Sunday, 13 July 2014

Another day somewhere...

I’ve got a new book out. It will probably be- A: a flop, B: a hit, C: so-so, but to be honest I’m not even worried about it. I’ve decided to put short stories behind me for a bit now and write big novels instead. I’ve got a couple of them finished and now I’m looking for a publisher. Let’s see how many rejections I will get.
Tomorrow I’m back at work, back at that palace of loud people and arrogant faces. Damn, imagine if they read my blog (CAN SOMEONE GET RID OF PETER?). Actually, some people do but they never tell me what they think of it. Someone that I know, who is very annoying, has read it and has seen herself in there. She didn’t like what she saw, the true picture of her, and now she acts a bit sheepish around me, but she knows who she is and I know what she is (and that’s why I wrote about her; the woman is a goldmine when it comes to stupidity). But what do I earn from this blog apart from self satisfaction? There, I just told you. Figure it out. Use your brain; mine has been rented for the day.


I’ve also been invited to a slam poetry event. I don’t know if I should go. I’m usually quiet and shy, but I do feel like shouting and swearing and my slam poetry is a testament to that.


A friend of mine has stopped talking to me, or he talks less with me now because he found out I’m Jewish. As for him, one day he’s an atheist, the next day he’s Catholic and the next day he tells me he’s into Buddhism. He can be everything he wants to be but he gets a bit upset with me because I’m Jewish. I don’t understand him, or maybe I do and I won’t tell him what I think of him or else he would never speak to me. Instead I write about him in here, in this blog of mine, the confession book (tell me your sins and I’ll post them here. Then again, maybe not). He will read it but he won’t say a thing about it because he won’t admit to his mistakes or shortcomings. That’s fine. I do the same too.


I saw the World Cup Final last night. Good game. Both teams deserved to win although Lionel Messi was almost invisible throughout the match. I also saw Merkel on the crowd, enjoying herself thanks to the European taxpayers’ money. And she wants it all; all of Europe to be under Germany’s thumb. The EU (and Juncker) is just the beginning, I think, as there is so much more to come, none of it good for the citizens of Europe. No wonder the Americans are keeping tabs on her. Merkel won’t quit her “dream”/our nightmare until every European country is “bowing” to Germany. And then what? Oh, you don’t wanna know...
Then again, maybe I’m wrong and Merkel is nothing but a sweet angel (joke of the day).
And what now?

Now I have to get ready and go out, do the things that life expects me to do while waiting for the dream to come true. Or I might just stay home and read a bit.

Saturday, 12 July 2014

Liu Xia, 27th June 2014

The sequel to I, Can (Fragments of a life) sees the writer Can Wu still living in Brooklyn and writing about his life and the lives of others, and wondering why Man is so keen on self-destruction. Through memoir, humour and poetry, Can Wu tells us more about himself and his friends as he tries to find a place for himself in this crazy world.

Taken from Can Wu: Biometric Resident, out now on Amazon


Liu Xia, 27th June 2014

I see Liu Xia alone in her bedroom, alone with her thoughts, thoughts of sadness, alone with depression, her body fragile and sick, looking at the walls that surround her, these walls that are now her prison, looking and waiting for her love, for Liu Xiaobo.
Tears roll down her face slowly, tears of sorrow and pain.
Her tormentors are waiting outside, day and night, always waiting, always watching, their hearts filled with hate.
But why do they hate?
Why do they hate so much?
Her innocence has been lost, replaced by sadness and tragedy.


Poor Liu Xia, if I could I would set you free, hold you in my arms, run my fingers along your shaved head, kiss you softly on the forehead, and I would protect you from all the harm in the world.
But it’s everywhere now; this hate, this madness, this hate and madness that is triggered by greed.
They’re abolishing love; love and equality and human rights, and they’re bringing back greed and hate on a large scale.
What can we do, we, poor dreamers, we, who want the best for everyone?
We can do what you are doing or we can do nothing.
Shame to see that so many people choose to do nothing.



In the afterlife, once your soul becomes free, you will see him again, Liu Xiaobo, the love of your life, and maybe I will see you too, if only briefly, and we will become friends.

A poet from North Korea

The sequel to I, Can (Fragments of a life) sees the writer Can Wu still living in Brooklyn and writing about his life and the lives of others, and wondering why Man is so keen on self-destruction. Through memoir, humour and poetry, Can Wu tells us more about himself and his friends as he tries to find a place for himself in this crazy world.

Taken from Can Wu: Biometric Resident, out now on Amazon



A poet from North Korea
“I was a naive poet, a child in a man’s body, a child who believed that my leader –dictator- was a divine being that didn’t even needed to use the toilet,” the poet says. His eyes look tired, so tired and needy, but his face is glowing with life. He has left hell behind and now he has a tale to tell.
“One day I caught the dictator’s eye and was told he wanted to meet me, and when I saw him standing in front of me, I realised that this man was not a god but a clown who wore shoes to boost his height, a clown, a devilish clown that didn’t care for his people,” he says.
We’re standing outside a cafĂ© so that the poet can smoke.
“I never smoked before I came to America. Now I’m free to do what I want, free to kill myself slowly if I want to,” he says.
We’ve spoken online before but this is the first time that we’ve spoken face to face.
“The things I saw,” he says and pauses, looks up in search of help, maybe hope.
The poet tells me how he became immune from persecution and harm once he became a part of the dictator’s group of friends: “But the things I saw, the things I saw,” he says, almost chocking on his tears. “The things I saw.”



Corpses on a station piled up on top of another just waiting to be taken away.
Death and despair.
Yesterday...
People eating babies to keep the hunger at bay.
Death and despair.
Today...
Children so thin that one could almost see their hearts popping out.
Death and despair.

Tomorrow?