December 6th, 2012
She said. One of the axioms for thinking and, if needed, writing. She can be a mother, a sister, a friend, a lover. Ex, imaginary or future one. It’s only obvious, in beautifully pained colours , that she said something. Not clear what was it that she said: it could have been misheard, neglected, heard with too much excitement. Sure of the fact that she said, otherwise why love when thinking? And yet, here – love. In dim light. Passing the rivers, the rooms, the bars where it still oscillates her said words.
Stopping to listen, a whisper, a singing, a scream, a demand.
Think of it like this – you are in a bright lit place, close your eyes and there are traces of light behind your eyelids. You open your eyes and it’s dead dark, close them as fast as you can,to look for the remnants of light – thinking what was it that you saw when the light still there.
Think of the dark as yourself and the light as she said, think of what it made of you, how it made you, love.
Turning you transparent and weightless. How you became easy to be torn and wounded and light enough to travel without taking a step in any direction.
November 25th, 2012
Forgive my tiredness, my silence, my dissipating eyes. Forgive my unsure way of walking.
The night has taken a hold of me too many a time. Let me sit here, with my mouth shut and my gaze wandering aimlessly. With my heart sunken to the bottom of the dark.
Let no light disturb and attract me.
Forget what I said, if I said something. Forget how I looked at you, for it must have been a glitch, no more. Forget how we danced – it surely been just a spirit passing.
Forget we woke up in the morning, a sunny one. Let no amount of brightness fool you.
Don’t offer your love or compassion – I have no patience for it. Don’t offer to look after me or walk me home – I prefer being unseen, lame, somewhere in the shadow of the skies.
Just pour me a drink – I think you owe me one.
November 15th, 2012
I took her on a bike, down to the capital city. Rather – we took us. Running from some random party in a small town, where we just met. Our eyes met. Our hearts. Or mine, at least.
I took her on a bike down the streets of Vilnius. The bridges, river running under.
She would get lost, at times. I would find her, oblivious, in pubs and casinos. And take her back. Back into the night of the luminous city.
I’d take her in my palm, the size and weight of a dead squirrel, and walk her, holding carefully, on the banks of Neris. Waiting till she wakes up. And kiss her.
I don’t know why, but I told her: if we ever were to break up, I will jump from this bridge.
To which she said: stupid you, why you say that? You should say you’d wait till we meet some time later and do all this again.
I looked into her eyes and the light came. Everything was ruined, again.
October 27th, 2012
Light. One and Two standing, facing the wall (opposite to the one One was facing in Scene 1). Scene full of noises (burps, screeches, cracks etc.) and various things (buckets, wood pieces, plastic etc.).
There also lay bodies that are dragged off the scene in a random pattern.
Can be supplemented by a video projection of a pair kissing.
One: Don’t know what else to say, speaking makes my head ache.
Two: True that. What the fuck happened?!
One: Look at this (pointing to his arm). Does it mean there is Four? I can’t remember anything. And the smell.
Two: The smell! God, we are fucked.
One: Should’ve stayed. Terrible choices.
Two: Were they?
Two: Choices. Were they choices?
One: As far as I remember they must have been.
Two: As far as you remember my ass.
One: Urgh, stop discussing. It does not help. I don’t care you or me is right, whichever. For God’s sake, stop aching!
Two: You’re right.
One: Know what?
One: I can’t decide whether I would want to go or stay.
One: No no, that’s the point. I don’t know. But it’s terrible here. Only that thing on my arm keeps me hoping.
Two: For what?
One: That there is or was, in any case, Three, maybe Four and even Infinity.
Two: Yeah, last time your hope took us to this shithole…
One: A hypothesis which is not yet disproved, mind you, my dear!
Two: And that counts as an argument for all this ‘go’ thing, right?
One: It might.
Two: Or it might not.
One: Damn, if I could only remember where this thing came from. It could have been beautiful then, all this – bearable.
One rubs his arm.
Two demonstratively scratches his.
Two: Just making an argument.
One: Can’t deny this, I know. It could have been much worse for you. You could have been alone all this time.
Two: Thanks for compassion, companion.
For a moment all the noise stop – it’s completely silent on the scene.
Two: Tell me.
Two: Would you rather have stayed?
One: Can’t decide.
Two: OK, will ask differently, would you rather have never knew of going?
One: Makes no sense.
One: Your question, makes no sense.
Two: Well, yeah, but it’s a good one, nonetheless.
One: I’ll give you that.
Two claps his hands in delight.
One: I’m tired. I won’t go and I won’t stay.
Two: I know, you have no choice, neither do I.
One: It might have been…
Two: Three, Four…
October 11th, 2012
One laying besides Two. Two with his head up and facing the emptiness. Two buckets by each side of the pair. One, with white liquid – near Two. The other – with red – by One. A bit further from each bucket lies a hose. Dim light. Can be supplemented by a video of a pair sitting side by side.
One: Now I know how pleasurable that thing is.
Two: I still don’t agree that I lost the bet.
One: Well, someone must turn something on and off for those hoses to fill the buckets.
Two: By hypothesis, yes, but we haven’t seen anyone do that, it could be automatic, for all we know.
One: It wouldn’t matter, for it would, then, by sheer logic, be Three – me, you and the automat.
Two: Right, assuming…
One: What? You should be happy that I came to lay besides you.
Two: Doesn’t matter. I want to go, Three or no Three.
One: No, not so fast, don’t you enjoy here? The red drink. The noise, the pleasure.
Two: Yeah, for you. Me? The white drink, headache, or, more precise, neckache and that itch of not knowing the pleasure anymore. Even more so, since you say it’s constant now.
One: A bet is a bet, we can’t change rules, you know.
Two: Yes yes, I do. Doesn’t help, though.
Takes a sip, grimacing.
Two: When do you think we go?
One: Have no idea, sincerely, I’d rather not. It’s light enough, it’s warm and cool enough. It’s home enough.
Two: Look whose talking! My dear, you haven’t forgotten about Four And Five and Infinity, have you?
One: Three is enough. I’m happy with this Three. Silent and discreet, not interrupting too often…
Two: Except for that – what is it? – thing.
One: Strange, that one, isn’t it? I never seen it before. Nor heard.
Two: It bugs the shit out of me, one moment there’s something like Four, for example, but somehow mixed with you, and just like that – here I am laying besides you, pure unmixed, and buckets are full.
One: Oh, yes.
Takes a sip of red. Smiles.
Two: You bugger!
One: I feel better.
One: I mean, after that thing has passed, I feel better.
Two: Yes, yes… I do too. Don’t you think there’s more of that thing behind the emptiness?
One: I wouldn’t know. But my, that thing…
Licks his lips.
Two: So, we should go!
One: Again?! Can’t you stay a little while? For me, at least.
Two: Don’t play that! You know I hate it.
One rests his head, eyes closed.
Two: I may as well be alone, with you in your extasy here…
Closes his eyes. Head slowly sinking down.
One: Here, do you hear it? Something, like we, but not us.
Two: Can’t hear a damn thing.
One: Put your head down.
One: It doesn’t matter, this time, it can be forgotten, once.
Two: No, I won’t, unless…
One: I’ll go! For God’s sake! Just listen.
Two: Are you sure? It won’t make something happen, something bad, will it?
One: What can happen, all alone here.
Two: Well, you say you go, so, we go?
One: Yes, I do, just put your head down!
Two: Right, then we go.
Puts his head down. both listening. A silent singing voice enters the scene.
Two: Never knew that could be so.
One: Shh, we soon go.
Two: But I don’t…
October 4th, 2012
Almost empty. Quite dark. Can be supplemented by a video projection of an embrace.
One standing against the wall, face into it. Two laying on the floor, facing the ceiling.
One: Can’t stand like this anymore.
Two: Come, lay besides.
One: Wouldn’t that be the same?
Two: Well, you’d rest your legs, for one.
One: What legs? These? That never went anywhere?
Two: Oh, here you go again.
One: Go!…I wish i could go…We should go!
Two: I wouldn’t be so sure about ‘we’, I kinda like myself here. Besides, go where?
One: Doesn’t matter. Go, I need to go. Just fucking go!
Two: I’ve heard that story ever since I met you, but you just stand there, in love with the wall. At least you could come here, I don’t know, stand here.
One: And what? Face what? The ceiling? Or that endless emptiness in front? I’d rather stay and not come.
Two: As you always wished, my companion.
There’s a silent noise entering the scene. Of running water, for a few moments.
One: You heard that?
Two: Oh, yes, I felt it with my backhead. One of the reasons I’d rather stay than go.
One: one of the reasons…I wish you’d just stopped counting and let all go the fuck their way.
Two: I like having reasons. And counting. Makes me dreamy and safe. Or the other way around.
One: So you’d rather lay here endlessly than risk, what, that vibration that comes here once in a dark?
Two: I didn’t say that! It’s just that there’s no any indication whatsoever of where to go.
One: Go, just go. Where will come after we go.
Two: Ah, mystics of yours.
One: Mystics or not, why stay?
Two: Because nothing awaits us, for all I and you, my dear, know.
One: Or, as is the same, nothing doesn’t await us, for all we know.
Two: You mean that there could be, for example, Three behind or in that emptiness?
One: Not precisely what I meant, but if it suits your mathematical soul, yes, there could. Maybe even Four, Five and Infinity.
Two raises his head. Turns it towards One.
Two: I bet the pleasure of that vibration there’s no way there could be Five, let alone Infinity.
One: I bet the concreteness of the wall there is at least Three.
Two: Are you saying, that if we go and there’s only two of us, you’d stop standing by the wall?
Two: Then I go. If there’s no one else, you will come besides me and we lay here forever.
One: And if there is, you will lay with your head up, facing the emptiness.
Two: It’s hard, my friend, you know it, but what the hell, fuck all, as you say.
There’s the noise entering the scene again. Two feels it with pleasure.
September 27th, 2012
They said not a word. What? I asked. They kept still in silence. Ashamed. But not guilty. Or not aware of how this has happened. What did you do? Where did you put it? I insisted, hoping, they would somehow remember and confess. Whatever they have done, it must have been big. For why so silent? Why not say, anything, a lie? But no, they had no words.
What was that they took from me? What was it, that no sentence could be said? Was it so otherwordly that no word could contain, at least few, at least a little of it?
Their looks. I had to go. They could not stand me, neither could I stand there, wandering in place.
Years went, as I did. No lines, no colours, no sounds or words I heard were of any help. Untraceable. I could not believe the helplessness of my wander.
As soon as I set, I had to leave. As I left, having nowhere to particular to go, I would set, for rest, if not (for anything else).
Tired, I started dreaming. No words or colours can say these dreams. I did not eat, I did not want to. Illusions came, bright, not ill at all. Silent with no sound.
What was it that I was deprived of? I dreamt , I hallucinated. Unset, I had to rely on fantasy to go on, to find a shadow for sleep. I started talking with the skies, the clouds and the earth. With wordless language, worldless one.
I went back to visit them. Jolly and happy they were as they said:
- Now we can tell you what you wanted to know.
I, tense as I became, took a step to distance. My god, I was terrified of their eyes! No. I said. What? They asked.
But I was silent. Wordless, colourless, without a line I left.
I dreamt, I hallucinated, I had illusions, my fantasies found me places to rest.
I had no use for what they had to say.
I would not let it be taken again.
September 13th, 2012
The pencil, the books, the exercise papers – all was given and told:
You’ll be a scientist, a scholar and a master.
Eyes shining, hands lively – betraying great expectations.
Then wishing luck, waiting for news.
I started killing a scientist, a scholar and a master. Little by little. Took the pencil and marked in the margins of empty sheets:
Do not forget to unbind the rules.
The sentence never got written. The books were cut up and the words whitened.
Eyes became angry, then sad, then lost in indifference. The hands swung still on the sides. I lost connections and did not return the calls. There was no time for degrees, encyclopedias and names, no place to occupy, but find where the laws unbind, where the rules lose their cool and start dissintegrating.
The scientist, the scholar and the master were the next person I sat close to while stretching the margins, so that the place of their inauguration would contract.
The eyes looked away. The hands wanted to slap me in despair. It was told:
You’ve wasted everything and became mad, stupid, delusional and an idiot.
And while that’s a melancholic fact, it never took a joy out of my movements.
The law will less and the rule will less more
Here is my margin right at the center.
August 17th, 2012
She gave me a plum, so i wouldn’t starve. He gave me his back and a couple of words, so we could fight.
I ate in delight.
We fought with enthusiasm.
They gave me money and told to build a house, so i could take her in and invite him for a drink.
They gave me more to buy a car and drive her to the edge of the land, to bring him back home at night.
I can’t remember exactly what i did do. I can still smell the juice of her plum and taste the blood of his back.
I did not do it right, though, since i’m thin and beaten.
I could have had paradise of pleasures, protected by word, sacred in blood.
But i don’t.
For in all these times, through these kisses and fists, through all that love and friendship has to give, i was not able to stop telling myself:
i need to set this goddamn world on fucking fire.
I could not stop.
I ate the plum and spat the stone out, i erased the words and spilt the blood to dry. I drank the remaining money down.
i need to set this world on whitest fire.
I kept saying, as they got married, locked the car into the garage and enjoyed plum marmalade on the cosy evenings, centrally heated.
Some nights they will dream of the world burning in flames. They will wake up, lost and confused. The fire will seperate them, leaving traces of ashes.
I will be somewhere else, doing something else.
I will have taken care of the fire they left to die.
August 8th, 2012
The thirty or so reds in front of me. Captivating, in their minuscule difference. My eyes being captured I cannot move the brush anymore. Let it dry and leave it. The red have something I dare not change. I must put down the brush and become indifferent for this difference to consist.
The same, I write in black, is for the man and the woman, for the white, brown and black. The same is for the doctor and a plumber, the artist and the businessman. The same is for the jew, the muslim, the atheist. The same is for the brother and a father, for the sister and a mother. The same is for the beloved one and the enemy. The same is for unborn and living, for the have and have-not.
The same, I write in black on thirty or so reds, is for Lemon, Daniel and Christine.
I meditate, me eyes drowned in red, the brush stand-still.
Must decapitate some monsters at first. In black.