I’VE GOT THE POWER
To Hell with me. I should sit at home. Live quietly and invisibly, pay my bills and be a reliable person. Christmas and Disney Land were invented not for me, but for that thirty-something successful smiling gentleman in a gray pin stripe suit. Presents are for children, adults have to pay for them.
How I would want to destroy restaurants, movie theaters, bars, and leave naked people on earth… I would make them talk. They talk and talk and talk about it, but when someone looks in their eyes with love they cover their faces with their hands and run away. Everybody has confused me. I can trust no one. They call love co-dependency. I don’t want to be among them.
Now I see everything. The lights go out. I’m alone, in a parking lot full of echoes. Where’s the door, I can’t see? Somebody, sit on my bed and kiss me on the forehead. Everybody is one and their face is calling me back, but I am already rising. Higher, higher and higher. That’s it. It’s broken. Silence, darkness.
— December 15, 1991
Chicago, IL
GABRIEL, THE ULTIMATE HIGH
The Kingdom of Love is inside me, and all around me. I know the heavy blow it deals to an unbeliever, scorching with fire and sword. The lesson of love bypasses all vital systems to burn through the heart with a powerful shockwave, and cleanses away misconceptions, leaving a trail of light smoky scent.
The words rolled easy off the tip of my tong, as long as I didn’t let myself feel what they meant- signing surrender, admitting we live in a world created for couples. I hope to achieve this happiness thing, and here are my current ingredients in the correct order: a man and a woman. Just two.
The words spoken sealed a mutual secret. It was so potent and beautiful, my eyes filled with tears of relief, my wounds stopped throbbing. Tears of happiness, tears of joy. I stumbled into an unfamiliar territory and froze like a trespasser, who crawls by the fence and freezes, caught by a slash of projector light. There was a silence all around, and no sign of movement. Justifications rushed through my head; please let me through, I’ve learned all I could learn here, I'm ready. The gates I avoided for so many years now loomed upon me, opening, as I was begging to be admitted. On the road of life there are passengers and there are drivers. Hop in!
— November 02, 2006
New Y
EXCLUSIVE EXPOSE
At night, the New York City Subway doles out dreams and insights to blue-color workers. What are the subjects? Random. Anything that's important. Or not. I’m just another Joe in the timeline of 2006, browsing the streets of a megapolis, pouring my heart out, trying to figure out what is it that I’m supposed to do, what am I missing to numb the nagging feeling of ridicule that burns with cold sweat in the back of my neck, every time I feel I’m about to stand out of the crowd, about to be ME, visible and real.
I have been browsing the void of the underbelly, the Peter Pan land, since the early 90s. I’m a veteran. I know how to slam the door and not to return. Despite the need to be together, to belong, to be understood, but I fall victim to my pride.
I stood still and erect, while years piled on top, while faces of surrounding people changed. My own identity was the only communicating constant. It was so talkative, it kept me up at nights, tempting, urging to another venture, in order to remain intact.
I looked at the subway tunnel rushing by, and mused if I had the right, if I had the voice, if I’m still the guest who needs to be polite in someone else’s dwelling, or if I have earned the right to say: “SCREW YOU, ASSHOLES!" Because now I am one of you, I am one with you, this is my home, this is where I belong, America!
— November 05, 2006