Tragic heroes have always captivated the mind of the play writer. From Shakespeare to Kushner, the principal and definition of a tragic hero have remained intact. A tragic hero is doomed to fail. The play’s situations and circumstances close on him like a trap, not allowing him to escape his fate. His flaws are human – it can be pride, stubbornness, ignorance or “emotional blindness” to name a few. These tragic flaws lead him to misfortune and inevitable disaster. Every tragic hero has a moment of recognition in which he becomes aware of his flaw, but it’s too late to change anything - he is walking with open eyes towards his doom.
Bernard Madoff is a tragic hero. As a former ruler of his ever expanding financial kingdom, Mr. Madoff allowed himself to take some risks on the expense of his subjects. The people shall prevail as long as their king is protected by cushions of money. Mr. Madoff and his two sons are part of the current original tragedy of Wall Street – A rich, smart, Jewish family gone bad on ponzy scheme in the midst of the financial crisis. Mr. Madoff, the father, try to hide his sons deceptive deeds by taking all the blame on himself.
The moment of recognition had not yet come to Mr. Madoff. The tragedy had not concluded. Only when he will realize his crimes he will understand his flaw – the one great flaw of the true American theatre on Wall Street – Greed.
22.2.09
On The Island
On the underground train just can’t stop it not even on Sundays when everything seems to be relaxed fourteen street union square the announcer of the plan making you think there is a structure to everything all I can think of is the great poets and novelists with their Daedalus and Bloom and Tzesar and Madeleine cookies and how I wish to have one percent of their talent but I guess my fellow riders on this train wish it too for themselves and how much talent can you fit in one car not much I guess last night I also took the train but it was different different people the night people and the day people in their never ending chase sometimes they mix and the day people becomes the night people and you can never really tell which is which but for me it’s all the same because they’re all in the business of making it struggling to survive in a cold hearted city which is like the internet which is great if you have a computer but useless if you don’t and in this city everyone wants that computer or something else they can own twenty third street this enigmatic voice announces just to draw the attention of specialist riders those who don’t need his services they can smell the odor of each street and decide for themselves if they will stay or leave the car some get out of the car just to get into a different one and the cycle continues all like ants in Ayn Rand’s megabook trying to achieve something they don’t really know about and they are all sure they’re going to find it here on the island because here all the currencies are flying and the successful people and the glamour and the movies and Tiffany’s and Broadway and here he wrote and here they shot this scene and here is the runway of the ritzy world looks like rats the dirtiest kind twenty eight street going up my head aches it’s hard to think in broken English and I wonder how many are there like me who struggle with a foreign tongue just to impress the money men and their lovely wives and it’s like a prison in this island trying to please them the masses the subway riders to succeed to succeed means that you have to sell you have to be more clear you have to stupidify your work just that you’ll get more points just that you’ll market the reflection of yourself it’s not about you anyways it’s just about the things you can sell for them thirty third street and my mind is boiling I want to go to a different island where you can live proudly above the ground an island that is mine and I can stand still without the fear of missing a train to do my own thing without the recognition everyone is striving to build something unique and original of my own to start a family to have conversations that are not about money or the rent or the weather always the fucking weather and people are dying even on this island and being tortured on a neighboring island and the constant drill is the weather that what will help us keep our sanity Grand Central I’m getting off I don’t know where I’m going but I can’t stay on this train it’s making me sick and the pain is crawling all over my body I’ll just wait for the next train maybe some new thoughts but then there’s a girl on the platform singing along with her ipod it’s your birthday we’re gonna party like it’s your birthday and I feel happy for her because she doesn’t know about my half baked thoughts and I don’t know about hers and I can only guess that she’s happy so maybe she thinks the same way about me and we both stand still next to each other on the island waiting for something to happen
20.2.09
Accurate Intervals – Short Fiction
Edmond was ready to kill himself, and for an indecisive person like him, it was quite an achievement. He lived in an unimportant city on the Mediterranean coastline, where the warm nights lingered lazily only to become harsh boiling days. But he didn’t care much for the days, since he was sound asleep. He worked nights as a clerk in a second rate hotel. He sat behind the reception desk for eight hours, serving drunken walk-ins that were looking for some midnight action with imported Russian hookers. He looked like a young Max von Sydow behind that desk – a frozen expression of numbness. His tormented soul just stood in line, waiting to be extinguished. But this was not Sweden, and Edmond decided he could no longer wait.
The clock ticked in its never-ending boredom. The pendulum was swinging back and forth like a hanged man. The small green lobby was empty, and only the cheap smell of recently cleaned floor was ever-present, hovering above the lobby like the Holy Spirit. Edmond gazed at it with a blank stare. He sat still behind the desk. Dark circles of sleeplessness were hanged under his eyes, making him look even more grotesque. He wore a cheap suit and a cheap tie, and a nametag. The walls were thin, and the paper walls were flowery, trying to give a fake European chic to a dying establishment. Edmond hated the hotel, but more than that, he hated himself for not quitting his job. He worked there for ten years, since he was twenty.
Edmond walked to the back room which was a windowless cube. Sets of drawers covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling, making the room to appear even smaller. Edmond opened one of the drawers and reached for a hammer. He climbed up a small chair so he could touch the ceiling. He took a nail and a metal loop out of his pocket, and started to hammer the loop into the ceiling. He banged the nail in accurate intervals, like the rhythm of the pendulum clock. As he finished attaching the loop to the ceiling, he got off the chair, and observed his creation for a moment. He went back to the front desk, and pulled out a rope he carried in his bag. He made a noose in one end of the rope, and tied the other end to the metal loop. Everything was ready now. Edmond sat on the chair in the back room. The noose was above him. He closed his eyes and thought about his mother.
After a few moments Edmond climbed up the chair. He put the noose around his neck. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he felt the rough touch of the noose around him. Then he heard the sound of the entrance door being opened, then a giggling couple, then the reception bell rang.
An old bald man and a young hooker stood in front of him at the reception desk. The old man smoked a cigarette, and used the floor as an ashtray. The hooker was a beautiful tall blonde, with strong cheekbones. She wasn’t Russian like the rest of them, and her gaze made Edmond feel uncomfortable, like she was trying to penetrate his shell. He pretended to ignore her, and gave the old man a room. The couple went up the stairs, leaving Edmond behind staring at their crooked drunken walk. He was staring long after the couple disappeared to their room, trying to postpone his doom as much as he could.
The hooker reminded him a girl he once knew - a tourist that stayed in the hotel for one week. He had always imagined what he would say to the beautiful tourist, but he never did anything. He was silent and afraid and never had the courage to say tender words, especially not to a girl that he thought was better than him in every category. Then the tourist left the hotel, and Edmond wished he could leave too. Stillness was his great enemy, but tonight it would change. Tonight he would check out for good.
Edmond went back to the noose, and tightened it around his neck. He heard the old man and the hooker having sex in the room above him. He shifted his legs back and forth a few times until the chair dropped sideways on the floor. The sex was getting rougher and rougher on the bed above him as his face turned red. The thin ceiling started to move up and down, in the rhythm of the sex, making his legs touch and not touch the chair. The old man was groaning hard as he reached his peek, and at that moment the metal loop dropped to the ground, taking Edmond and the noose with it. Then silence. The old man and the hooker ceased to exist. Edmond was lying on the floor, hearing the lobby clock in its usual beats.
It took him a few minutes to recover and go back to the front desk. He was confused, neither happy nor sad. The hooker went down the stairs, glowing like a Swedish movie star. Edmond was captivated by her walk and the sound her high heels made upon touching the floor. She left the key at the desk and started to make her way out. At the last second she turned around and stared at Edmond. Her gaze made him completely naked, defenseless, like she knew about his false attempt. The Pendulum at the lobby was frozen. She moved her lips without uttering any sound, saying, “Inte än! Inte än!” Then she turned around and left the hotel.
The clock went with its endless movements as Edmond climbed up the stairs to the room of the old man and the hooker. The door was half open. He knocked three times on the door, but no one answered. Silently he sneaked into the dark dingy room. He didn’t see anything in the darkness, but he smelled sex and death, passion and disgust. He turned on the lamp to discover the poor old man lying naked and frozen on the bed, with a smile on his face.
The next day Edmond went to the local library and looked for a Swedish dictionary. He found out what the woman said. He went back to the hotel and quit his job. He was happy because he knew it wasn’t his time, and what the angel of death told him was soothing and sweet – “Not yet! Not yet!”
Edmond considered traveling for a while, but he couldn’t decide where to go. He often took long walks along the seaside, listening to the sound of the waves. Then he thought to himself, “If I could only live and die in accurate intervals, like the waves, like the clock… To be invincible and free without feeling guilt about my meaninglessness… To stop being afraid… To stop being afraid… Then maybe to fall in love…” Then he got hungry and forgot it all.
The clock ticked in its never-ending boredom. The pendulum was swinging back and forth like a hanged man. The small green lobby was empty, and only the cheap smell of recently cleaned floor was ever-present, hovering above the lobby like the Holy Spirit. Edmond gazed at it with a blank stare. He sat still behind the desk. Dark circles of sleeplessness were hanged under his eyes, making him look even more grotesque. He wore a cheap suit and a cheap tie, and a nametag. The walls were thin, and the paper walls were flowery, trying to give a fake European chic to a dying establishment. Edmond hated the hotel, but more than that, he hated himself for not quitting his job. He worked there for ten years, since he was twenty.
Edmond walked to the back room which was a windowless cube. Sets of drawers covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling, making the room to appear even smaller. Edmond opened one of the drawers and reached for a hammer. He climbed up a small chair so he could touch the ceiling. He took a nail and a metal loop out of his pocket, and started to hammer the loop into the ceiling. He banged the nail in accurate intervals, like the rhythm of the pendulum clock. As he finished attaching the loop to the ceiling, he got off the chair, and observed his creation for a moment. He went back to the front desk, and pulled out a rope he carried in his bag. He made a noose in one end of the rope, and tied the other end to the metal loop. Everything was ready now. Edmond sat on the chair in the back room. The noose was above him. He closed his eyes and thought about his mother.
After a few moments Edmond climbed up the chair. He put the noose around his neck. The adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he felt the rough touch of the noose around him. Then he heard the sound of the entrance door being opened, then a giggling couple, then the reception bell rang.
An old bald man and a young hooker stood in front of him at the reception desk. The old man smoked a cigarette, and used the floor as an ashtray. The hooker was a beautiful tall blonde, with strong cheekbones. She wasn’t Russian like the rest of them, and her gaze made Edmond feel uncomfortable, like she was trying to penetrate his shell. He pretended to ignore her, and gave the old man a room. The couple went up the stairs, leaving Edmond behind staring at their crooked drunken walk. He was staring long after the couple disappeared to their room, trying to postpone his doom as much as he could.
The hooker reminded him a girl he once knew - a tourist that stayed in the hotel for one week. He had always imagined what he would say to the beautiful tourist, but he never did anything. He was silent and afraid and never had the courage to say tender words, especially not to a girl that he thought was better than him in every category. Then the tourist left the hotel, and Edmond wished he could leave too. Stillness was his great enemy, but tonight it would change. Tonight he would check out for good.
Edmond went back to the noose, and tightened it around his neck. He heard the old man and the hooker having sex in the room above him. He shifted his legs back and forth a few times until the chair dropped sideways on the floor. The sex was getting rougher and rougher on the bed above him as his face turned red. The thin ceiling started to move up and down, in the rhythm of the sex, making his legs touch and not touch the chair. The old man was groaning hard as he reached his peek, and at that moment the metal loop dropped to the ground, taking Edmond and the noose with it. Then silence. The old man and the hooker ceased to exist. Edmond was lying on the floor, hearing the lobby clock in its usual beats.
It took him a few minutes to recover and go back to the front desk. He was confused, neither happy nor sad. The hooker went down the stairs, glowing like a Swedish movie star. Edmond was captivated by her walk and the sound her high heels made upon touching the floor. She left the key at the desk and started to make her way out. At the last second she turned around and stared at Edmond. Her gaze made him completely naked, defenseless, like she knew about his false attempt. The Pendulum at the lobby was frozen. She moved her lips without uttering any sound, saying, “Inte än! Inte än!” Then she turned around and left the hotel.
The clock went with its endless movements as Edmond climbed up the stairs to the room of the old man and the hooker. The door was half open. He knocked three times on the door, but no one answered. Silently he sneaked into the dark dingy room. He didn’t see anything in the darkness, but he smelled sex and death, passion and disgust. He turned on the lamp to discover the poor old man lying naked and frozen on the bed, with a smile on his face.
The next day Edmond went to the local library and looked for a Swedish dictionary. He found out what the woman said. He went back to the hotel and quit his job. He was happy because he knew it wasn’t his time, and what the angel of death told him was soothing and sweet – “Not yet! Not yet!”
Edmond considered traveling for a while, but he couldn’t decide where to go. He often took long walks along the seaside, listening to the sound of the waves. Then he thought to himself, “If I could only live and die in accurate intervals, like the waves, like the clock… To be invincible and free without feeling guilt about my meaninglessness… To stop being afraid… To stop being afraid… Then maybe to fall in love…” Then he got hungry and forgot it all.
19.2.09
The First
I was very young when that magic burst into my life. I was four years old or maybe five, and though my childhood till then was happy and fulfilling, retrospectively, I just don’t know how I managed to survive all my early years without it. I remember that day in specific details, and every time I look back to that glorious point in my life, my soul fills up with excitement, and my heart gets over-loaded with pure passion.
My mom woke me up on Saturday morning, announcing the great news. “Today is the day”, she said with voice full of joy, and I just jumped on the bed, performing my victory dance. My brother tried to tease me and said he had been there many times, but I just didn’t care because I’d waited for months with great anticipation towards this day. By noon time my mom, dad, sister, brother, and myself were dressed in our finest garments, ready to leave the house.
Sunny at heart, I’d expected much more cheerful weather, but, unfortunately, it was a gray rainy day. We all rushed quickly to the car, running between the raindrops, and trying not to wet our outfits. Finally, safe in the car, we were making our way to the big city of Tel Aviv. At least, it was big then, from that miraculous point of view of a child.
“Is there something wrong?”, my mom asked my dad as he pulled over the side of the road. “I believe we have a flat tire”, my dad answered with obvious disappointment. Dad went out of the car to estimate the damage, while my sister, who was in her teens, was complaining about everything. “I knew I shouldn’t come with you… What’s the big deal of it anyway”. While dad was fixing the car, I asked mom if we’ll be there on time. Mom relaxed me and said that nothing can’t ruin our plans. I believed her.
Back on the road again, we finally made it to the city. As we strolled towards the location, I saw the agitated crowd just in front of me, waiting, congested, under shelters. “You see, we arrived right on time”, my mom tried to appease me. I had never realized there are so many people in the world till I confronted this jam-packed horde. My excitement was beyond any limits, and I stared at the people around me with sheer amount of amazement. I gazed at them and I knew that soon I’ll be mature like them, after all, we’re all going to participate in the same experience.
From all the commotion and the keenness of the crowd around, I found myself, all of a sudden, completely alone, surrounded only by strangers. I looked around me, and there was no sign of my family. I ran madly through the crowd, the way only a young boy who had lost his parents could. The panic was pumping in my veins, and I started to scream, “MOM! DAD!”, but there was no response to my desperate shouts. Lost and miserable, I’d waited until the crowd got in. I cried hysterically for I wanted so much to find my family and go inside with them. The entrance was desolate, and my heart was full of fear and helplessness, but then, the sweet voice of mommy came to my ears, “ Where have you been… I was so worried about you… Oh, my sweet little devil”. She hugged me and we went inside.
It was dark. My heart was beating fast. I could hear myself breathing anxiously. The curtains opened widely. My first movie was about to begin. Captured by those moving images for years to come, I still don’t remember which film it was.
My mom woke me up on Saturday morning, announcing the great news. “Today is the day”, she said with voice full of joy, and I just jumped on the bed, performing my victory dance. My brother tried to tease me and said he had been there many times, but I just didn’t care because I’d waited for months with great anticipation towards this day. By noon time my mom, dad, sister, brother, and myself were dressed in our finest garments, ready to leave the house.
Sunny at heart, I’d expected much more cheerful weather, but, unfortunately, it was a gray rainy day. We all rushed quickly to the car, running between the raindrops, and trying not to wet our outfits. Finally, safe in the car, we were making our way to the big city of Tel Aviv. At least, it was big then, from that miraculous point of view of a child.
“Is there something wrong?”, my mom asked my dad as he pulled over the side of the road. “I believe we have a flat tire”, my dad answered with obvious disappointment. Dad went out of the car to estimate the damage, while my sister, who was in her teens, was complaining about everything. “I knew I shouldn’t come with you… What’s the big deal of it anyway”. While dad was fixing the car, I asked mom if we’ll be there on time. Mom relaxed me and said that nothing can’t ruin our plans. I believed her.
Back on the road again, we finally made it to the city. As we strolled towards the location, I saw the agitated crowd just in front of me, waiting, congested, under shelters. “You see, we arrived right on time”, my mom tried to appease me. I had never realized there are so many people in the world till I confronted this jam-packed horde. My excitement was beyond any limits, and I stared at the people around me with sheer amount of amazement. I gazed at them and I knew that soon I’ll be mature like them, after all, we’re all going to participate in the same experience.
From all the commotion and the keenness of the crowd around, I found myself, all of a sudden, completely alone, surrounded only by strangers. I looked around me, and there was no sign of my family. I ran madly through the crowd, the way only a young boy who had lost his parents could. The panic was pumping in my veins, and I started to scream, “MOM! DAD!”, but there was no response to my desperate shouts. Lost and miserable, I’d waited until the crowd got in. I cried hysterically for I wanted so much to find my family and go inside with them. The entrance was desolate, and my heart was full of fear and helplessness, but then, the sweet voice of mommy came to my ears, “ Where have you been… I was so worried about you… Oh, my sweet little devil”. She hugged me and we went inside.
It was dark. My heart was beating fast. I could hear myself breathing anxiously. The curtains opened widely. My first movie was about to begin. Captured by those moving images for years to come, I still don’t remember which film it was.
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