Archive for the ‘Intelligentsia’ Category

“You’ve heard of the bald-hairy-bald-hairy theory, for our leaders, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, I apply it to women,” he said, looking downward, meaningfully, expectantly…




Public privations…




(the soul,

and everything that could be beautiful).

I close my eyes and try to think of something else as I crouch over the bucket. But the guards’ jeering laughter is hard to ignore.




Democracy’s in a rush…

Government wants a mandate

to dictate…

Promises, distractions and lies.

Liberty, Freedom, call her what you will,

innate wisdom, beautiful woman,

she realizes the pretence.

Liberty walks into the voting place unclothed,

completely naked,

she tears up the voting paper given to her,

and walks out.

Dignified and indignant.

Society gawks, stunned.

Democracy’s in a rush

but as Tertullian said:

Truth does not blush.




Alone in my cell.

I slept.

I dreamt.

I woke.

I clutched my knees.

And remembered.

I had to move some of my old boxes,

my old things,


I had the feeling that I should check inside,

make sure there was no mold, or other signs of decay.

Academic papers and letters from my soul mate.

All was okay.

I was pleased.

I didn’t want to read any of the words,

that would be too painful.

Just to know they lived on,

that was sufficient,

even if only in my dreams.




I woke up in my cell.

I had the feeling I’d been drugged.

My memory was hazy

but I knew I’d been violated,

played with,



I felt tension increase in my neck and shoulders,

bona fide knots,


I felt panic.

I didn’t have to read or absorb half of the dossier

to realize the implications.

“Боже!” involuntarily I exclaimed and took another drink.

“Indeed,” said the man, smiling thinly.

“Why are you letting me read this?” I tried to keep my breathing steady.

“Why does not matter, your opinion please.”




I took a sip.


It had been some time.

It bit.

I shook my head and tried to gather my thoughts,

focus on the printed words.

Heavy stuff, facts and figures, strategy and analysis.

In my time inside I’d grown unaccustomed to academic speak, bureaucratic dissemination.

It took some digesting.

And indigestion.




I was led to a closed door.

The guard knocked.

“Enter!” I was directed, as the guard stood aside.

The man behind the desk motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite.

He slid a small glass with clear liquid and a dossier towards me.

“Please, drink, dear colleague.”

I raised my eyebrows.

He continued: “Given your background and expertise, I’d be interested to know what you think of this information. Naturally, it cannot leave this room, any of it, in *any* sense. Scan it for a few minutes, and give me your honest impressions.”

I tried to gage if he was serious.

His nod implied apparently so.

He gestured with his hand, a regal kind of beckoning, commence.








in the hash light

of the dark side of the Moon.

My beautiful swan-like neck

is of little effect.




In a strange sense,

we all want to reach the end of history.

The actualization

of the embodiment

of the best that we can possibly be,

no more evolution necessary.

Francis Fukuyama thought it came with the end of the Cold War

and the supposed triumph of liberal democracy.

Yukio Mishima,

obsessed with tradition,

passion for a system,

the emperor deity,

thought it came with death

(in a literal and personal sense, he was right).



For me,

an anonymous member of the Russian (and/or Ukrainian, Armenian, Soviet, Global, etc…) Avant-Garde,

lost in time and place,

it is

Life itself

and the power of being able to say:

“I understand”


“I don’t understand”.