome are unprincipled and
debauched. Theyll collapse for the faint touch of common
sense.

Art II Dont swallow.

B 10

B
was Is first patient. A beautiful actress, thin and muscular.
For five years, she had a Tunisian boyfriend who was
shorter than her. Their relationship was stable. She never
complained. I heard Bs footsteps echoing as she entered the
courtyard of her building. The steps echoed in the staircase
until she buzzed the doorbell. She walked straight to the
living room and sat on an overpriced chair. She leaned on the
windowsill, letting the white light wash her face and make
her even prettier. I wondered how it feels to be so pretty,
to have a face that bears such dignity and grace. B stared
at the water tank that was resting on the floor. Ugly was
swimming in circles around Bugly, who was sinking down on
his back, reaching he bottom of the water tank. His illness
was incurable.

From first to fourth sight, B seemed like the perfect human.

She was smart, sharp, attractive, pragmatic, knowledgeable,
balanced, sensitive, beautiful, talented, constructive, and
kind. On fifth sight, her weakness was unveiledB was an
actress, her power was her weakness, like many laborers
of that kindshe could be deceitful. Her acts and words
suffered many times from duplicity.

I remembered a time when they both were filming in her

apartment. At the end of the day, B was generous enough
to stay and help I clean her apartment. The producer of the
video left the apartment for an hour or more; she worked
simultaneously on three productions. B and I, they spoke
about everything and everyone, while stuffing black plastic
bags with junk. B then mentioned the producer, telling I that
she had a hearing aid attached to her right ear. I couldnt
believe it. She didnt notice it. She hides it with her hair,
explained B. I stopped cleaning. She stood still. Frozen. The
idea of turning ones hair into an accessory stunned her.
They heard the door squeaking. The producer entered the
apartment and, after a few polite words, disappeared into
the kitchen. B could hear her washing the dishes. I was
thinking of the producers hearing aid, puzzled by her hair.

Lets finish it now, I need to go soon, said B, and they

both kept cleaning the apartment. I was grateful for Bs
B 11

help. She tried to be as efficient as possible. They spoke

about friends and colleagues, chatting casually and sharing
information. They didnt listen to their words. It was a solid
stream of information that wasnt manipulated by any form of
judgment: no high or low, no good or bad.

Thats how youre talking about people? Are you also

talking about me when Im away? I stood still. She was
caught. I had no answer. B, on the other hand, released
the breeziest laughter and said, Dont worry, we didnt talk
about you. B kept laughing throughout the whole sentence
until it tailed off in the warm air of the living room without
a hint of a lie. I faced the magic of fiction. She had trouble
dealing with the dissonance of both realities. Bs acting was
good enough to make I doubt reality. From that moment
on, I didnt trust people with a natural laughter. Any facial
expression could be imitated and presented as natural.

Two years later, B was sitting in Is apartment, letting

the white light wash her face, her elbow leaning on
the windowsill. We just dont have sex. We dont do it
anymore. I was fascinated by the problem. It was her first
session as a life coach and the problem was valid.
I remembered the womens magazines that her mother
used to buy every weekend. There were detailed
explanations and advice for such situations. She read them
entirely from the editors letter to the horoscope. She read
even the sponsored articles. Did you try to clear a weekend
and go to a romantic place? Did you try to wear attractive
lingerie? B dismissed herHes not that kind of guy. He
wont do that kind of thing.
I admitted that shes also not into that kind of thing. Life
coaching was harder than expected.

A week later, A, C, I, and D met for a casual drink. B joined

them later. Shed had an argument with her boyfriend and
seemed troubled. Her friends consulted her. B drank fast.
On her first drink, she listened to her friends, the second she
finished in one sip, and at the third one she threatened to
leave her boyfriend right now. D replied, equally drunkHe
might leave you. Her response was unsettling, set off with
an arrogant laugh, short pause, and thenHe? . . . Will
leave . . . me? She concluded her words the same way
she started. She had the perfect laugher. Her laughter was
symmetrical and round.
 B 12

Later on, I consulted with her friend U. She sought advice.

U answered wiselyB is not aware of her behavior. Like
most people, she cant see the effect of her actions on the
people surrounding her. U then leaned closer to her friend:
What you are witnessing shouldnt be witnessed by a
professional coach. You are watching her as patient and a
friend. Its enabling you to recognize Bs faults, but it calls
into question your professional response. Wait for her to
approach you again. I was grateful for Us consultation.

U was facing her own personal difficulties with P. Being an

ear and a shoulder to I restored her spirits.
I hoped that B would return for a second session. They had
met many times since that incident, yet B never asked for
advice. Instead, she turned to C who supported her they
way she expected. He approved her behavior and supported
her actions.

Two years later, B married her boyfriend. The wedding was

modest. B was intoxicated, her boyfriend was proud. After
the ceremony, U found herself sharing cocaine with D, A,
and C in a toilet booth. There, U found out that Is notes and
observations of that drunken evening were the tip of the
iceberg.

Bad Romance A couple of years after I had become a life coach, U, A, E,

and D became her colleagues. They were inspired by her
confidence and direct approach and advice given boldly to
friends and strangers in any social circle. Their attitude was
mostly welcomed by their temporary patients, who found
this approach helpful.
E was notorious for his short temper and impulsive behavior.
He was deeply involved in his patients lives; they occupied
his mind a fair amount of the time. Despite his unorthodox
approach (screaming at his patients), Es responses were
surprisingly precise and accurate. One time he had to
convince one of his closest friends to break up with her
boyfriend. The relationship was destructive and loveless.
It was based on money, manipulation, and career. After a
year of dedication, E succeeded in convincing his friend to
break up with her partner during a business trip to South
America. Two weeks after she left, he received an email
saying that there is no need to break up. Her partner is
content with that relationship and apologized for his
behavior. E opened his laptop. He wanted to google Why
 B 13

do people stay in an abusive relationship? but after typing

the first word, Google suggested five ways to continue the
sentence: Why did prince die / Why did Chyna die / Why
prince died / Why are you always lying / Why is the sky blue.
E copied the computer screen and posted the suggestions on
Instagram. He didnt finish typing the question.

Beginning Three elements coexisted: Chaos, Gaia, and Eros. Eros did
not give birth to other gods but encouraged and facilitated
birth and creation. From Chaos was born Erebus (darkness)
who married Nyx (night) and their children were Aether (light)
and Hemera (day).

Birthday Rome is celebrating 2,769 years. Theres a photograph in

the news of two chubby naked men fighting while carrying a
wooden shield painted red. It looks like childrens costumes.

Blind In a YouTube documentary about the story of Troy, a voice-

over is heard: nothing can be certain or proved about the
Homer or the story of Troy, except that Homer was blind.
Then the documentary stops and an advertisement startsa
photo of a man in a kayak is zooming in. His voice narrates
My name is Martin Wong from Long Island, New York, Ive
been blind since birth . . . Then back to the story of Troy,
before he finishes his sentence.

Busy U once asked a fashion photographer, who was his worst

client. The photographer repliedLeBron James.
Why?, asked U, her ears eager.
He was late for the shoot, we waited for him for more
than five hours, and when he arrived, he behaved like a
god. And the people around him treated him as one. They
did whatever he asked. If he didnt like the setthe set
was changed. If he didnt like the shoesthey changed the
shoes. He jokedthey laughed. He spokethey quoted.
Maybe he was late, because he was too busy?
Busy people are never late. Answered the
photographer and rushed to his next appointment.
C 14

C
was Bs best friend. They were both actors. E introduced him
to her eight years ago, and from that moment on they stuck
to one another like chewing gum. Their love was real. B used
to sit on Cs lap, hug his neck and shoulders, and stick her
cheek to his. That sight was alarming at first, but in less than
a year, C turned gay, and no possible sexual attraction was an
option.

C was known for a very optimistic point of view and was

quick to show emotional reactions. He could cry from books,
movies, stories; even stories he himself told would bring him
to tears. His soft approach could have been disastrous at
times, but in many cases its (just like A) his strength.

B, like many others, felt comfortable enough to disclose

her deepest secrets to C. She knew he wouldnt judge
her, so she told him about a famous writer she once met
at a reading. The writer said that hes married but his wife
knows everythingthey are in an open relationshipand
that he would like to have sex with her. B was buzzed. The
writer gave her his email address and turned his back to her,
signing his name on a book belonging to a fan.

What should I do? What do you think? Should I do it?

B was thrilled, and being newlywed just added to the
excitement. C supported her all the way. He thought that
her husband was boring and short and not at her level. B
emailed the writer, who answered immediately and told her
that hell visit Berlin in a week. She asked where should they
meet, and he saidCome to my hotel room, get undressed,
and knock on my door naked. The sky was the limit and B
was flying out there! That week B was nourished entirely
from Eros, and all the thoughts that crossed her mind were:
Hes going to fuck me in the ass and the dress will fall . . .
Im naked and then, again, hes going to fuck me from the
front and then, again, Ill suck his dick. Its going to be so . . .
Im wet already not again. From the beginning, Im going
to stand there, naked. Freezing and then he opens the door
and touches my hips, Im melting already. Yes, what? It
looks great . . . His dick will touch my body, well kissmy
breasts against his chest, Im wet again . . . That looks good,
 C 15

too, Im busy, please stop! Her husband was a ghost

hovering around her. His voice was weaker than the wind
and his body was more transparent than the windows in
their apartment. All night hes going to fuck me all night . . .
Yeah, leave the light on, and then again from behind. It wont
matter, Im so wet, already so, so wet, and then we sleep for
a second and he wakes me up, with his dick in my ass and
Im . . . How did I enter his room? Yes, Im naked, waiting in
the corridor. Oh C, I need to talk to C.
B called C and asked him for help. A week later, they both
snuck into the hotels lobby, and from there to the floor
where the writer was staying. C was making sure that no one
will pass through the corridor, while B took off her clothes
and stood in front of the door. She nodded to C that he could
leave now. C whispered Break a leg and disappeared. B
knocked on the writers door.

Confidence Alexander the Great was known to be a major leader and

grand warrior. His courage was legendary, and above all
he was notorious for his great confidence. Alexander was
a general at the age of eighteen and a king at the age of
twenty. A phenomenon.

His parents were having a passionate love affair. His mother,

Olympias, was a mystical, attractive woman and his father
was great warrior and the King of Macedonia. When they
found out that Olympias was pregnant, they were ecstatic.
It was the first product of their love. One day when Philip II
returned unexpectedly from war, he opened their bedroom
door and saw his wife making love with a serpent. Philip II
couldnt believe his eyes and decided to consult with the
oracles. He asked, Is it true what I saw? Is my son really
mine, or is he the Son of God? The oracles answer was
vague. It wasnt clear if his wife had had sex with an angel
and who the fetuss father was. The only clear response was:
The eye who witnessed the act of reproduction will become
blind. The oracles were righta year later Philip II was
injured on the battlefield and was blinded in one eye, and
from that day on he wore an eye patch.1

A couple of years later, Philip II of Macedon was murdered

by his closest friend, who was in turn murdered an hour later
by Alexanders entourage after running away from the crime
scene.
C 16

The possibility of being immortal raised Alexanders self-

esteem and might explain some of his strategic decisions
in his crusade against the Persian army. In his first major
battle, he stormed straight to the enemy lines, after charging
through a wide river, riding his horse at the head of his army,
clearly identifiable by an albino peacocks feathers on his
helmet. Not only did he survive, but his army defeated the
enemy.

As Alexander the Great kept conquering the land, exposing

erratic behavior that was characteristic of an ancient
leader, he digressed his expedition to a spiritual journey
into the Sahara Desert. The trip cost the lives of many
of his troops. They died by the heat of deserts sun and
dehydration. Finally, after several torturous weeks, Alexander
reached a mythical monastery that was famous for its
oracles. The monks led Alexander to an isolated room.
No one could hear or see him but the spirit of the oracle.
Alexander asked three questions: Are all my fathers
assassins dead? Will I succeed to conquer Asia? Am I the
Son of God? The monks came with the oracles answers:
Yes, your fathers assassins are dead. Yes, you will conquer
Asia. And yes, you are the Son of God. Thats all Alexander
wanted to hear and he kept deepening his odyssey to
the heart of Asia. More than two thousands years later,
archaeologists located that monastery and recovered the
oracles room. They found a path from the main building
to the walls of the room, where the monks could see the
visitors and listen to their questions.

Alexander kept moving forward. He conquered Persia and

burned down its capital Persepolis in a drunken night of
celebrations and, later on, started a new campaign against
India. He was in the midst of his Asian escape when he
reached his thirties. Alexander then was heading with his
armies to the ancient fortress of Mali. They charged with
ladders, climbing up to the top of the walls. Alexander found
himself standing at the top of the fortress walls exposed to
the enemys arrows, with three of his generals. He couldnt
back down, so he jumped inside the castle straight into the
hands of the enemy soldiers. His troops, terrified, rushed to
the ladders to save their injured leader. The ladders broke
down. Finally, they succeeded in reaching the top of the
fortress and saved Alexanders life. Yet their confidence was
gone for good. An arrow or a sword cut through Alexanders
C 17

body and fatally injured him. He was fighting his life for
several weeks. Facing his mortality for the first time. This
notion harmed his self-esteem terribly and equally damaged
the morale of his troops. He died two years later at the age
of thirty-two.

Like all adolescents, the fresh sensation of emotions, the

power of conviction, and the empowerment found in flattery
made Alexander the Great feel like the Son of God. The
weight of actions, pride, words, friendship, and constant
resistance got heavier with the years, and when the pain
came through his thoughts, all hell broke loose. Death wasnt
a stranger anymore; it nestled in his body. In his thirties,
Alexander was forced to face his mortality.

C had been dating for a more than a year, a Canadian with

a thin soul and a smile in the shape of a stapler. Their
relationship was one sidedC adored his Canadian lover who
barely tolerated him. C ignored those signals: the cause of a
cold shoulder was internal fear of rejection, and the reason of
his forced smiles was his country of origin. His boyfriend, on
the other hand, hated the imposed intimacy and confronted
him, as they were both sitting outside in a sunny caf in
Kreuzberg. C thought it was a beautiful day in his pretty good
life, until his boyfriend said, Stop holding my hand, I dont
like to smile all the time, and I dont want to make plans
for the future, we have no future. We are only having sex.
Physical, heartless sex. Do you hear? C didnt hear him. It
seems like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, he
said, as calmly as he could, and sipped from his extra-sweet
iced coffee. No! I woke up just fine! It just seems like you
dont really get itwe are not a couple and Im not your
boyfriend! It sounded quite serious. C put down his drink on
the table and said, But what about everything weve been
through?
What? What exactly have we been through? Cried the
Canadian, turning some heads at nearby tables.
What about the trip to Portugal we were planning
together?, gagged C in growing misery. We didnt plan any
trip together! Any! I just told you that I wouldve loved to
visit Portugal, and you suggested that we go there! I never
responded! I never agreed! I didnt say anything.
C was astounded. It was true. His notorious pink glasses
were actually as dark as night. There was no love; there were
no future plans. Cs confidence collapsed and smashed into
 C 18

pieces. He was now as blind as a bat. C had nothing to hold

onto. He burst into tears and left the table crying, leaving the
Canadian calm as a comb. C and the soulless Canadian broke
up a year later.

Conversation F stayed in Is apartment in New York for a couple of weeks.

He had just broken up with his girlfriend in San Francisco
again. F moved to New York, trying to get a job. At daytime
he would meet colleagues and friends who advised and
directed him, and he spent the nights on Is couch, suffering
from panic attacks and insomnia. I was terribly upset by
his condition. On Thanksgiving, F joined I for a dinner in a
Chinatown with a group of Is friends. They both thought it
could be a great distraction from the emptiness surrounding
them.

The dinner took place in a Chinese restaurant. They were

late by half an hour. F and I were standing next to a round
table on the second floor of the restaurant, waiting for a very
long time. A kind and chatty atmosphere was formed when
the guests arrived and sat around the table. And when the
different plates of food were served, all of Is holiday wishes
came true and she found herself involved in lighthearted
fractions of conversations made of entertaining confessions
and conspicuous discoveries. I felt compassion for the slow
thinkers and approached with admirable respect the fashion
victims. The evening was pleasant by all accounts, until
she turned her head in Fs direction. He was sitting lonely
next to her. No one engaged him in a conversation. One
of Is friends asked her what F does for a living. I replied
enthusiastically, Ask him, he wants to . . ., but her friend
responded, No I want to hear it from you.

Is friends were unaware of Fs misery and exposed

complete ignorance toward the soul of a stranger. They are
socially inept, I apologized to F, who responded, Their
conversations are loose and have no strategy whatsoever. I
have no idea what they want.

It was the first time that I had heard of strategic

conversations, but from that moment on, she kept hearing
of it. She wished to construct her life of strategic dialogues.
Like a social Bobby Fisher, she could gain an advantage from
any verbal exchange. She was cluelessa short thinker. She
couldnt plan more than a sentence at a time.
 C 19

Chaos One can enjoy it as long he himself created it.

Couch Since Bs arms turned into dough (last night was tough), her
typing skills slowed down. She missed a third arm for braids.
Right arm is leading and left arms completing it. Internal
harmony thats starting in her brain and ends at the keyboard.
Here. Just here. Right after the letter e. Her right nostril is
leaking. (Late night was also a friendly nightshe just had
sex for more than five hours.) She couldnt lift herself. Im
dough-woman, she thought. This storys made of too many
trees. Lets cross this forest together.

Culture E had to move. They were building a hotel in front of his

apartment in Hells Kitchen. They started drilling at 6 a.m. and
finished at 6 p.m. From 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. they were drilling
under his window, next to the Irish bar. When he traveled to
South America, he handed his apartment to his friends. They
all left after a day, preferring to pay for a hotel, because they
couldnt stand the noise. He asked them if its because of
trucks that were passing at night on the road
to New Jersey, or because the apartment was on the corner
of the port authority, the central bus station, or maybe its
the never-ending crowds of drunken tourists shouting and
fighting under his window 24/7. All of these disturbances
overshadowed the sound of launching missiles in his heater.
So he didnt ask about that. They told him that its the hotel
on the other side of the street, so when he returned to New
York, he had to move apartments. Five days later, after his
return, he signed a contract for a place in Brooklyn.
E packed all of his belongings. The apartment was all
cardboard boxes and blankets, ready for the movers. He
looked outside the window one last time and noticed his
three cactuses, resting on the fire escape, standing thick and
green, pretending not to be forgotten. Poor them. E decided
to take one of them to Brooklyn. E owned two big Echinopsis
and one small Austrocylindropuntia subulata monstrose.
Which one will survive the transition? How does E evaluate
his plants and what are the reasons for Es choices?

E took the Austrocylindropuntia subulata monstrose with

him. He chose it for its modest size. He left the two others to
die on the fire escape.
D 20

D
suffered on his trip to LA. He watched As behavior with
growing anger. She completely lost her mind. He
mumbled, while walking on the wet sand along the West
Coast. He didnt know the name of the beach and didnt
care really. The more he knew about that city, the less he
liked it. When he came back home, A wasnt there yet.
Their return flight was that evening and A hadnt packed her
baggage yet. He expected nothing. He brushed his teeth
just because it can never harm. He heard L cars parking, car
doors slamming, and As loud and jolly talking and laughing.
All in good mood, cheerful and jolly, entertaining as hell. D
heard them walking through the apartment, all loud and silly,
laughing at private jokes. They needed only one word and
that was their cue to laugh. D was boiling mad. He stared
at the mirror and saw a lobster staring back at him. Oh,
you are here! It was A standing at the entrance of the
bathroom. The lobster turned his head from the mirror.
You should pack your stuff, we are late, he said,
restraining his rage. Making sure it wont leap out of his
mouth and strangle that . . . Yes, I know, just let me get
inside so I can. The bathroom was too small; Ds body
rubbed As on the way out. He entered the living room. A
was sitting on the couch. HiHi. D couldnt look at him.
He walked quickly to his room, mumbling an unprepared
excuse, the world fell a part in the middle of the sentence
and D was already in his room. He had packed everything
eight hours ago, before he had a last stroll. He sat on the
bed, waiting. He heard L humming a David Bowie tune and
snorted contemptuously. L stopped his hum and D, worried
that the sounds of disapproval were heard, whistled casually.

After thirty decades of a long wait, A finished packing her

luggage. They were all set to go. Finally, thought D and
entered the back of Ls car. He was happy to sit at the back,
letting his mind drift away and look at the road through
the window. When they finally reached the airport, L was
hugging them both, once D and twice A. Then hugging A
again. More jokes. More laughter. Little kiss. Bye-byeL
drove away. They walked inside silently. They stood in the
center of the departure hall. D was finally free. He was
furious, I could almost slap you right now! What were you
D 21

doing? I could almost slap you!

It was unbearable. The way she behaved next to him
drove me mad. I couldnt stand it. It was just impossible to
watch. He leaned on Is windowsill. Blowing smoke from his
cigarette outside the window. The smoke undulated back into
the room. It didnt bother I. Everything D createdfood, art,
smokelooked exotic. I told him about her experiences with
A in LA.
They were sleeping together.
This is so bad for herthis is so destructive!
No sex!
I know, but the best thing for her is to stay away from him.

I returned from LA a couple of days ago. It was the first

time she had talked to D about his experiences in the city.
His stories were different from what she had seen in the
pictures they posted. In one picture, A and D were sitting
with their backs to the camera, tilting their heads toward
one another, posing carelessly while holding cocktail glasses
with small umbrellas and straws. In another, they were lying
on the sand laughing. Ds face was hidden behind large
Gucci sunglasses and As laughingdeeply tan, wearing a
two-piece swimming suit. I stayed in Berlin, watching their
photos, which showed them hanging out together and having
fun in a hot red and yellow scenario. I had never been to
LA, and Berlin was wide, gray, cold, dark, and lonely. Hungry,
wet, desperate foxes were roaming the streets. Snow
gathered at the edge of the pavement surrounded by dark
puddles that were marked by secondhand Nazi boots. She
was jealous of her friends. Their happiness was a burden on
her daily life.

After they returned, A visited I in her apartment. She tattled

about having sex one night with an old rock star from the
1990s. She described their hosts: an attractive young girl
and her boyfriend, a technician in blockbuster productions.
She also told her about the fiasco on the highway, with
the trucks passing by her, honking mad. In the afternoon,
I told A that she thinks shes a life coach. They both set
the conversations free, letting their imagination turn into
words. They drifted on the wings of ambition, inspired by
As experiences, and outlined a synopsis for a Hollywood
comedy. By the end of the day, they decided to go to LA and
pitch the idea to big studios as a blockbuster movie.
 D 22

After I and D shared their West Coast experiences, D

addressed the reasons that brought him to Is apartment.
D was a performer and a dancer. His love for art, language,
and movement was unconditional. D was eloquent, precise,
calculated, and graceful but suffered from a lack of pragmatic
perception and missed a realistic approach, both in his work
and in life. The absence of those characteristics caused him
great pain and frustration. He asked I if she has any idea
how can he integrate his practice as a dancer-performer into
contemporary art. I suggested that D develop an awareness
of spacing objects position in relation to movement. D tilted
his head to the side; the answer was decent.

D never changed his working methods. His nature was

stronger than an outsiders advice. D didnt need a life
coach. He needed a psychoanalyst who can offer an
alternative system for dealing with his inherited character.

Dinner Q attended a dinner where all the guests were dipped in

misery. Cracked open or overcooked (one even died a day
before boiling). No one was liberatedincluding herno
one was high, no one had a reason to be there except that
it was the only place to be at that moment. Except Qshe
was too loud and too talkativeher mission was to have sex
with one of them. Misery turned her on. She was active,
and miserable people were passive, so together it was yin
and yang. Should have been phenomenal! She thought the
problem was that sex was a mathematical equation, and it
wasnt her best field.
One could see mold growing on his shoulders, his jeans,
and in his groinat the end of the night when her voice was
spinning like shoes tied on a fan. She took a break from her
initial ambitions and dived straight into their misery. She was
young and vivid, so misery came to her as a complete shock.
When they pulled her outthe inside was soft. The outside
was crunchy. She was perfect.

Dont Say Im not a saint

Im just human
Saints are human
E 23

E
told I that he doesnt have a dark side to his character. She
believed him. He was separating from his wife after twelve
years of marriage and seemed unusually fine. He didnt want
to separate, but she insisted, so he agreed. They were no
longer living together and E dived with ease into the world of
quick sex and flirtation. He found out that his currency among
single women was high, and in a couple of months he was
deeply involved in all dating applications. He was a handsome,
photogenic painter. Women loved him, and hated it, which
made them love him even more.

After a year, E announced that hes in a new relationship. He

didnt need any of Is life coaching tips. He was healthier than
her. E was amazed by his new relationship. It was much better
than the older one. The main reason was his balance. He was
not falling for his new girlfriend. Maybe thats a different kind
of love. Mature love, he explained to himself and to I, who
doubted those foundations.

They moved in together. She is wonderful. I love her so

much, announced E to I while sharing a plate of seafood in
a Mongolian restaurant. E had read many articles about love
and found out that his love is made of red wine. An American
comedian compared the love of grandparents to the love
between younger people. He said that youngers people love
is made of cocaine. The comedian claimed that older peoples
love is balanced and lasts longer, just like red wine might not
be such an exciting experience, but it lasts longer than cocaine.
Later that year, E will learn that there is only one kind of love
and its made of one material.

E visited I on the last summer day in New York. They sat in Is

private courtyard on two sunbeds. E complimented I for her
outdoor space. I told her guest that in the winter, shes planning
to cover the courtyard with a tarp and turn it into a swimming
pool as part of a movie set. E was amused. He told his host
about his plans to spend the winter in Miami. He offered for her
to join, but she refused politely. She planned to film the movie
in the winter. It was a lovely visit that ended in a local sak bar.
Then E went back home.
His girl was still awake. Sitting next to the kitchen table,
 E 24

a small lamp next to her, pointlessly illuminating a blank circle

on the table.

E went with his girlfriend to Miami. I followed them through

the exotic pictures that they frequently posted. She herself
was immersed in the production of the movie, which she
planned to film on a weekend. On the first day of filming, a
great snowstorm broke out on the East Coast. When the actors
arrived on set. The snow in Is backyard reached one yard. The
view was white. It didnt stop snowing. Is assistant wrapped
the actress with gaffer tape. He taped her legs too tight, so
they carried her outside to the courtyard. The two other actors
had to get undressed. They stood shivering in the snow. It was
miserable. They canceled the filming. After the actors left, the
floor in Is apartment was covered dark mud, water, and snow.
They postponed the filming until a couple of month later. I had
to find a new assistant. It was a complete failure. That day, she
stayed at home, watching the snow piling up. Such a failure.
She found comfort in news reports about the storm. People
died. Flights were canceled. Neighborhoods were cut off from
electricity. By the end of the day, I ate the entire catering and
turned into a meatball. She received a text message from E.

Its a nightmare. My girlfriend and me on the way back to

New York. Just told her I want to break up. We are stranded in
Asheville in the storm. I found comfort in his words.

Electronic Mail I A needed Is guidance. She had got involved with an erratic
woman whom she couldnt shake off. The woman kept
contacting her. These attempts left A helpless and lost.
She contacted I asking for advice, and both friends became
immersed in a two-hour Skype meeting.

It all started two weeks ago. A had a performance in Munich;

she asked three actors and one actress from her hometown,
Berlin, to take part in it. A planned to rent a car and needed
a driver (since the latest incident in LA, she didnt dare touch
the wheel). One of her performers, a Hungarian woman,
volunteered. Great! A thought the problem was solved. A day
before the trip, the Hungarian woman called A, saying shes
having a migraine and is afraid she wont be able the drive
the next day. A was under great distress. She couldnt find
a replacement, and on the day of the trip, the erratic woman
called again, so A asked for her help. The erratic woman agreed
to drive.
E 25

A chain of events happened over the course of their three

days in Munich: the three performers, led by the erratic
woman, were constantly drinking. The erratic woman tried
to seduce two of As performers and instead ended up
having sex with A that night, the erratic woman was late for
rehearsals, the erratic woman refused to rehearse, the erratic
woman insisted on drinking the night before the performance,
the erratic woman sat on a performers lap, the performer
aggressively pushed the erratic woman, the blind boyfriend
of the erratic woman (yes, her boyfriend was literally blind)
arrived in Munich on the day of the performance, the erratic
woman didnt follow the script of the performance, and then
she partied with her boyfriend the same night.

The blind boyfriend of the erratic woman called A the next

day. Saying his girlfriend is too sick to drive and hes blind,
so its out of the question. A felt helpless. She had to find a
driver in the next couple of hours. Her performers encouraged
her to drive back to Berlin. She agreed, motivated by their
words. When A and her performers approached the car,
they met the erratic woman and her boyfriend. The boyfriend
suggested that A drive him and his girlfriend back to Berlin,
and all three performers take the train. One of the performers
burstMaybe you both should take the train. We dont want
to catch what youre having. He then snatched the keys
from the boyfriends hand, and after a short silence the three
performers entered the car and drove away.

A few days later, A asked for an invoice from all the

performers. The same day she received an answer that made
her blood boil. A told her friend I that she was thinking of
writing an open and angry letter to the erratic woman, and
even to inform her boyfriend about her behavior the previous
nights. (After that suggestion, A told I that the erratic woman
is notorious for her treachery.) She wanted to open the eyes
of the blind boyfriend. I asked A for the email written by the
erratic woman. She wanted to know all the details, before
giving advice

Hi A,

Its so hard for me to write this, but I will. My blind boyfriend

told me I should do that, so I guess I should. I must follow
my truth. Im not so sure you can understand this kind of
necessity, but thats not really the point. It was so hard to
E 26

encounter your performers the other day. It was disturbing

to realize that nobody was really interested or even asked
how I felt, and instead you were worried about getting
infected and how to drive being hungover. Leaving an ill
woman and a handicap in the middle of nowhere. I found
it pretty insensitive to say the least. Its your ethical and
moral decision. Its definitely not the way I imagined friendly
behavior. You could have been kind and friendly and not turn
it into a vile demonstration of human behavior.

All the best,

Erratic woman

Is advice was simple and wiseDont get into that. The

erratic woman needs to be avoided at all costs. Your reply
needs to serve your interestand your interest is to stay
away from this selfish and manic woman. An angry reply will
drag you into a relationship. Avoid it in any case.

But what about her boyfriend? Shouldnt he know about

it? For four years or more, hes been sharing his life with a
treacherous girlfriend!, A cried.
Her boyfriend is blindhis vision is limited! Swallow your
pride and dismiss her complaints, dont reveal your thoughts
and dont apologize, suggested the wise life coach.

A followed Is advice and with her guidance composed the

following email:

Hi erratic woman,

Thanks for sharing your thoughts. Ill keep them in mind.

Sorry for being brief, quite some end of the year stress right
now.

All the best,

A

At the end of the meeting, I laid on the couch and thought,

A shouldnt feel bad for the blind boyfriend. Homer was
blind, too. Is sleep was peaceful that night.

Surprisingly, A kept in close contact with the erratic woman,

not because of their email exchange, but because of their
sexual encounter in Munich. Their physical attraction was
 E 27

stronger than their social and ethical disagreements. The

erratic woman left her blind boyfriend and moved in to
live with A. Her blind boyfriend replaced her quickly with a
manipulative partner from South America, and it seemed for
a couple of weeks that all the pieces were falling into the
right place.

Electronic Mail II Make sure your emails are short. Make sure your emails
are cold. Dont expose your feelings. Dont email under the
influence of drugs or alcohol. Be friendly. Be calm and polite.

Electronic Mail III Create guilt in four steps:

(1.) Express reserved feelings.
(2.) Make sure they experience a loss.
(3.) Pretend that you are the better man.
(4.) Expose your sacrifices between the lines.

Examples:

A: Hi, I cant come right now. Im in the hospital. Hope you

are not mad.

B: (1.) No Im not madIm used to being lonely. (2.) Ok, will

need to finish the drugs on my own then. (3.) Take care and
hope you will get better soon. (4.) If it gets worse, let me
knowwill always be there for you. No matter when, just let
me know!

C: Just met your exshes amazing. Do you mind if I go out

with her? I think Im really falling for her.

D: (1.) Of course notI can totally understand, I still miss

her, ha ha. (2.) Although freedom and orgies are also not bad
:). (3.) Take care of her. Shes special. (4.) And you, too. Glad
she found a special man like you after dumping me :):).

Embellishment I Eminem once said: You need a good story if you want to
sell music. The rapper 50 Cent sold millions of albums, as
a young violent troubled gangster who was shot nineteen
times in a car by one of his rivals. He hardly survived the
incident and his triumph was celebrated by the millions of
fans who bought his album Candy Shop. Forget Eminem.

Embellishment II Learn to be motivated by more than anger. Feelings can be a

great source of energy, your fuel.
 E 28

Emptiness Nothing happens in your life. Nothing! Since you were

(for a second person) born. You were born from nothing into nothing. Not as a
ghost, but as flesh and blooda meaty lump. Passing the
days floating in space. Walking from one hall to another,
surrounded by words and photos. No one can save you. Too
late now, go home. Mind your own business. Nothing to
stare atjust another soul in the world. Move on. Nothing
special. Nothing, nothing. So much nothing, you will never
die. For nothing cannot die. Now flip a page.

Entertainment If you want to reduce the peripheral awareness of the

patient during hypnosis, then add binaural beats. The best
way to listen to binaural beats is with headphoneswhite
sounds, with different frequencies on each ear, can help the
brain to reconstruct different states of consciousness when
its trying to bridge between them. The differences between
the frequencies are measured in Hertz.

Gamma, 30 to 50 Hz
Beta, 14 to 30 Hz
Alpha, 8 to 14 Hz
Theta, 4 to 8 Hz
Delta, 0.1 to 4 Hz

The brains attempt to connect between the frequencies

(imagine two people, each holding the edge of a rope and
creating waves by shaking it) is called entertainment.

The level of entertainment in contemporary art hardly

exists, either because the gap between both forces is small
and it takes no time to bridge between and join forces, or
because the gap between them is so great that the brain is
not capable of connecting the two.

Both cases are frequently shielded by particular language

that is specifically used for contemporary art, as well as for
references, storytelling (in regard to the artwork and/or the
artist), and other embellishment.

Erratic Behavior After winning the army of Darius III in the Battle of Issus,
That Is Alexander the Great captured Dariuss wife and daughters.
Characteristic of He didnt abuse or humiliate them but instead asked his
an Ancient Leader people to treat them in the same way they were accustomed
to being treated in Persia. Later, Alexander the Great married
one of them.
 E 29

The King of Persia, Darius III, suffered great loses throughout

his battles with Alexander and at one point wrote him a
letter, offering to rule the world together with him. Alexander
refused and wrote back that he would keep fighting until he
conquered all of Persia and would hunt him down.

And that is what happened. Alexander conquered Persia and

his troops were hunting its king. Darius III was running for
his life with a group of officers. His entourage was greedy
and unfaithful and tried to convince him to give in or to run in
the wrong direction. He refused and his entourage stabbed
him and ran off. Darius III was found resting at the side of
the road in the region of Bactria by a Macedonian peasant.
He was dying or already dead. Another version tells how
Alexander himself found the dying Persian and offered
him some water. The last words spoken by Darius III to
Alexander were: Thank you for the water and the way you
treated my wife and daughters.

Later on, Alexanders guards caught one of Darius IIIs

conspiratorsthey tied his feet to the top of a bent tree, then
tied his hands to the top of another bent tree. When they let
go of the trees, his body tore apart.

Everyone I Hears what they want to hear and does what they want to
do. Advice for the people who asked for it.

Everyone II Ignores what they dont want to know.

Everyone III Suffers from obsession.

 F 30

F s
parents were dead. His father died during a baseball game,
on the street near his house. He was in his thirties. Fs
mother died from cancer thirteen years later, when F was
eighteen years old. F used their inheritance to open a small
publishing house. (He published translations of Naked Lunch
and American Psycho, a poetry book by I and collection of
essays by U.) Later on, after losing his money, F worked as
an editor for a financial magazine. A couple of years later,
F got bored with the cynicism in journalism and decided
to study cinema, and couple of years after that, he started
working on a documentary based on his parents life.

Fs character was unique amongst his friends: balanced,

rational, and relatively relaxed. He was a slow and soft
talkeran introverted, open-minded heterosexual. Once, I
and A discussed Fs unusual nature and agreed that theres
no reason he wouldnt find peace and prosperity in his life.

After three years of slow, methodical work, F finished his

documentary film and attained reasonable success and
professional exposure. He traveled the world and presented
the film at international festivals. At one point, F felt guilty
about the friends he had neglected and feared possible
hostility. He called his psychiatristthe one who had been
treating him since his mothers deathand expressed his
fears. His psychiatrist replied, You should be proud of
yourself. Youve just finished a very important work. Youve
just closed a circlecelebrate it, you deserve it.
And what about peoples complaints!?, asked F with
concern.
Right now, they can kiss your ass, replied the
psychiatrist.

Fashion D didnt pay much attention to capitalism, communism,

liberalism, or socialism. World politics didnt interest him
they all played on the most conservative grid of human
behavior. He knew that these doctrines come and go like
fashion. The idea of present time interested D more than
present time itself.

Fate A couldnt stop thinking about L, who insisted on an intimate

friendship with her. It was a platonic relationship that was
 F 31

driven by hope for sex and romance. A tried to understand

Ls behavior. She remembered that he had once told her
that he feels that shes too good for him, so after a few
googling days, she found out that L had the Madonna-whore
complex. A popular complex of men who only see women
as either saints or prostitutes.

Foreword I The content of these pages has been modified numerous

times. This forward is one of many that will keep on
appearing throughout the book. Notes have been taken, ideas
were rewritten, and the one who survived intends to bare the
most essential guidelines and wisdoms of life.

Foreword II The text written in bed was the hardest to write. The location
promoted sleep and daydreaming, and the comfortable
position prevented the writer from self-pity. The combination
of sleep, writing, and casual surfing on the Internet releases
a warm sensations of being cloistered and a frequently lost
sense of time.

Freud argued that it was caused by a split between

the affectionate and the sexual currents in male desire.
Psychoanalyst Richard Tuch suggests that Freud offered at
least one alternative explanation for the Madonnawhore
complex:

This earlier theory is based not on oedipal-based castration

anxiety but on mans primary hatred of women, stimulated
by the childs sense that he had been made to experience
intolerable frustration and/or narcissistic injury at the hands
of his mother. According to this theory, in adulthood the boy-
turned-man seeks to avenge these mistreatments through
sadistic attacks on women who are stand-ins for mother. 2

For the Record This wasnt the case with L. A couple of years later, L left Los
Angeles and moved to New York. There he dated As best
friend and later on married her. L and As best friends insisted
that A will be the ring bearer at their wedding.

Federer once said that its nice to be important, and its more
important to be nice. Priorities are set.

I never cared too much for kindness. She thought it was a

capitalist product. Her theory was based mostly on a story by
a Russian friend, saying that the word nice doesnt exist
 F 32

in Russian. Theres no reason to be nice in controlled market.

Nice is not content. Nice has no physical or intellectual value.
Nice is a strategic behavior, to be liked and to get capital and
social power. Its not important to be nice. Its not important
to be important. Be unreasonably nice.

Focus Between 1920 to 1926, a zealot named Ludwig was given

his first job as an elementary teacher in rural Austria. He
taught both girls and boys, an unusual act in those times,
as math was not a compulsory subject for girls. He was
more interested in mathematics, literature, philosophy, and
engineering than in social hierarchy, tradition, and manners.
He was equally violent to his studentshe pulled one boys
ear until it bled and pulled a girls hair so hard that it remained
in his hand. The parents were unhappy with his approach
and thought he was insane. They threatened with legal
action, and Ludwig left town.

Philosophers and mathematicians are more likely to treat

people equally than social and political activists.

Fiction I Ladies and gentlemen, by way of introduction, this is a film

about trickery and fraud, about lies. Tell it by the fireside or
in a marketplace or in a moviealmost any story is almost
certainly some kind of lie. But not this time. No, this is a
promise. During the next hour, everything youll hear from us
is really true and based on solid facts.

Fiction II The story of Troy was told by Homer, and because the
descriptions were so vivid, many people believed it to be
true. Homer didnt witness the stories; he claimed that they
happened four hundred years previously, and some historians
think that Homer was not a single poet but rather a tribe of
storytellers. Anyway, Homer had the exclusive knowledge
of those mythologies. Storytelling was highly important for
Greek culture; it was the only foundation the ancient Greeks
could rely on when they tried to create some order, to make
sense of the world. Here is one of Homers most famous
myths:
Helen of Troy was the daughter of Zeus and Leda. She
was the most beautiful woman in the world. She married
Menelaus, the King of Laconia. Paris, a Trojan prince, visited
Sparta and seduced Helen. Some claim he raped her. Helen
was abducted by Paris to Troy. Some believe that shed
never been to Troy but stayed for a decade in a temple in
F 33

Memphis, Egypt, yet the Greeks are convinced that Helen

spent her time in Troy. Helen was so important to the
Spartan king that he embarked on a ten-year war against
Troy. Finally, the Greeks built a great wooden structure of a
horse and hid an elite force of thirty soldiers and two spies
inside. Then they burned down their tents and departed to
Tenedosa nearby island of Turkey. The Greeks left one
soldier to convince the Trojans that the huge horse left
behind was a gift to the goddess Athena. He was convincing
the Trojans that the Greeks made sure that the horse would
be too large to bring into Troy. That kind of challenge sparked
the Trojans enthusiasm, and they broke their own walls to
wheel in the horse.
The Trojan priest Laocon guessed the plot and warned the
Trojans, to little availthe god Poseidon sent two serpents
to strangle the priest and his sons. Another version suggests
that the serpents were sent by Apollo to avenge him for
seducing his wife.
Homer tells that Helen of Troy also guessed the plot and tried
to trick the Greek soldiers (her husband, King Menelaus,
was amongst them) by imitating the voices of their beloved
wives. A soldier named Anticlus believed that he heard the
voice of his wife Laodamia, but just when he had been about
the respond to her calls, Odysseus shut his mouth and saved
his fellow soldiers. He held him tight for a very long time,
until he was strangled to death.

At night the Trojans were celebrating the end of the war,

drinking and dancing, oblivious to the Greek army that was
leaving Tenedos and sailing quietly to Troy, protected by the
darkness of the night . . .

When the Trojans were sleeping, hammered from drinking,

the Greek soldiers were getting out of the horse as silently as
possible and opening the gates of the city. The Greek soldiers
were swarming Troymen were killed, women were raped,
and babies were dropped off the city wall that was burned to
the ground.
Menelaus took Helen with him back to Sparta, where she
became immortal and was taken up to Mount Olympus,
sharing the afterlife with Achilles.

Did you know: the asteroid 7214 Anticlus is named after the
mythological soldier who was strangled by Odysseus.
 F 34

First Person I was sitting with a notoriously intelligent friend in a trendy

caf. He had a weekly radio program that was popular
amongst highly educated scholars. He was also known as
moderator in academic panels and regarded as a brilliant
man. I handed him a novel that a common colleague had just
published; she was repulsed by that colleague for reasons
that she couldnt specify.
Her friend read a few lines, flipped it on its side, opened a
different page, and read more. He weighed it, examining
the cover and the blurbs on the back, and said, Its not
literature, its just egocentric writing. All the sentences start
with I. I I I. Every sentence starts with an I. A story made of
Is shouldnt be published and shouldnt be read by anyone!
Only the writer should read it because hes the one who
deserves such a thing. From that day forward, every I
that was written by I was marked with contempt and self-
loathing. She was guiding her stories through different points
of view, so they wouldnt get lost in an egocentric forest.

Freud Freud admired the German archeologist Heinrich Schliemann.

He used to follow his discoveries in the newspaper and
found their work similar. Just like Schliemann in his search
for Troy, Freud was digging deep inside his own private
mythologies. No wonder he used these mythologies for
reflection on his own state of being, just like the ancient
Greeks did.

Food for Thought In 1978, the United States President Jimmy Carter initiated
peace talks between Israel and Egypt. He invited Egyptian
President Anwar el-Sadat and Israeli Prime Minister
Menachem Begin to Camp David in Maryland to sign a
peace treaty. Begin and Sadat were literally not on speaking
terms. The Americans tried to please the leaders with
the best conditions possible. They made sure that their
breakfast, lunch, and dinner were similar to the ones in
their homelands. Their hosts ensured that there wouldnt
be any unpleasant momentsBegin spent the evenings
playing chess with his hosts, and Sadat went for strolls in the
country. After two weeks, both presidents signed one of the
most important peace treaties in the Middle East.

Future Hesiod was the first Greek writer to address the people
of the future. Hesiod was also the first Greek writer. He
separated history (as it was told by Homer) into different
agesand claimed that he was part of the Iron Age.
G 35

G
was sleeping when the phone rang. He picked it up. G was
used to phone calls at uncomfortable times. He was ready to
leave his bed at any moment. He was ready to stop dinner
and get into the car. That was the main downside of his job.
His life was Swiss cheese. The holes were his job.

Where is it?, G asked. He was relieved to hear its in the

neighboring building. I will be there in fifteen minutes.
He hung up the phone and prepared a quick breakfast for
himself. It was a very early Sunday morning. G drank his
coffee slowly in his large, empty kitchen. G felt foreign in that
place. His clothes scattered on the floor, the food, the dishes,
and the breadcrumbs on top of the sink were all rejected by
the marble around them; they were unwanted just like him.

G noticed I standing next to her buildings entrance:

Did you call for a locksmith?
Yes, she screamed, watching him pick up a toolbox from
the back of a smart car.
Can you tell me the apartment number?
Apartment C sixteen, she screamed.
Oh my god, what an accent!, he replied in Hebrew and
closed the back of his car.

After breaking into Is apartment and replacing her lock, they

went to the nearest Starbucks caf, sat on a couple of chairs,
and spoke for several hours. I told him that she had moved
into her apartment the night before, had moved to New York
a couple of weeks ago from Berlin. G had also just moved
from Berlin. He tried to get accepted to photography school.
He told I that his brother called him one day (G spent his days
in Berlin partying on acid in the woods surrounding the city)
and asked him to come and replace him as a locksmith. His
wife insisted that they return to Israel. G had no reason to
refuse. So he moved to New York three month ago and took
over his brothers business.

When they left the caf, G told I that a week ago a drug
dealer had tipped him with a bag of marijuana. I was
enchantedshe told the locksmith that shes been trying for
two weeks to get marijuana with no success. I hope the
G 36

drug dealer will be locked outside his apartment again, she

murmured as they left the caf.

Later that day, G called I and said that the impossible had just
happened: the drug dealer was locked outside his apartment
once again and tipped G with marijuana just like the previous
time. G invited I to visit him and smoke the marijuana of
the goofy dealer. I was ecstaticit had been so long. She
put her shoes on and ran to the neighboring building. The
doorman at the entrance asked where was she going. After
she answered, the doorman called G to verify the visit. Its
apartment G on the second floor, he directed her to the
elevator. WeirdG was living in apartment G.

G was sharing his apartment with a real-estate agent, a

close friend of his brothers. They were both living in a model
apartment that had to be sold. He picked a plastic orange
from a bowl of fruit on the table. Look at itits all fake. We
need to keep it that way. When potential clients are coming,
we take away our stuff and clean the place, so they will want
to buy it. I looked around and noticed that Gs laptop was
open on the kitchen table. He had a Skype chat before she
came. This apartment is so luxurious, Im surprised no one
has bought it yet, she said. G explained that the structure of
the apartment is not appealing to all Americans because of
the different sizes of bedrooms. They smoked weed next to
an open window, and after a while I felt the walls closing in
on her and offered G to go for a drink.

The next week, G and I met several times. G showed I his

favorite caf, and favorite Russian bar. I enjoyed his company
and his smart car. She was lucky to find such a comfortable,
welcoming young neighbor. His kindness and availability were
unusual.

One night, after a drunken visit in a local piano bar, G and

I ended up in Is apartment, and after dozens of broken
sentences dipped in silence, they had sex and fell asleep. In
the morning, they went to the diner next door and ordered
something oily. Before departing, each to his own apartment,
G told I that he would give her some space because it
seemed that she needed it. And she did. What a sensitive
man, she thought and didnt think of G again until he called a
couple of days later. Her answer was brief, and after hanging
up the phone she went back to her script. A few days passed
G 37

before Valentines Day arrived.

I sensed the love and romance in the air but stayed at home,
immersed in her work. G called at six in the evening and
asked hows she was doinghis voice was muffled.
I answered, A bit sick. G replied, Im sicker than you.
I knew what she had to do. And she did. She listened to a
song on her headphones, celebrating her last moments of
loneliness, put her shoes on (she loved these shoes and wore
them proudly), and walked over to the neighbors apartment.

It was her second visit to the building. The doorman was

standing at the entrance, along with one of the tenants,
ordering pizza. I passed them and walked straight to the
elevator, to the second floor. She then found apartment G. It
was at the same place it was last time. She knocked on the
door and heard a low moan like a cat in estrous. I pushed at
the door, hoping it would be locked and she could go home
it opened easily. G was lying on the marble floor at the center
of the living room. Foam came out of his mouth. She kneeled
near his body. His wrists were faintly cut. No blood was
spilled. A bottle of Hennessy was set on the floor, next to G.
What did you take?
He answered in a murmur, Hennessy and some pills. She
found a package of antidepressant pills in the bedroom. She
also found the kitchen knife he had used to cut his wrists.
It had dry blood on it. The bedroom and some parts of the
living room seemed like a murder scene. The sheets were
rolled like a broken croissant, falling from the bed, covered
with dry streaks of blood. An abstract print fell off of the living
room wall. I went back to G and said, I will need to call an
ambulance. I cant handle this thing alone. Wait for me. She
went to the lobby, where the doorman was now ordering
pizza for another tenanta tall woman, dressed to jog. I
waited for five minutes or longer until the woman vanished
and then approached the doorman. He was astounded.
What?! A man committed suicide and you were just
standing there? He picked up the phone. I explained that
she didnt want to shame G. Everyone would figure out quite
easily that G, who lives in apartment G, just tried to commit
suicide. It would be a disgrace for his family. Especially his
brother. Dont call the police. The doorman insisted, I have
to. They exchanged a few words, but the doorman had
the upper hand and I went back to apartment G to sit by Gs
body. It was the first time she had heard the sound of sirens
getting closer, approaching her specifically.
G 38

Im feeling fine, I dont have health insurance. Its okay. G

wobbled across to the living room. Then he was grabbed by
the two paramedics and placed on a stretcher. The policeman
was asking I many questions, but she couldnt answer
them. Finally, they found an ID in a coat that was lying on the
kitchen chair.
Why did your boyfriend try to commit suicide?, asked the
policeman. Hes not my boyfriend, I protested, and the
policeman answered, amused, and I have many girlfriends
I wouldnt call my girlfriend. I stared angrily at her shoes.
She didnt reply. The paramedic, the policeman, and I entered
the elevator and stood in silence. They crossed the lobby,
passing the doorman who stood up and peeped curiously at
G tied to the stretcher.

Outside the lobby, the ambulance was waiting with its driver.
The group exited the building and ran into Gs flatmate, the
real-estate agent, who was about to enter the building. She
was shocked at first. Then she shouted at G like a good
friend would. G rose from the stretcher, leaning on his
elbows and shouted back at her. The ambulance doors were
opened and G was pushed inside. The paramedics, I, and the
real-estate agent joined him. On the way to the hospital, G
lost consciousness, turned pale, with bubbles fizzling from
his mouth. The real-estate agent asked, Will he be okay?
The paramedics nodded. They were certain that hed be fine.

He will need to stay in the hospital for several days, said

the receptionist. He took antidepressant pills and we need
to make sure that he will survive the depression that will be
caused by the lack of serotonin in his blood. You had better
follow the stretcher if you want to leave the hospital later.
Theres no way out through the back door. G and I walked
away, following Gs stretcher. He was sleeping like a baby.

Gs flatmate and I strolled back home. The hospital was six

blocks away from their street. What a strange experience.
They were calm. I was relieved.
I will need to tell his brother. He must know what
happened, said Gs flatmate, and I agreed. They kept on
walking, fiddling casually with polite conversation. It was
nice to be outside, away from death, blood, depression, and
antidepressant pills. The air was coldit was the middle of
February.
Okay, thanks for everything, said the real-estate agent
 G 39

as they arrived at the buildings lobby. I waved good-bye

and slowed down her walk to her home. She stood next to
the building and stared at the entrance door. She couldnt
go back home and write. The room was too small and she
desperately needed the cold air. She had no friends in the
area. It was Valentines Day. She kept staring at the door,
trying to figure out what to do.
Nice shoes, remarked a passerby. Like a voice from
another galaxy.

Guidance I O stood at 90 degrees to her Qs shadow and tried to

understand how some of her students were thinking. She
stood in a wide-open gray hangar that belonged to the
painting department at the University of Salzburg. One
student created realistic food miniatures made of raisins.
She didnt know how to exhibit it and constantly changed
their placement. When O tried to discuss the installation, the
student was vague and distant. It was clear that the student
wanted to be left alone, but O kept pressing. The more
questions she raised, the more nervous the student grew,
and O noticed that she was moving her pencils compulsively,
across the table. Rearranging them in different shapes and
lines. O had an idea that could help her students installation
but forgot what she wanted to say.

Another student was a poet. She told O that she doesnt

know how to transform her poems into paintings or
sculptures. O asked to see one of her poems. The poem
was a page long, its words creating impossible images that
turned into unfeasible scenes, breaking it back into letters
that slowly form new words. It ended with a sentence: Its
a story made of trees. Os eyes were traveling across the
poem and, all of a sudden, only the letter I was visiblea
forest of Is implanted on paper.
During a summer course in Dublin, A confronted a young
Dutch student who focused on world politics in her artwork.
A asked the young girl, Why are you dealing with these
subjects? The young girl replied, with a stutter, I I I
don..n...t kno.o..o.w, my teachers t t t old m..m..m..e..e
that t t t it...s Im...m..mportannt to d..deal with it.. es..s..
pecial..l..l..y now, b...fore a..r.t will ..d...d...i...e...
What do you mean art will die?, asked A.
It was hard to speak and the pressure was enormous, but
the young student had no place to hide. Mmm...y t..t...
ech..e..rs... said t.t..hat wh..en th..e government stops t..t.t.
 G 40

f..f..f..unding, art will d..d..d.i.e.

The young girl was right, the Dutch government did stop
funding art, and art indeed died. The young student died
with it.

Guidance II Google the words Cleveland Cavaliers. Then open the

window of NBA live updates. Scroll down to the two gray
tables with the names of the players and their statistics.
Place that window on the right side of the screen. Place the
Pages window on top and make sure that it doesnt cover
the last (right) row of statistics. That way its possible to
follow the score and the specific points and assists of each
player. If the score does not change for several minutes,
dont panicit could be a time out, or a half-time out, or a
half-time interval. Cleveland is leading by one point in the
fourth quarter. Pray that they lose.
H 41

H
arrived heartbroken in Berlin. Her body was a pile of straw.
She left stalks in Poland and Croatia; other seeds were blown
away, landing all around the railroad from Warsaw to Berlin.
She was picked up at the train station by one of the gallery
workers. From there, they went for lunch at a standard Italian
restaurant in a wide and gray street with the gallerys owner.
After the second course, the gallery worker had to get back
to work and the owner was left alone with H. They were
eating silently, facing each other, their table placed next to
the window. The pavement outside was clear of pedestrians,
while wide black cars drove by sporadically.
The gallery owner was in her sixties and dressed to suit her
age; her hair was solid white in the shape of a large drop of
water, tilted to the side. Her movements were gracefulshe
had perfected her style throughout the years. H spoke about
panic attacks and depression. The gallery owner spoke, too,
about depression; her voice was soft and slow, her words
firm and fearless. She spoke compulsively about depression
and how it creeps up in older age and eats the bodythe
mind is eating the body. She was afraid of it, especially at
her age. Like cancerit can kill you. I have watched older
people, I watched my motherI can see the symptoms.
People die from depression. Thats what Im afraid of most
of these days . . .

H was staying in a room at the owners apartment. The room

had a single bed, a fridge, a table, a chair, and a wide window
facing the backyard of the building. The apartment was
upscale and tasteful. H couldnt stop thinking about her host
and her fear of depression. It seemed that depression was
already planting seeds in her mind. It was tragic and morbid.
Her host predicted her own destiny, and her prospect was
misery.

The next day, they had lunch at the same Italian restaurant.
They were seated next to the same table by the window.
Do you know that movie, the series . . . What if Hitler
won?, asked the host. H nodded and wanted to say, Yes,
the man in the . . ., but her host didnt let her start that
sentence. I think, H, that Hitler did win; look at everything
around us, no one cares, no one is feeling anything, a
H 42

mess of people just following a mess of peoplelook at

the art, all this junk in art fairs, all that shiny gold, cheap
entertainment, human deco. They now make people dance
between the works in the museums, grab the visitors hands,
just keep them it. This kind of art is not for thinking people;
its for animals, H! A herd of animals. The thick air rested on
Hs shouldersit was a lot to handle. She stared through the
window at Nazi Germany, the pavement was empty, large
coffins were driving gravely, the sky was gray, the world was
death.

Hs opening was as festive as expected. Friends of the

gallery and random guests filled the place with joy, and
Hs was covered with a kind attention. She walked around
jubilantly and lightly, surrounded by a joyous crowd of
strangers. Did you meet my husband? H turned her
headit was her host, accompanied by an aged, white-
haired man. Glasses. Warm smile. She shook his hand.
His face was unbearably sympathetic. He asked H about
her work and smiled. His wife watched them with delight.
Later on, they went to a restaurant, and then to her hosts
apartment. H retired to her room. She laid on her back in
her single bed and listened to the guests chattering in the
living room.

The next morning she woke up to the sound of footsteps

in rubber shoes. It was 7 a.m. and a strong smell of Cologne
entered and flooded her room. She heard a womans murmur
and a mans reply; the woman kept whispering, the man
hardly replied. The intimacy of their voices intimidated H.
The door was finally shut. H kept lying in bed, listening to the
morning. She was a stranger and her bedroom was cold.
She didnt belong to that apartment. It was a clinic.

Did you meet her husband?, asked the gallery worker.

H had hardly seen that woman since she came to Berlin,
yet they spent the morning of her last day together. H had
to catch a train to Paris in the afternoon. Yes I did, she
answered.
Did he tell you what he was doing?
He said hes a doctor.
Hes the most famous plastic surgeon in Germany!
Really? He doesnt look like a plastic surgeon.

Later on, H met for the last time with the gallerys owner.
 H 43

Same Italian restaurant. Same table, near the window. This

time Hs spirit was empowered by the knowledge that shell
be freed from the city of death.
Your husband was nice, she said.
Yes, he is nice, replied the owner.
He doesnt look like a plastic surgeon.
No, I know. He doesnt . . . She was caught in deep
thought, but before she dived into it, she pulled H with her.
Things are not going well with us lately. Her tone was
persistent and slow. When we had just met, it was a great
love; we were doing everything together. We didnt want
kids. Our love was so intense that we didnt want to share
it. For many years it was the most important thing in our
lives. Then he got distant. I didnt understand what had
happened; it continued like that for more than a year. I asked
him whats wrong and he answered nothing. Then one day
he said that he wanted to leave. He had a lover. I freaked
out. I really couldnt believe it. I reacted like . . . like . . . I had
never reacted like that before. Now, he doesnt spend time
at home anymore. He comes only once a weekbut hes
with her now.

The weight of the story landed heavily on Hs shoulders and

reminded of her own broken heart, and straw body, together
with the train to Paris, which made H undermine the hosts
story. Following that crooked circle of awareness made H
once again forget herself.

Happiness Lie down on the grass in an empty field

with your chest to the sun.
Stay in that position for the rest of your life.

Hollywood Julia Roberts in Mystic Pizza is a simple, charming housewife

Comedy who is married to a rich and complicated self-centered
man. He ignores her needs and their dialogues are in fact
a continuous monologue about his problems. Hes taken
care of by a psychoanalyst and shares his progress with his
wife. His monologue is continuous in the background of her
life. He hardly notices her existence. The viewers have no
sympathy for him, and they dont feel guilty about it. They
shouldnt. Eventually, he leaves her for her best friend, and
she is kicked out of his large mansion. And because she
wasnt paying attention when it happened, she finds out that
she was never really married to him and she has nothing
in her life. No love, no property, and no experience. So
H 44

shes starting from scratch as a toilet cleaner at an airport.

As time goes by, she gets to know the people in her new
environment: the old cranky lady who sweeps the floor,
the son of the security guard who is waiting for his father
to finish work, the globetrotting businessman who spends
most of his time at the airport. They reveal her problems to
her, and she starts to advise them based on what she heard
from the therapy sessions of her ex-husband. Theyre all
finding her advice very helpful, making up with their loved
ones, going back to their childhood and solving their conflicts
with their siblings and other ghosts from the past. There
are funny moments throughout the movie that are quite
memorablewhile she is cleaning one of the toilet seats, the
older cleaner is sitting on the seat at the next booth and asks
her questionsits similar to a religious confessiontheyre
both talking to the wall that separates them, like a priest and
a sinner. She is talking to the businessman who is anyhow
very tired from traveling and his flight is delayed. Hes lying
on the chairs next to the gate and lets Mrs. Roberts ask
him about his childhood traumas; he looks like a patient in
psychoanalysis treatment. At the end of the session, hes
falling asleep and Mrs. Roberts walks away, without noticing
that the tired globetrotter is in a hypnotic state. He wakes
up and relives his childhood with passersby, shamelessly
interacting with them, and eventually solves substantial
dilemmas. Mrs. Roberts ex-husband meets her at the airport
one day. Hes alone. Her best friend left him, and when he
sees her, he asks her to come back to him. Shes doubting
it, but eventually she quits her job and goes back to him.
After a while, their relationship is as it was before. When she
tries to interfere in his monologues, he dismisses her, so she
retreats to her room and starts writing down her ideas and
thoughts about her patients. Calling her bookTERMINAL.
Shortly after she has finished the book, her colleagues/
patients from the airport are convincing her to leave her
husband and go back to work with them. They promise they
will supply her with all the warmth and love she needs. Each
of them represents a character in her private mythologythe
older cleanermother, globetrotting businessmanlover
and father, and the childher son. Shes back working at the
airports for a short while, but pretty soon, a major institute
is interested in publishing her book and she turns into a
public figure overnightan authority on psychoanalysis, so
she neglects her job for the second time, but this time she
doesnt neglect her friends. She meets them at the airport
 H 45

on the way to conferences and lectures. She is still advising

them as they are still supporting her emotionally like good
friends do.

Hope E was equally persistent, simple, aggressive, and friendly.

He felt guilty for his hot temper and insults, and was puzzled
by the different characters of his friends. He was open
enough to understand that people dont always share the
same nature and sufficiently curious to google the question:
Why people are staying in bad relationships? He found
the answer in an article with a similar title: Seven stupid
reasons people stay in relationships when theyre unhappy.
And the reasons were as followsloneliness, fear, guilt,
time (investment), stuff (property/bureaucracy), (fear of)
regret, and hope.
E despised hope. He thought it was the main cause of his
misery, and the main reason he cant experience happiness.
He hoped to stop thinking of the future.

Hormones Peoples responses are similar to the German language:

there are more exceptions than rules. One just needs to
live amongst them, analyze and organize the facts, before
drawing conclusions.

When Alexander the Great was young, he was taught to

fight and ride by Leonidas of Epirus, a relative of his mother
Olympias, as well as to endure hardships such as forced
marches. At the age of fourteen, Alexander was introduced
to the Greek philosopher Aristotle, whom Philip hired as a
private tutor. He would study with Aristotle for the next three
years, and the two remained in correspondence throughout
Alexanders later campaigns. Alexander used to say that his
father gave him life, but Aristotle thought him how to live.
Aristotle taught Alexander to make no assumptionsevery
situation is different. One needs to analyze and organize the
facts before drawing conclusions.

Human Deco H didnt forget her conversation with that gallery owner in
Berlin, and three years later, consumed by her words, asked
D for his opinion. D was aware of the term and shared similar
sentiments toward the phenomena. He wrote the following
email to H:
Hi H, Yes, I know, its an awful thing. Theres no one to
talk to. So, as far as I understand humans are rented to
decorate art spaces as temporal works of art. They can
 H 46

do the following actions (Ive seen it all): walk, talk, dance,

touch, kiss, and have sex (on demand!). The use of humans
as a work of art can promise a quicker response from the
visitors. The reaction to humans is stronger than to objects.
Those performers cant expose unique qualities, abilities,
or talentthey are not representing individuals or individual
performers. Their only quality is their own physical sensation
based on their placement and their proximity to the viewer. I
think thats what she meant by art for animals. A dog wont
respond to paintings or books. They will respond to dogs, and
yes I think that displaying humans as art is primitive! When
are you coming to Berlin? X D.

Humans of NY I L and R had hated one another since art school. Their hate
had no apparent reason. L claimed he hated R because of
his money. R claimed he hated L because he reminded him
of his younger self. R didnt seem to be much developed,
and maybe thats the reason for their rivalrythey were very
similar.

One night L and his girlfriend showed up at a party

exhilaratedthey had just come from a fashion show. They
told I that they had been standing at the bar, finishing their
drinks, when they saw R approaching them. He kissed Ls
girlfriend on both cheeks, walked straight to L and screamed:
You are never gonna make it! You are never gonna make
it!! He laid his hands on his throat, shoved his thumbs in
his mouth, and tightened his grip. Trying to choke him and
screaming: You are a bad artist! You are a bad artist! His
girlfriend, with the help of passersby, separated the two.
L said that he can still feel Rs thumb in his mouth. I was
amused. She was relieved to hear that people had faith in
capitalist success. The material world wasnt a complete lie!

Humans of NY II First he called himself a poet, and for a short while he was a
true poetwriting short sentences and then breaking them
down on the page in the shape of a staircase. Everything was
perfect, but because of the drugs and the alcohol, he missed
the consistency. His parents fully funded him and that didnt
help eithernot physically, nor mentallyso he turned to
haiku because theyre shorter. Unfortunately, not many
people in New York approve of that form of writing, so he
neglected it before he even bothered to publish one. He was
a poet without poetry. It didnt matter anyhow, because he
was a sexual success. Everyonemen or womenwanted
 H 47

to have sex with the lightest poet on earth. He was so light

and so poetic that he turned into a goldfish with all the
implications. He had a goldfish memory, a goldfish patient,
and goldfish blood. He was a legend.

Horrible Today an inarticulate lady was sitting in front of T and trying

to explain why shes happy that her son died. Friends told
her to start therapy because it would help. She chose T
because Ts free. She works for the government as a family
therapist. Something simple. Not Freudian. Superficial
treatment. Now she speaks about poetry because T told
her shes a poetry enthusiast. Ts thinking of everything but
what the womans telling her. Shes thinking of her sister
with whom she didnt speak for months. Shes thinking of
slaughtered chickens and of Sylvias face smeared with
blood.
Sylvia is the funniest lady in Ts ballet class because shes
fatter than the teacher. Like T, shes a psychologist. A private
one. T tried talking to her about it once, but she gave her a
French kiss and went away. They havent approached each
other since. Not a word. Ts thinking about the coach sitting
on a chair and his feet are smeared with chicken blood that
spilled over the floor during the ceremony. So what do
you think?, asks the patient, and T tells her that she agrees
with every word she said. The patient twists her mouth. She
doesnt believe T. After a short pause she says:
You study ballet, right?
How do you know?
Ive heard. Somebody told me.
T keeps silent to make her talk, but she stays silent, and T,
tougher, silences her silence with her eyes.
They do weird stuff over there in the ballet class.
What do you mean?
She leans toward T and says:
I heard the instructor is a religious leader and together
they have orgies and kill animals. Black cats. They go to
cemeteries, thats where his mother is buried, so Ive
heard, and worship ancient gods . . . very dark people . . .
dont know where they came from. Theyve always lived
heregenerations on generations of families. Theyre all his
women. His wives! And the girls? What do you think all the
girls are doing in the ballet class? Theyre all his. Theyre one
big family, witches and shamans, theyve lived for centuries,
ever since the cavemen. Theyve got capes, Ive heard.
Theyre ancient. They carry dark spirits from dreary times . . .
H 48

days without light or knowledge. Days of carnage and terror

. . . they know everything you are afraid of. They know you.
Really, they know you . . .
T kept silent. T had nothing to say. The patient hypnotized
her. She kept looking into the patients eyes and she stared
into hers. T heard nothing. She doesnt remember when
the patient left or how they said good-bye. Killing animals
horrific. The world is horrific. Everything is so terrific
killing animals for decades. They really do act like theyre
best friends but not quite: the prostitutes dont like the
psychologists, and the literary girls hardly speak, and when
they do, no one listens.
I 49

I I
I I
I I I
I I I

I I I I I
I
I I II
I
I I I I
I woke up
sweating. Again she was lost in the forest, again they came
to get her, again she climbed on the tallest tree, again she
fell, and again she woke up sweating, breathing heavily. She
knew where it came from. She will need to tell him. How did
she get into that mess? She knows how. I turned around and
looked at her blind boyfriend. He wont notice it anyhow. No,
no, she cant continue that way. She will tell him tomorrow.
Okay. Now she can go back to sleep. Not really. Shes afraid
of that forest, I standing alone in a story made of trees.

Once he was amazing. Now a bit disappointing. No one is

perfect. She is sitting in the park five hours after she woke
up from the same dream and is drinking tea. She cant drink
coffee now. Or can she? She needs to read about it more.
D knows all about it already. Well D knows everything. They
were flatmates once and they are mental-flatmates now.
Nice one. She should write it down. It happened so fast.
She feels crazy now. Its the hormones. She met him in a
restaurant. Hes American. Black. A father of two. Married.
Lives in Berlin. They had sex a couple of weeks ago. They
had sex again a couple of weeks ago. They had sex again a
week ago. And again a week ago. They started six months
ago. She has been pregnant for almost a month. Here, she
said it. Now lets say it to her boyfriend.

Here, she said it. He seems surprised but the expressions

on his face are subtle. So thats how people look when the
sky is falling. He asks her questions and she says what she
can. Delicate situation. First she thinks that shes walking in a
minefield, but its more like broken eggs. Her blind boyfriend
I 50

is not one of the exploding ones. Okay, finished. Now there

is tension. Its so unpleasant. He says he wants to sleep on
the couch from now on. Sensitive guy. For how long is it
going to continue like that?

Fifty-two days. Finally he left. Just closed the door. It was

so sad at the end. Now what? Guacamole? She can make
something. Her American is acting strange. Not as excessive
as he used to be. She meets D. They are both excited. She
worked with D on a new performance. Its like having two
babies at once. She wrote the text last month. It wasnt so
great, but D makes it better. Hes gifted. Sometimes too
much. Or maybe nottheres no too much when it comes
gifts. Okay, forget it. Never mind. Where is her American?

At home. With his wife and two kids. Little did she know . . .
Little did she know . . . When he met I, he did promise her to
have a baby together. It was in the heat of the moment. He
didnt mean it; of course not. Its just words. Unbelievable
how people are falling for words like they dont have eyes,
or ears. Words, words, words. Yes, he created a family from
words and got in and out of trouble so many times. Lets
change the subject.

The park was so beautiful that day, just like the botanical
gardens. Amazing how we perceive beauty, what it does to
us. The green leaves, the sunlight, and the breeze. Its more
than beautyits the beauty of being alive. Being alive . . .
The thought excited B, who was walking through the park on
Sunday. She was an independent woman on a mission. She
climbed up the hill. Dark figures, standing at the crossroads,
running in the bushes, informing one and another. White
men and women getting in and out of the bushes. Such a
nice light!
She tells the man standing at the crossroads how much, and
another man signals to her to get into the bushes. When
she gets out of the bushes, she doesnt go down the hill
but walks deeper into the park. Such a nice day shouldnt
be overlooked. And oh oh oh to her surprise! I is sitting on
the bench reading a bookClarice Lispector, she loves that
writer! She wishes to meet her. Hi, I, how are you?She
knows how shes doing. Everyone knows how Is doing. She
got pregnant from her lover and her boyfriend had to leave
the house. Bs case is similar to Is. It is also different. B
got pregnant from her lover, but the husband doesnt know.
I 51

Shes not going to tell him. She will keep the baby and tell
him that its his son. Its better that way. No one gets hurt.
Win-Win.
I listens to Bs plan. Her eyes open in amazement and shut
with pragmatism.
I wish I could do the same. She tells B: The father is
black. I couldnt hide it. Its . . . She was talking to herself,
staring at a point, touching her chin. No, no, actually, I
was laughing like a madwoman, or like an attractive woman
when something is running through her mind. Actually, hes
so clueless . . . so blind . . . He wouldnt notice if I showed
him a cat instead of a . . . Anyhow it doesnt matter, hes
gone. He left. She brushed off her thoughts. B asked her
what she thinks about the book, and I confessed that she
couldnt concentrate. She really hopes that the American will
say good-bye to his family and come live with her. Sooner
than later. Do you really think hes going to do that? What
do you think will make him leave his family for you? This
question never arose in Is mind. W..w...haat do y...ou
mean? . . . He must! She then stared straight into nothing.
She didnt see the trees, the green leaves, the children with
their parents, and even forgot the book on her lap. I stared
straight at her fears, at the darkest areas of the forest. It was
too dark to see. She cant go there. He wouldnt dare to do
that to me. He must leave his family.

He didnt leave his family. He didnt have to. Two months

later, I found out that she was suffering from hysterical
pregnancy. Her baby was a phantom. After that discovery, I
suffered from great loneliness. She rested in her bed day and
night. She was empty. So empty. There was nothing inside
her except her. She lay on her back and stared at the shadow
created from the lightbulb on the ceiling. The shadow fell on
its side, 90 degrees from the lightbulb. It was elongated. The
light from Is lamplight created that shadow. So special,
she thought and kept staring at it for months until it turned
off; she kept resting on her back, experiencing the darkness.
Dark waves were shifting around her body like invisible
serpentines. Such a sensation. Did she reach for the other
side of the planet? Impossible. Not yet. She wants to reach
to the other side of life. Leave her body. Stay there. I I I,
she said. Her voice was a stranger, hanging in the air. Like a
vagabond I I she left her body watching it from the side and
started wandering in the darkness I I I I left a
footprint in her own image I I
 I 52

She wandered at night I I

calling her name. I I I They were
calling her name I I So lonely and
exciting I I Like a
zombie in the forest she was I hunting her
own image that keeps running from her hunters.

Intuition Can grow faster in a hopeless field. Get rid of hope and set
your intuition free.

Instincts Trust them.

Make sure you have good ones.
Choose your friends carefully.
Trust them.
Dont fall for obsessive lovers.
Dont fall for desperate lovers.
Dont fall for manipulative lovers.
If it feels fakeits fake.
Put yourself in your friends position
and see how it feels.
Imitate your friends behavior
and find out what motivates them.
Judge your friends as hard as you judge your self.
Dont judge their physical appearance.
Dont have sex with family.
Dont lie.
Observe yourself as a good friend
and advise yourself.
What do you need to be happy?
Be specific.
Be honest.
If your answer is wrong, dont change your attitude.
Dont justify it.
Correct yourself.
Dig inside.
Put into words what crosses your mind and read it.
Write down the reality surrounding you.
Write down your fears.
Read them.
Feel fear.
Feel hate.
Acknowledge hate.
Dont let hate be the answer.
Force yourself to feel compassion.
Be deep.
 I 53

Be heavy.
Grow up.
Be generous
Develop an addiction for generosity.
Dont enjoy it.
Forgive yourself only if you deserve to be forgiven.
Smileits not a weakness.
Dont use it as weapon.
Think simple.
Avoid the box.
Control your impulses.
If you suffer from abusive tendencies,
then stay away from people.
Dont fall for lovers who want to conquer you.
They are sociopaths.
They will never admit it.
They dont take part in your game.
Keep your enemies far.
Ask yourself again
What makes you happy?
What do you want?
Be honest.
Be loud.
Make sure you reach the correct answer
before your death.
Rememberyou choose your surroundings.
You choose your actions.
Control your thoughts.
Blame yourself.
Always.
Blame yourself for trusting bad friends.
Blame yourself for having bad friends.
Be big,
responsible,
free,
good,
warm,
and friendly.
Make sure you are capable of containing and
obtaining all the characteristics mentioned above.
Rest in peace.

Invisible I E loved cats. They own Einsteins intuition. They can

feel the waves pushing and pulling wordless densities,
too complex for any human alphabet. They know what
 I 54

moves their owner when it comes to materials. They dont

understand culture. They dont understand sports. They
dont understand words. They understand tones, intention,
sound, wind, pain, and danger. They know how to fall on
their feet because they see the movement of the knot. Cats
can read a poker face but not the cards. The red laser makes
more than 90% sense, and they wont give up on catching
the rest of the 10%.

Creatures with sensibilities to the invisible shouldnt be

visible.

Invisible II It all started at a great party in Ls apartment. Hundreds of

people filled the rooms. Waves of popular music spread
among the guests, hiding them under irresponsibly cheerful
anonymity. The conversations were entertainment with
a drop of sincerity. On that pleasant night, I felt anxious and
retired to an empty bedroom; she lay down and rested her
muscles. After a while, L entered the bedroom and lay down
beside her. It was his bedroom. After an hour the sound of
the guests faded away and clear conversations could be
heard from the living room. The white noise was gonethe
party turned private.

L and I were lying silently in bed when A opened the

bedroom there. She was startled by the sight and, after
an invisible silence, announced that they (the guests of
the party) were going to order pizza. L joked with Ahe
used words like taco, Mohawk, and good morning. He
used expressions that were clearly known only to them. I
meanwhile froze in bed. She felt her soul sinking into the
darkest depths of guilt and self-awareness. While A kept
chatting with L, every possible scenario crossed her mind.
After more than two decades, A walked away, closing the
bedroom door behind her. I stood upnothing had happened
but it looked like everything had just happened. A came
back to the bedroom with her laptop, lay down next to L
and filled the room with madness. She was lying as close as
possible to him, laughing out loud and looking at his face. The
laptop was open, but only L was looking. I stared at A for a
while and walked away from the bedroom. The atmosphere
has changed from breezy introduction to a possible
adventure, madness, and manipulation of combined forces,
shifting between the last guestsa group of close friends
that was planning to go out to a club later on.
I 55

When A left the bedroom and entered the kitchen, she was
agitated, an invisible beehive wrapped around her body
and head. A forced smile was stretched along her facelike
lingerie hanging from both ears about to burst. I retired to
the couch that was in the darker part of the apartment. Far
enough to be forgotten and close enough to follow. When A
opened the oven door and peeped inside, one of her closest
friends asked, A, whats wrong with you? As behavior
couldnt be imitated by an actor.
As mental state was visible to cats.

With no relationthe world is ill.

Actually its partly ill and partly suicidal.
Watch your step.
J 56

J
was lifes greatest tragedy. He had a very short appearance,
though. He didnt actually appear. He had a short appearance
behind the curtains. He peeped out, waiting for his turn, and
then they shut the play. There was no place for him on stage.
J was never given the chance to perform.

Bs plan was so clear that it didnt need to be repeated or

said at all. The other guy couldnt take care of it, and it didnt
make sense anyhow. Thats why she had a husband. That
will be easy, she said without a sound and without hearing
those words. After dinner, she pretended to be silent; then
she pretend there is something in her throat, and after a
short cough and another short silence, she told her husband
about her pregnancy with a silent smile. Her husbands face
didnt move, so she put on a smile of a beautiful farmer and
stood up, holding her belly with both arms, like yin and yang.
Bs husband finally turned his head to her and stared at her
belly as though it were a Trojan horse.
No no no no no no, I dont want to have a baby . . . He
said in one surprisingly firm breath.
Why not?
Im not ready for it. Financially and mentally. Its
supposed to be a decision made by both of us, and I dont
want to be a father. His voice was firm and calm. The
words fell out of his mouth solidly.
Its already here! Its your son. Its our babytouch it!
Bs husband was repulsed. He shook his head and stood
up, walking nowhere and then to the shower. He locked the
door. Who does he think he is? This stupid blind midget.
This idiot, she was doing him a favor. Everything she did
was a favor. Imbecile! Meeting him in the first place was a
favor. Fucking him was a favor. Fucking his best friend was
a favor. Marrying him was . . . Are you kidding me?! Getting
pregnant was a favor! He gets a baby with a better DNA.
She knocked on the bathroom door and said, Talk to me.
Nothing helped. Crying, shouting, oral sex, anal sex, long
silences, and hunger strikes. A month later, B aborted her
baby. Her husband refused to be a father. He even refused
to discuss it. No. Hes not going to be the father, and if shes
going to . . . No, there is no If shejust no. Dont.
 J 57

J was hiding behind heavy silky curtains, watching the actors

sweating on stage, when a finger tapped on his shoulder and
asked him to come for a second. He was flushed down the
toilet a few moments later.

Such a cold shower. Who would have thought? From the

shortest husband in the world to a tyrantan ice pick.
B dropped her baby, sex appeal, and ambitions with the
bathwater. Nothing was left but her husband, who turned
from a flys shadow on the wall to the landlord.
A coup dtat! The silence of the lambs turned to a lions roar.
It wasnt his last wordhe left the house for another woman
and a secret son a year later. He did it without warning. Just
gone. It took her seventy-two hours to understand how bad
it was. By then, her husband was in Brazil with his beloved
family. His son was born at the same time she had aborted
her baby.

B forgot it wasnt his baby. It wasnt the point anymore; a

father is not only sperm, its also bureaucracy. They were
already married. It could have been so easy. He didnt bother
to divorce her. She stayed married to him for a decade. The
first nine years she spent dead in bed. Staring at the ceiling
like a rotten fish. J was the only thing she thought about.
The lights were changing, the sound of drums and cymbals,
and then a circle of light and in its centerJ is standing,
nine years old, dressed like a magician, and saysThats all
folks, and the lights turn off.

Jgi Just google it.

John Gotti Aka The Dapper Don used his time in prison for working
outdoing daily push-ups and sit-ups.

A guard reminded Gotti that hell spend his entire life in

prison. Gotti answered, At least I had a good run.

In court, Gotti replied to a journalist who complimented his

suit, Thanks, I stole it.

A curious woman approached Gotti, while he was playing

cards with friends at the entrance of their warehouse, and
asked, What are you doing here? Gotti replied, Playing
cards and killing people.
 J 58

Jurassic Park Okay.

Justice Stay away from people who overuse the word. Dont be on
the right side of history. Hitler won.

Just Saying He must be an artist.

Just Saying II First of all, hes scrawny. Skin and bones. A melancholy
and taciturn young man, gracious and elaborately dressed,
yet his attire is entirely worn out. Indeed. His nose stands
slender and broken at the center of his face, contrary to his
spirit, which was still blowing wildly through the rest of his
body. Here stands the dilemma. What shall we do with him?
He eats like a poet, he screams, he whispers like a poet,
hes contemporary, vague, and dreamy. Hes half blind but
piercing as a hawk.
He must be an artist.
T saw him walking down the street wearing a denim jacket
or a black windbreaker . . . he stared down at the ground,
probably at his feet that fluttered down the streets like
musical notes. He nearly disappeared in the shadows. T
followed him. She had nothing to do anyway. Actually, she
had a ballet class to attend. It was due to begin in twenty
minutes, and T stopped for some coffee to kill time. She
drank the coffee while walking and imagined it was fuel.
She imagined she was in a car chase and zoomed ahead to
understand what this guy was made of. The closer she got,
the greater the silence around him grew. This poet was a
walking clich! T didnt give up and kept accelerating. She
walked silently and focused on his hair and on the back of his
jacket. She couldnt smell anything. She was so close to him,
she could hear his breath, his steps. He stopped and turned
around. She bumped into his forehead and nose. It was cold.
He asked: What do you want?

Just Saying III In her ballet class studio theres a long mirror on the wall
reflecting a long bar which extends all along the opposite
wall. Shes now sitting with the poet guy; theyre smoking
weed and listening to some music. The record spins and
the poet inhales some smoke, shows his interest, and then
exhales. T gathers her strength and tells him about her ballet
class. These stories drive people insane.
The teacher in her ballet class wears pink with a pink skirt
and a pink leotard. He is very hairy and fat and balding and
very dedicated. He sweats even when hes not moving, and
 J 59

when he dances waterfalls come gushing out of his skin.

In summer, he holds classes outside in order to water the
plants with his sweat.

Just Saying IIII A lot of evil things are going on in Ts ballet class. It isnt all
hunky-dory. There are many problems. Things that are better
kept untold. Things under the surface. Things that hurt.
Difficult. Traumatic. Ts just an observer. She was never part
of the clique. And what a clique: 32% of the students work
as prostitutes, 12% work as psychologists, 12% housewives,
8% study literary criticism, 8% attend high school, and 28%
are under twelve. She also practices psychology full time in
a clinic connected to her apartment. T hardly spoke to the
rest of the students. She never was a part of the clique. She
heard that they gather in the teachers house, every month
when the moon is blue, and perform pagan rituals. She heard
that they slaughter roosters and play with their blood. Wash
their faces with the blood and kiss each other, while the
teacher sits on his couch drinking beer and stroking his belly.
So she heard. One of the prostitutes daughters came over
one day and told her about it while she was waiting for her
mother. She asked, Will I see you tomorrow? And T asked
in reply, Whats going on tomorrow? And she replied, Oh
sorry. So T repeated, Whats going on tomorrow?, and
the girl told her everything she had just told the poet.
K 60

K
was eaten with guilt and pleasure. She had just fucked the
fresh boyfriend of her best friend and it felt great. She didnt
take guilt too seriously. Guilt was an emotional tax for immoral
behavior, and Ks emotions were registered in Panama.

P was still in the toilet. K had left him there. She went to
the bar and ordered another gin and tonic. The weather was
warm, and the mosquitos were buzzing in her ears. Since her
divorce, six months ago, she had had sex with twenty-three
men. Sex was her new currency.

P just got out of the toilets. He looked like he suffered

from rabies. Too drunk. Too fat. Falling apartphysically.
Marshmallow man. They kept drinking and talkingtheir
subjects were swimming in puddles of sex and misery. They
had not one proud bone in their bodies. No glory. Around 2
a.m., the bartender asked them to leave. And so they did.
Each paid for their own drink. There was no warmth or hint of
friendship. P didnt offer for K to come with him to his hotel,
and K wouldnt do it anyhow. She cant sleep with strangers.
They were leaving the bar. The darkness was cinematic,
lighting the bar in a horizontal ellipse with a single street
lamp. It was the mixed part of Johannesburgwhite and
black lived in harmony and peace at daytime. The amount
of robberies and assaults in the mixed parts was drastically
smaller than the rest of the city. Yet at night, darkness
ruled the neighborhood, divorcing the houses from one
another. Thieves would creep like shadows through the
darkness and rob their victims with knives.

K told P that her car is parked there and pointed with a

straight arm. P didnt seem to notice. He dragged his feet
drunk back to his hotel room. She watched Ps tragic figure
walking away, hunched, unconscious, P disappearing in the
darkness. K entered her car and drove away. The next day
she received a text message from PIve been robbed.

P walked back to the hotel when he heard them coming

from behind. He then slid on his back, shoutingtake
everythingand threw his wallet to the ground. P shut his
eyes and heard their murmur. He could hear their steps. He
 K 61

imagined their faces and their figures crouching like Muslims

over his body. Then they were gone. He followed the sound
of their footsteps getting weaker. It was just him on the
ground listening to the crickets. Such peace. Oh god, so
much peace. The cold asphalt and the wind made him feel
like panna cotta. He fell asleep and woke up at dawn, walked
to his hotel, and went back to sleep until noon. The next day,
the local police found Ps wallet on the pavement. His ID and
cards were intact. K was doubting that P had actually been
robbed. It seemed that fear controlled Ps actions and that
he had slid on his back and thrown his wallet for no apparent
reason.
What a loser, thought K while listening to his story. She
looked at her phone and saw that U had just tried to call
her. K called her back. Hi U, did you call me? . . . Yes, hes
here. Yes, hes been robbed. P, for you. She handed P the
phone and they looked at one another, like a couple. K felt for
moment like his wife.

Kickback I Dont do it. Feel uncomfortable.

Kickback II So what if he doesnt have a head? She saw his testicles

through his neck. Everybody called him The Jug but he wasnt
that vacuous. He could speak. He was even charming. Very
charismatic. A funny guy with a charming smile who was also
exceptionally friendly. Bad romance, but still normal. A real
man.

Kickboxing Dont hit on your coach when his wifes around

after signing for twenty classes in advance.

King I LeBron James lost more than 70% of his NBA finals because
of his egoistic temper and undeveloped attitude. He was
marked as an athletic prodigy from a very young age and
was drafted by the NBA straight from high school. Just
before reaching the NBA, LeBron appeared on the cover of
Sports Illustrated with the title The chosen one. Later on,
he tattooed this sentence on his upper back. His physical
power gives him a stronger hold on the team than the general
manager. LeBron James is money. The Cleveland Cavaliers
owner must consult with LeBron James about any decision
that is made in the team.

David Blatt is an Israeli coach who was brought to the team

by the team manager David Griffin. He broke a winning-streak
 K 62

record with the team but was sacked later in the middle of
the season because of LeBron James. The star didnt like
him.

King II Donald Trumps butler said that his boss asked to be referred
to as a king.

Knowledge I Rises from life.

Knowledge II D told B once why hes not capable of starting the book he
has always wanted to write. Its quite hard to be inspired by
Jorge Luis Borges, knowing I need to write better than him.
Why would you need to write better them him?, asked B
and then said quietly, The task is impossible.
I know!, agreed D enthusiastically. That problem had
haunted him for a very long time.
Then why is it?, persisted B.
I know more than him, so my responsibly is bigger.
What do you know that Jorge Luis Borges doesnt
know?, asked B with slight irritation.
I know what happened the days after he died.

D felt responsible for the futures cultural weight.

L 63

L
woke up to another day. The skies were white, the pillows
were white, the walls were white, and he didnt even notice
it, and if he did he would argue that it wasnt really truethe
skies were gray, the pillows were beige, and the walls were
dirty white. So why does he need to be aware of his feelings?
No reason really. None at all. Its just another day with no
reason to celebrate. L checked his emails in bed on his iPhone.
His girlfriend was lying on the other side still sleeping, her head
hiding underneath her hair.

L received a new email from I. How peculiar! He read it

carefullyI asked him to help her create a publication based
on Ns lifehis favorite person on earth. N was a sixty-year-old
commercial painter. When L was an art student, N had hired
him as her assistant and let him use her studio. And he did.
Now that hes rich and successful, he could offer her a job as
his assistant. And thats exactly what he did. Life is one big
funny wheel. It keeps on turning.

Ns looks and behavior seemed twenty years younger than

her age. She had studied calligraphy in Japan and had long and
steamy love affairs with Tibetan monks, bodybuilders, and
Japanese performance artists. N had a multicolored soul. She
was living in a tiny apartment of twenty-five square meters and
had no savings, nor a will to save money. N could carve and
draw or paint in any required style. She spent her life painting
murals, walls, and book covers.

I waited for Ls answer for more than three days until she
received a laconic message: Lets skype.

L was sitting next to his kitchen table. I noticed a painting

hanging on the wall behind him. She remembered him
mentioning it during a dinner at his apartment. It looked far
more subtle than his description, than at the dinner.

L asked I what the point of the book was, and she explained
that the publication could be a mesmerizing display of Ns
artistic creation and will follow geographic and artistic stations
throughout her life. What do you think?, she asked, Hard
cover and two hundreds pages.
 L 64

L was silent for a couple of seconds. He didnt seem so

enthusiastic about the idea, although N was his favorite
person. It looked like she was a favorite under several
conditions. I hope you know that N is not a real artist,
L said and then added, There is a tendency these days to
hype all kinds of sixty-year-old female artists and make them
big. He repeated, I hope you know that she is not a real
artist. I explained to him that the book would be independent
from what is fashionable as art and deal equally with her
flamboyant attitude and her artistic development. L didnt
look convinced, and the conversation died quickly and ended
politely.

L was tired. He rose up from his chair and looked around.

He hated mornings and hated Skype meetings even more.
They took him off balance. L looked around him once again;
he forgot what he wanted to do. He stared at his stainless
espresso machine, wondering if he should grind the beans or if
theres still something left. Then he thought about N, he could
see her face, like a hologram for less than a second. After that
it disappeared. He couldnt remember what had crossed his
mind, so he looked around him once again.

LA L drove his car, his new date seated next to him. She had pink
hair, blue eyeliner, red lipstick, her cheekbones were marked in
pink, bright-blue round earrings were pierced to her ears, her
sleeveless T-shirt was torn, exposing her breasts and tummy
and hiding her shorts. Her look was so loud that even when
she stared quietly through the window it seemed like she was
shouting. Her name was a noun without a surname. A, D,
and the actress shared the back seat of the car. The weather
was hot and dry. D felt like he was in a movie. A was sitting in
the middle, engaged in a conversation with L and his date.
She was as tense as the car. Her arms were both stretched
down, her hands holding the edge of the seat. The actress
on her right just stared at the view. She wasnt a real actress
and didnt have a script. She needed to walk around, expose
her butt, and look at the landscape through binocularsthat
sounds easy. She allowed herself to daydream during the drive.

A and the actress climbed up a hill, leaving D behind with L

and his date. L was walking around D, casually humming a
Kate Bush tune, assuming that D would join in the humming
because hes gay. D consistently avoided Ls eye contact and
glared at a large pile of stones. L, after circling for the last
 L 65

time, disappeared into the wilderness with his psychedelic

date. D sat on rock and tried to enjoy his loneliness. He was
lucky to have sunglasses and a cap. D stared at the shadow
falling off his cap and shifted the sand underneath it with his
shoes. A and the actress returned from filming. He heard first
As familiar laughter and then the actress talking in an amused
tone. He could hear her clearlyshe was describing a situation
she had with a guy, perhaps her boyfriend: . . . and he was
standing like that, leaning on the car and his . . . They both
laughed before she could finish the sentence. He could see
them walking down the mountain. The actress waved her hand
to him and A waved back, said hey, without a sound.

The filming went well. A was relievedone thing was

accomplished. They were waiting for L and his date. When
they didnt show up, A, D, and the actress decided to walk
back to the car and wait there. Five minutes after they started
walking, loud moans echoed through the desert. It was the
resonating sound of L and his date having sex somewhere
in the desert. Every moan or groan roamed the desert like
thunder. A, D, and the actress kept walking to the car without
a sound. Ds heart was raging violently; A on the other hand
turned into a waterfall. She felt heavier than ever, sinking down
to the dry land, straight to nowhere.

L hugged, teased, and flirted with A so she would stay under

his control. He told her that he cant have a relationship with
her because he feels more comfortable dating women he
doesnt love, yet he often treated her as his partner and used
to share his bed with her. L told A that they are fated to be
together.

Library She picked a few books about local history, sports, and a
western mythology index. She read them. The minutes went
by. She closed the mythology books and moved on to the
history books. She heard the clock ticking. After seventeen
hours, T finished local history (no surprises, the dates were
arbitrary, the order of events predictable). She opened the book
on sports. Her eyes followed the words from left to right and
stopped at page 23. So soon?What a twist! Who would
have thought the punch line would appear so early? (Her heart
races and her temperature rises while typing these words.)
How easily was she fooled? An innocent choirgirl, a saint with
sixteen cheeks, a lamb, a virgin, a toddler in spirit. The world is
wild like the ocean and sick as the sea. They lied to her. They all
 L 66

lied to hertwenty-four women and one man didnt tell T the

truth. No one corrected her or minded her steps. The point is
eternally lost.

Someone knocks on the door. Its the goldfish. She opens the
door and lets the water flood her living room. Her old friend is
there with a new skin. Hes silent.

Love When U moved to Holland no one spoke to her for two weeks.
She was used to the cold weather, but the human behavior
came as a shock. U told D that she used to lean on the heating
in her studio every day and repeat one sentence for fifteen
minutes: Theres nothing wrong with you. After a week she
added another sentence: Youve been loved. U told D that
mantras have been proven scientifically helpful in changing
mindset. D asked U if she now believed that shes been loved.

Moral of the story: survive.

Life J was never born. He waited all of his life for the moment to
happen, to get out there and breathe that invisible air, to sense
freedom, to turn into matter, but he was never conceived.
He felt it all, spoke, laughed, and wrote, describing the same
sensation in different words. Yet, he was never born. Its
killing me!, he said to no one. And no one calmed him down.

Moral of the story: suffer as little as possible.

Life Coaching I Life is 2 complicated for 1 liners.

Human behavior is like German grammar:
there are more exceptions than rules.

The rules:
Dont jump to conclusions
before examining the details.
Love is sacrifice.
There are no exceptions.
Dont trust liars.
They will waste your time.
They will waste your money.
Liars will use excuses to avoid judgment.
Use common sense to detect their lies.

Liars will present excuses as exceptions.

Excuses will fail to exist in the context
 L 67

of the argument.
Exceptions will change the context of the argument.
You live only once.
Know where you live.
Dont lie.
Live simply.
Live grandly.
Be kind.
Compassionate.

If Youre Reading This, Its Too Late.

Life Coaching II Is not psychoanalysis.

Think for yourself.

(The Reason)
To be alive is to (ask for the reason) to be alive.
To be or not to be. (There are no gray areas.)

Life Coaching III T was an amateur psychologist, and although its different from
life coaching, its worth mentioningin her words: Always
appear confident. Spice up your answers with silent gaps and
listen. Listening is developing sensitivity. Listening is learning.
Its not everything, but its as essential as a pair of eyes. T
has two clients a day. They always turn outwithout any prior
arrangementto be a man and a woman. There were times
where she made a morning appointment with a man and an
afternoon appointment with a man, too. But somehow they
always canceled or got mixed up. Sometimes the woman
mistakenly came in at a different time and the man right after
her canceled.

Lists Writing down priorities can help in decision-making.

When I left the Israeli army, she was confronted by her family
and a friend of the family. She was confronted especially by a
couple of friends of her parents. Once, during a family visit, the
husband handed I a list of all the reasons she should stay in
the Israeli army. I thanked him politely. Later on, his wife used
harsher words to emphasize her opinion on Is decision. Funny
enough, the wife would find herself on the other side of the
discussions when she discovers, many years later,
that her husband had a couple of secret children from another
lover. When she asked for a divorce, her husband handed her a
list of reasons to stay with him.
M 68

M
and E met at a bar in Brooklyn. They recognized the face
of one another quite easily and sat at the patio for a short
conversation. After two cocktails they kissed passionately
while the whole bar was cheering. They went to the park
and had sex. E offered for M to spend the night at his
place. She refused. They met at noon a couple of days later,
both bruised from the other night, and they had sex in Es
studio. After that M went back to work. She was working as
researcher at a foundation that promotes a healthier lifestyle.
They both agreed that the sex was amazing. They met two
or three times a week in Es studio and then went back to
work. They didnt spend the nights together because M had
child and she was just filing for divorce. She didnt want to
say more and it was her business; anyhow, E didnt want to
know more. He had just left a relationship and didnt want to
blindly hop into another.

As they kept meeting, M said that her husband was selfish,

unbalanced, and she had never loved him. They were just
good friends who decided one day to have children. They
ordered one boy from a surrogate mother, using both of their
egg and sperm . E had never dated a mother, so the whole
affair seemed to him like an adventure. One day M said she
cant meet. She wasnt eager to explain and just said, Its
a family matter. He trusted her completely because the
sex was great and it was clear she wasnt a liar. The next
week, business went back to normal, and the lightest, most
welcomed affair continued floating blissfully on sweet water.
The next break in the affair came this time from Es side. He
had to go to Venezuela for an exhibition. Ms reaction was
liberal; she said shes not a jealous person and he could do
whatever he wants there. Its his businesshe could have
sex with whomever he wants. E wished he couldve been
as free as M. He told her that hes not planning to have an
affairits a business trip, and most likely he will spend his
time in bed, sick, as he usually does. An hour later, M was
getting dressed at the edge of the bed; she didnt get back
to work. I need to pick up the kids, she said. That was
surprising. It wasnt a common mistake that a parent would
make. I thought you had one kid, said E, and M turned
around genuinely surprised, Really? No, no . . . I have two
M 69

kids. E was relieved, just like his previous partnersM

was mentally ill. It was Es playground. M explained to E that
when she asked for a divorce, the surrogate mother (the
same one they used for the first child) was already in her
eighth month. The family matter that prevented her from
meeting E for a week was the birth of her second childher
daughter. E forgot her name.

E indeed got sick on the day of his arrival in Venezuela, but

unlike any other time, E had a short love affair with a French
collector. He was not particularly interested, but was drunk
and bored enough to spend some time with her. When E
returned to New York, M felt something was wrong. His
attraction to her was significantly diluted. E found it hard to
concentrate during intercourse. M meanwhile was couch-
surfing over at a friends place; she had to stay in Brooklyn
near her children, for it would take months until she could
celebrate her independence.

A week later, E confessed about the short-lived affair with

the French woman. M was clearly saddened to hear about
it. Apparently she was jealous but didnt want to be the
one whos preventing the freedom of her lover. On that
day, she declared herself to be a good person. E didnt
believe in self-declaration, good or bad. The tinder couple got
into an argument about moral values, control, self-control,
evil, common behavior, and character that still hasnt been
resolved to this very day.

E also had a continuing interest in the American civil war

and the different points of view between both sides. M was
a great source of knowledge and supplied E with detailed
descriptions of battles he had forgotten. Again, some of Ms
words and descriptions irritated E: an infamous southern
general decided to impulsively attack the army of the north.
M said that it was a stupid decision. E said the general
might have been called brave, if they would have won. M
answered, Stupid men fight for the wrong cause, brave
men fight for the right one. Ms choice of words reduced
Es attraction to her even more.

Ms passion and obsession with E was consistently evolving,

yet she felt that his love for her was consistently decreasing.
She even told him once, You will stop loving me and will
break my heart . . . I can feel it. E felt ice running through his
 M 70

bones. Then M repeated this sentence again. E asked her to

stop talking. Dark clouds gathered over his head, leading him
to a troubling, familiar scenario. He was falling out of love.
None of them could stop it.

By the time M moved to an apartment of her own and

celebrated her belated independence, she and E were not
together anymore.

Middle I This book was written from the middle. Every person is
represented by a letter and when a word turns to a subject,
it is marked in bold. This is not the beginning of the book.

Middle II Why did the Canadian chicken cross the road? To get to the
middle.

Middle III Is Es middle name.

Mind Sony is developing small cameras on contact lenses. So

one could record what he sees and play it in front of his
eyes. When they will release these contact lenses (if they
are released), then the perception of time will be changed
completely and people will experience different heights of
obsession. Sony just patented itthere will be zoom and
slow motion. The camera will be triggered by blinking.

Mirror Most narcissists are not trying to document or distribute

themselves but imitating an archetype of a sexual successful
individual. They fix their hair like an advertisement and kiss
the air like a celebrity. They are banding their bodies like
objects and matching their souls with their time.

U once experienced a true narcissistic phase. She found

herself at the center of the universe. She found no match for
the glory of her existence. The solar system evolved around
her. She was Gaias mother. U couldnt be judged. She was
the highest entity. From that moment U posted compulsively
any picture taken of and by her. It didnt matter if the picture
was blurry; it wasnt important if a fly was on her cheek or
she had meatballs in her mouth, double chin, fat, short, eyes
shotshe posted all with great confidence. At that short
period of true narcissism, U wrote everything that crossed
her mind from banana to death and back to brain damage.
She didnt only keep all her notes, but read them frequently
and copied them exactly as they were, trying to match her
 M 71

own typography yet forgiving her mistakes

she kept evolving just from her own actionsU was her
biggest source of inspiration.

Music I Collect musical instruments.

Music II Placing hits or familiar tunes in video works is mostly

intended to flatter the audience and create an instant
following. It shows an alarming lack of engagement with the
image. The work is not an independent entity but a tool. A
deformed presentation of life. A misleading footprint to an
empty object.

Morning I is waking up at six in the morning and Susan Millers app

alarm starts at seven. Go figure.
 N 72

N
knew there was something wrong with him, but it wasnt
clear what it was. She loved him with her whole heart. He
was caring and loving, sharp, strong, and stubborn. N felt
his love was made of iron. They respected one another and
shared an apartment in Tokyo for more than a year. They
worked together as painters, and their love fit their life like a
glove to the hand.

E was sitting next to N, on her couch in her apartment,

probably thirty years later. She passed him the blunt and he
inhaled it carefully and coughed. Its hard ah? No tobacco.
E wanted to answer but his cough was so persistent that
he forgot what he wanted to say and surrendered to the
shudders and shivers of his body.

He really loved me, N continued, When I left, he told

me that he would wait for me. There was something . . .
Can I get some water?
Sure, I can give it to you, or you can take it, its there
I can take it. E rose from the couch and walked to
the kitchen sink. It was a step and a half from the couch.
Everything in Ns apartment was a step and a half from the
couch.
Five years later, he called me. I was in New York.
I wasnt with anyone and I was fine with it. Nothing special
was happening in my life then. I was single. I wont forget
his call. His voice was shaken. He told me that hes going to
get married soon, but if I would just say no, he will cancel the
wedding and marry me. E was back on the couch with a
glass of water in his hand.
In the background, I heard his future wife screaming and
crying and shouting because of this phone call. She knew he
was calling me and knew what he had just offered.
Do you think you missed a chance?
No. I always knew there was something wrong with him,
and when he made this phone call, I knew what it was.

Never The powerful earthquake and tsunami in Fukushima have

moved the main island of Japan by 8 feet (2.4 meters) and
shifted the earth on its axis. Reports from the National
Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology in Italy estimated
 N 73

that the 8.9-magnitude quake shifted the planet on its axis by

nearly 10 centimeters.

If a destructive earthquake, which raises to sea level the

darkest creatures of the universe, swept away an entire
urban landscape and polluted the pacific ocean, only shifting
the planet by ten centimeters, how can a single life-coaching
session can change its patients habits?

Few can change, and their change is methodic and slow.

A good life coach needs to bring to light the patients
defenses and reflexes, and maneuver them throughout
continuous practice to a chain of constructive responses.

I could count on one finger the number of patients who have

succeeded in embedding a healthy and protective system of
decision-making.

New Age Listen to the universes heartbeats. Walk to their rhythm.

Stop thinking. Dont love.

New York I A liar once told U, The currency of many people in NY is

sex.

New York II The first time N moved to Manhattan was the most exciting
day of her life. She found a charming apartment on the
Lower East Side and moved there immediately. After N
finished moving and had organized her apartmentplacing
her record collection and books on the shelves, her clothes
and sheets in the bedroomshe opened the window
and looked out at the street. The hustle and bustle, the
neighborhood, was a movie set and the actors performance
was genuine. Downtown Manhattan, what a great place to
livemagic!
N went down to the local bar and had a drink with her new
neighbors. After a couple of hours she returned to her
apartment. The door was unlocked and opened easily with
a light push. The sight left her startled and speechless.
Someone had broken into her apartment and stolen all of
her property. The shelves were empty. Her record collection
was gone, together with her record player. Ns hands were
trembling.

The policeman arrived twenty minutes after the call. He

was a chubby man in his forties. He had a wedding ring on
N 74

his wedding finger and an Italian accent. He stood at the

entrance of Ns apartment and looked around, moving his
head like a parakeet. He was clearly thinking outside the box.
He then walked to the open window and looked outside, at
the street, and then to the sides with the same sharp head
movements.
Maam, you can file a report and we can start working
on that in the office by the books; it will take around a week
until we find results, but I think I know who did it and if Im
right I can convince him to bring it back to you this evening.
Who do you think did it?
We call him Spiderman. Hes got sticky fingers. Come
with me.
It was Ns first time in a police car. She was sitting next to
the driver and staring at the skyscrapers that concealed a
mythical sunset. In the background, the buildings silhouettes
were popping like a theater set in different sizes. They
drove across the Brooklyn Bridge, and N stared at the
water wrapping the city from all directions. So wild!, she
thought. Watching it all from a police car just added to the
thrill. N felt like an integral part of the citya local Spiderman
just sneaked into her apartment, and she slipped into a
police car and on her way to find him. What a marvelous life.
Astounding. The sunset, too.

They parked next to a low-rise building in Brooklyn. N didnt

recognize the neighborhood. The policeman knocked on the
door of one of the buildings. A thin old woman opened the
door. She was sad to see him. What did he do this time?
The policeman said, Same thing. Is he here? She opened
the door widely and cleared the way. They went down the
staircase and opened the basement door.

A group of four young boys was sitting around Ns record

collection and record playerone was looking at Santanas
psychedelic album, while another one was handing his friend
a black vinyl record. The two other boys were crouching
around the record player, concentrated. They were scratching
vinyl records, squatting on the bed, one clutching a set of
earphones around his neck. N almost felt uncomfortable
when the boys raised their heads and stared at her; theyd
been taken by surprise.
Are these your belongings?
Yes they are, she answered.
Okay, Spider, the policeman addressed the boy with the
 N 75

headphones. Bring back to the nice lady whatever you

stole from her. The boys were visibly disappointed, but they
slowly piled up Ns record collection. The policeman pointed
at different objects in Spidermans room: Is that yours? Is
that yours, too? All of Ns answers were positive.

Okay, Spiderman, thats itnext time you will be

punished!, said the policeman, turned to N, and asked in a
formal tone, Do you have everything maam? N stared at
Spiderman, who stared back at her. The headphones, she
said. The boy seemed truly disappointed. He moaned while
removing the headphones from his head. Here. He handed
them to her.

Her first day in the East Village was her best day.

New York III After D inherited a great fortune from his great aunt, he
decided to move from Berlin to the Big Apple. It had been
his dream for many yearsa dream he couldnt afford until
that moment. He rented a studio apartment on the Upper
West Side and kept a similar lifestyle to the one he had had
in Berlin. D was slightly disturbed by the chronic weakness
of the locals for hype and the consistent daily sacrifice
of apparent vulnerability for the collective appearance of
success. All in all, D would describe his experience in New
York as fun.

One day, on his way to the local supermarket, D noticed a

little bird on the side of the pavement. It flipped its wings
helplessly, dodging the footsteps of the humans, looking
up at its family and friends sitting on the scaffolding, and
chirping hysterically its name. An awful situation. D was
helplessif he were to pick up the baby bird, its family would
deny it. If he were to try to take it home, it would die, too.

Oh, what a cute little bird! The voice of a passing

businesswoman woke him up. Hes injured, D turned his
head to her. Oh, so take her home, the woman replied.
A second later, both D and the woman (clearly experienced)
said, Dont / I wont take it home.
You cant help it, said the woman and added, Its not easy
to be a bird in Manhattan.

If its hard to be a bird in Manhattan, then it must be harder to

be human. D returned to Berlin a month later.
 N 76

Nothing Happens Nothing. None. And when an attempt rose, he immediately

failed. D is a philosopher whos aching for the present.
Existing in an invisible time, D is contemplating the past
over and over again until it emerges in the horizon like a
sandstorm. Then, he runs to it as if it were the future.

Now I The Greek meaning of the word sin

is to not reach self-fulfillment.
Dont miss the mark. If youre reading it,
then theres xstill a chance.

Now II My external positions will be in peaceful harmony with my

inner self.Plato.
O 77

O
had been taking care of her alcoholic mother since she was
five years old. Her mother used to drink from morning to
evening. O found her lying on the floor more than once.
She carried her to bed, like Jesus carried his crosssame
position. It was part of Os painful routine. Both of Os
parents were Freudian psychoanalysts and they behaved that
way. O was their only child. The small family lived in a small
cabin at the slope of the Alps, near Innsbruck in Austria.

One day O returned from school and saw that the entrance
door was slightly open. She noticed the crack before she
entered the front yard. O opened the yard gate carefully
and walked slowly toward the entrance. The crack invited
all possible scenarios. It brought to life the forgotten
creatures of the sea. The crack was morbid. It was clear
that something had gone wrong. Wrong-full-force. A meter
before the entrance door, O noticed her mothers head and
upper body, resting unconscious, like a folded fabric on the
floor. The top of her head was touching the door. Blood
was running from the temples of her head. She rested in a
peaceful position like Snow White. Instead of lipstick, she
had blood running down her head. The crack was hidden
by the hair. A crack after a crack after a crackthe world is
cruel. O called an ambulance, and it wasnt the first time she
had done so. Ten minutes later, a helicopter circulated above
her head, and two paramedics jumped out of it and tied her
mother to a stretcher.

Two days later, Os mother woke up from a coma but

couldnt remember what had happened. In an ill twist of
plot, Os parents believed that she had pushed her mother
down the stairs (the entrance door was situated just in front
of a long staircase that led to both bedrooms) because of
subconscious anger about her mothers drinking problems.
It was a strange development, which emphasized the axiom
that all psychoanalysts are latent psychopaths. They asked
her what she saw when she entered the house. O described
again the open door, the body with the weak posture at
the entrance, then the phone call and the helicopter with
the paramedics and the stretcher. From that moment on,
everyone saw the same thing.
 O 78

How did her body look to you? What was her position?,
asked her father, along with the doctors at the hospital.
She looked like she wanted to open the door and then
fainted like a princess, collapsed on the door with her hand
still trying to reach the knob.
You said that you found her lying at the entrance, and
now you say that she was trying to reach the knob. So you
did see her falling!
No! You asked me how it looked and that was my
answer!, O replied angrily.

Her protests fell on deaf ears, and she was sent for weekly
therapy in Gtzens to resolve her subconscious issues with
her mother. Until writing these lines, Os father (her mother
had passed away) believes O is the one who pushed his wife
down the stairs.

G once told to U, Its not what people go through, its how

they react to it that matters.
How would O react to that event?
How would she grow?
How will it twist her soul?
What would she do?
What would Lynne Tillman do?

Oxidation Ancients Behaving Badly is an eight-episode series on

YouTube that tells the stories of eight of the most psychotic
leaders in ancient times. They are also testing some of the
stories and checking if its actually possible. In the chapter
about Attila the Hun, they are testing Roman tales about the
Huns, for example, that their eyes were exceptionally
violent because they used to consume raw meat, which they
carried on the back of their horses. The makers of the series
wanted to determine whether its possible to eat raw meat
and if its possible to carry it on the back of a horse without
cooling it. They put a chunk of red meat under the saddle
and rode the horse for six hours. Then they checked what
happened to the meat. The meat was actually eatable, like
steak tartar. Apparently, the riding had softened the meat,
and the salt from the horses sweat actually preserved the
meat.

Offense Nero was one of the maddest emperors of Rome, just like
his great uncle Caligula. He was notorious for his erratic and
cruel behavior. He even killed his own mother. They were
O 79

very close and she ruled Rome with him but didnt approve
of his girlfriend and poisoned her to death. Nero was furious
and decided to assassinate her. So he staged an accident
while she was sunbathing along the Riviera. A large weight
dropped on her body and injured her shoulder. She knew it
was her son, so she sent him a messenger saying: Ill see
it as an accident. Nero was a quick thinker and stabbed the
messenger to death. Then he claimed that his mother had
just sent an assassin to kill him. He dispatched a group of
soldiers to kill his mother. Everyone knew that he had staged
it. The creators of the series wanted to check if it was likely
that the mother would get injured on her shoulder. It was.
P 80

P
was part of viscid art puddle that flooded the streets of
Cologne and the streets of Berlin and the streets and
roads between the two cities. These parts of Germany
were the playground of the Silver Age refugees. U knew
P very well, for she had harvested him at the peak of his
decline and kept expecting him to mature until the very last
moment. U (just like Q and many other friends of I) suffered
from a chronic sense of hope and a compulsive sense of
compassion. She nursed stones. P, on the other hand, was
in the midst of an archaeological expedition, searching for
his soul. Someone told him that it was never too late. He
chose to believe it. P paid a prestigious psychoanalyst to
open him up and dive into his childhood. He involved U
with all of his discoveries, and U watched him digging and
chiseling his own private mythologies out of the darkness of
his past.

P was the youngest and only son in a family of three

older sisters, a powerful mother and a forgettable father.
Until his multiple meeting with his psychoanalyst, P didnt
spend much time thinking of his family and childhood. The
appearance of his psychoanalyst woke up lost memories,
and with her guidance he could put them into words.

The sex revolution in the 1960s reached even the coldest

villages in Germany. Ps parents used to spice up their love
life and swing with the next-door neighbors. By the time P
was born, the two couples had turned into one new couple
and two neglected wallflowers. P doesnt remember much
of his father, but soon he and his sisters would echo their
mothers contempt. If Ps father conveyed anything, it was
an abandoned object. An isolated human drifting in space.

Ps earliest memory was of his father picking him up from

kindergarten, taking him for a long walk, and then sitting
with him in the park, and after a couple of hours bringing
him back home. With the help of his psychoanalyst, P
learned that the long strolls and the leisure time were meant
to keep him away from the house so his mother could have
sex with her loverthe next-door neighbor.
P 81

P spent his adult life drinking and reading American novels.

He developed a strong addiction to sex, cigarettes, alcohol,
cocaine, and heroin. They kept him mentally young. His
childlike mind protected him from guilt, critical thinking, and
cognitive independence. Those characteristics helped P to
reach social success in the local art scene. His paintings
turned to sculptures that turned to installations and back
to minimal gestures on paper. He was rolling around the
contemporary art scene, camouflaged by a restrained
attitude, using his weaknesses for social bonding, and
following carefully the shifts of power in his scene.

P told E that his youth had ended in his forties. He stopped

using heroin and met a French collector. That collector was
way out of his league, luckily, for she suffered from bipolar
disorderan illness that reduced her confidence and invited
men such as P into her life. She was in love with his unruly
attitude, and he fell deeply for her money. And status. And
French manners. A year later, P had an affair with another
woman he had met in one of his partners charity events.
This affair was long-lasting and consistent. He even invited
his lover to his wedding with the French collector.

Throughout the years, P and his lover embarked on a

liberating sexual relationship that included many men
and many sex clubs in Berlin, Munich, and Cologne. P
encouraged U to do the same and testified that near-to-rape
experiences can be a bonding experience for both sides. At
one point, his lover got pregnant and they both toyed with
the idea that P might be the father. He wasnt, for when the
boy was born it was clear as a full moon in a cloudless sky
that the father was his lovers husband. Never mindnext
time.

Meanwhile, Ps wife found herself forsaken and unbearably

lonely. Her husband The Artist left her stranded at home,
making her pay the bills and the rent for the house. What
misery, and more than that, what a shame! She turned a
blind eye to Ps affairs, particularly to this one affair with
that married slutgod knows when it started and when will
it stop. Please god, make it stop!

P told this story to his psychoanalyst, who pointed out the

similar narratives between his mother, her lover, and his
father, to him, his lover, and his wife. P was astonished. He
P 82

hadnt noticed it until now. He told it all to U, who told it all

to I, who consulted quickly with D and E about the subject.
They all advised U to leave this can of worms unopened and
to move on. Yet advice alone wont shift a human from his
or her axis.

U kept listening to Ps tales, astonished by the casualness

of his tone. His joyful descriptions of love affairs and sexual
stimulation, and the careless nature of how he viewed the
madness and illness of his wife. The only time U felt some
concern in Ps voice was when he described the effect of
the recession in 2008 on his wifes wealth. She lost almost
everything, he said. His reaction was similar to a child
imitating his parents. He shook his hand lightly and stared
at the floor. His lips were banded down lightly. It was very
difficult for us. It stressed her even more.

A year later, P divorced his wife. He took as much furniture

as he could from their apartment and started a new life as
a bachelor. He continued his affair with his lover. He even
suggested that she leave her husband and live with him, but
she doubted it was a good idea. Two weeks later, he was
picked up by U. They met at a local bar and were surprised
to know that they were sharing the same neighborhood. U
was charmed by Ps deterioration. He seemed careless, his
physical and mental decline disarmed her. His weakness
made her feel superior. It was his most effective bait.

U was deeply in love with P, and the more she learned about
his history, the more it seemed resolvable. Together with
his psychoanalyst, U tried to educate and direct P along the
roads of honesty, self-awareness, justice, and self-control.
Yet words alone wont shift a human from his or her axis.

P texted one day to U and asked her to meet him for a

drink. When they met, P opened his heart and told U that,
a couple of days ago, he had had sex with another woman.
U turned her head away from him. She sank into surprising
blankness. She wasnt even sad. Just puzzled. Surprised. A
soft whimper caught her attention, and she turned her head
back to P, his whining turned into a tantrum. A miserable
demonstration of an infant mixed with an elderly decline.
A couple of weeks later, P and U separated. I, D, U, and
basically all of Us friends were relieved. This man shouldnt
have stayed in Us life for so long.
 P 83

Two years later, U met the French collector at the same local
bar where she had met P. Both women embarked on a short
love affair for a couple of weeks. Their attraction for one
another was based on alcohol, revenge, and a twisted sense
of narrative. They separated as friends.

On a different note: Ps father left the family when P was in

his twenties and married a young Polish woman in Warsaw.
After ten years estranged and alienated from his family, Ps
father fell ill with lung cancer. He wrote a ten-page letter to
his only son. P remembers that he received the letter. He
didnt open it but used the envelope as a bookmark, and after
a couple of months threw the letter away. P didnt go to his
fathers funeral because it was in Warsaw and he didnt know
him very well.

Past and Future I Unfold time, straighten it until its resting horizontally without
curves and bumps. Now watch it: move your eyes from left
to right or the oppositefrom right to leftand see how
you feel reading different events in your life. When two
events trigger the same feelingput them a side. Treat it
as a memory game. Now you know the reason for certain
feelings.

TIP: The reason for most anxieties is fear of abandonment.

Past and Future II Painters have a thin view of the world, said D, I have
met few painters in my life and most of them were very
simple. More simple than sculptures and video artists, poets
and philosophers. D stopped talking. He had never met a
philosopher. Maybe philosophers were also simple thinkers.
Maybe they also had two-dimensional thoughts just like
painters. D didnt know. His mistake led him to think hes
prejudiced.

Premenstrual The official reason for not allowing women to vote in China
Syndrome was their premenstrual syndrome. Women were considered
too emotionally and mentally unstable to vote because of the
impact that premenstrual syndrome had on their minds. In
1949, they were given the right to vote for the first time.

Priorities Make lists. Decide what is your priority. Avoid confusion.

Avoid gray areas. Separate the advantages from the
disadvantages. Place them in relation to their importance.
Compare them. Decide. Stick to your decision.
P 84

In 1997, I left the Israeli army after only eight months of

service. The standard service time for women in the IDF is
two years. Her decision to leave after such a short period
was controversial. Her friends and family disapproved of
such selfish behavior, and I was isolated by her closest
environment. A month after leaving the army, Is family
went on a trip to Prague and left I to manage and take care
of the familys perfume store. It was summer, and I carried
the Israeli heat and her punishment in admirable silence.
She took full responsibility for her actions. One day, while
keeping her family store, a family friend passed by, so she
then peeped through the door and saw I sitting on a chair.
The heat and the humidity were unbearable and Is back was
stooped. Her eyes were hopeless.

I dont respect you and your actions. You are a disgrace.

I have nothing more to tell you, said the family friend and
walked away. I said nothing. The sweat kept dripping off of
her forehead, and her back was stooped. Her eyes were
hopeless. She stayed in that position for thirty minutes.
Q 85

Q
woke up in bed. She was the worst. Her eyes were falling
from their holestheir darkness was hypnotizing because
of its depthand her hair was messy. She touched her hair
lightly and then she touched her face and felt that her mouth
wasnt there anymore. Her fingers were leaving on her face
bloody marks of a car accident. She sat on her bed. Her toes
touched the morning floor and she felt at home. It was a
good spot to die. She could start the day.

I had known Q for a very long time, and as the ocean waves
pushed back and forth, turning off the days and lighting
up the darkness and back to the days, and again time was
passing through the night, and day and back again, I and
Q found themselves tied together as best friends like two
safety suits floating in the water to two lonely refugees.

Q, except being Is best friend, was dating a god. A pagan,

red, airy, skinny, tall, rotten, limping creature with an anchor
at the end of his tail. His father was Lucifer and his mother
was a lobster. Q and her god had a Buddhist lovevery cold
and hopeless. Very Austrian. Very verbal. Very methodic. Very
platonic, emotionless and motionless.

I told Q, Q, you have a decent IQhow can you be with

half a devil, half a lobster? How can you not see it? You
deserve better! Q answered I that her god might be
consistently cold and heartless, but their email exchanges
are a once in a lifetime experience. They are long and playful.
Just like reading a novel without a plot line. But there was no
storage place in Q. There was no space to place some sense
in her. Q was hooked by the anchor of her gods tail. Her
heart was eaten by maggots and her body was burned down
with self-hate. She was very thin, almost transparent. When
she lay down on the floor with her cheek pressed against
the cold tiles pretending to be dead, she was mistaken for a
carpet. That was one of her many talents and she was proud
of it.

To make a long story short, I told Q that shes in a terrible

situation and she must run from this heartless, red, vile,
sexless demon. She must, if she cares for herself or her life,
Q 86

and whats the difference anyhow between ones self and

ones life? Q told I that theres no point in running away from
him because hes not going to run after her. Hes just doesnt
care.

I told Q that he doesnt care about her. I told Q that he

doesnt love her. I said once that their love is not romantic
but religious. Q answered I that yes, shes right, and she will
talk to him about their problems when she finds the right
moment. Seven years passed by but the right moment was
a needle in a haystack and the nail was affixed to the coffin.
Q was rolled inside in a comfortable misery and she didnt
feel guilty for it. After all, she was named Q because of her
chronic inefficiency.

Q woke up in bed alone as alwaysthe sheets were empty

like a parachute. God wasnt there; he had left the building.
She dipped down her toe into the cold floor, and before it
froze she raised it up and lifted her foot back to bed. She
stared blankly at the white wallsthe room twinkled with
inspiration. Her eyes sparkled back. It was a special moment,
so Q decided that it was the moment to run awayescape.
Actually Q didnt believe in running; she could walk it if she
wanted. So she called I. She didnt even change her clothes
when she made the phone call.

Qs confidence rose so quickly, it was unnatural. Theres no

such thingrising from zero to a million. At least not in the
analogue world. Q wasnt digitalshe was pre-historic. Q
had existed before stoic. Pre-Stone Age. Pre-stone. She was
dust before it had crushed into air. Her kindness was ancient,
embedded in the oldest pillars holding civilizations together,
the archetype of a woman, a female. A hopeless Pandora.
Ageless. She was bound to fail. It happened when I buzzed
the doorbell to pick her up. Finally, she muttered and tried
to get out of bed. Her legs cracked open and smashed into
pieces like porcelain when they dared to touch the floor.
It was tragic. Q loathed herself so deeply that she didnt
bother to cry when it happened. She didnt need her legs
anyhow; she just had to get out of that damn apartment. I
was standing next to the locked door waiting for her with a
wheelchair.

Im coming, she cried in a songla-la-la. I kept waiting.

Standing at the doorway. Wheeling the chair back and forth.
 Q 87

She waited for three decades outside Qs door covered

with snow and rain, mold and grass. She waited like a best
friend should waitas much as is needed. Throughout
those years of decay, I was accidentally bombedfirst by
allies and then by their enemies. She kept waiting as a ruin,
a memorial for friendship. I was a stubborn monument, a
loyal life coachaddicted to controlI was eager to see Q
open the door, with or without her legs. God, on the other
hand, didnt turn his head in Qs direction. He didnt have to.
Under the gummy moments passing through the viscous air
around I and Qin her bedroom and the corridor that leads
to the door at the space around the door and the screen door
against mosquitos next to itgods presence was thicker
than air.

To make a long story short, Q finally opened the door and

collapsed at the entrance, folding her body like soft fabric.
The minute she landed on the entrance floor, I heard gods
coughing like thunderit was ill weather. An apocalypse. Qs
back shivered and her thin body trembled. I grabbed her by
the stomach like a little child and rolled like a carpet. She ran
away with Qs rolled body in her arms and locked her rolled
and tired in her closet.

Q is still there, rolled around her herself in Is closet. Alive,

heavy, and tired, covered with gray, brown bunnies, and
mold. She has another thirty years to live. Her internal pain is
like radiation that causes I a constant headache.

Qanat In logic and probability theory, two propositions (or events)

are mutually exclusive or disjointed if they cannot both be
true (occur). A clear example is the set of outcomes of a
single coin toss, which can result in either heads or tails, but
not both. Singular proposition can lead to words such as fate
and destiny.

Quest Game It was ChristmasZ and U had already left the institute, and
U almost swore to D that the hostility between her and Z
was established. D had to agree. U and her flatmates were
hosting several students from the institute for a Christmas
dinner in their apartment. The atmosphere was subtle
and tense. The room was full of intrigues and the weather
was cold. Z was a lively talker and U was following his
every word like an intimidating cat with a Mohawk, affixing
viciousness to his ignorance. Then they ate and drank. A
 Q 88

couple of hours before midnight, a few more students joined

in; they were wet and cold. They took off their shoes at the
entrance and sat down on plastic chairs. More eating and
drinking. Z spoke about politics, but as his words came
out of his mouth and entered the smoky room, he found
they were too free and too toxic to survive without proper
references and Zs sentence drop dead before it ended.
Forgettable moments passed embellished with the utterance
of kind intentions. Z then asked for an idea of a social
gamesomething to pass the evening with. U told him
that she has many of that kind and asked for the first letter.
Z stretched his head forward and said provocatively Q.
What a tease! Us mind turned to the wheel of fortune,
spinning all the letters until they turn to one dark blur and
then slowly letting the arrow on the left stroke it heavily
until the words Quest Game came to her mind. She stared
at Z who looked at her with a smile on his face. They both
knew that Q is an inefficient letter. U waited a few moments
staring while Quest Game was begging to leave her mouth
and win the challenge. Zs smile was hanging on his face like
a medal. There was no point in taking the smile off his face.
U swallowed the quest game and slid it down with a glass of
white wine.

Many years later, U told D that she regrets not taking the
quest game out of her mouth. Zs smile keeps hanging in her
memory, together with the rest of his treacherous acts.

Question If Pandora closed the box and hope was left inside, then how
come hope is out there in the world together with death,
envy, and illness?
R 89

R
was timeless. Not only by his own perception of time. He
was objectively timeless. E thought so, tooR was based on
the archetype of a typical privileged dumb young male. R was
a goat at the top of a pyramid. Loud, selfish, and ancient, he
used cultural codes, flattery, and money to get to wherever
he desires. E had the pleasure of being one of Rs subjects
of desire for a couple of months. It was exciting. R called E
one day and offered to be his friend. E agreed. He didnt have
many friends and many of his encounters were conducted
using smartphone applications. He didnt find Rs approach
too strange. He had heard about Rs tendency to map
contemporary artists and mark them as his friends. E didnt
have a problem with it. He could already imagine Rs voice
describing him as a great artist and an even greater person.
Whats wrong with that? It was fun for a while. R showered
E with attention and flattery. He offered him a ride on his
parents yacht and twenty Adderall pills. E felt luckyhe
rejected the parents yacht and accepted the pills.

R was funded by his fatherhis car, his apartment, his art

production, two psychologists, one tarot card reader, flights,
meals, pills, girls. Es ex-wife used to work as Rs girlfriend
for art events. R paid her to come to openings and dinners.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder like her owner or a
broken snake.

R was driven mainly by jealousy. His professional bravery

was limited to marketing strategies. He was a conformist
without boundaries. R followed tradition without discipline.
His soul was loose, not free. He didnt experience love or
passion. Rs currency was US dollars.

When R met his ex-girlfriend, he told her: When my parents

see you, they will write an open check. He stayed with
her for a year. E had no interest in Rs romances. He wanted
the pills and enjoyed the attention. After a couple of weeks,
E noticed that he wasnt feeling good in Rs presence. Rs
performative manners and thoughtless words were slowly
getting under his skin. R was completely absorbed in his own
career and obsessed with social positioning and transforming
art to capital. He was quite enchanted by his own profession
 R 90

and its romantic connotationsthat tendency emphasized

his detachment from his own feelings or any other form of
authenticity.
If horses had gods, theyd look like horses.
Rs world was made of objects, and he was one of them.
Having a bottomless budget allowed him to work without a
script while having a professional crew at the same time. He
once complained to E about his crews warnings regarding
the cost of changing his plans constantly
They are so annoying, he said while passing his finger
along a plate with leftovers of soy sauce, telling me all the
time, You know its going to be expensive. He sucked the
soy sauce from his finger. It was a challenging sight.

After a couple of weeks, E distanced himself from R. He

succeeded in avoiding him for several months until any
semblance of friendship had vanished. At first he felt guilty
for his abrupt reaction, but then he noticed that R was
not disturbed by this at all. He did stop contacting him yet
continued announcing that E was a great, great painter and
an even greater friend. R wasnt insulted by Es rejection. He
utilized himself as he utilized his surroundings. They were
both objects with a clear purpose. E was relieved. Their story
just ended.
This text was written for future readers, who can undress
this page and see the ageless mutations erect like symptoms
from social forms and private sins.

In the book young Stalin, Simon Sebag Montefiore described

the golden age in Tbilisi after oil was found in the Georgian
soil. Montefiore tells about human and architectural
phenomena created by the quick economical rise. The most
memorable story is of a nouveau riche artist who decided to
turn his home into a castle made of pure gold in the shape
of a dragons head. The entrance was at the dragons mouth.
Unfortunately, gold is sensitive to heat and the castle
melted during its first summer.

Realization After the clouds surrounding the lonely heart are clearing
Paradox and the sheer understanding that love, lust, or desire were
rooted inside, thats the moment where reality slips through
its fingers and leaves him to hang and dry to death.

In other words, after a short romantic encounter, one side

acknowledges his feelings and decides to realize them with
R 91

an object or by placing them in a certain environment. This is

the moment that marks the end of their romance.

In other words, the subject meets the object.

(1.) The subject desires the object.
(2.) The object is responsive/positive.
(3.) The subject wants to realize his desire/love.
(4.) The object is gone.

Examples:

(1.) M met E on Tinder.

(2.) They had great sex several times.
(3.) M was in the midst of her divorce and anticipated the
moment she would be able to share her new apartment with E.
(4.) By the time M moved to her new apartment, E had
already lost interest in M and never spent a night in her
apartment.3

(1.) X met a tourist on Tinder.

(2.) They had an affair in New York.
(3.) X decided to buy a good-bye present for her lover. She
found a keychain with a teddy bear in a hardware store. She
contacted the tourist when he was drunk.
(4.) The tourists response wasnt positive, and he left New
York before X had the chance to hand him the keychain. She
later on sent it by mail but the keychain never arrived at its
destination.

(1.) V met E in Venezuela and had short affair before they both
went back to their countries.
(2.) E promised to visit V in Paris
(3.) and she invited a group of twelve friends for a dinner with
E when he arrives.4
(4.) E never showed upthe idea frightened E and he
canceled his trip. E and V never met again.

Daniel Kahneman wrote in Thinking Fast and Slow that men

are constantly telling stories to explain their present situation,
yet most of the time their position is determined by sheer luck
and not by choice.
Please accept realitys fragments and their arbitrary results.
Find sense in the order of the fragments. Transform uncertainty
to humbleness. Transform helplessness to freedom.
 R 92

Reflection Greek mythology was constantly dealing with the difference

between fate and free will.
The tragic tale of Oedipus was a great examplehe was
bound to kill his father and marry his mother. Yet he tried to
escape his destiny (not knowing that the one hes escaping
from is not his real father).

New York topography bears more opportunities for surprising

encounters, while in Los Angeles, the meeting point is
predetermined prior to departure. This is similar to searching
for an e-book title (or an author)both are predetermined
prior to the search, completely different than a search in a
bookstore (especially in a secondhand bookstore).

Reminder You are a representative of humankind.

Be kind.
Be human.

Rich Kids Their parents are collectors. Rich kids know how collectors
perceive the myth of the artist. Rich kids know how to act
like artists. Rich kids can produce artwork from expensive
materials. They know what is a salable work. Rich kids
parents encourage their friends to buy their kids work. Rich
kids are not dependent on the sale of their work. The price
of rich kids work is higher because of high production costs.
Rich kids live in Tbilisi and are melting in a dragon fortress
made of gold.

E was invited for an opening dinner. He had once had an

intimate encounter with the artists and arrived to the opening
and later on to the dinner, hoping to repeat this encounter.
Unfortunately, the artists boyfriend was present and E had
to concentrate on the art and the audience. He joined the
dinner and found himself sitting next to the artists boyfriend.
The artists boyfriend was a rich kid with great intentions.
He asked E for his health and showed genuine interest in his
work. E told the boyfriend that hes in debt and trying to find
away to solve this problem before its too late. The boyfriend
then asked: Does it bother you? E answered surprised,
Yes, it sure does.
And how are you planning to solve it?, asked the rich kid
innocently.
I will have an exhibition soon in London and I hope to sell
something there.
I like your approach, concluded the rich kid. E was proud
R 93

of his answer for a moment, but after the moment passed,

E wondered if his approach was really that likable. He turned
around to the artists boyfriend, but he was already engaged
in another conversation. The moment was gone.

U used to receive long angry emails once or twice a year

from an angry poet. He admitted in his emails that what
motivates him to write them is jealousy. The angry poet used
to be one of Us friends, but unfortunately his light approach
to life and his absolute self-absorbance distanced her from
him. The poet noticed it many months later, but it was too
late. The poet was furious about the social changes and
started pressing for her company. Alas, with little success.
Poor poethis biggest misfortune was his parents great
fortune. Their funding of their sons lifestyle harmed his
involvement with society.

Even after several hate emails, it was quite hard to hate the
poet. The only thing he needed was a job.
S 94

S s

father was the first importer of falafel in Venezuela. He hired

a famous commercial director from New York to direct an
advertisement of his business in local cinemas. Ss father also
had a diamond shop. He also had several lovers and a bad
reputation among people S didnt know back then.

S told I that she wouldnt forget the day the Rolling Stones had
a concert in Caracas. S had a couple of tickets, for her sister
and her. When the sun rose that day, the walls could hear her
heart beating against her chest. She was on it. She was in it.
She was time and space. Oh god, please god, make school
shorter today!, she begged while changing her clothes, but
school was stronger and god couldnt lift it.

Never mind, it didnt matter anyhowthe concert started at

seven and they needed to leave the house at five. School ends
at two and S will be home thirty minutes later. Never mind
god. Smell you later. Ciao!

Ss older sister had to pick up the tickets from their fathers

diamond store after school. They went through the plan fifteen
timesit wasnt that complicated. She will be back by four and
theyll both take a bus to the concert. Mick Jagger is god. So
so so so so . . .

S arrived home at half past two as planned and prepared for

the concert. The mirror. The hair. The brush. The clothes. The
colors. The attitude. The lights. The stage. The people. The
sound. The sweat. The show. Her sister will come soon. They
are on. She is on. Depends how you look at it. Look at it like
that and stare at it like that. Lights are off.

Ss sister didnt show up at four, so S called the store half

an hour later, but the line was busy. She called every five
minutes, again and againthe line was busy, the line was
busy, the line was busy! She slammed down the phone in
anger. She was furious. Its impossible. Worst family ever. She
needs a better sister. No. No. Its not funny. She would have
gone there by herself, but she didnt have the tickets. She calls
the store again.
 S 95

Ss father, Ss mother, Ss sister, Ss cousin, and the husband

of Ss cousin were staring at the robbers who had cut the
phones cable and turned off the alarm. Then they were tied
with gaffer tape, which the robbers had found in one of the
drawers. The robbers tied their hands behind their backs,
blocked their mouths, and covered their eyes. The family was
lying on the floor at the back of the store while the robbers
emptied the drawers, the vitrines, the cabinets, and then
moved to the family, emptying the back pockets of the sister,
the mother, the cousin, the husband of the cousin, and the
father. They found cash, keys, tickets for the Rolling Stones.

After they left, the family kept lying on their stomachs, silent.
Waiting for the sound of the robbers to come back, or the
sound of one of them rebelling against the silence. They kept
lying on their bellies until it was too uncomfortable.

I will never forget my sisters call, told S to IWeve

been robbed. They stole everything. They took the Rolling
Stones tickets. Father has no eyebrows.That was the first
sentence I heard. When the police arrived, they cut off the
gaffer tape from their hands and from their mouths and then
finally their eyes. Thats how my father lost his eyebrows.

I was wondering:
How did Ss life change after that event?
How did Ss sister mind change?
How would she grow up?
What would S do?
What would you do?
What would Lynne Tillman do?

Scorpion A little girl held a scorpion in her handHes my best

friend, she said and crossed the green fields. The little girl
was running carefully so the scorpion wouldnt bounce off her
palm. It wasnt a one-sided affairthe scorpion was hanging
onto her hand as if his life depended on it. He recognized the
girls intentions and was touched by her attention. Just few
moments ago, he had walked straight to her hand, just after
she told him, Lets put a little night lamp on your little tail, so
youll be my night porter.
It was a desirable position. The scorpion laughed without
sound.
They entered the house, greeted by the smell of cooking and
mixed sounds of footsteps, radio tunes, and mumbling.
 S 96

The atmosphere was fine and the little girl went up to her
roomher footsteps were silent on the large carpet along the
corridor. The scorpion asked his very young lover if he could
get off her hand so he could stand on the soft carpet and lift
her like a married couple. Once he stood on the carpet, he
raised his hands up high and asked her to lean backward so
he could catch her like a man. The little girl did as he told her
and fell backward on his tiny, black, shiny body. The scorpion
stretched all of his eight legs but little Miss Sunshine was
heavy and big and she squashed, in her fall, his middle leg.
She smashed it so hard that black juice came out of it. The
pain was intolerable and the scorpion shrieked in agony. He
raised his tail and stung the ankle of his young lover without
thinking. Stupid cow!! Look what you did!! He said in a
sober voice, It couldve been heaven for us! Heaven!! He
raised one of his healthy legs, turned around, and limped
away. How the hell am I getting out of here, his voice was
swallowed with the rest of the interior sounds. The little girl
was left alone, lying on the soft carpet, just next to her room.
The poison assimilated in her body and was leading to horrible
pain. The world was oblivious to the little girls cries. No one
passed the corridor that night and her parents found her dead
body the next morning.

Second Person I For several days you avoided writing. It wasnt your best idea.
You were planning to lean on your wooden desk day and night
with a hunched back like a lead singer. To let your fingers fill
the night with glowing stars and fill the paper ink. No chance
it made you think of stuffed peppers and pasta dipped in
octopus ink that reminded you what you ate for dinner:
three meatballs with tomato sauce, Brussels sprouts, and half
a cauliflower. Your eyebrows waved their dark wingsoops.
Not to mention the spicy noodles with the extra chicken you
ordered from your iPhone while resting in bed. You are so
human you want to puke. That will throw you completely off
balance. At least you dont need to put your shoes on. Writing
is not an Olympic sport. It has made you even sadder. You
couldve killed two birds at oncea perfect body with a heavy
script. You were lying on the railroad, sad, dead, like a doll with
two straight legs and your arched body leaned forward, curved
and hunchedwaiting for the train to passPlease kill me,
you whisper, or make me write.

The train made you write on the spot, the minute it passed
you. That was enoughyou wrote immediately on whatever
 S 97

you saw with whatever you hadyou wrote stories made of

seaweed carved on stone. You wrote memos on your ears and
comments on the back of your hands and let them spiral on
your fingers and drip inside your teacup, and on your biscuits
and meatballs and black octopus ink. No, not again! You cover
your ears and scream to the clouds without sound. Take that
food away from me!! I dont want it in my thoughts!

Second Person II Be your own best friend.

Dont trust luck.
(Trust or)
Dont trust strangers.
Be honest.
Independent.
Force yourself to love.
Think for yourself.
Trust your feelings.
Dont be led by fear.
Watch out.
(Remember)
Failure is another step forward.

Second Person III You were always free.

Silver Age After Homers words were written down, another poet
entered the scene and expanded the narratives around those
mythologies. His name was Hesiod. He wrote the source and
narrative of all Greek gods and the unique powers of each and
every one of them. He was the first one who wrote for the
future readers. Hesiod said that all gods were created in the
image of man. This is not surprising, for a philosopher named
Xenophanes once said, If horses could draw, horses would
draw gods like horses.

Hesiod invented and put in order the ages of man in ancient

Greece: the first one was the Golden Ageit was created
by Cronus, a Titan and the son of Gaia and Uranus. Cronus
is usually portrayed with a harp, the instrument he used to
castrate Uranus, his fatherlong story. The Golden Age was
utopianhumans were well-behaved, noble, honest, and they
used to mingle frequently with the gods. They didnt worry
about food and lived a cheerful life. The people of the Golden
Age looked good in their youth, grew up gracefully, and died
peacefully.
 S 98

The Silver Age was next. After Zeus took over his fathers
crown (Zeus was the youngest of Cronuss children and the
only survivor. His father loved to eat his own children and
his wife had to hand him the infants immediately after birth.
When Zeus was born, she decided to trick her husband and
offered him a stone wrapped in diapers. Cronus swallowed it
immediately), the men of the Silver Age lived one hundred
years under their mothers domination. They spent most of
their lives as immature beings, experienced a short period
as grown-ups, and then a long and painful decline. They
suffered from an ugly aging process and spent most of their
lives in feud and strife with one another. Zeus killed them for
their impiety. They were cynical, bitter beings with very little
respect for the gods.

The Bronze Age was made of simple-minded warriors; they

fought for the sake of fighting and their armor was made of
bronze. They vanished from the world by simply killing one
another and then were flooded by Zeus. All ages mentioned
here refer to half of the human populationthey dont
include women. The ancient Greeks portrayed women as a
punishment that was sent to men by the gods.

Success All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is

unhappy in its own way. Same with music. All products are
constructed by success. Humans, too. Culture, too. They are
all based on one archetypeone form of distribution and a
single beat.

Surrogate Mother Its maybe hard to write in bed, but its harder to be a
surrogate mother. M found a volunteer to be a surrogate
mother. After the birth of her son, she allowed her to babysit
him for $12 per hour.

Short Thoughts T returned from a satisfying party. She climbed up the stairs.
Her legs were heavy and tired. Her mind was tired, too. She
stood in front of the entrance door and thought about her
satisfying life. She had everythinglove, work, and money.
Now she wanted the door to open, so she took a box of
matches from her pocket and lit a match. The door stayed
closed.

Then T wanted to find something in the pocket of her coat,

but by the time she reached the coat hanger, she had
forgotten what she wanted to do. T restored her memory by
 S 99

touching the coat and walking around it.

Soul and Body The Spartans were a society within a city-state that lived
Evaporate by strict rules. They dedicated their lives to the art of war.
into the Abstract All Spartan citizens were warriors who spent their lives
practicing war tactics and strategies. They hardly fought,
knowing that wars will increase their chances of losing. The
Spartans lived in the province prefecture in the region of
Laconia in Greece. All disciplines, forms of expression, and
ideas had to fortify their ideals. The Spartans were the only
Greek society that enslaved not barbarians but another Greek
society insteadthe helots. The helots were responsible
for the Spartans economy and food production, but were
treated as slaves. All Spartans had an equal amount of living
space. They didnt bother themselves with anything but war
and survival.

The Spartans invented the idea of a citizena member of

society with rights and duties. Only Spartan soldiers who
went to the Spartan school Agoge were considered to
be citizens. The Spartan education emphasized fitness and
survival skills. Spartan infants were bathed in wine after
birth, and whoever survived was brought to a comity that
checked if he was fit to be raised or deformed. If he wasnt
fit, he wouldve been thrown off a cliff. From age seven on,
the Spartan kids were taken away from their mothers. They
walked barefoot and wore a single piece of clothing. They
were fed with soup made of pigs blood.

A visitor from Athens wrote about the soup: After tasting

their famous dish I understand why they are so eager to
die. The young Spartans studied fighting strategies, sports,
music, dancing, writing, and reading. Whoever didnt answer
his teacher laconically was punished. Every young Spartan
had an older instructor who followed him throughout his
childhood and adolescence. Many instructors were involved
in homosexual relations with their students.

Spartan women had a similar education. Sparta was the only

city-state where women had a formal education. They learnt
to write and read. It was the only city-state where women
were treated equally. They danced with men and even
competed with them in different sports. The Spartan women
were famous for their beauty. Helen of Troy was a Spartan.
 S 100

In Athens, for example, women didnt have any education.

They didnt know to write and read and were mostly hidden
at home, separated from the men. The Athenian women
were not allowed to compete in the Olympic games.

One time a Spartan woman joined the Spartan expedition in

the Olympic games and competed against male athletes. She
won two golden medals but didnt receive them because of
her sex. When she was back in Sparta, she wrote about her
pride after beating the male competitors. This Spartan was
given the ability to compete and to express herself. Yet her
achievements werent acknowledged.

Music played an important role in Spartan culture, much

more so than language. The latter didnt have much to do
with the art of war, so it was neglected. Music was used to
encourage and direct the warriors throughout the battle. The
Spartans were the best dancers and musicians in ancient
Greece.

Xerxes, the Persian king, was eager to conquer Greece, so

he asked a Greek man what is so special about Spartans?
The Greek man answered, A Spartan man is as any other
man, you could beat him easily, but Spartan men have
undeniable power. The name of a Spartan citizen would be
engraved on a stone only if he died in a war.

The name of a Spartan woman would be engraved on a

stone only if she died in childbirth.

A son returned from a battlefield, approaching his mother,

who asked, How is the war going? Her son replied, All
the men are dead, and she picked up a weapon and killed
him saying: Did you expect me to believe they sent you
back to bring us the bad news?

They dedicated their life to the art of war, yet they hardly
participated in battles. They treated women equally because
their focus was on a higher ideal than social hierarchy.

Strength I Turns to a weakness if its not acknowledged.

Strength II Turns to a weakness if its acknowledged.

 T 101

T
studied at Unisa school for children of UN members and
ambassadors. It was just in front of the UN building. Ts
parents were diplomats. She remembered so much from that
period that it was hard to convince her to stop talking and
finish her dish. Everyone wanted to leave.

T lost her virginity to a boy named _____ (it was very hard to
hear, the restaurant was fashionable and busy). T felt she
had to do it because she was already sixteen. Many years
later she met that boy again, while driving with her brother to
Connecticut. He brother stopped the car at a red light and T
gazed through the window at the car to her right.
Its _____!, she said. Spicy salmon was lying dead on a
plate in between her elbows.
Ts high school sweetheart sat in a white cabriolet and was
waiting for the red light to change. He waved at T and she
left her brothers car, hopping in the white vehicle.
How are you?, she asked.
Im doing pretty good, he answered with a wide smile.
Im a drug dealer. Just took an eight ball. You want some? I
have it here.
T left her ex-boyfriend and got back into her brothers car at
the same red light, and when it changed to green, they drove
off to Connecticut.

A decade later, T was a divorced, successful gallery owner.

One morning, her workers played a message from the
answering machine:
Hi is this Ts gallery? Hi, its _____ speaking! How are
you? If you ever want to hook up, just call me! And if
anyone elses listening, T is the best kisser in the world!
Whooaaaaaaa . . .

Tears I spent a month in a castle from 1100 AD with B, C, and D.

They all had to work together for more than a month on a
theater play written by D and directed by I. The town they
were staying in had four hundred residents. The towns size
and their common task made them feel like clowns.

I, B, C, and D were cooking dinner, playing tennis, and

hanging out at the local swimming pool. The isolated lifestyle
 T 102

felt like a reality TV show. Every day a friend turned into an

enemy, and every other day that same enemy turned back
into a friend. Misery was their daily portion.

Is main problems lay with D. He didnt feel comfortable

on stage, and his own character was a mystery to him. He
was clearly a cinematic actor and less of a performer. His
words didnt come from his mind but from his mouth, and
his presence was a script stitched to a man on a stage who
imagines an audience. D couldnt express his emotions on
stage because of his careful nature.

One day I called him for a conversation. They spoke about

his fear of the stage, and his tame nature. D told I that the
main reason for his behavior was the illness that his mother
and brothers had inherited. They all suffered from bipolar
disorder and depression. D feared these illnesses would
appear at one point in his life. He had to keep his thoughts in
control and turn his back on his own wild nature.
I told D that he must find a way to express emotions on
stage, especially at the last part when hes going mad and
slowly forgets his lover. D took out a little bottle from his
pocket and handed it to IArtificial tears. He poured a couple
of drops on his eyes and spoke about his characters timing
and its different positions on stage. D acted himself and the
rest of the characters until he reached the moment he had
to cry and the artificial tears were dropping just at the right
time. D seemed unbearably sad. The tears were great! After
he left, I met C in their kitchen. C was deeply impressed by
Ds tears.
What did you do to D that made him cry like that?, he
asked.

Time Two weeks have passed and nothing happened. Absolutely

nothing. Not a fly. Nothing. The eternal poet vanished. T
hasnt heard from him. The ballet classes are quiet and
monotonous. The instructor is nice and bouncy, but nothing
is insinuated. Nothing happens. During the second class, T
couldve sworn he was simply repeating the same things he
had said the week before. As the days passed by,
T became very suspicious and decided to go to the library.

Thick Blood Xerxes, The King of Persia, wanted to conquer Greece.

Athens was terrifiedthe Persian army was ten times bigger
and notoriously merciless, so they asked the Spartans to join
 T 103

forces. The Spartans refused at first, but after acknowledging

the danger, they joined the coalition.

The Battle of Thermopylae happened in a narrow passage

between the mountains and the Mediterranean Sea. The
Greek force led by Leonidas, King of Sparta, was significantly
outnumbered by the Persian army (approx. 150,000 Persians
against 7,000 Greeks), yet in two days of fighting, the Persian
army suffered many casualties, while the Greeks stood
fierce, defending their ground. At the end of the second
day, a local Greek betrayed and disclosed to the Persian
forces a secret path in the mountains, behind the Greek
lines. Leonidas, aware that his force was being outflanked,
remained to guard their retreat with three hundred Spartan
soldiers. When Xerxes called him to give up his weapon,
Leonidas repliedcome and get them.

When the soldiers woke up at dawn, Leonidas, their king,

gave his final speech and ended it with the words: Have a
good breakfast men, for tonight we dine in hell.
A Persian spy who sneaked into the Greek lines reported that
the Spartans were getting prepared to face their own death
calmly, brushing their long hair silentlyIt seemed like they
were getting ready for a party, not for a war.

Only two Spartans survived the last stand. One couldnt

handle the shame and committed suicide and the other found
his death later on in another battle.

Years later, Gorgo, Leonidass widow, was traveling in

Athens, escorted by her entourage, when a young local
Athenian woman approached her, asking, Why are you
Spartan women the only ones who can rule men? Gorgo
answered, Because we are also the only ones who give
birth to men.

Third Person For several days he avoided writing. It wasnt his best idea.
He was planning to lean on his wooden desk day and night
with a hunched back like a lead singer. Let his fingers fill the
night with glowing stars and fill the paper ink. No chanceit
made him think of stuffed peppers and pasta dipped in
octopus ink, which reminded him of what he had eaten
for dinner: three meatballs with tomato sauce, Brussels
sprouts, and half a cauliflower. His eyebrows waved their
dark wingsoops. Not to mention the spicy noodles with
 T 104

the extra chicken he ordered from his iPhone while resting in

bed. He was so human he wanted to puke. That would throw
him completely off balance. At least he doesnt need to put
on his shoes. Writing is not an Olympic sport. It made him
even sadder. He could have killed two birds at onceperfect
body with heavy script. Hes resting on the railroad, sad,
dead, like a doll with two straight legs and his arched body
leans forward, curved and hunchedwaiting for the train to
passPlease kill me, he whispers, or make me write.

And the train made him write on the spot, when it passed
him. That was just enough. He wrote immediately on
whatever he saw with whatever he hadhe wrote stories
made of seaweed carved on stone. He wrote memos on his
ears and comments on the back of his hands and let them
spiral on his fingers and drip inside his teacup, and on his
biscuits and meatballs and black octopus ink. No, not again!
He covered his ears and screamed to the clouds without a
sound. Take the food away from me!! I dont want it in my
thoughts!, he said and then went back to Second Person
III.

Tip of Once at an art opening in Dusseldorf, I sat with two of her

the Iceberg friends on the roof. One of them owned a small hotel and
the other one was a redheaded student who invited I for an
exhibition in the gallery of the art academy. They sat on sun
chairs and smoked cigarettes. I started a sentence about a
blue banjo and a black snake and proclaimed it was just the
tip of the iceberg.
A long silence stretched after her sentence, and I smoked
her cigarette quietly, feeling the harmless wind inside her
long sleeves.

I can see the connection between the blue banjo and the
black snake, but why is it just the tip of the iceberg?, asked
the hotel owner nervously.
No reason, answered I, I had been wanting to use this
phrase for a long time and never had the opportunity.

Not many people listen to their friends and even fewer ask a
question.

Tricks In Greek mythology, the sirens were beautiful and dangerous

creatures that lured the sailors with enchanting singing and
music to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. They
 T 105

were the daughters of the river god Achelous and were

first mentioned in Homers Odyssey. The sirens were the
companions of Persephone, the queen of the underworld
and the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. They were cursed
by Demeter after they failed to save her daughter from
abduction.

The sirens were called the muses of the underworld. Their

song was continually calling on Persephone. As Jane Ellen
Harrison notes of The Ker as siren: It is strange and
beautiful that Homer should make the Sirens appeal to
the spirit, not to the flesh.The siren song is a promise to
Odysseus of mantic truths; with a false promise that he will
live to tell them, they sing,

Once he hears to his hearts content,

sails on, a wiser man.

We know all the pains that the Greeks and Trojans

once endured on the spreading plain of Troy
when the gods willed it so

all that comes to pass on the fertile earth,

we know it all!

They are mantic creatures like the Sphinx with whom they
have much in common, knowing both the past and the
future, Harrison observed. Their song takes effect at
midday, in a windless calm. The end of that song is death.5

Tricks II They havent had sex yet. The eternal poet is too weak for
that. Hes got a rough complexion, but when he sleeps his
skin falls asleep with him and one can actually see his veins
and the red blood cells moving around in his blood, back and
forth. T once sat and watched him dozing and carelessly
stroked his hair. He opened his eyes gently, looked at her
and smiled. They were the only couple on the planet, and the
silence around them was warm and heavy.

Tricks III An ancient dictum says that when Zeus wanted to destroy
someone, he would first drive him mad.
U 106

U
suffered from a panic attack after breaking up from P. It was
the first time she had experienced the sensation of drowning
while resting on a couch. It wasnt clear what made her twirl
so deep. She was an Aquarius with a soft spot for Scorpions.
P was the father of all Scorpionshe was sexual, he was
treacherous, small, weak, and poisonous.

U called her best friend K from Johannesburg asked her

for advice. K wasnt surprised and spoke firmly: Good
riddance. He was a loser. Im happy you got rid of this
liar. He doesnt care about you. Ive been in this situation.
Dont smoke weedyoull get paranoid. No cocaineyou
wont survive the day after. Just go out, drink, and get laid.
U thanked K, and after hanging up the phone, opened an
account on a dating site. Replies came shortly and she
picked a young blonde doctor. They had a brief chat. The
blonde doctor seemed sane. U asked him to meet her, and
he said he was hosting some friends and offered for her to
join them. She agreed. She texted his address to E and asked
him to call her in a couple of hours.

U walked all the way to the apartment in the citys suburbs.

She wasnt in the mood for socializing but she couldnt
stay at home. After a couple hours of a suicidal stroll, she
arrived to an area of housing cooperatives. She pressed the
buzzer and a lively young man with unkempt hair and his
left arm wrapped in bandages was tied to his shoulders and
neck. You are late, he said in a friendly voice, we already
finished the drinks, come on in. They walked up the stairs,
but it was hard to imagine a friendly, healthy gathering in that
buildingit was made of concrete.

The apartment smelled of sweat, medicine, and fried sugar.

The lively, talkative young man showed her aroundkitchen
and toilets. He then introduced her to his friends who were
sitting in a tiny room: two young blonde girls dressed with
similar grubby attire. An older couple in their fifties sat on
a shabby mattress, leaning with their backs against the
wall, drinking from a can of Red Bull. Another tattooed man
sat on a rocking chair and stared out the window. It was
sinister. They all cared for nothing. The woman in her fifties
 U 107

was missing a front tooth. Her boyfriend had green tattoos

on his arms and the back of his neck. U couldnt think or
move. She sank inside herself. She couldnt breathe and
slowly was chocking to death. The young doctor explained
that hes actually not a doctor but a nurse. He added that
he wouldve loved to have sex with U, but not today. No
problem, no problem, she answered. His bandages smelled
of sanitation. U left the apartment a few minutes later with
the two blonde girls. They stood outside the building and
smoked cigarettes. U felt like a prostitute. When the two
young blondes spoke to one another, U struggled to stay
alive. Then E called her and asked if its the right time or
maybe he should call her later. U ignored his question and
answered a different one. Okay, Ill come now. She went
back inside the building, together with the two girls, and told
her host that she needed to leave. Her best friend had just
called her and it sounded urgent. The blonde nurse ordered
U a cab and went down to the street to wait for it. He put his
hand around her waist and she smelled (not for the last time)
his bandages. It was like a hospital. He promised to contact
her the next day. And he did.

U entered the cab and asked the driver to stop two streets
from her apartment. She walked to the bar near her house
it was closed on Sunday. She didnt know what to do next.
Her apartment was too narrow. She walked south for a
couple of hours until she reached Is building. She knew the
door to the roof wasnt locked. She rang all the doorbells until
someone opened the buildings door, and she climbed up
the stairs until she reached the roof. Then she rested on her
back and looked at the darkness. There were hardly any stars
in the sky. She still smelled like a hospital. She waited for a
miracle until she fell asleep. In the morning, U walked back
home.

The young doctor called her the next day, but she didnt
answer. He also called the day after. She didnt answer. U
couldnt get rid of his smell. She smelled of sanitation. It lived
inside her nostrils. For months it was a part of her life. After
six months, she accepted the smell and then it was gone.

Unfortunately I All the popular words start with A C F I R S T.

Unfortunately II Z knows all the answersU can testify. Hes not brave
enough to pronounce them.
 U 108

USA Americans are orphans. They have no mythological parents.

Union D once said: The theme of the Gala was Fashion in the
Age of Technology, but it seemed that all of the celebrities
were dressed like ancient Greeks. When it comes to
futurism, human imagination always passes through Fritz
Langs Metropolis. The 1920s of the twentieth century
looked like one Met Gala. The nineteenth century rose
under the wings of new technologies that carried with them
fear and expectations. New forms of communication led
to new forms of warsociety couldnt keep the pace with
its own inventions. Futurism was the most dominant form
of escapism. Turning a deaf ear to present time caused
a greater crisis in the 1940s of the twentieth century.
Throughout the fifties, culture was under shock, recovering
from consequences and then finding a spiritual liberation
that continued on into the 1960s, 1970s, before falling ill
in the glorious festivity of the 1980s. The 1990s were the
middle child of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries,
falling between the old and the new to a modest form of
rage. The twenty-first century rose under the wings of new
technologies that carried with them fear and expectations.
New forms of communication led to new forms of war
society couldnt keep the pace with its own inventions. The
whole 1920s of the twentieth century looked like one long
Met Gala.
V 109

V
didnt expected Venezuela to be so exciting! She heard about
Caracas and the South American temperament, the exotic
flora and fauna, the rebellious attitude, the humbling poverty
thats spread beneath the people, tangling around their legs
like exotic roots yet keeping their feet on the ground.
She arrived at the art fair on the day she landed. There was
nothing in the hotel to keep her busy so she went for the
preview, and it was exactly like the previous preview in
Madrid and the preview previous to the preview, and the
previous preview, previous to that preview, so she felt at
home. More home than at home. After the preview, drinks
were served and stretched to a dinner and back to the
hotel for more drinks at the lobby and then to bedher
first night in Caracas. Nothing much really. She fell asleep
immediately and woke up in time for breakfast. The buffet
was like any buffet in a four star hotel. Then checking emails
and back to the fair. She was interested in Es paintings
and was eager to hear him talk about his work, but the
paintings were completely forgotten from the moment he
arrived. E was off. There was something off about him. She
didnt know exactly what she meant (not because shes
French, her English was superb)he wasnt like a regular
artist. He refused to talk about his work and claimed to be
sick. She asked if he wanted anything, and his answer was
laconicto commit suicide. E was taller than her (it wasnt
hard) and looked impatiently through her. V thought he was
hot. They had a drink at the bar with his galleries and some
friends; they were all swallowed by the background. E was
always in the frontintelligent and funnyE was better
than his paintings. After dinner they went to the hotel and
sat down in the lobby surrounded by friends and colleagues.
E said that he needed to go to his room and then he didnt
return. V pressed his galleries to call him and his galleries
did, so E returned to the lobbybarefoot, unbuttoned
white shirt, and black trainers. He looked like a rock star. He
ordered an orange juice and they both sat on a leather couch
in a dark corner of the lobby. They were not alone, for an
Asian collector was sitting next to them. She was too drunk
to talk, her moods were swinging from tragic-melancholy to
an absolute thrill, dozing off and waking up covered with guilt
and self-hate. E and V, on the other hand, were silent.
V 110

They hunched over their phones and were texting one

another.
V asked E if he has a girlfriend. He replied, I have someone,
but without commitment. She answered, The same . . .
I want to kiss you. E answered, Not here. They both
straightened up, raised their heads from their cell phones,
and walked away. V led E to her bedroom. They both landed
drunk on Vs bed. It was magical.
The next day, V told E that she had decided to stay longer in
Caracas, as long as hes staying. Their days together were
beautiful. V was falling carelessly in love. She asked E to
come and visit her in Paris. He told her that he would be
visiting London in a month. They shared a taxi cuddled in the
back seat and later drank coffee before separating. V had to
go back to Paris and E back to New York.

What a relief! Shes finally gone! A moment alonefinally!

E recalled the time they took a bath with expensive soaps
shed bought the same day. She rested her head on Es
torso. They were covered with foam and water, staring
into each others eyes. Her short hair was erected in one
big spike. Her round smiling face resembled a little boy. E
wanted to strangle that boy.
She couldnt see it. His eyes had curtains.
While drinking his coffee and celebrating his loneliness, E
was reflecting on his feelings for V. His hope for a great
romance smothered his instincts.

The next month, V noticed that her grip over Es heart

was loosening dramatically. She watched closely how the
realization paradox was stomping on her newborn feelings.
They skyped twice. The first meeting, they walked around
their apartments with their laptops. During the second Skype
session, she took off her shirt and kept talking to him naked.
She told him that she had organized a dinner for his first day
in Paris. Twelve of her best friends would join in. It had been
two or three years since she had felt anything for someone
and she was thrilled to launch the affair.

She never saw him again. A day before his arrival, he

wrote her that hes not showing up. They had a short email
exchange where he avoided most of her questions and at
one point stopped replying. Vs emails then grew longer,
furious at first and then forgiving, until she stopped writing.
A year later, they became Facebook friends.
 V 111

Version His father told him tales of the Iliad and the Odyssey. At
Christmas 1829, when he was seven years old, he received a
copy of Ludwig Jerrers Illustrated History of the World from
his father. A year later, Little Heinrich decided that one day he
would excavate the city of Troy.

Heinrich Schliemann, at the age of fourteen, had to leave

school because his parents couldnt support his education.
He worked in a grocery store for five years and then sailed
to Venezuela. Unfortunately, his ship didnt reach South
America but foundered in a storm, and he found himself with
other survivors on the shores of The Netherlands.

The first languages he learned were Greek and Russian, and

by the end of his life he could speak Dutch, French, Spanish,
Portuguese, Swedish, Polish, Italian, Greek, Latin, Russian,
Arabic, Turkish, and German. He claimed that it took him six
weeks to learn a language and write his diary in the language
of the country where he happened to be.

Schliemann was involved in forgery (divorce papers,

consignment papers, and documents for US citizenship) and
some stories in his memoir are proven to be pure fantasy
(claiming to dine in Washington with President Millard
Fillmore and his family).

By the age of thirty-six, Heinrich was wealthy enough to

retire. He decided to dedicate his life to the excavation of
Troy. Troy wasnt the only city in Schliemanns life. One of his
most famous exploits was disguising himself as a Bedouin
and having a late circumcision to gain access to the forbidden
areas of Mecca.

He believed that the city of Troy was in the south of Turkey,

and with the guidance of a local archeologist, Frank Calvert,
he started to dig in Hissarlik, on land owned by Calverts
family. He was convinced that Troy was in that area. At
the age of forty-seven, Heinrich advertised for a wife in a
Greek newspaper and married a seventeen-year-old, Sophia
Engastromenos.

Heinrich and Frank dug in haste through the levels,

attempting to reach the lowest ones which they thought to
be Homeric Troy. Two years later, Heinrich found a box with
ancient jewels and smuggled the treasure out of Anatolia.
 V 112

The Turkish officials were informed when his wife, Sophia,

wore the jewels in public. The Ottoman official assigned
to watch the excavation, Amin Effendi, received a prison
sentence. Heinrich called the treasure Priams Treasure.
Turkish authorities were furious and refused to let him enter
their land. He then traded some treasure to the government
of the Ottoman Empire in exchange for permission to dig at
Troy again.

In 1876, he discovered the Shaft Graves, with their

skeletons and more regal gold (including the so-called
Mask of Agamemnon). The authenticity of his findings is
questionable. They are actually a thousand years older than
Homers Troy, who died about 1200 BC. His excavations
were clumsy. He dug too deep, through the layers, and
completely destroyed the Homeric age of the city of Troy.

Validation Everything written here is an absolute truth. This text is the

key for the universes narrowest gate. Watch your step.

Value Art is the right place to have no moral values. Art is the right
place to have moral values. Same thing with sports.
 W 113

W
stopped existing a couple of years ago. Ws name was
erased from all the lists in Belgium. They assumed he had
left the country. W heard it when he tried to vote for the
national elections. Voting in Belgium is a civic duty, not a
privilege. Then they said that they couldnt find him. He called
later to the national registration office and they confirmed
what the people in the other office had already said: theres
no W in the system.

He didnt know how or when exactly it happened. He

probably disappeared after high school. He wasnt
registered in any apartment, because he lived together
with five students, no gas, no electricity, no Internet. When
he traveled in Europe, he didnt need to show too many
documentsBelgium is part of the European Union.
From that moment on, W tried to prove his existence to the
authorities. He was directed from one office to another until
he had to contact places without an address. He called one
office that asked him, Who directed you to this number.
W answered, The previous office, and the current office
replied, We need the full name of the person who directed
you. He deepened his expedition into civil bureaucracy. He
was being directed from one person to the other until he
reached an official in Belgium who had direct excess to the
registered names in Belgium. W explained to the man that
he didnt exist. The man on the other side agreedhe didnt
see any W on the list. W wondered, Is there any way to be
added to the list? The official on the other side told W that
there is no one in the world who is allowed to add names to
that list. Including him, himself; he cant add or delete anyone
from the list. Even dead men stay there.
You will need to immigrate to Belgiumthats the only way
I can register a grown man.
But I am Belgian. Both of my parents were born here.
W! You dont exist. Immigrating is the least you could do.
And so he did.

Warning The form of life coaching described in this book wont lead
the reader to social recognition or financial success. If one of
the two occurs after reading this text, it is a coincidence.
This book aims to expose the owners of an innocent heart
 W 114

to realitys true structures and to utilize them for spiritual

growth so their soul and body evaporate into the abstract.

We I Are anti-heroes.

We II The gods adopted the attitude of human beings. There was

fighting, jealousy, adultery, happiness, truth, and peace.
Thats the reason these things survived.

Weakness Can turn to strength with the wrong amount of

interpretations.

W used to visit London on a daily basis. He studied music in

Belgium and used the Music Library in London for research.
At that time, the underwater tunnel between the United
Kingdom and Europe was still under construction and the
citizens used ferries to reach the city. W used the ferry
frequently, and on that day (he wont forget it) he walked
onto the improvised bridge, as he walked any other day. He
noticed the group of American students, standing at the gate
where the bridge starts, and came to say hi. They were
kind and friendly and he almost stayed for a long chat, but
then he remembered the couch. There were not so many
people in the ferry, and if he reacts fast enough he could
pass the time resting on the ferrys couch. W separated
from his American friends and hurried to the ferry. When
he crossed the bridge, he noticed a small gap between the
containers below him; he could see the water below. The
bridge was wobbly, but dont all bridges wobble? He entered
the ferry. A few minutes laterthe bridge collapsed and
fifteen people died, among them the American students
who had been standing at the entrance. W had to wait for
twenty hours in the ferry while the rescue forces, police,
and ambulances entered the scene. There were no iPhones
then, and the passengers couldnt communicate with
anyone outside the ferry. Ws mother knew that her son was
using the ferry, so she called the authorities and described
his features, and the authorities told her that there was a
dead body with similar featuressame height, same hair,
same age, can she call in twenty minutes? They need to
check the color of his eyes.
Ten minutes later W called his mother to tell her that he was
okay. She released a raw sound of relief that W wont forget.
She sounded like an wounded animal, he said.
 W 115

What It is what it is
Deeper meaning appears
after searching for a deeper meaning.

White I Is not a color.

White II No decision = Black Decision.

White III Black, Black.

White IIII Gray doesnt exist.

White IIIII The world is made of 75% water and 25% land.

Womb I J and his brothers were staying in Cronuss belly for more
than fifty years. They couldnt die there because they were
born immortals. Meanwhile, their brother Zeus was living
free outside of their fathers belly. After reaching manhood,
Zeus forced his father to disgorge first the stone that his
mother offered him, then his siblings in reverse order of
swallowing. In some versions, Metis gave Cronus an emetic
to force him6 to disgorge the babies, or Zeus cut Cronuss
stomach open. Then Zeus released the brothers of Cronus,
the Gigantes, the Hecatonchires, and the Cyclopes, from
their dungeon in Tartarus.

As a token of their appreciation, the Cyclopes gave him

thunder and lightning, which had previously been hidden
by Gaia. Together, Zeus and his brothers and sisters, along
with the Gigantes, Hecatonchires, and Cyclopes, overthrew
Cronus and the other Titans. The defeated Titans were
then cast into a shadowy underworld region known as
Tartarus. Atlas, one of the Titans who had fought against
Zeus, was punished by having to hold up the sky.

Womb II On the ferry from San Francisco Bay to Alcatraz, they

play an informative sound recording about the history of
the island. The recording is playing Alcatraz: Not Just an
Island.

Womb III There is a documentary about a twenty-one-year-old British

boy who went on a killing spree. The killer is prettya thin
long face, cigarette in his mouth attached to no hand, and
suspicious eyes staring at the camera. A better-looking Sid
Vicious. Hes serving a life sentence in England, one of forty-
 W 116

five corrupted and deprived prisonersserial killers, cold-

blooded murderers, and sadistic psychopaths.

Women Pandora was the first woman on earth. She was the
punishment created by Zeus to revenge Prometheus, who
had stolen fire from heaven. Pandora was sent to meet
Prometheuss brother Epimetheus. Pandora opened a jar
and all the evil of the world flew outdeath, fear, violence,
greed, cruelty, pain, and much more. She hastened to close
it, but everything was already released into the world. The
only thing left inside was hope.

Words I Chill.
Keep your dignity.
Have a proofreader.

Words II The legends suggest that Homer, the writer of The Iliad and
the Odyssey, was a singer who recalled and told the ancient
stories of our times. Singing was the safest way to pass
on history in the oral arena. When words are connected to
one another in a tune, its harder to revised them and easier
to memorize them. Homer was such a popular singer and
storyteller that people decided to record his stories, songs,
and lectures. They invented a range of signs that were
written down on parchment; one could reconstruct from it
sounds and repeat Homers stories hundreds and thousands
of years later. These signs were the Greek alphabet.

Words III Writing is not an embarrassing activity. The wrong use of

words can lead to an embarrassing reaction.

Words IIII A few words about the poet: Ive known him for three
weeks now and he looks and behaves like one long
quotation. He does it with devotion and grace and its hard
not to fall for him like a chicken in a cage. He smokes
heavily, though his smoke isnt thick and heavy but rather
full of inspiration like perfume. T is a gallerist and a poetry
enthusiast. The poet said that he noticed it right away. T
asked how and the poet said that when they first met, as his
forehead and nose bumped into her, he felt how warm Ts
nose was. She asked what that has to do with anything, and
he answered, Your nose is warm because you stay home
all day reading poetry. His simplicity astounded her.

Words V Are words.

X 117

X
found herself tied together with Is life like a thread in a braid,
and it immediately felt strong and warm. She couldnt believe
that Is shoulder would turn cold so quickly. Is detachment
scared X.

I asked for Xs help in a video art production. Shed been

told that the first filming was canceled due a massive
snowstorm, and the former producer had to leave the city
the next day. The productions highlight was turning Is
backyard into a swimming pool. I told X that they needed to
cover the backyard walls with a tarp and flood it with water. I
also offered her free life coaching services. The timing was
greatX was in a constant quest for adventure. She had just
left a relationship based on sex, her partner had fallen in love
in with her flatmate, and now they were both having loud
sex in Xs apartment. X moved to live with her aunt on the
Upper West Side and started a quirky affair with a Turkish
soap opera actor. They met on Tinder. His name was Ali. They
communicated with emojis until they met, because Ali didnt
speak Englishhe was a tourist. They spent a romantic
night, letting their instincts penetrate the oral boundaries of
language. The next morning, they woke up to the chirping
sound of a new love affair. Ali was visiting New York for a
short while after his character had been shot by the star of
the series. The star asked the producers to kill Ali, but his
agent reached a compromise, and it was just a coma.

X told Ali, the morning before the filming, that they might
have no time to meet that day because of the video
production. She then met I and they both walked in and out
of supermarkets and hardware stores, buying whatever was
missing for filming. X found a key chain doll of bear dressed
as batman in one of the stores. She explained to I that she
would love to give it to Alihis niece was a huge fan of
Batman and that would be the perfect good-bye gift.

They arrived at Is apartment. Ali wrote that he was going

to dinner with an old friend from Istanbul and would speak
to her later. X seemed worried. She wrote him that she cant
stay up too late because she needs to wake up early. She
wrote him as simply as possible. Problem. Cant be too
X 118

late. Tomorrow and day after tomorrow working. Ali didnt

answer. I and X were curious to see how the evening would
end.

I decided to tell X about the realization paradox. X shook

her head in disbelief. No, it cannot be. Their four-day affair
must end with a keychain. After a couple of hours, Ali wrote
back and asked where and when they should meet. X had
to write him that they cant meet, because she is working
tomorrow and its too late. Ali asked again. They exchanged
words. X sat on the floor and leaned on the wall. She was
still considering paying Ali a visit, just so she could give him
the gift.

Ali then sent another message and X moaned, He ruined

it. The message was Fuck you and another message
followed: Im alone, X, fuck you. I was surprised to have
such a quintessential illustration of the realization paradox.
Destiny is closing in on you X, said I, A rock is clogging
your tomb. Alis response was violent. He kept texting
short messages, winding between Bitch, Fuck you, and
Liar.
A brutal ending to a gaudy love affair.

X didnt give up. She took a photo of the keychain Batman

bear-doll she had bought, but the gods of technology kept
setting obstacles in her way and autocorrect changed her
text messagebought him a present today.
X was quick to change ityou = himbut to little avail.
Alis response was immediate:

im alone I
Fuck you
There are robin.7

The next day, X and Ali were in touch during the filming. Ali
apologized for his behavior, and X forgave him. They didnt
see one another that day. X and I were busy covering Is
backyard with a tarp. They used two layers of tarps and tied
their edges with ropes to the concrete fences. X was pulling
the tarp away from the courtyard walls and created a bowl
of tarp in the center. They attached the hose to the tap at
the bathroom sink and let the other side of the hose rest at
the bottom of the tarp bowl. After a couple of hours, it was
already night, so they left Is apartment and sat in a sak
 X 119

bar nearbythey ordered soft-shell crab, Ramen noodles,

and finished three bottles of sak. When they returned to
Is apartment, they looked at the huge bowl of water in the
center of the courtyard. The weight of the water was putting
enormous pressure on the tarp. Parts of it were ripped from
the ropes and walls. The water level was forty centimeters
high, but the structure was already falling apart. They kept
the water running. X opened the couch in the living room. I
gave her sheets, pillows, and blankets. They prepared their
alarm clocks for every couple of hours, so each of them
would wake up on the hour and check the pool. X woke up
after one hourthe ropes were holding the tarp in four or
five spots. The rest was torn off the walls, after surrendering
to the water. X wrote a text message to I, suggesting that
they close the tap, climbed on the backyard wall, and took a
photo of the swimming poolit was such a special site! In
the midst of winter. She went back to the living room and fell
asleep on the couch.
A sound of explosion woke her up. The tarp collapsed with
the water, which then flooded the neighbors yards. She
could hear the water running. It was 3 a.m. and everything
was dark outside. She noticed that the water was still
pouring from the hose, so she went to the bathroom and
turned off the tap.
She then stood next to Is bed and stated calmly, The
pool just exploded and the water is flooding the neighbors
courtyards. The words were hitting hard. I left bed with her
eyes shut and sleepy; the cogwheels were slowly moving,
like a music box, trying to repeat a familiar tune. She heard
the water rushing and flowing in from outside. The sound
was vivid and humble. I turned on the light in the backyard
and saw the tarp lying flat on the backyard ground like a dead
fish skin. The water kept flowing in between the courtyards,
while the defeated piece of tarp prevented them from
going down the drain. I picked up a kitchen knife from the
kitchen and went out to the backyard, pulled up her trousers
and stepped in the cold water. She cut the tarp in several
places at the center of the yard and then lifted it. She heard
the water pouring down the drain. She tore the tarp with
her hands, so when she dropped it on the ground, the cut
was big enough to let the water flow down. Her legs were
freezing. Surprisingly, her eyes and brain refused to open up.
No familiar tune was heard.

Xanthochromic Yellow (Greek).

 X 120

X-Catcher In old naval slang, an X-catcher or X-chaser was someone

who was good at mathliterally someone good at working
out the value of x.

Xenodochy A seventeenth-century word for hospitality. If youre

xenodochial, then you like to entertain strangers.

Xenization A nineteenth-century word meaning the act of traveling as

a stranger.

Xenoglossy The ability to speak a language that youve apparently never

learned.

Xenophobia Europe.

Xiphoid Nero was one of the maddest emperors of Rome, just like
his great uncle Caligula. He was notorious for his erratic and
cruel behavior. He even killed his own mother. They used
to be very close and she ruled Rome with him but didnt
approve his girlfriend and poisoned her to death. Nero was
furious and decided to assassinate her. So he staged an
accident while she was sunbathing along the Roman Riviera.
A large weight dropped on her and injured her shoulder. She
knew it was her son, so she sent him a messenger who
said, Ill see it as an accident. Nero was a quick thinker and
stabbed the messenger to death. Then he claimed that his
mother had just sent an assassin to kill him. He then sent a
group of soldiers to kill his mother.
Y 121

Y
was quite limited when it came to communication. Although
she was popular and friendly, there was something in the
space around her that prevented her from reaching out. Her
arms were significantly shorter in relation to the rest of her
body. It wasnt her fault. Her parents were both famous
painters, and her brother was an actor, so it was quite
natural that she would be born with shorter arms and good
intentions. She always felt at home, even when she left her
homepeople made her feel part of their family, because
her parents were a household name. Life was falling on her
like soft fabric, she didnt experience any setbacks, and her
horses were running freely in the fields. Her parents owned
them. She kept in touch with all of her ex-lovers and ex-
boyfriends not because she wanted to, but because they
wanted to. And they kept in touch with her not because they
wanted to, but because she kept in touch with them. They
were all being the better personit was a win-win situation.

In her twenties, Y (such a pretty name!) didnt notice that

her hands were shorter. When she had to reach the salt or
pepper, there was always someone on the other side of the
table who handed them to her. When she left the restaurant
and walked down the street, all the guys were whistling with
two fingers in their mouths and asking for an autograph and
telling her that shes looking kinda fly, and she responded
with a friendly/witty rhymeit was cinema. Her life was art
and she was the masterpiece, everything was lovable. Y
was generous enough to find beauty in the most repulsive
creature. She pitied the deformed for their misfortune, failing
to notice her own arms. One couldnt blame Y for ignoring
her fault. In her youth it was all about her parents and in
her early twenties it was all about sex. She hardly survived
her late twenties because it was all about potential, and her
particular one was impossible to realize.

The social landscape that surrounded her was changing

in front of her eyesfrom a dry flatland to green hills and
tragic valleys, and Y stood stillshe noticed that there was
something in her head that prevented her from growing,
but there was something in her family that prevented her
from falling. Or the oppositesomething . . . something.
Y 122

She didnt see the point of following that thought. On her

thirtieth birthday, she experienced the first time she was
overshadowed by a mountainit wasnt just a mountainit
was a dark goth cliff. And its shadow was dark goth, too.
So dark and goth that it was like nighttime all around her.
Thats the first time she felt a fundamental change in the
proportions of her arms. She didnt look at them on purpose;
she was staring at the shadow that was covering the ground,
and as soon as the suns rays maneuvered the shadow
away, all she noticed was her short arms. She blinked and
then went home, thinking it was an optical illusion, that it
just couldnt be. Just couldnt . . . She called her brother, the
actor, and asked him to be honest with herafter he agreed,
she asked about her arms. He said no, and she felt relieved.
I just looked at them and raised them in front of me and
they seem so short!, she said, and he answered, Off
course they are short. Yes they are short. Everybody knows
all the time that you have short arms. Nobodys perfect. Chill
Y. She couldnt. All of her parents friends were doctors,
so she asked for advice, and one doctor suggested to
take a tiny piece from her legs and add it to her arms and
shorten the body a bit, so it would be proportional again. She
considered it for a week. It was clearly her only option. That
must have been the reason for her, for her . . . she couldnt
even say it. It means it was! It was!
Her cousin was a surgeon; he was a corrupted genius, which
was good and bad, but she had no choiceit was familyso
he did it. He marked with a blue pastel color the parts that
needed to be taken and anesthetized her so hard that she
woke up a year older. There was no one next to her when
she opened her eyes. She looked at her surroundingsall
vegetables and plants in pots. She tried to raise her head, but
her neck and back were missing essential muscles. Its lonely
at the top and lonelier at the bottom. Her family and friends
came for a visit and showed some support, but only when
she looked at them. They were gone the moment she turned
her back and when she fell asleep she dreamed about them
dropping dead and piling up in a brothers grave. It made her
feel bad, but thats what she wanted.

On her thirty-fifth birthday, she left the hospital on crutches

surrounded by the same group of repulsive creatures she had
once treated with respect and witty remarks. They walked
her back home, sat around her, and took off the bandages
that had been wrapped around her arms for over a year.
 Y 123

White pieces of Styrofoam fell off with the bandages. Y

had lost her arms completely! There was nothing there. Her
body looked like summer clothing. She was armless. The
deformed and the repulsive pitied her; they felt as if it was
they who had lost their arms.

Ys corrupted cousin sold her arms to a bunch of Albanian

fishermen who used them as a snack for seagulls.
Her arms were gone. She didnt need them anyhow. She
sat at home surrounded by a first circle of loving friends
who complimented her smile and attitude, and a second
circle of the most dramatic mountains in the world, casting
their shadow over her entourage. She was sitting in the
center, talkative and loudthe deepest valley around. The
sun shifted aside the mountains shadow, and the tired sun
stroked Ys face. She raised her head and stared bravely at
the sunshe was a myth, she was alive, she was hopeless.

Moral of the story: Kill your parents.

Yeezy B bought the shoes because she always wants what

everyone else wants. She ordered them on Alibaba for
$30, because she always supports what everyone else is
boycotting. B is carrying the world on her shoulders. Balance
is her priority. Justice and peace are secondary.

Yellow Own your death. Own both sides of the coin. Its money.

You I Second Person.

You II A political text. A stuttering manifest. The only

representative. The worst one. A lifetime to operate in the
void.

You III Never learn.

You Must Be D came to a house party of a close friend. After several hours
Fun at Parties of excessive drinking and indefinite exchange of harmless
words, the hostess turned the music down and went to the
kitchen. A few minutes later she was surrounded by thankful
guests waiting for the words to spill out of her mouth. D was
standing among them. The hostess took a sip from a glass
of red wine and placed it on the top of the fridge. Her words
were surging out, A Swedish woman, a friend of mine, Im
sure you know her, never mind, ha ha, told me once that
Y 124

there is no wind in Sweden. Yes, yes, thats what she said!

On her first winter in New York City, she stayed home and
watched TV. Suddenly she heard the building door slamming.
She went to corridor furious, to greet the uninvited guest,
ha hashe was mad! There was no one at the entrance.
She thought at first that it was a ghost, but a second before
she turned around, it happened againbam! The door
slammed again!! Ah ahshe was shocked, she had never
experienced wind beforeshe was from Sweden. The have
no wind in Sweden. The hostess held her glass with a smile
stretched on her face and changed its form when the glass
touched her lips. The guests were puzzled and the silent rose
from a casual disbelief.
Im sure there is wind in Sweden, this country is
surrounded by the sea and its exposed to wind, said D,
who felt comfortable contradicting the hostess because he
knew her very well and had more confidence. But she is
Swedish! I know her, she wouldnt lie, cried another guest
whom D had met on the same evening. She wouldnt lie,
repeated the hostess, her eyes focused on the top left part
of the room. She wasnt looking, for she was doubting her
story. Something in it really didnt make sense. Maybe
the right way to look at it is that this particular Swede has
never experienced a strong wind, while other Swedes have
experienced strong wind. Maybe her experiences have
nothing to do with her nationality, D said to rectify the
situation. An imperceptible sigh passed through the friendly
visitors. The hostess found the solution suitable and raised
her glass gloriously to D, adding confident eye contact and a
closed-mouthed smile.
Z 125

Z
It wasnt Us fault for having Z as a friend. She was stiff,
hard, critical, with a great weakness for drugs. That left
very few options for friendship in Amsterdam. Z was weak,
friendly, talkative, open, and was also an excessive consumer
of drugs. They both disapproved of one anothers behavior.
Z found Us compulsive and critical approach rude and
demoralizing, while U on the other hand saw Z as a dumb-
friendly tool who can shift easily from darkness to light and
uses words so thoughtlessly that one could hum to them. Z
words contained nothing but sound.

U and Z were both citizens of countries outside of the EU

(he was South African, she was Estonian), and so when they
were accepted to de Ateliers in Amsterdam, they had to wait
three month for a visa, and when they ended their residency,
they shared their final presentation. They had to fill empty
spaces at the buildings entrance: U placed her Eastern
European videos in front of her Eastern European objects,
and Z stretched flags across the walls, marking the floor with
South African beer bottles.

They chose an image for the invitation card together (a large

plant that was placed in the back entrance of the institute)
and sent it to every curator, artist, and friend they knew. Then
they mailed the invitation to whomever they knew, and even
wrote personal emails to several curators. One of them was
a director of one the biggest museums in Maastricht. U had
been in touch with him for a couple of years, since he had
visited her studio. He replied to their email immediately, and
Z, in a confident move, responded with both of their names,
left his details, and sent it.

On the first day of their presentation, no visitors came but

their fellow friends and a couple of local teachers who had
an appointment with the secretary that day. The same
evening, a storm hit Amsterdamrelentless wind shifted
capriciously and the pouring rain fell in diagonal lines from
one side to the other. The storm continued the next day
and the one that followed. The weather forecast didnt
foresee a break. U and Z were hanging out in their studio,
and guarding their presentation in shifts. On the evening of
Z 126

their last day, U and Z were both sitting on the floor at the
entrance of the institute, defeated to the point of apathy. No
one had visited their presentation during the past week. They
were letting a faint conversation roll between them. U was
leaning comfortably with her head against the wall and Z
was resting on his elbow, leaning on his elbows. They were
both relaxed and calm as one should be in the presence of a
close friend, when Zs phone suddenly rang. Z stared at the
phone and rose quickly from the floor. He walked away from
U, letting his cell ring one more time. He answered the call
out of Us sight. She saw him disappearing in the hallway
on the ground floor and heard his voice (because of the high
ceiling) echoing, Hi, weve been waiting for you . . . Yes
. . . horrible rain . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Oh really? That would
be great, when? Next weekend? I think we can . . . Yes we
can keep the show . . . Yes . . . Good. Thank you! See you
next week, bye . . . Z came out of the corridor and went
back to his place on the floor. He sat in the same position
as he had been sitting before. He stared at the floor, like a
patient waiting for his doctor in a clinic. They kept sitting
in silence, Z calm as death watched by U who brushed off
her apathy and exposed an intense awareness of Zs body
language. Z seemed so bored and dry that any inquiry would
look like a confrontation. After a long pause, U rose from
the floor and said, So I guess tomorrow I will dismantle
my presentation. Z lifted his head, his face as relaxed as a
pillow:
You could leave it on.
Why should I do such a thing?
No reason . . .
So I will dismantle it.
Yes, I guess you should.

U didnt believe that Z would be capable of such an acta

man who celebrated friendship and human relations. After
dismantling her presentation, she went back home and
spent her days in bed, hiding her spirits under the blanket.
A surprising phone call changed the course of events and
flipped the coin on its side. An invisible hand came to her
help. It was the curator from Maastricht; he told U that he
was saddened to find out that her presentation was gone by
the time he arrived, but he could recover a documentation
of it through one of her teachers and offered her a solo
exhibition in the museum.
 Z 127

U kept resting in bed for many days. Mold grew on her arm,
shoulders, and the sides of her neck. She was waiting for
second phone call to confirm the first one, but after that
happened her road to success was clear.

A few years later, Z went back to South Africa. He grew a

belly and a ponytail, and the rumors are that hes teaching in
political art at the local university and is notorious for having
sex with his female students.

U, on the other hand, turned into a successful artist, fashion

model, and a scriptwriter for Hollywood comedies.

The End.
(A final one. No afterword.)

Zany In a remote area, far from any place known to man, was a
foreign country so alien that even its own citizens couldnt
pronounce its name. Their ancestors were fluent, but as
generations upon generations passed by, something went
wrong and it was lost along the way. No one can put a finger
on itmaybe language or just common sense. They were
missing an economy, a market, a capital. They just neglected
it, and then slowly it was gone. They survived on potatoes
and tourism. Not many people came, but when they visited
the unpronounceable land, they stayed for a week and paid
with their countrys coins. The biggest attraction was the
ABC Zoo that accommodated a limited number of animals
and a unique order. Except that there was an ancient temple
for an unspecified godonly his feet were left there. The
rest was gonebombed or stolen.

Zealot I Common sense is a gift that every sane mind receives and
only a brave heart can follow. All humans revolve on their
axis, reveling and unveiling the highest ends and the darkest
low. Their orbit is their nature and its movement reassures
one that they will sooner or later be facing the danger behind
its faade.
 Z 128

Zealot II An Instagram account with more than one thousand posts

implies that the owner suffers from obsessive-compulsive
disorder. One should erase and reduce the number of posts
to three digits.

Zealot III A video on Facebook shows rooftops of buildings and a

bright/dark blue sky. The camera doesnt pan and doesnt
zoom in or out. The title under the video is I love the sound
of it. Bye-bye Israel. One might mistake it for a poetic video
when its mute. Dont be mistaken! Turn on the sound and
hear the chirping birds and the caws of the crows waking
up in Tel Aviv. Your body shutters off emotions after two
seconds of sound. Remember the times you walked from
home to work or returned from a party and heard those
sounds. Empowered by loneliness, greeting life separate
from yours. Challenge your eye. Feel your chestits still
buzzing.
 129

1
The eye patch that the actor wore in the YouTube documentary
helped to identify him from the rest of characters.
2
Wikipedia s.v. Madonnawhore complex, last modified May 23, 2016,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madonna-whore_complex.
3
Its not entirely true.
4
V also sent a bouquet to Es apartment shortly upon his return.
This gesture together with the twelve guests dinner, scared E away.
5
Wikipedia s.v. Sirens and death last modified July 18, 2016,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siren_(mythology).
6
The stone was set down at Pytho under the glens of Mount Parnassus
to be a sign to mortal men, the Omphalos.
7
Batmans sidekick in DC Comics.
 130

Keren Cytter
AZ Life Coaching
The novel is published on the occasion of the exhibition
Keren Cytter Selection at Knstlerhaus, Halle fr Kunst & Medien
11.06. 08.09.2016
Curator / Director: Sandro Droschl
Managing Director / Curatorial Assistance: Helga Droschl
Technical Management: Max Gansberger
Set up: Darek Murawka & Team
Operated by: Kunstverein Medienturm im Knstlerhaus

Novel
Editor: Sandro Droschl; Knstlerhaus, Halle fr Kunst & Medien
Publisher: Sternberg Press
Text: Keren Cytter
Editing: Helga Droschl
Proofreading: Dawn Michelle dAtri, Helene Romakin
Design: Vasilis Marmatakis
Print & Binding: Pletsas-Kardari, Athens

2016 Keren Cytter, the editors, Sternberg Press.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction
in whole or part in any form.

ISBN 978-3-956792-68-7

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