So my dears, here I am, faithful to my promise to love, to cherish... Shit, wrong one, sorry - got carried away. In any case, continuation of my observation of a general brain declention of a modern day society: What is going on? I am surrounded by cows, donkeys and sheep, and they are not friendly but sadly mistaken humans, they are driven by stimuli domestic property! Awful! Look at them walk - they will tear you apart if you take a mistep. Look at them walk - is this how you cross a street?! Do you dart to and fro under a stranger's feet? And how about treating people on the street? Do you deliberately push an eating person's hand or make them feel like you will? Do you hover aroudn someone and breath in their neck? We have a proverb: when a man is drinking, even snake doesn't bite... But humans apparently will knock the hot dog out of your hand! For no other reason than an exercise of dubious, pathetic "power." And how about a fully grown up, adult woman who walks by a passer-by with her shopping bag, and smuggly whacks the person over a thigh without so much as a notice! This, ladies and gentlemen is a woman on heels, in a skirt and with make up. She obviously does office work. She is a fake blond. The look of satisfaction on her face is indescribable...Why? I ask. What has warranted such an intense act? A snap judgement that provided enough ground for hate to spill? And to hate so easily like an irrational animal without much insight and inner life...You are a human being, act like one, with dignity, that is. Why are they ok with it people? It is monstrous. Monstrous! Fuck, its not that I pity them who does that, I pity myself and the thousands and thousands years of civilization that are going down the drain. God bless America and the Freedom of Speech. People hundreds of years ago were better than we are now.They had Freedom of Speech and respect for that. That is so sad, people, so very very sad... But they nowadays, find a way to rationalize their own stupidity and sell it back to themselvs as "relativity". The postmodernist crap is getting to me, oh is it getting to me. I am a transcendentalist if I must be an -ist at all. My writting is great but remains to wish better.. Never fear - it (my writting style that is) will get better. I promise. By and by - listening to Henry Rollins. So should you. The guy is simply great. And yes, I like to think, don't be suprised, I always appreciated humor I just didn't have a luxury of time to indulge in it. Not that I have time now, but now I have anger. And that is almost as good as time. Defies the limits of time and space.
In any case, I am so hurt from stupidity why is it so abundant? Do they never think about how they look? Do they never reflect? Do they always run like rats? Are they rats? What goes through their narrow heads? Anything beyond the wind? What is going on, why is everybody seems to be in conspiracy against reason? Why words now trigger associations as opposed to a complete thought and sentence?
You've been there, friend, help me vent - join me and vent with me, like you used to. Or am I a year or two too late? Has my friend grown up and moved into the ranks of nihilists that seem to populate the margins of relativism? That cannot be, I hope.
Till soon...
Friday, July 14, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Unsafe New York Part Two A: The boundaries, the well wishers and us
This is an exposition on well-wishers.
The world is teaming with well wishers. Those who think we need to learn to eat better, those who think we need to be more social, those who think we need to dress differently. Oftentimes the problem is that one group with a world view 180 or more degrees different from you tries to advise - but intead they cripple. The worst is when uneducated about other points of view or unable to tell who you are and where you belong people try to advise. And they do it hard, not unlike the vendors from the stores trying to get you engaged in the conversation - they feel like they have a divine right to change you. They are the self appointed, modern day version of religious fanatics. The modern day school of good taste. If.
You REALLY SHOULD DO THIS. NO, REALLY, YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE CONVERTED INTO THAT CATHOLICISM, said he on the night of St. Bartholomeus...
To demonstrate, here is one example.
Your friends in the restaurant, take it upon themselves, as a Holy Crusade, to "socialize" you. Nobody asks you if you want to be socialized, nobody sees that you may be an introvert, interested in coming to the restaurant to eat, drink and retire. You internal state of mind maybe FUNDAMENTAL not only to your well being, but to the work you do: writting, painting, contemplating. But here they are, having decided that you need some TLC, and already a cute waiter is blushing to your table, accompanied by unsubtle giggling somewhere near. Sometimes it is more subtle, there are no giggles but only exchanged glances, smirks, a heavy atmosphere Sometimes it is trying to engage in a conversation while all you really want is to order some food off the menu. You statter, you stumble, you change colors, you don't know where to place yourself, and they are standing there, starring at you point blank, smilling friendly, drawing these words out of you like a dentist in the times past - teeth. But why, I want to ask them? Why are you pulling my teeth if I have no tooth ache to begin with? All my teeth are healthy, and please don't admisnister this volunteered help! I am a big person now, and can take care of myself.
At the end, the meal is ruined, the waiter is bland, and you have learned to mistrust your friends. The night is filled with longing that was not there, and your work, to which you have dedicated yourself now stands, and nothing will go.
The world is teaming with well wishers. Those who think we need to learn to eat better, those who think we need to be more social, those who think we need to dress differently. Oftentimes the problem is that one group with a world view 180 or more degrees different from you tries to advise - but intead they cripple. The worst is when uneducated about other points of view or unable to tell who you are and where you belong people try to advise. And they do it hard, not unlike the vendors from the stores trying to get you engaged in the conversation - they feel like they have a divine right to change you. They are the self appointed, modern day version of religious fanatics. The modern day school of good taste. If.
You REALLY SHOULD DO THIS. NO, REALLY, YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE CONVERTED INTO THAT CATHOLICISM, said he on the night of St. Bartholomeus...
To demonstrate, here is one example.
Your friends in the restaurant, take it upon themselves, as a Holy Crusade, to "socialize" you. Nobody asks you if you want to be socialized, nobody sees that you may be an introvert, interested in coming to the restaurant to eat, drink and retire. You internal state of mind maybe FUNDAMENTAL not only to your well being, but to the work you do: writting, painting, contemplating. But here they are, having decided that you need some TLC, and already a cute waiter is blushing to your table, accompanied by unsubtle giggling somewhere near. Sometimes it is more subtle, there are no giggles but only exchanged glances, smirks, a heavy atmosphere Sometimes it is trying to engage in a conversation while all you really want is to order some food off the menu. You statter, you stumble, you change colors, you don't know where to place yourself, and they are standing there, starring at you point blank, smilling friendly, drawing these words out of you like a dentist in the times past - teeth. But why, I want to ask them? Why are you pulling my teeth if I have no tooth ache to begin with? All my teeth are healthy, and please don't admisnister this volunteered help! I am a big person now, and can take care of myself.
At the end, the meal is ruined, the waiter is bland, and you have learned to mistrust your friends. The night is filled with longing that was not there, and your work, to which you have dedicated yourself now stands, and nothing will go.
"Unsafe New York" Part Two: shopping in the stores
Today's expedition is to the stores.
And how about shopping in the stores? A nightmare. You are going in with an idea to spend your hard earned dollars on some strawberry yogurt and plantain chips, savoring the prospect of a good breakfast complete with a strong cup of coffee, where suddenly, out of nowhere, jumps out the seller and "friendly" inquires as to what it is you want. The yogurt stand is facing you, the plantain chips are hanging right next to the register, and yet, although he catches you glance towards them, he, with a smile that allows no contradiction, stares at you without blinking to imply - tell me, tell me! When you, startled, lift your half asleep eyes to look upon his stretched out in a menacing grim -"smile" your brain goes blank... You try to mumble something in your defense, but to no avail.. The guy stiffens and starts looking at you point blank. A sensitive soul that a woman and an artist, plus a sleepy one is, she is startled, displeased and scared. But seriously, it is impossible to turn these guys down and tell them you know what you want. The other option from annihelating you with his eyes, look and sudden gestures meant to scare you, is a guilt trip. Sulking in a corner, he makes a sad face, conducts a hectic activity, throws a menacing look, showing his resentful eyes with no pupils, like wild dog's - any and all and sometimes all at the same time! How about that for a peaceful morning? It seems that you do not go shopping into a store, but enter the sanctum of someone's home. You are afraid to make a mistep, you are afraid to take things out of the fridge, you are afraid to say no, as one would never to a pimp to whom one owes-not-made-that-night-money.
Terrible!
And if you ignore the server?
Forget about it! You will get revenge. A wrong change, coins from another country, a misdirection if you are supid enough to ask for directions, an attitude, a whisper, a curse, and definitely a wish for your to break something upon exiting, prefferably outside of liability zone. And what if I actually have a life, and a level of development at which I am not interested in talking about things that a vendor may be interested in? Must I be all things to all people? Like a whore - whoever pays money is entitled? But the case is reversed here: I am the one to pay the money, and yet they are somehow entitled. It is not I apparently who support their business, but they support my heart attack, frustration, and a ruined morning. Must I turn an entry to a friggin' store into a conversation or an adventure? If I am open and the opportunity is invited - why not. But what if I am not open, don't want it and do not wish to engage? Apparently, even in the democracy, I don't have a choice: I MUST ENGAGE WITH THE VENDOR, even it spells ruined concetration, frustrated mind, and a level down. WHY? I support human rights and do my share of work. But when I go to the store, I HAVE A RIGHT TO REMAIN UNHARRASSED BY THE PERSON LIABLE TO PROVIDE ME WITH SERVICE UNDER CONDITIONS ENUMERATED, AND SO LONG AS HIS STORE IS A STORE AND I COMPLY WITH REGULATIONS. It is a business arrangement, and that is how I like it. I must not do anything besides choosing a product if I like it, and if I do decide to purchase it - pay for it. I must not even buy it if I look at it. But nowadays these local stores, especially, from my experience in the minority neighborhoods, have been turned into fiefdoms, with a gang hanging around in the store and around it, and the vendor being at liberty to harass women and men if he so desires. This is not United States of America, this is maybe Latin America or elsewhere. Well, my parents and I did not come to Latin America, we came to North America, United States, a country regulated by the Constitution and not a local mafia. If I wanted to live among Middle Ages consciousness, I would have chosen the country in accordance. There are business regulations and specifically non-harrassment regulations. I am entitled to vendors observing the regulations as long as they wish to continue to remain vendors.
Nobody forced them to open a business in the first place.
And the business is not a platform for a rackeetering, and promotion of one's perception of reality.
Because there are channels and avenues for that. The store, a place for us to go and purchase and not be engaged in anything else really, shall remain safe, neutral ground as it is designed to be.
Till soon.
And how about shopping in the stores? A nightmare. You are going in with an idea to spend your hard earned dollars on some strawberry yogurt and plantain chips, savoring the prospect of a good breakfast complete with a strong cup of coffee, where suddenly, out of nowhere, jumps out the seller and "friendly" inquires as to what it is you want. The yogurt stand is facing you, the plantain chips are hanging right next to the register, and yet, although he catches you glance towards them, he, with a smile that allows no contradiction, stares at you without blinking to imply - tell me, tell me! When you, startled, lift your half asleep eyes to look upon his stretched out in a menacing grim -"smile" your brain goes blank... You try to mumble something in your defense, but to no avail.. The guy stiffens and starts looking at you point blank. A sensitive soul that a woman and an artist, plus a sleepy one is, she is startled, displeased and scared. But seriously, it is impossible to turn these guys down and tell them you know what you want. The other option from annihelating you with his eyes, look and sudden gestures meant to scare you, is a guilt trip. Sulking in a corner, he makes a sad face, conducts a hectic activity, throws a menacing look, showing his resentful eyes with no pupils, like wild dog's - any and all and sometimes all at the same time! How about that for a peaceful morning? It seems that you do not go shopping into a store, but enter the sanctum of someone's home. You are afraid to make a mistep, you are afraid to take things out of the fridge, you are afraid to say no, as one would never to a pimp to whom one owes-not-made-that-night-money.
Terrible!
And if you ignore the server?
Forget about it! You will get revenge. A wrong change, coins from another country, a misdirection if you are supid enough to ask for directions, an attitude, a whisper, a curse, and definitely a wish for your to break something upon exiting, prefferably outside of liability zone. And what if I actually have a life, and a level of development at which I am not interested in talking about things that a vendor may be interested in? Must I be all things to all people? Like a whore - whoever pays money is entitled? But the case is reversed here: I am the one to pay the money, and yet they are somehow entitled. It is not I apparently who support their business, but they support my heart attack, frustration, and a ruined morning. Must I turn an entry to a friggin' store into a conversation or an adventure? If I am open and the opportunity is invited - why not. But what if I am not open, don't want it and do not wish to engage? Apparently, even in the democracy, I don't have a choice: I MUST ENGAGE WITH THE VENDOR, even it spells ruined concetration, frustrated mind, and a level down. WHY? I support human rights and do my share of work. But when I go to the store, I HAVE A RIGHT TO REMAIN UNHARRASSED BY THE PERSON LIABLE TO PROVIDE ME WITH SERVICE UNDER CONDITIONS ENUMERATED, AND SO LONG AS HIS STORE IS A STORE AND I COMPLY WITH REGULATIONS. It is a business arrangement, and that is how I like it. I must not do anything besides choosing a product if I like it, and if I do decide to purchase it - pay for it. I must not even buy it if I look at it. But nowadays these local stores, especially, from my experience in the minority neighborhoods, have been turned into fiefdoms, with a gang hanging around in the store and around it, and the vendor being at liberty to harass women and men if he so desires. This is not United States of America, this is maybe Latin America or elsewhere. Well, my parents and I did not come to Latin America, we came to North America, United States, a country regulated by the Constitution and not a local mafia. If I wanted to live among Middle Ages consciousness, I would have chosen the country in accordance. There are business regulations and specifically non-harrassment regulations. I am entitled to vendors observing the regulations as long as they wish to continue to remain vendors.
Nobody forced them to open a business in the first place.
And the business is not a platform for a rackeetering, and promotion of one's perception of reality.
Because there are channels and avenues for that. The store, a place for us to go and purchase and not be engaged in anything else really, shall remain safe, neutral ground as it is designed to be.
Till soon.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Unsafe New York
New York is unsafe. I know you know. But you don't know the extent of it - to buy an ice cream cone, to eat out at a public place, to walk down the street...What do you encounter? Harrassment. Of various kinds.
First, there is a mental anguish that is imposed upon you by the hateful looks and insinuations made to your skin color or gender: here comes the white girl. White? I want to say. Actually I have never chosen for myself to go by this term. I am a proud Caucasian. From Caucasess. Also, I am Russian and since we have gone to National points here, and have associated individuals with nations: I have saved your ass during both the Napoleonic War and WW2. How about that? Also, I have Jewish blood- are Jews white? Have you heard the term "Semite?" Also, I am a tranny - are trans people white? Or are they just trans? Or are they sub-human?Also, what if only in this light I apper white? What if only you see me as white? And, damn it, what is wrong with being white? And I am white. Ok. I am. So? National discrimination is illegal. What have I or my ancestors ever done to you? We have enslaved our own people in a manner of serfdom, after all... Not yours. Especially not Spanish. All claims shoud be made to Spain, you know. So, this projection on their part would be ok, if not for the fact that it is unsafe to buy an ice cream cone from a Hispanic fellow if you are white - he's got his home-buddies standing around the truck harrassing women with such sentiments as "ya chillin' hey?" They also tend to get really upset if you don't answer them or answer to tell them to keep to their own business. They make sure you are quite aware of their being upset by pusing you or saying something very nasty. They get away unharassed, and you, defending your right to being unharassed, do not get away but get more abuse.
That is because they, long ago, have made your business - their business. Whoppie la la. And no one, but no one has asked me, if its ok with me, or if interferes with my freedom of being? Now your right has infringed upon mine -no?Your right to feel more of a human being at my expense? And what about the fact that you actually intimidate me and ensure I don't come back to your friend's truck and will not purchase his ice cream? And will tell my sensitive artistic and humanitarian friends to stay away unless they want to busy themselves with verbal rebuttal during, before and after such a simple procedure as an ice cream purchase.
And in the restaurants? There is a rigid system of pecking order that by now has achieved such proportions that it interferes with my receiving a quality service and a meal that is not cold. The waiters are too busy masturbating one another and their manager, my meal gets in pieces and cold, checks are often - and with other people, my roommate will testify to that, come messed up or wrong or from another table. No one subscribed to Restaurant Mafia, you know, we all just want a meal during which our lives don't have to discontinue and become your property. The payment of the check? Forget it! It becomes an intricate psychological game of who-will-be-the-sucker to pick up that check with waitresses darting to and fro and busboys intimidatingly slamming the water containers on the bus station. And God forbid you ask the waiter that is not "yours"(didn't know I owned a waiter, slavery I guess is still in, after all) for a glass of water. You will be measured up and down, despised and looked at for another half an hour. Sorry, next time I will bring myh own bottle, I guess? Horrified facial expressions, sad face, dumb face, a true, real indignation. A real complex range of human emotions passes before one's eyes in a matter of seconds. God, I want to say- if I really made you so unhappy, let me leave and NEVER come back. I really don't like to see you this way!
To be continued after the boiling point will become reduced...
First, there is a mental anguish that is imposed upon you by the hateful looks and insinuations made to your skin color or gender: here comes the white girl. White? I want to say. Actually I have never chosen for myself to go by this term. I am a proud Caucasian. From Caucasess. Also, I am Russian and since we have gone to National points here, and have associated individuals with nations: I have saved your ass during both the Napoleonic War and WW2. How about that? Also, I have Jewish blood- are Jews white? Have you heard the term "Semite?" Also, I am a tranny - are trans people white? Or are they just trans? Or are they sub-human?Also, what if only in this light I apper white? What if only you see me as white? And, damn it, what is wrong with being white? And I am white. Ok. I am. So? National discrimination is illegal. What have I or my ancestors ever done to you? We have enslaved our own people in a manner of serfdom, after all... Not yours. Especially not Spanish. All claims shoud be made to Spain, you know. So, this projection on their part would be ok, if not for the fact that it is unsafe to buy an ice cream cone from a Hispanic fellow if you are white - he's got his home-buddies standing around the truck harrassing women with such sentiments as "ya chillin' hey?" They also tend to get really upset if you don't answer them or answer to tell them to keep to their own business. They make sure you are quite aware of their being upset by pusing you or saying something very nasty. They get away unharassed, and you, defending your right to being unharassed, do not get away but get more abuse.
That is because they, long ago, have made your business - their business. Whoppie la la. And no one, but no one has asked me, if its ok with me, or if interferes with my freedom of being? Now your right has infringed upon mine -no?Your right to feel more of a human being at my expense? And what about the fact that you actually intimidate me and ensure I don't come back to your friend's truck and will not purchase his ice cream? And will tell my sensitive artistic and humanitarian friends to stay away unless they want to busy themselves with verbal rebuttal during, before and after such a simple procedure as an ice cream purchase.
And in the restaurants? There is a rigid system of pecking order that by now has achieved such proportions that it interferes with my receiving a quality service and a meal that is not cold. The waiters are too busy masturbating one another and their manager, my meal gets in pieces and cold, checks are often - and with other people, my roommate will testify to that, come messed up or wrong or from another table. No one subscribed to Restaurant Mafia, you know, we all just want a meal during which our lives don't have to discontinue and become your property. The payment of the check? Forget it! It becomes an intricate psychological game of who-will-be-the-sucker to pick up that check with waitresses darting to and fro and busboys intimidatingly slamming the water containers on the bus station. And God forbid you ask the waiter that is not "yours"(didn't know I owned a waiter, slavery I guess is still in, after all) for a glass of water. You will be measured up and down, despised and looked at for another half an hour. Sorry, next time I will bring myh own bottle, I guess? Horrified facial expressions, sad face, dumb face, a true, real indignation. A real complex range of human emotions passes before one's eyes in a matter of seconds. God, I want to say- if I really made you so unhappy, let me leave and NEVER come back. I really don't like to see you this way!
To be continued after the boiling point will become reduced...
About me
Hello there! My name is Dana Zakharov, but in artistic circles I go by "Gabriel." I like to do many things, one of them is write. I decided to tell you less about me directly, and allow you to discover my aspects through my writting. After all, life is short, and art is long, only the purity of the art really matters. I am just the messenger.
Gabriel The Loyal to the Arts and Sciences.
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