|madness takes its hold
||[Jul. 31st, 2005|11:50 pm]
Super people from the cornell summer college 05
|||||that wild rabbit again||]|
my life has changed in unbelievable ways for the past month.
cornell was a dream. bulgaria is hell. a weird, intensely miserable hell.
you have no idea how strange it is. people curse at you on the street for no reason.
the mafia guys kill people for no reason and corrupted cops blew up a two-year-old
kid in an attempt to blackmail an infamous mafia guy. and they never did. no one
ever gets anywhere here. i saw a cat get run over by a car on the street the other
way. it barely made its way to the curb before it bled to death. i stared there
watching. a man jerked off on the bus stop. i stayed there watching. one of my friend's
friend got hit by a tram. i stayed there watching. the ambulance barely made it
on time. i couldnt cry. its unreal. its like a gigantic bubble of thick smoke. cigarette
smoke. no one gets out. some attempt to burn holes out of their clouds. one of my
friends kept drinking while burning holes on the plastic wrapper of her cigaratte
box. they smoke, drink, sleep around and burn out soooo young. "my friends"
(or at least the kids who were once my best friends) are in some realm beyond despair
and pain. the great indifference or Hemingway's champagne disillusionment. except
that here champagne is too expensive, a bottle of vodka would always do it. the
marijuana is everewhere, and so are the injections and old spoons that druggies
use to inject heroin. until they get to the point that they need to steal. how desperate
were those boys that broke into my building's basement, looking for what? a century
old cases of beer, wine, or spider webs of lost dreams. its all a giant hole, burnt
by the sun.
i've almost given up my inspirations to go to the country side, find the beautiful
velleys of roses, forests and hidden waterfalls. i am no longer sure they even exist.
the same way that my old friends dont exist. its a funny concept. how i keep dreaming
of being with people who are really no longer there. they've changed and are forever
gone. it takes an unbelievable will of mind to cheer some of them. i am not sure
that had i lived here i would have found a reason to continue living. there was
an epidemic a week before i came because the garbage collecters collectors could
not collect the trash. the old places for the dispossal were overflowing and no
one knew what to do. the streets were full of garbage. it had been the heaven of
stray dogs and homeless bums. until the smell came. they say the whole city was
stinking and people refused to go out of their homes. hope they wont get buried
alive. fortunately, not many of them did since the city officials solve the problem
after hundreds of rats took over the parliament. and so it goes on, forever. the
cycle of life.
they wont let me to go around the country side alone. i'd probably get raped and
killed on the first corner. there are gypsies everywhere, i was warned the first
day. hold on to your bags for they love to cut them in half and collect the wallets
and cameras that fall crashing on the ground. they live in the ghettos for the government
cannot pay for the food in the prisons. i did not even realize that my country is
plagued by racism and outright discrimination until the recent elections for parliament.
it all started a month ago when some more corruped cops started a fight between
"bulgarians" and "gypsies" (for the gypsies are no less bulgarians
than i am) in a beer bottle factory. on the next day the same cops reported that
the growing gypsy population is a plague to "the pure bulgarian society".
a week later they entered the elections under the newly formed fascist party, called
"the attack", which won 20% of all votes on the basis that they wish to
see all gypsies, muslims, or other racial minorities (gays and lesbians probably
will be included in the future) locked up in "work camps". we'd never
enter the EU. they are the second most popular party in bulgaria, only behind the
enthic party led by the muslim and gypsy population. isnt it great?! they are cold
blood enemies and have to enter a coallition. they'd rather kill each other. this
they'll do without further ado. leaving the people to the roaches and mice.
so, hm, welcome to my hell. isnt it ironic. i am stranger wherever i go. in the
states, i am bulgarian. here they stare at me weirdly in the street, as if i hide
the anwers to their haunting questions. they read it in my eyes: i am a stranger
in my own land.
i seem to be at home only in the sky. in those airplane flights. miles over the
guess what. i saw requiem for a dream and loved it of couse. it is depressing but so are most of the movies i love. there is some particular sort of beauty in the mother's hallucinations and Harry's amputated arm. i cried for the girl, i did. it reminds me too much of some of the people here. actually the whole movie fits in perfectly with my current moods. and so does Dickens in a weird sense. miss you, dan. here no one get my psycho theories.
i am sorry for troubling you guys with all that about Bulgaria. actually, you better know, for that's who i am. And yet the more ppl stare at me, the more I am convinced that they need me and the more I try. The more they suffer, the more i cry and the more I love them. My masochistic tendencies show well in
a world of sadism.
Oh, dear, the cracks between things fill in my missing thoughts.