უცხოპლანეტელის დღიურებიდან



სახელი: ევა
ასაკი: 29 მ. წ.
მისია: ადაპტაცია
გამოცდილება: არ არის მნიშვნელოვანი


მოვლენის შემდეგ აღიქმება როგორც ქალი. ამ როლს ითავისებს 5 წლის ასაკიდან. დანარჩენ სხვა როლებს გარემოებები განაპირობებს, ამიტომ ცვლადია.
სამეტყველო ენა არ გააჩნია, თუმცა საკუთარი ტვინის მუშაობას თარგმნის ქცევის ენაზე. განსაკუთრებული ფიზიკური ნაკვთები: ფართოდ გახელილი თვალები, სახელური მკერდებს შორის.
ემოციების განცდა და გამოვლენა არ შეუძლია, თუმცა ისწავლა აღტაცება, გაბრაზება, ცრემლის გამომუშავება.

პირველი დაბადება არ ახსოვს, მხოლოდ ის იცის, რომ მის პლანეტაზე დაბუშტული გულებია, უსიტყვო გრძნობებია თვალებიდან გადმოხეთქილი, ცები პულსირებენ.
აქ მოვლენის შემდეგ დიდი სიცარიელეა ორგანიზმში. ერთადერთი ვისთანაც საუბარი შეუძლია საკუთარი სხეულია, რომელსაც ლუპით დასდევს. ვერ ხვდება გარშემო არსებებს ასე სად ეჩქარებათ, არ ესმის თვალები რატომ არ უჩანთ, ან ხიდები რატომ არ აქვთ მკერდებს შორის მომავალი.
აქ დღეებია, ღამეებს ვერ იყენებენ.
აქ ერთმანეთს ადამიანებს უწოდებენ, ერთმანეთს კლასებით ჰყოფენ, ერთმანეთთან მიზნების გამო მიდიან, ერთმანეთისგან მიზნების გამო მიდიან, …და მუდან ეჩქარებათ.
აქ ცა ცისფერია, …არ პულსირებს. აქ მიწაა გადაშლილი, რომელზეც დადიან, …მხოლოდ დადიან, …მხოლოდ მიზნებამდე მიღწევისთვის დადიან, მიწა ეშორებათ, ევიწროვებათ, არ ჰყოფნით, ცუდი გზებია. …მიწის სუნი კი არ იციან, მიწაზე დაბიჯებით ცოდვას ვერ გრძნობენ. ... აქ კიბეებს აბიჯებენ, გამოტოვებული კიბე რომ წყევლის არ იციან.
მას ვერ ხედავენ. მხოლოდ მის სხეულს ხედავენ, ლამაზი სხეული აქვს. მისი სხეული ენერგიის ნაპერწკლებს ირეკლავს მზეზე და ეს მხოლოდ მათ სჭრით თვალს, ვისაც მიზნებიანმა არსებებმა გადაუარეს, ვისაც აღარ ეჩქარებათ და ამით სიცოცხლის იდეა დაკარგეს. საოცარია, მის სახელურს ვერავინ ხედავს, და არც არავის შეუღია ჯერ. ნეტავ, ლუპები თუ აქვთ, …ან სწორად თუ იყენებენ?
ის ვერ გრძნობს. მხოლოდ ტკივილი ასწავლა თავს. შუა საცობში გული გადაიხსნა და წინ დაუდგა მოძრაობას, …მათაც მყისიერად დაუკაწრეს დედიშობილა სული. …პირველადი მისია შესრულებულია, …იგრძნო! …მაინც რატომ ვერ ხედავენ სახელურს, რატომ აძლევენ ტკივილს ასე იოლად გზას? ტკივილი არ მოეწონა, მაგრამ პირველი გრძნობა ის იყო.
......

მე ყველა ღმერთკაცი მიყვარს. და ეს მე უფრო რელიგიურს მხდის ვიდრე ქაშუეთის მრევლს. მე ჩემი თავის ღმერთი ვარ რომელსაც შია.
მე არ ვარ ღარიბი და რა თქმა უნდა მთრგუნავს ის რომ ღარიბი ვარ. ყველაფერი მაქვს არსებობისთვის. საოცარია სხეული როგორ არის ბუნებაზე მორგებული, ...ყველაფერს უძლებს, უბრალოდ ვერ ეჩვევა. მკერდს ვუშვერ ცხოვრებას. ...მაინც რა პარატა და ჯიუტი ვარ.
მე მკვრივი სუბსტანცია ვარ, მაგრამ არა მყარი.

Could HOPE look like anything else?

(and I love how low the quality of the picture is. it's perfect)

I’m a free spirit.
My life is being like a childhood nightmare of mine_ I’m running like hell but can’t even make a step forward.
I’m a free spirit.
I’m on top of the world, I laugh at the misery of the world people have created, while in truth I doubtlessly need the people so that I exist.
I’m a free spirit.
Failure has never been so encouraging for me like it happened to be yesterday.
...
This stupid fly! it’s winter for God’s sake. cold! freezing! flies should not be out! what the hell is this stupid one smashing itself against this old dirty window for?! I grab my blanket that carelessly had given my body up while I was unconsciously traveling in my dreams, and cover my face with it. God! this goddamn annoying fly again. I wake up. it’s 8:51. every single fricking morning I open my eyes and the clock tells me it’s 8:51 am. yea, what the hell.
I shiver as I step on the cold floor. should I be mad at God because he created flies? my eyelids are swearing at me as I try to separate them, so with these half closed (or half open) eyes I head into the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. I’m cold. These goose bumps make me shrink. I’m awake. I log into yahoo messenger through my cell phone as I my morning coffee warms my veins. . . . “sweet dreams darling”. “sweet dreams, dearest.” God, I love this man!
a phone call from my mother_ “Sophie, write down the code!” and I write 5 digits on my wall with a fading pencil. “you should be able to pick it up at any bank”. I loath myself in that instant. “thank you mother”.
Bitter wind freezes my palms. ok, this bank is closed. I’m trying to unzip my purse and put the paper I’ve put that code on into its pocket. . . and this hyper wind grabs it right from my hands. I smile and follow my three day’s food. . . .I got it! I look up at the busy morning sky “feel like playing with me, huh?”
Yea, I’m lucky. this bus is fricking crowded! I feel blood boiling up in my head and my forehead is getting sweaty. ..this is anger! and this man right next to me is pushing his fat stomach closer to me. God he smells! I get off and change the bus. I’m sitting by the window now. at the next stop an old lady gets in and sits next to me. she reminds me of my grandma, only this lady’s face is . . .kind of melancholy. . . .I miss my grandma. “cancer cancer cancer cancer cancer” “stop it”. I shake my head to shrug the drowning thoughts away and heads turn at me for a second. “what? I only shook my head! and what would you do if I made love in front of you? aw these soviet leftovers!” I’m there. I smile at the lady and get off.
“well. . . .we got the answers yesterday and we called everyone. so we didn’t call you did we?” I smile. my tone is calm as I talk. “your lastname is. . . hmmm, let’s see!” click. click click click. “nope. not in the list”. I smile looking straight into her colorless eyes telling me "now get outta here!" _ ‘can you at list pretend that faceless pot is smiling just a little bit? I could teach you how to smile!’ “all right. thank you very much.”
I walk towards my university building. wow, these people! “privilege was given to people who’ve never been outside of Georgia before!” that makes me smile. I’m facing post soviet “Bo monde”. God, that kills me. I fricking love my fiancé! the thought of him makes me shiver. and then I start to wonder if I’d be as strong if he were holding my hand right now as I am at the thought that he is somewhere out there. ...I don’t know. no, I do know. I'd be so much str... oh I almost missed the turn. I take a turn right and I’m into the building. “oh honey, I barely recognized you.” …what the fuck gives you a right to call me that? “oh well, I guess people change …amazing how quickly that happens” _was my answer. God, this woman gets onto my nerves. I despise her. I light up a cigarette and listen to her telling me how much physically disabled kids at her school miss “that 20 year old student with curly hair and bright smile”. I love kids. I’ll be such a good mother. “yea, I wanna come see them these days. tell them I say hi and that I do think of them”.
“why haven’t you been picking up the phone?”_ his beard scratched my cheek. “I failed in that program”. pause. “When do you wanna realize it’s GEORGIA? silly. It’s just a discouraging fact that they won’t appreciate who you are. they don’t wanna see you. it’s not in their plan. . . greedy bustards!” I smoke again, looking out through the window _“yeah”. I’m a free spirit. only I feel like I failed my fiancé. that’s what’s bugging me. . . .I love you. It’s not the end. “some beer?” I let go my thoughts for a second “uhm, sure”. ...what would Kevin feel in the moments like this? “so, I was talking to this guy in MSN last night and . . .” his voice is getting low, too low, . . .way too low. “bluuuuhhhh, bluuuuhhhhh.” I shake my head. “and at the end he tells me he tells me he IS the son of that Georgian novelist I was swearing at” I laugh_ “you’re so stupid”. “I know. hell that was awkward”. the room starts spinning. I guess I’m still little sick. …I’m ok. you’re ok you silly girl. . . . my fingers through Kevin’s hair, hot sand beneath my toes, ocean moans, his eyes_ cold and devouring, every cell of mine has that unique code that in letters would be “Kevin Arther Yerke”, lightning and traffic on this street I’m crossing.
Love of my life.
It's not the end.
I am living. I'll make myslef do it as a healthy person.
I have wings.

...I'm a free spirit.
life is good.

You’ll soon hear she’s seriously sick, that her final diagnosis is maniacal depression. She’ll be in the psychiatric department. She’ll be pretending like she’s taking meds, but she’s using the pills to complete your mosaic image on the wall behind the wardrobe. “scratch him off, JUST SCRATCH HIM OFF OF YOUR MIND GOD DAMN IT”. “ I can’t …I can’t I can’t I can’t” echoes. …blood on her teeth, neurotic scream “FUUUCCKK”.

…I had a strange dream last night. that rooster was black, and while he was spiting his chicken sperms into his hens’ assholes I could see his tits. then he got of that poor creature and shrugged off her feathers. he was a kinky one. ..had huge spurs and a whip, black leather instead of feathers. I was his friend but I still let him make me bleed. And I bled …and bled …and bled.
I’m done being nice. my schizophrenic tendencies are there to spread their ribs when I feel alone. I don’t care about you, I don’t care about outside factors, I’m a free spirit and I don’t give a damn if this freedom is not seen in my behavior. outside factors are depriving only for those who let them be depriving. I care about my spine, my lungs, my blood circulation. you can’t break me because you don’t exist. your very strength is my acceptance of it, …you’re so weak.
I’m a poor one, though I don’t pity myself for a moment. the world my parents’ hormones placed me in can’t contain me and spits me out. too bad for the world.
I wasn’t meant to be born. that’s my primal strength.
Schizophrenia! here I come.

snow man’s penis. old farts’ sex. sex . sex. SEX goddamn it! pianist’s fingers. bring your lenses closer to my knees while I’m straddling over my double bass. make railroad out of my backbone. I’m a nest without a hymen. Spider’s knuckles. stab her colorless eyes with a fork! sew up her holes, …nah, leave the mouth alone_ prisoners might enjoy it.
Placeless ‘I love you’ and
Fuck off.

P.S. gotta love me.

...And I still stay as just a ring on your middle finger.





(God, make all these doubts go away)

If you’re using me as one more brick to your happiness then . . .just be careful, don’t trap over me, ‘cause I’m a big, old, wrinkly root of an oak tree breaking free from my motherland.
If you’re neglecting me for justifying your masochistic tendencies, you’re contradicting yourself. then no more word about happiness. then you’re expelled from the coalition of sunflower people. and I’m there to understand you.
If the needs and joys of your unborn children make you sweat in your nightmares, please just try to make all that come out as a scream. and no skin (or no curly head) beside you will tell you it was just a nightmare.
If you’re “deepening” our intimacy by hanging white clothes in between our distance, then I’m a pantomime actress. Is this what you want?
If an effort of smashing you down would make you want to run away from it, you’re never free. If you don’t see a shelter made of flesh and blood and mentality of you lover, you were born to despise yourself and you’re running away from it . . .though in vain_ you can’t see.

you pick unordinary, make ordinary out of it and let it turn into unordinary itself again. and it worships you as a result of going through that circle. it’s just like that very first way _ . . .it’s just like that airless pressure of your mothers uterus tightening over your plumpy head.

I am what makes you want to be happy.
I am the reason why you want to neglect.
I am the mother of your unborn children.
I am your intimacy.
I am your shelter.
I am unordinary never having to worship you.

See me. . .

would you give up your love if doing so got you to your happiness? my aunt always used to tell me: " you are happier if you go with the man who loves you than with the one you love". i never undesrtood her, i thought i never really needed to. "that's a really Georgian thing for a woman to do"_i used to tell myself being more than damn sure of my lover's feelings. well, i guess life is all about trying everything, and my time's ticking. Gotta get myself moving faster, enjoying the curse of every stair I i step over. heh... makes me smile that i'm more than able to do it. Konstantine questioned once why i was pretending to be such a helpless child, why my whole body was crying out for a protection from a strong man like him whenever i was with him. i only now realize_ .... God! he believed in me. he's seen me as i was. it always hurm me though to listen to him teaching me stuff. i hated him for being so unreasonably proud to just tell me things. what's with men and construction anyway? (oh, my bad, what's with me and teachers?)...it's like ...breaking me. i am constructed already, you greedy peasant! ...but wasn't that where he was leading me to back then? _to make me realize he saw me as i was, that he believed in me? damn it, then change your way of "making me realize", it's breaking me. ...never mind *breath slowing down* none of these matter any more. i'd rather spend/use the time i've left on something that;s ahead of me rather than rebuilding the old templpe from the burnt walls that's left from it. and then i read in this book: "even a builing that burns to the ground will have a few surviving timbers that can still bear wieght" ...*laughs* yea, makes me laugh.
what;s the true value of an arrow? ...heh, i'll know when i land, i'll know when i die.
and i just answered my question.
i started! there's no turning back.

ui xo martla, ...dghes botanikurshi rom viyavi, erti patara toti egdo gzaze da rom davxede patara gulebi esxa... gavtbi. tan dzalian satutebi iyvnen. 3ve camovighe saxlshi magram, marto erti momyva. ...danarchenebi gaichyliten. heh. ...ra suleli var.

ki batono. i'm human. da ver vitan amas, am admianurobas, imdens moitxoven shengan! ar sheidzleba cifruli rom viyo? ha? ar sheidzleboda? ...adamianebi. Learn to say NOOOOOOO, God damn it! ai ase, ubralod, ...ara! da morcha! shenc cxovreba gagiadvildeba, da matac. hm. eg ki ara da shens gverdit mcoli adamianis gaghvidzebac ar shegidzlia. aaaaaaaaahhhhhh! adeqi da gaaghvidze!!! esrole balishi, sabani gadahxade, an rame utxari, an... Ghmerto! ...nutu jer kidev bavshvobis travmas vishusheb da ver vxvdebi rom ar momishushdeba?! meshinia rom es uazrod ghrma siyvaruli gadmomeghvreba shemtxvevit da amas xalxi gaeqceva. ( xo, xalxi! da aravin tqvas xalxis dedaco!) ...da mere? hm! aaaahhaaaa! sicarielis geshinia! arafris geshinia, tvalebghia, tetri arafris! amitomac atareb shavebs ase xshirad? hm! ...carieli furclis geshinia. rogorc xelovnebis mascavlebeli, Mrs Culver i getyoda xolme_ araferia cariel furcelze uaresio! da amitomac hqmnidi qaoss im araferze ase nevrotulad. wow. so there we go! esec davadginet! ...magram, ... srulyofilebisken scrafvashi (qvecnobier scrafvashi) tkivils amxela roli ratom aqvs?! ...ho, eg martalia rom martivi arasodes vyofilvar. verc viqnebi. ...ver vitan vardisfers. mezizgheba vardisferi, mezizgheba scori trasa Chicagodan Grand Rapidsamde mimavali, ...ver vitandi mag trasas, es imas hgavda ai, ...midixar araferze. da ert pozashi xar, sachec ert pozashi gaqvs, ...titqos arc moqmedeb, ...titqos arc cocxlob. chemi amerikeli mamac sul imaze cucunebda ra mosacyeni iyo im trasaze manqanis tareba. ...ra mosacyenia sicocxle roca yvelaferi martivia. ...ar mesmis am qartvelebis. rogor cxovroben ase, ...araferze?! hehe, da amaze kidev sul is momdis gonebashi, ...chemi nafantaziebi_ erti gamxdari, aferisti imereli midis tav-kiser gaertianebul amerikel Texaseltan da eubneba "cota adrenalini gadmomisxi raa"o. da mere kidev gaixedav, gatendeba da vighac "cxovreba gamovlili, naghdi mamulishvili" gadmodgeba molasavit da gahkivlebs : 'ah kaco, qartvelebi unikaluri xalxi vart!' martalia! arian! rogor sheudzliat aset araferze cxovreba?!
eh!
so, aq ra gvaqvs? mdaa, Kevinic cavida samsaxurshi, 'love you, honey'o momadzaxa da cavida. mteli ghame vmushaobo. hmmm! mteli ghame... raghacas mimalav xo, Mister Cool ..er Hot Guy? ...heh! ghmerto, ra banaluri var. chemive naceris cakitxva ar momindeba.
amitom _ Love you too, dear. Take a good care of yourself.

me imas vigheb rasac vimsaxureb. yvelaferi kanonzomieria. vmorchileb am cesrigs!

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