i treat you nice

feel i've been going through a tunnel since i came back. like in those video games, always ready for an enemy to attack. decided to put notes and thoughts together, to see the bigger picture. i'm wondering almost every day about what am i doing, what am i building here - coz many times it feels that you're going on moving sand, and this is the most absurd thing of all. i'm losing so many time to run after all those important people that could make our project work (but they have no real interest for projects though, they're just a bunch of mobsters), that i feel that here everything is set up to stop people from work. i could use that time in so many interesting ways, but still i have to be prepared to show up in front of all those greasy theater-owners, anytime they please to, just because they are the only ones. i hate this old school theater system with all my heart and soul. they don't give a shit about theater, about the people they are workin with , they have no passion for other things than keep their chair warm. there would be many things to write about.it's may, i've been here for 6 months now. or 7. there would be so many things so interesting for this blog, also because when i look at my older posts i see that when i was in london, i had the time and the comfort to write about things i discover, or things i think about. here, it's always like a survival trip, there's no quiet moment to even think about what you are thinkin about. it's also strange, that when in other place, you have the curiosity to discover, all your senses are oriented towards outside, here all your senses are oriented towards inside, sort of trying to protect yourself from the outside world.

yesterday, one of those theater managers invited me to take a sit on his lap, and tell him about the project we're workin at. of course, he said it as a joke. also, i think he pronounced the words "i treat you nice", meaning us, the young kids who came to propose him a project. it's confusing, and it's also confusing that people here seem to take it as "his jokey way", which is totally fucked up. there is no way in the whole universe that somebody you go to talk about a project can invite you to sit on his lap, not even as a joke. it's just fucked up. but he acts like this because he knows you need him. and because he has no fuckin notion of respect. and you go again and again to ask him if he read your text. wtf. duude. wtf. it's just WRONG. the only thing i should be bothered with is my work. and you don't do it with a snap of fingers. you need time, and energy. and focus. and food. i have this sort of vision, since i came back, looking around- that the people around me, me included, we've been so humiliated, our mothers have been humiliated, our grandparents have been humiliated, that the only good thing that could happen now as a burst of this continuous pain, would be a writing outburst, people writing and writing and giving voice to their feelings, and stories, and disappointment, hundreds of stories. to write is the easiest tool, you don't need to rent a space for it, you don't need props, and stuff you can't afford. we also don't trust people. but we could trust ourselves to be honest, each person in it's own autistic way, and then in the end we can discover the things that we really have in common. at least we would get to know ourselves. there's no notion of solidarity here, of any kind. the strongest communities are the ones in villages or in gypsy communities. in the rest of the country, people either create very closed groups (the family- usually mother father grandparents children and maybe some close cousins), protecting themselves against all the others, or just live in a no-harm pact with all the people around (that is if you don't form a family group) sort of a cold war understanding, you don't mess with me and i won't mess with you.

for some strange reason i've been watching america's next top model again in the last few weeks. i can't get those girls out of my mind, and tyra banks, and the competition rules, and the rewards, and the love and hate relationship those girls have while living together. their beauty standards. the political correctness of having one plus-size model in each cycle, or sometimes one lesbian. anyways. i fell asleep, just woke up now. will keep posting, i guess.