Twenty Crazy Men

© 2018 Vytenis Rožukas. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    02/22/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-8923-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-8932-6 (e)

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CONTENTS

Twenty Crazy Men

Van Gogh

Nietzsche

Nietzsche

Schumann

Hölderlin

Čiurlionis

Saint Petersburg

Papa, Hem, (Hemingway)

The Ships

Papa. Hem

Papa. Hem. Relatives

Papa Hem. Relatives

The Hill Of Crosses

Arvydas Čekanavičius, The Most Famous Baltic Pedophile

Charity And Support Fund Step Of Life

Parliamentarians

Will Nato Protect Us?

Phenomenon Of Čiurlionis. Possibilities Of New Interpretations

Theory Of A Multifaceted Intellect

Sergey Yesenin And Vladimir Mayakovsky

Isadora Dunkan

Sergey Yesenin

Vladimir Mayakovsky

Isadora Duncan

Julius Janonis

Traidenis

Seefeld

Bicycles

The L. Prince. The Chasers

Endnotes

VILNIUS

Translated from 17 February 2016 to… 25 December 2016

Proofreading from February 2017 to 26 of June 2017

40 lost pages translation from June to Septmeber 21 2017

Proofreading from September 21 to October 21

Editing from October 21 to November 21

Correcting from November 21 to December 09

TWENTY CRAZY MEN

(The Autumn Of The Patriarch*)

Warning! Try on the metaphors for strength and the epithets for charm.

There are three suicides in Lithuania every day. This novel is an escape from the chronic disease.

You trust in me as in a female mammoth. Well, you are correct. The smart people prefer the ballet of prose.

You can become a star of prose when you start dreaming about being a writer at the age of six.

Napoléon had the same desire. The dream of the truncated head and violence of words. As Napoléon said, Every soldier of my army is carrying a marshal’s staff in his backpack. Waterloo. The situation is changing every second. This ballet of prose with an allusion to Márquez will not fall into the nettles.

We slowly came to a conclusion that this novel might be inferior, but it will carry the same feature of Márquez. I met Márquez at Moscow Film Festival twice. We took a picture together there. And he said, Take it and use it, - when I praised his title The Autumn of the Patriarch. I had his permission to take it but after his death. Well, it was still a green light. Márquez gave me permission, just as a priest might.

You are either self-critical or dead. The goal is to be a person who can evaluate his problems, controlled by the talented psychiatrist. It’s important to trust that the solution to paranoia will be invented. One cannot lose their faith. We will record it in the book of the rules for the best prose player. There are no wrong medicines, no wrong methodology. You only need to hit the top ten.

My mission - to reveal prevention of paranoia and suicide. It’s a dignity of a disabled person; a testimony - appeal to bury the ashes in Druskininkai Town, in Čiurlionis’ Museum. My grandfather’s (first-line) cousin M. K. Čiurlionis and an aspiration to surpass him with all my life.

1–5 (1-85) Person’s life from 1 to 85 years.

It’s my pleasure to notify that from now on the part 1-85 is about truth, it is only truth and right of a person who was in the psychiatric hospital 11 times, 9 times was restored to health and knows paranoia as a person who sorely experienced problems related to homeland’s flag and homeland reform.

It is my first impression, which I can bring to my mind. I was possibly eight months old. My brother who was a year and a half older was standing in the cot in front of me. A long table was standing on the left, and my father, mother, and the guests – about 20 people – were sitting around. They were singing: Oh, long for, oh long for, I long for, I long for… Oh long for, I long for, I long for… It was the first glimpse of my consciousness. Since then we - I and the Teddy Bear (– a puppet –) are lining in a true reality, with a memory, which is sorting out what has to be left and what has to be forgotten. I remember also how I was using the jerry, when I started to use it and when I had stopped.

Later – the kindergarten. We were taught the poems of Maironis*. We used to show and I recited very successfully, and I was praised, I owed a good mind. There was a sculpture of Christ and the sandboxes in the yard of the kindergarten, a hill, from which we slid down together with Staselis and my brother Laimūnas. I remember Robertas from kindergarten times whom I later met and recognized him when I was 47. I helped the old woman, the sister of Maironis, to carry the firewood to the kindergarten yard and she helped me to some apple pie. After a year during the after-dinner nap, I heard as the priest laid her to rest, that old woman died.

I remember as we were riding in Indian file choo choo, woo woo to the washroom and to the bedroom. In the yard, in a little cote, I played the doctors with a stick and I saw the female crotch for the first time. When I was five or six I already used to return from the kindergarten by myself, without parents, I took the bus for six stops together with my brother. The neighbour from Ožeškienė Street came to gather the gooseberries. I was ashamed. I felt that he was a hooligan.

When I was five, I started envying my brother Laimūnas. In my opinion, mom loved him more than me. I took a big knife from the kitchen and when everybody fell asleep, I decided to commit suicide. It was my first scene of paranoia. I didn’t kill myself only because I was not able to thrust the knife into my chest. My unstable mind expressed itself in such a way, it was the first incident of my unstable mind. Since then I got trials and tribulations of paranoia when I fell ill at the age of 31.

The origin of paranoia - fear, suspicion, and horror. I loved my father more than the mummy. It seemed to me that he also loved me more than my brother. When my mom was visited by her lady friends and they sat around the table, I used to slid under the table and played between the legs of guests. We used to romp around with my brother, throbbing pillows.

Dad used to buy tickets on the bus from the conductress. Once I started talking about Stalin on a bus. Father got frightened and muzzled me. We could be deported but thank God, mom said into my ear, Shut up, baby. Ora pro nobis peccatoribus (Pray for us sinners, Lat.). N’ I never again mentioned Stalin’s name in a public place. My parents had high education and I heard by my ears the neighbour women talking about us, These people - members of the intelligentsia. However, my mom called herself a servant, not the proletariat woman, not the collective farmer, not the trader, but a servant. My dad called himself the kleptocrat. And I called today myself the paranoiac.

5–10 (1–85)

When I was five, I knew by heart Hauff’s Fairy Tales, Grimm’s tales, the poetry of Maironis and Salomėja Nėris**.¹

My grandmother, who loved me the most (my mom’s mother), was reading fairy tales without glasses. I knew the fairy tales by heart but I liked when my grandmother was reading them aloud. We sat in the little room of my grandmother – me, brother Laimūnas, Staselis, Elba (Albertas, the neighbour).

When I was seven, I read independently Muffin Stories and I gave myself a word that I will become a writer. So it happened.

When I started going to school, I developed neurosis. I would end up crying and laying in bed, I was unable to go to school, I was unhappy, and my heart was aching. I cried endlessly and nobody could save me but after several days, the neurosis passed and I went to school again. It was the second incident of my paranoia.

Yugo, which used to reign in sports and which announced pigs, donkeys, dickens and other devils to be the background of its capital life. Yugo’s rubbish in Lithuania: tipo, žiauru, super, ta prasme (Lithuanian² slang words: kinda, killer, super, means… - D.G.). Of course, it is easy to give an advice should everything would be there as interesting as plots of The Twenty Crazy Men. Vytenėlis, always one-step ahead in the capital of the profession. The one who seeks shall he find. The scandal of prose determining access to an inside-outside system of a short skirt. The veteran of Lithuanian prose with an attempt to survive long-lastingly (if you can). Exactly this way during the best years of my life.

Disintegrated attack of prose and verbose writer’s obvious loyalty to his tribe, to his ancestry (the lifeblood of Adomas Rožukas and M. K. Čiurlionis). A genial book about mental health. A dream came as a feast sent by the L. Prince. This way love unbundled when he came into your mouth. Personages with fleas in their eyes and woman wishing to give birth to anybody to be fed on milk. The Little Prince put it so far that you regretted you ain’t dead. It is a novelist, who captured invisible side of reality. If Christ would be a writer, he would write a novel about crazy men. The time came when the purse of prose is too thin because the minor rain fell down, the time came to change the shoes of prose.>

When I was nine I established Minor Guards, I was their chief. On the house wall from the yard side, I wrote, "Darius and Girėnas* ³were grand men and for the freedom, they have perished". Our goal was to fight for Lithuania, fight against Russians, fight for freedom. I hid texts of Minor Guards at the friend’s, neighbour Virgis Janulaitis, behind the picture, on the other side, in the sitting-room. The legends have no age.

10-15 (1-85)

Ten years old – fifteen years old. At this age, I started to go in for sports: body-building, gymnastics, boxing. My friends could push on the bench 80 kilograms and I could push only 65 kilos. I took exercises under Schwarzenegger’ system. I sparred with my friends. I laid a wagger that I will knockout during three minutes. It was in school sports hall. All hooligans supported my competitor and I didn’t knock him out. I lost a bet. The other bet was in November. My friend went in for canoe sports and I had one minute to take a turn on the oars without turning over, but I turned over and lost a bet, I fell into cold Nemunas River.

I went into gymnastics for several years. In particular, I fared rings. The couch said, Rožukas is talented, he will be a good gymnast. But I didn’t have strength, although I met for the first rank of juniors in the competition. I started growing up and the tall didn’t mean for gymnastics, and I stopped being a gymnast. I remember as of today, a cold floor in winter, all are running around until the hall warms up. I have not learned to do flips from the place.

Guys with whom I went in for sports – Ponomariovas, Kaziukas Bartkevičius, went places. The first became a judo champion of Europe, the second met for the three first ranks – wrestling, gymnastics, karate and was karate champion of the (Soviet – D.G.) Union, and later he was an excellent karate couch. During this time my grandmother (from my mom‘s side) died. The only one who loved me with unselfish, altruistic love. And I loved her very much, although I was naughty, I used to laugh out at her. And today, praying Hail Mary I always set eyes on her image.

Two more children from my school died. One because of fume, another was overridden by bus. These were my first touches with death. Into a little box, I put a clipped skein of grandmother’s hair and a piece of wax from laid out Granma candle. Dad came in the evening and said, Alfute, get ready. My mom understood that grandmother died and started crying. My dad also took part in the funeral, although they were divorced already. He emblazoned ribbons to the wreaths with his beautiful type, he only didn’t go to Church because he was afraid to be fired from a job if somebody will notice him. All victories I had in boxing were won until eighteen.

He who hanged himself under the Christmas tree and poor granny’s questions to the L. Prince. Leaning on wooden crutches the prose writer from God – V. R. - is coming. His writings are carrying spiritual benefits. And a great thank you to the L. Prince who accompanied with trust, with an attempt to beg and heal the hearts which are ignorant towards the paranoid people. Realistic plot when there is an idea, but first of all the idea, and later the reality. Anna Karenina, Penelope, Juliet, Desdemona, Natasha – there are created personages with an expectation for more charismatic ones. Reach for eternity in prose prestige as an idea.

This book is with the consideration to all regards - age, health, and pocket. The Great Hem and the novel To Have Not To Have - are very poor. Don’t look a gifted horse in the teeth. Danish King moor Otelo and my heroes - 5 hours of reading. It is a wise investment of time. So, please read deliciously.>

15-20 (1-85)

I lost my first fight at the age of eighteen, I met a left-handed and I didn’t protect my press. He punched out my breath, I did not go to cover, to bounce off because my stomack was beaten through. I saw that the hit is coming up, but I could do nothing. My couch, noticing that I got beaten, told me to box further because he never saw me loosing. But with a left-handed boxer sparring is very different. I lost, although knock-down wasn’t there.

We had enhanced maths in our class. The teacher from Smetona* ⁴times was teaching us. I found Jonas Kubilius’** ⁵Olympiad propositions. And for every twenty tasks, I received mark five (in a five-point system). I stopped being interested in the taught course because I got very nice marks.

I took part in Republic Math Olympiad and became a prizeman, although I went without preparation. R. Gavelis***, ⁶whom I knew from Druskininkai, took part in physics Olympiad.

I lost my innocence during that period of time. I started play of eyes with a woman who was in a company of a man in a beerhouse Apynėlis. When she went to the bathroom I introduced myself and took her phone number. But later I thought, tomorrow is OK, but today is even better. N’ I took the same bus coming downtown. There I approached the beauty again, husband got mad, - I started counting 3, 7, 10, going to hit him, but the husband pulled his wife away. And we (I called her) met after a week. The first time it did not work, I was a newcomer, the second time I went into her. Is it the first time for you, she asked. Oh, no, I answered.

In summertime at grandfather’s farm, I met one of the beauty sisters in the dancing. We made love in the rye, near Aviris Lake, on the anthill, I swam naked and we made love on the moss.

After that, she arrived in Kaunas to study at the Nursing School. And I didn’t protect myself (my sin). She made an abortion and before the second abortion (I didn’t protect myself again) the doctor warned that there will be no abortions anymore, or you will stay sterile. She got pregnant and gave a birth. I was told when the baby already had several months. I went to Druskininkai and officially proposed. She told me that I still will have some girl whom I will truly love in the future, So I say no. She didn’t consider me as a serious party for married life.

This way I got a son.

A prose writer who took confidence of the society. Ways and forms of political news are changing: facebook, youtube, audiences as social media, but weak novels are also a part of a life of romanists. Noticeable tendency – conscious competition and prestige of a respondent. Responsibility for oneself. Literate’s prestige; what kind of threats are threating the quality of a novel? Questionnaires with the syndrome of social means where social webs, internet comments, as dialog with an audience. Professional indexes of a romanist with rhetorical questions: what is better - metaphor or logic power?

Free word wins against authority. Why are novels still important to people both in the province and in N.Y.? After all, you can be sacked, but you also can expand the business, but it carry loses for the capital of fair name. War with the novel writers when we are enforced to sacrifice the dearest what we have, - the time of our life. I study a lot, I communicate a lot with lifestyle students: brandy, cognac, and fried goose; connection of literature and words with business and street bachūrai*; ⁷should a pen would be sharp only and the word right, although it rises contradictions against government of nice sentences making (there are praisings from my side). This is writer’s misuse of a scene and prestige of heroes, who are presented to him. Nightingale of my prose is singing to everybody equally. What are expectations of V.R.’s office of art gamble? V. R. ratings are not declining. Problems that are important to everybody.>

During my first years of Donjuan’s life, I had 50-70 women every year. Especially when my friends were in the army and I was alone. I met a Jewish girl near the bank in Maironis Street, she came from Vilnius. Very pretty. We came together after two hours from the beginning of our meeting. I took her to my friend’s Virgis Butautas. I left her in the room and with a friend we discussed musical issues in the kitchen. After I went to her and she surrendered. Recorder’s tape ended, it turned and turned around, but I left it turning and made love to a super beautiful Jewish girl. After a few months, Virgis Butautas made love to her.

I started making music at seventeen. A repeater in the school told me that the percussionist makes 100 roubles per month and that it takes a month only to learn to play the drums. I knew that I would be a writer. And writers don’t have money, so I decided to make money in such a way in the future. Virgis Butautas was percussionist as well. I was learning a month, I learned three months, learned all year and I still didn’t know how to play drums. I remember how I beat Satisfactions of Rolling Stones. Ventures – solo of percussion; I liked Credences’ beater the most, but if I would learn from jazzmen at that time, I would have achieved good results during a short time, but I learned only from rock’n’roll players.

At that time I wrote a novel about Romas Kalanta** ⁸and dig it in the garden at Virgis Butautas. I made a photo roll, the other copy I gave to the parson of Kaunas Cathedral (through a hostess). Together with a bottle of cognac.

It seemed to me that everybody is just waiting for my novel about Kalanta (I was in the City Garden during events). I didn’t have information, which way to make literate’s career.

Director of Public Library Baltušis (namesake of the novelist, but I thought that he was a writer***⁹), said to me that Soviet censorship will not allow picturing a hooligan who knocked out a window therefore I didn’t expect to publish a real novel with the censorship’s blessing.

20-25 (1-85)

I played in restaurants (in Bačkonys, Eglė and so on); I saw how homosexual waiters intriqued in Bačkonys. In cafe Vilnelė the barista treated me to a glass of wine, helped me with good cigarettes, and when I wanted to go out he said, It’s raining outside, though there was no rain. He impressed me. Later he wrecked, I heard from somebody. Yes, he was a pederast.

At the classmate’s, who was studying in Vilnius, I slept and touched his buttock, though at the last moment I stood against the idea To try everything in life. But I had such a thought. Thank God, that was it. In Kaunas, in the flat I slept in one bed with Virgis’ friend pederast; I had to keep watching all night. Virgis laughed only. Probably, he knew that he was the pederast.

In Moscow, at International Film Festival, I was impressed by a gay photographer. His friend put an arm on my knee under the table. There was the whole company. At these times, I communicated with KGB-ists and homosexuals only. Only they had interest in me. I desired to publish a novel in English. I put all attempts into that.

In Pskov, (I went there for duty journey instead of Laimūnas) I spent one night in an encampment at the sixteen years old Gypsy girl. She cried, but I left her anyhow because I was self-lifted. In Pskov, I brought a sweet blonde to the hotel because I was used to exploiting the room one hundred per cent.

I traveled to Tallin by railroad and noticed a lonely beauty, and I sat beside her. There were compliments and hints of super love. I went off not reaching Tallin. Estonian girl was an equestrian sports master. She surrendered to me without shallow show-off, and in the morning, I continued my travel to Tallin, where I expected to find Finnish correspondent or woman and transfer a film with a tape of the photographed novel The New-fashioned Slaves about Romas Kalanta.

Leningrad. And I thought, why this decent guy is looking at me so, later told me Galia from Leningrad. Among women whom I had in the very beginning, a prize woman. I approached her just getting off the bus near the stop. After that, we went to my teacher the Jew Eugen Smirnov, an intellectual, where we slept. We were let in by his mother (aunt Basia). We used to go out for the night, leaving the door open, he had a room with books bound to the shelf.

I was in Leningrad with Butautas, I had sympathies (though I didn’t sleep with them). I was dreaming about becoming Hemingway. To travel around the world and write so interesting and long-lasting, as it was done by Hemingway. And, certainly, Homer. I was self-confident. The future was sky-blue and wonderful. And I was an organizer of that future. Virgis especially rode bus number X because he noticed there a pretty girl, but was late to approach her. It was the best time for me that I ever had. Friendship and adventures - happiness in heart and soul.

I often remember when a little whore in Riga, as it seemed to me, vapored that the seagoing captain offered her one hundred roubles, but she refused. I stood beside her and she said, Do what you want with me. But I didn’t dare because at that time I was still innocent. She turned around and ran away, and I continued to be innocent.

I remember how I entered the famous restaurant, say so Neringa, with three volleyball players, tall as limes and I have slept with all of them. I remember two blonds, one dyed her hair when I asked. She looked like Jane Fonda, and the other – a dead spit of Marilyn Monroe. If you will marry, I will marry you, the late said to me. I had virgin super beauty from Žirmūnai night bar. The bed sank with blood and my friend, who let us in his accommodation, got angry with his girlfriend who suspected him to bring around a little rubbish.

I remember a little Russian girl from Erfurtas Restaurant. She all but went with Armenians, but at the last moment, I took her and gaded around Vilnius with her looking for a flat. After all, I settled at my and Virgis’ lover, who politely went away at five o’clock in the morning and left me with a little Russian girl. (As if today, I remember a condom, which I dropped down on the roof from the room of my lover.) In the morning I put little Russian girl into a taxi. I was affected by her simplicity and sincerity, without flirtation and ruse.

I left a very pretty girl to my friend Vidulis after making love to her.

The other time my five friends came with a girl and instead of the towel, they used old newspapers. I met that girl on the evening fingers-crossed with her fiance. The bath was even green when she washed after these newspapers. Queue song.

There were voayges after night bar Orbita, ridesharing from Kaunas to Palanga, with the neighbour girl. In Klaipėda taxi driver took us to a small private hotel, the girl was sick, but whatever. She entered the number of my decent beauties.

In a word, hundreds of loves. One in Orbita through her brother fought me off the other and without intrigues made love totally prepared for one-night stand, without intrigues.

During that time, I wrote rock opera with a pianist Liova Schneider, who after tried to make pop opera by himself, but he failed because he didn’t have creativity system. In my opinion, intonations are the base of future melody. Why? Every musician is dreaming about becoming a composer.

That’s why.

I had a girl music teacher in Moscow who invited me to visit her home, introduced me to her parents and put up for the night. I didn’t leave her my address, but she found out my address through information later and came to me to Kaunas. She expected to win me. She wanted a baby from me, and I hardly jumped off her, she wanted to become pregnant.

During my career, I had quite a few girls who wanted a baby from me. I was going to leave for the West and therefore I didn’t want to marry and at the same time have kids. Except for one case, a married woman, who loved me and I was for her almost the first, I asked her for a baby because I knew I will not marry anyone, so I was caring to leave somebody after myself. I already had one child (natural child from Leipalingis). From that girl, who was making abortions from me.

25-30 (1-85)

At that time, I was friends with the captain of basketball master team. She expanded my life point of view. She was charming, cheerful, she knew how to communicate as no other, everybody liked her, everybody respected her. She also wanted to marry me. I didn’t communicate with any other woman so long. I accompanied her home to Žaliakalnis every day. My brother knew her, therefore my mother accepted her hospitably and benevolently. Even today, I remember how communicable, humane girl she was. She had a salon, where sports women and representatives of golden youth gathered. Even friends of my brother (and my brother made friends only with those at the top).

I counted twenty-five cases when she played eyes with guys, to whom she looked beautiful, and I envied her very much. Once I left her to a neighbour friend, who had to drive her to the training from Tulpė (later I went to Orbita). The front door of Moskvitch didn’t open from inside. That friend later arrived at Orbita and vapored, that he didn’t need women today because he already had one. I understood that he slept with my girl. After a year, he said to me that he made love to her, but the other time. Maybe he lied, he was to be expected, but my envy didn’t have limits. After getting drunk I brought her to the stairway to Žaliakalnis and (what a pig!) I pissed on her holding her hair (she was sitting on the stairs).

From episodes with her – five bottles of champagne, which she drank during first meeting (I didn’t drink, I was in sports at that time). I walked through cafes, every time new ones and she drank again and was sober as a glass because the sportswomen could buy champagne for sports tokens and were used to it. Only her lips were wishful. After a competition with Leningrad’s Spartak, we were traveling on the railway through Tallin. And I imagined making love with her, hiring a compartment. But the stewardess didn’t allow me.

When we got angry, I received a call from her friend, a basketball player as well, a daughter of Stepas Butautas, but I didn’t want to humiliate my girlfriend (because I knew that she would suffer much). And I didn’t start an affair with genial basketball player, although I liked her.

To the Moscow Olympiad (with the hope to find there a wife from abroad) I came from Kuibyshev (Samara). During Olympic Games only accredited journalists and sportsmen could stay in Moscow. Tourists were forbidden. In Kuibyshev I met a married woman and then when Ditiatin won gold in Gymnastics, I made love to her so that she would get pregnant because her husband was sterile. I knew that due to literate’s career I will never marry and will not have children, so this variant applied to me. She was Belarussian, of wonderful character and humble. Only people who were registered in Moscow could enter Moscow. I showed that I was flying from Krasnoyarsk through Moscow to Vilnius. Moscow Olympiad was closed city.

I was looking for a wife in Yerevan, who would emigrate to the West. From Yerevan to Kaliningrad, Samara, and Krasnoyarsk, I carried women’s shoes and sold them at a very high price. I was supporting myself this way. In Krasnoyarsk hotel, I met two girls - volleyball player and Tartar girl. I especially spoke a lot about sex, but they left. After half an hour, they called and invited me to visit them. I hurried to them with joy and managed them both there. I possibly lingered about an hour.

In the city (Krasnoyarsk), I met an especially beautiful girl at the cinema, but I didn’t dare to make love to her, and she tried hard not to be a whore. She was one of the most beautiful women, whom I met in my life. With shoes, I stayed near Kaliningrad, in Svetlogorsk, with nice beach and oak-wood near the pond. I had four girls there, one I hooked in the beach, I noticed near her bugs and after few days, I understood that I got louses. I didn’t know exactly who of them, so I taxed all of them by twenty roubles. On Saturday and Sunday, I used to go to the market in Kaliningrad and I sold there women’s shoes and jeans (Wrangler, cost 220-250 roubles).

I had a super beauty Andžela in Yerevan, she took care of me, but she didn’t agree to emigrate to Yugoslavia. So I didn’t marry her. Having a protection from Mieželaitis*, ¹⁰I settled down in University dormitory, where the foreigners lived. Mieželaitis said to my aunt Valia Čiurlionytė-Karužienė, What he wants, that Rožukas? I explained to my aunt that I will become a writer only after choosing life experiences. And she said that I need to start earlier. M. K. Čiurlionis was my grandfather’s cousin of the first rank. I was in the mood to overcome him. I knew very well, who was Čiurlionis for Lithuania, but I was so insolent that I expected to overcome him in arts.

Aunt loved me. I fixed electricity and other for her. I didn’t express myself as Čiurlionis biographer, though from aunt Valė and aunt Jadzė* ¹¹I used to get information from inside. My father, who lived several years at her, told me about aunt Valia’s salon guests – J. Boruta, B. Sruoga (he read them first The Wood of Gods), K. Genys**; ¹²about the love of J. Boruta and aunt Jadzė Čiurlionytė, about E. Mieželaitis and other poets. I didn’t like that Konstantinas Mikalojus gave the last rouble to the beggar. I considered it as coxcombry and ignorance of life.

In Moscow Hotel Rossia during Film Festival, I found in a list of guests Gabriel García Márquez and decided to meet him. I wake up at 7 AM and at 8 AM with the bouquet of red roses I already sat on the ninth floor beside super lux hotel number. At that moment, the waiter brought breakfast and I forwarded roses to Márquez. Soon Márquez came out and invited me inside. I asked him in detail about novel writing.

He told that he works one page per day, later he is reading the press and communicates with friends. He has taken part in the creation of many screenplays and films, he studied in courses for cinema scriptwriters in Rome. Márquez represented here Mexico where he lived for some time. His wife was a very beautiful woman.

When we moved together the second time, he also was in Hotel Rossia during Film Festival. Only then was Miloš Forman, the film director, from whom I also took an interview. There was also Dean Reed, an American singer, who has emigrated to East Germany and was exploited by communists for BAM advertising and so on, etc. Nikita Michalkov told me that he is communicating with journalists only during press conference. He was already self-lifted then, but not so much as Michalkov-Konchalovsky, who was vaporing to everybody about his success in Canes.

With Mexican movie star Jogi Ruž we went so far, that her associate Mexican begrudged. And during Festival closing the decent Daniel Olbrychski with the owner of beautiful eyes Barbara Brylska*** ¹³and Bruno O’Ya invited me there as Lithuanian because they have heard about Lithuania only good. In luxury number of Francis Ford Coppola were only his wife and children. The husband was in Mosfilm. I gave her a letter, which she read. I wrote there, that it would be very helpful for me, a Lithuanian novelist, if the film director would persuade Jogi Ruž to marry me. I would land in the West with a novel about Kalanta and other novels.

And the secretary of Francis Ford Coppola gave me a ticket to the film Apocalypse Now. Her number was a mess. The clothes, dresses, household items were scattered around.

A long queue of people was waiting for review of movie Apocalypse Now an hour because a stereo movie needed an American technique. Gina Lollobrigida was standing in the queue (I almost raped her in an elevator), Oleg Yankovsky with a girlfriend from Lithuania, Vilė Tūbaitė (who slept before with Bruno O’Ya, and later with Kaidanovsky*****). ¹⁴All, caught by curiosity, were waiting for self-lifted Coppola, who forced others honor him in such a way - the Russian equipment didn’t work, American stereo was needed, an author of The Godfather was crying out for honouring. Besides, Marlon Brando from his side, in another case, also attempted to lift himself. That’s what the world of cinematography is used to be.

VAN GOGH

I ate chicken stew and I was poisoned. I looked in the mirror and my tongue was white with little white spots. The blow to my head was terrible. It’s a miracle that I persevered! That’s Gauguin made to me. God whispered in my ear, Vincent - the Satanist of Hell occupied you through sounds. Willy-nilly your art serves to Mephisto. Yes, you are an innovator and discoverer. But where you will be after death. Close a mouthpiece of sound - your right ear. I hear voices, I suffer from inside voice. My eyes: I am injured, something is wrong. I am falling short, delirious look. I want to report. My bed, sheet with the spots like a map, which was made by Columbus.

I love her. Theo. He. Lively as a screaming piggy in a stall and his pig’s life philosophy. My pictures, they are tinkly yellow oaks in the autumn. My pictures are a super original prose, entering the accountancy of eternity, which has an obstacle – a well-trodden path of banal ideas and banal metaphors. Me, a man who is sacrifying everything for art, whom could not understand Gaugin, Theo Van Gogh, and prostitutes, whom, besides, I love as sisters of Holy Mary. I sacrifice everything for humanism, the welfare of mankind and fair name. Paranoia and suicide problem is bringing to me only phantasy vaccinations, I implanted yellow color and rye.

Gaugin, decent, greedy of fame, have taken from me Mimi; 10 lines about personage collection, which was granted to someone, who arrived at the guy dormitory with a question: Do you have some peep show… Gaugin with light pornography and moments of hardcore pornography, anal sex, and sadomasochism pictures.

Eternity and pacifism, love to humankind as well - that’s what I wish. All this by the logic mind. Gaugin – that d’Artagnian of Provance. I must win him because Satan is sending to my right ear bad things. After that Van Gogh cuts off his ear. Because he heard voices.

I did very well to eliminate that megaphone of bad guys – my right ear. Now only God can talk to me. Goethe’s father died being insane. When he had the last seizure, Goethe was writing Iphigenia. I am dying being of perfect mind, totaly conscious, being sane and my psychiatrist is blackmailing me after Theo had persuaded him (later it came clear, that his genes were rotten, that he was sick with paranoia, Theo). Gaugin was a leader in his group and he loved to be first among his friends. I, Vincent, am humble. I don’t care, what lower people in the professional hierarchy are thinking about me. We, people of an unstable mind, are waiting until the act of Satan’s extrusion will happen when two colonic patients will suddenly recover.

"God, what a happiness! We are sane again because sick paranoiac is living under hell’s regime. These people started arguing, who got more colonics. It was in the beginning of a psychiatric era until chemistry started solving trials and tribulations of paranoia. After all, the author is on the side of the weak. And love to humanity – a slogan for simple people – is leading us one step towards the area of eternity. And he, the goat, would eat even a bicycle.

It. A megaphone of Dante’s realism, who as if a scholar with a dinner jacket and bow-tie is convinced, that generally there are no bad books. All of them are fascinating in some way. And they descendit ad ineferes (went down to hell, Lat.). Our weapon – for the sake of humanism, the welfare of humankind and love (we are using only double-checked plots). And this sturzgeburt (acute labor, Germ.) is an improvisation on the theme of paranoia, on the theme of love to humankind. And pacifism - when fear, suspicion, horror are imagined by a sick mind, and paranoia is sweeping sergeants, lieutenants, and majors of logic mind because there are no limits for perfection. Because generalissimo is a stuning fact in hierarchy and places of capital when an action means hell, to which I didn’t want to get, I killed myself, I shot myself, I died as a gentleman.

30-35 (1-85)

By the way, I got into the head from Gypses, I was guilty, I humiliated them and got into a knockdown. It happened in Vakaro (Jaunimo, Versalio) Café. The second time there as well. I saw how my cousin was beaten, I blocked him and got a hit Mikatsuki geri by leg into a head and flew into the center of the street; I didn’t evaluate the competitor here. Once in Tiflis I also got into a knockdown when I understood that there was a funeral, and I wanted to buy some T-shirts. I was punished by a knock into my jaw. I didn’t get into fighting, I withdraw.

And the fourth time I got into knockdown in Vilnius. I was blamed that I made a mess in a toilet and was bushwhacked sent to a knockdown. Since that time my eye lost its blue color, it became brown, the cornea was injured. So, four knockdowns and no one knockout. Such a harvest. I reached more in boxing. Because I valuated the rival. I love you, said Armenian girl Anžela with her soft voice, soft, but full of power. She wasn’t tall but very beautiful. De profundis clamavi (From the depth I call you, Lat.); I call her at the time of disaster, I call her from the past; we were drinking coffee, we ate an ice cream, we were walking in Yerevan downtown, she was joking over and over again. For example, - we are watching the film, and she throws the mandarin into the figure of Elisabeth Taylor, I run to pick it up, and she is laughing and I laugh.

I needed money, then I started looking for a job. In it, as it seems to me, should be love to humankind and love to the near, as if I would be a representative of eternity, representative of immortality. So I ended up in a tire plant, in a factory of soot.

I demand discipline as in a ship, said a master to me. We were eating in the canteen. Milk soup, black of soot spoon and dirty table, it wasn’t easy to breathe. The soot as worms was everywhere, even in food."

You are a good guy, told me Aramis, a co-worker, soot loader. I know, you will manage, you will win in this hell. The pure spirits advice us how to stay in this hell.

The hell – it is a soot factory. Tires. Yes, there is paranoia else, an inner world of Satan when a person is unhappy as a damned citizen of Hades. The horror of five stars hell is the Tires.

Imagine a hill of sacks. You climb up on top, take the sack (if it opens, the soot is flowing), you lift it up with biceps and carry it to the conveyor, where the sacks with soot are swinging on the hooks (the soot flowing on the way). It’s impossible to breathe. The heat under the roof is 45 degrees by Celsium. The cloud of dirt is following the loader, wading in soot and hills of soot sacks. There is no greater humiliation as physical difficulty.

I have known some decent, who said, I love physical job. But not for me. It’s too hard for me to suffer trouble and physical load.

You spit in the tire factory, and the saliva is black. Turn back from a job, spit away – and it is black. How do lungs look like in this quadro horror and nightmare?

Despite everything, I used to come to work intended to commit it to the reach of eternity, to describe the hardest job and trouble in the world.

The phenomena of this world differ from theoretical phenomena of the world, the master told me. Death is more horrible than this job, but the chance to die from cancer here is the greatest.

Presence of death ishere, beside. To shoot oneself with a pistol – it’s a king’s death. To die of cancer, suffering from the hardest job in the world – it’s equal to a voucher to hell. The disabled - they are the cases when you feel uncomfortable, and feel frustrated in front of opening painful trouble.

I don’t like the smell of gas, told Aramis.

Why? I asked.

Because my cousin killed himself with gas.

It is a smell of soot, and I can’t stand the bad smell of it, I said. Here my life is decaying. I am a prosaist without honor and shame. We are dead for happiness, but we didn’ notice it, although we died for good. I. Kant proposes disinterest in art.

Armenian girl – hot pussy. They are hot. Especially good for me, said Aramis, the crotch of the third size, the breast of the third size and jolly 34 sizes but.

Aramis, I said. You are a true friend. Only you alone can pity a soot loader.

Work was hard. I wanted to cry. I already wasn’t able to lift the soot sack, I didn’t have strength. But Aramis could, it meant I could too. When I came home, I spat and the saliva was black, the lungs were flooded with soot. The most disgusting was factory canteen. Milk soup and spoon smudged with soot. The shower was waiting after work. It was impossible to wash the soot, I filed with a piece of bast, but the soot, soaked into my body, didn’t wash out. I would work one more year, but I was a conscript, I had to be recruited to the army and workplace – it was an address, by which I have to be found. Three months left until the end of conscript’s period and I decided to leave the toil in tire factory.

I made bread by selling women’s shoes. I buy them in Yerevan, sell in the biggest markets of the Soviet Union – in Samara, Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk and elswere. I also sold jeans, women’s fur coats and items, bought in Moscow, - in Polish, Romanian, Bulgarian, Yugoslavian, Indian supermarkets, after standing in a queue and putting a rouble into this poor business.

In Odessa, I was arrested by criminal militia, which took away jeans, which I had put into station left-luggage. I said that I have found these jeans and they released me, only digested my jeans. I had several girls in Odessa, one even worked in a trading ship, but I missed a chance and when she hiked up the price, I left her crying and didn’t ask her second time.

In Odessa, I liked slang and Odessan humor. Opera Theater as well (there were two such theaters in the Union – in Lvov and Odessa, I visited both). Not a debauch, but the time of hippies, children of flowers.

NIETZSCHE

Aphorisms, sentences; my ambition demands to tell in ten sentences something, that anybody else tells in a whole book, what anyone else can’t tell by a book.

What? That human being is only God’s mistake? Or God is only mistake of a human being?

I am a litterateur, writing about masters: Nietzsche, Van Gogh, Schumann, Hölderlin, Čiurlionis, Janonis, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Hemingway… All of them – people, sacrifying everything for a profession. All generals of their professions. All were sick with paranoia. Genes. Hemingway’s father shot himself, Hemingway’s grandaughter suicided, his brother and sister were also ill with paranoia. The Little Prince fell in love with those, who were tall as 183 cm, and whoes I.Q. – 140.

It’s my pleasure to report, I said to the L. Prince, that circumlocution (2 m 30 cm) is not for my strength. I am only a prosaist who reached 2 meters high. And capitals - profession, fair name, phantasy – imagination, leadership, religion, money, sports – tourism – transport, inside-outside, family, love, friendship, hedonism – these capitals allow choosing where the stresses should be put. I chose hedonism (schnapps), profession (height 2 meters), friendship (2.15 m), love (2.25 m). Well, I am not a champion, but during a lifetime in some places, I am almost a general. Hierarchy by points. Nietzsche – 100 points, Wagner – 80 points, his wife, Liszt’s daughter Cosima – 95 points; jockey Adolph – 85 points, his cousin Rudolph – 88 points, mulatto Baltasar – 80 points.

Death and dream – sister and brother. They are Nietzsche’s words. Nowadays every little pile of bullshit is called a creation of genius, and in the past – the best is in the past, meanwhile, geniuses are sponsored by the L. Prince, who adverts soul concept as a problem. The L. Prince, at the left of him is a little dog Muska and the rose from the planet No 183. The L. Prince is a relative to Dionysus, the lord of spring and Hades, Pan.

What causes the awakening of mercy? asked the L. Prince. Professor, what is most important for the humankind?

Suffering and awfulness of disease, told the artist from the planet No 183. We recognize the suffering and pity the person; suffering is dangerous to the sanity of mind.

Envy and suspicion, said the L. Prince. These are the mother of paranoia and father of psychosis.

And how, I asked, should I create metaphors from my own experience? Would it be a revelation of philosophical horizons or love with a long gap, which we will call love?

I will evaluate your writing by points. The prestige of your writing is among milliard people. So, you are not a champion.

I write to stay in eternity, I said. My texts are muscular. Just let’s look around in history.

Aesthetics of ugliness and ruins of Christianity, said the L. Prince.

But let’s return to Cosima, Vagner’s wife, at that time when she разлюбила* ¹⁵jockey Rudolph and fell in love with his cousin, cook of the seminary Adolph.

In hippodrome, Rudolph sat on unrestful filly Melancholy with a hope to win this time. It would be the fourth time if he would win during last six competitions.

Nietzsche, Adolph, and Cosima unanimously placed a bet on Melancholy. Nietzsche chose Melancholy because he was submerged into melancholy, Cosima seemed to him as Ariadne.

It’s a pity, that there is no stallion Dionysus, I certainly would have chosen him, said Nietzsche. "Melancholy - a state when the world seems typically schizophrenic. We will see. It. Melancholy. The flower of pavement. Rudolph is dignified today. Poor man. He stopped loving Cosima, just like me. And just like me, he stayed an ‘ex-‘, unhappy just as me for unanswered love. Insanity in an