The Life of Jacques Futile de Néant

I'm Jacques Futile de Néant,
         a decadent and miserable intellectual
                  from the south of France,
Beware of the Abyss,
          Come, join me in my journey into the black garden,
I'm 37 years old and my wife left me
         because of my unsteady income,
I now work here in America as a free-lance photographer
         and a film producer,
        I'M TERRIBLY AFRAID OF DEATH,
I carry around the books by Sartre and Camus
         to impress naive American girls,
I despise women's irrationality and use them every chance I get,
I'm cynical about love and use "love" to get what I want,
I've read a lot of Nietzsche, Dostoevski and Kazantzakis,
          studied the intellectual history of the Western world,
          published several papers on nihilism and despair for
          the French Gynecological Society and produced several
          absurdist-existential films in Europe,
                 I'M TERRIBLY LONELY,
I've visited numerous bordellos of Paris, London and Rome
          and have seen absurdity and nothingness everywhere,
I like to look at women's lingerie and despise Hungarian goulash,
My life is absurd and futile, filled with existential despair,
My body is weak and my sleep is troubled,
Bergson's élan vital has left me and I'm now totally
          desperate to the point of suicide,
My wife left me for François, a successful Parisian businessman,
My will has been weakened and I can no longer hope to be
         the Nietzschean superman,
Every day I feel a strange sensation in my left arm,
I have a terrible itch in my nose,
Doctors tell me that I look as pale as death and I don't
         have much time left to live,
I have spent a season in hell and a year in a mental institution,
Nausea and despair follow me everywhere,
My blood circulation is poor and I need more exercise,
I have sex only to fill the terrible void of my existence,
I feel a strange desire to walk by the sea at night but
         I know that it's ultimately meaningless,
I'm Jacques Futile de Néant,
         a historical nobody, a lonely fool,
          an accident of existence,
My pipe, my French accent and my good looks are my only hope...
 

                                            January 10, 1987
                                        --Alexander Shaumyan