The man without a goal used to sit on his toilet bowl and compose great poetry.  The man without a goal had hemorrhoids and he didn't like to exercise.  He was a virgin.  He used to hang out with other men without a goal.  He was very smart.  Some called him PROFESSOR.  The man without a goal wrote a lot.  The man without a goal was very upset by people with goals.  It reminded him that he had no goal.  He liked to look at women but they thought he was weird.  GET LAID everyone told him.  The man without a goal was very upset by this.  He used to cry a lot.  And puke at parties from mixing wine and beer.  He used to attract insane people who had grandiose goals.  But he knew.  They didn't have a goal.  And that upset him.  He used to lie around in bed all day and think about girls.  He liked girls.  But he was a virgin and they thought he was weird.  Or maybe he thought he was weird.  GET A JOB everyone told him.  And he didn't like that.  He wanted more.  But there was no MORE.  Everyone seemed to have a goal even the little retarded man working at McDonald's.  The man without a goal was very sad.  He wrote a lot of sad poetry which he showed to women.  Other men without a goal were less sensitive.  They liked to get laid.  But he wanted MORE.  Maybe there was no MORE.  So he cried.  The man without a goal used to draw and paint and he still likes to draw and paint.  But his parents thought he was impractical.  GET A GOAL they told him.  And he didn't like that.  Men used to make fun of him because he never had any money to go out.  GET A SHAVE some told him.  But the man without a goal used to sit in his room all day.  He wanted to write something.  But everything around him seemed so shallow.  So he cried.  There was this man with a speech impediment whom he liked very much.  But he did too many drugs since childhood and was very incoherent.  But he had a good heart even though some called him a LOSER.  He also had some foreign friends.  One friend of his was acting like an intellectual and used to shout at him.  That man thought he was Jesus Christ but the man without a goal knew better.  He just laughed at the intellectual.  The other was very upset because the man without a goal thought him a fool.  But he probably was.  Then there was another man without a goal who joined the army.  He was a small man with a big mouth.  And they were all very paranoid about their reputations.  But the sad thing was that everybody was nobody.  The man without a goal spent some time in a mental institution.  He didn't like it.  And now he meets a lot of other people from mental institutions and a lot of them are just as boring as normal people.  Only they hear voices and speak in tongues.  And have BIG IDEAS.  Are there angels?  Does God exist?  The man without a goal thinks about it very often.  But a lot of times he just gets depressed.  Really BUMMED OUT.  People around him go to rock concerts and have favorite groups.  But the man without a goal is sick of music.  He wants SUNSHINE.  He wants FLOWERS.  But he is impractical and everyone around him comments on his appearance.  YOU HAVE BAD BREATH!  YOU STINK!  USE DEODORANT!  So the man without a goal stays alone in his room and writes a lot of BAD THINGS about his friends.  He knows.  They are all just liars.  They all pretend.  They have to pretend.  TO SURVIVE.  Survival, what a deadly thing thinks the man without a goal.  Some day we are just going to destroy ourselves with atomic weapons and all our reputations will go up in smoke.  The man without a goal is really no different from other men without a goal.  Just sensitive.  Perhaps too sensitive.  He goes to parties and drinks beer.  And watches all the social games.  Men like to get women drunk to get them horny.  And then they take advantage of them.  Or maybe they like it?  Who knows?  The man without a goal is upset about this.  And he cries.  Because he knows.  Or he doesn't know.  But he wants MORE.  But maybe there is no MORE.  He wants SUNSHINE.  He wants FLOWERS.  But they make fun of him.  They call him NAIVE.  So he gets upset.  And ANGRY.  And he writes BAD THINGS.  The man without a goal has a degree in psychology.  But he doesn't like psychology.  He HATES psychology.  He hates psychiatrists.  He had a bad experience with psychiatrists.  He doesn't really hate them all but can one blame him?  So he writes.  He writes poetry.  Some people like it.  Some people call it sentimental.  Some tell him that he needs more imagery.  WORK HARD they tell him.  POETRY IS HARD WORK!  But he wants SUNSHINE and FLOWERS and a LOVE AFFAIR.  He is a romantic.  But everything around him is unromantic.  AND BORING!  AND MONOTONOUS!  And he has no money even to buy a cup of coffee for himself.  But he has a very nice mother.  She helps him.  She thinks that some day the man without a goal will find a goal.  But in the meantime he relies on his insane friends.  They buy him drinks.  They like his company.  But they don't always like what he says about them.  So the man without a goal has to be a bit more diplomatic.  Let them screw whomever they like, he thinks.  But inside he is very sad.  He wants MORE.  But maybe there is no MORE.  He goes to many parties and meets a lot of women.  And they like his poetry.  They think it's funny.  AND SAD.  The man without a goal must be a very unhappy man, they think.  And nobody wants an unhappy man.  They want to smile.  They want to have a sunshine day.  But they are UNHAPPY.  The man without a goal know it.  Or else why would they come to see him?  What draws them to him?  They seem to work hard for their money and they want to drink hard and fuck hard.  But there is something MORE.  Or maybe there is nothing MORE.  The man without a goal is a foreigner but he has no trouble speaking their language.  He hears a lot of words like shit and fuck and bullshit and hey man and cool and groovy and interesting.  He is very, very bored.  He wants SUNSHINE and FLOWERS.  He wants to kiss someone but they have all become hard.  They don't like to touch.  They like to fuck.  And talk philosophy.  And listen to mindless music.  They watch a lot of TV.  Sometimes the man without a goal watches a lot of TV.  And he gets upset.  Sometimes he gets horny from seeing so much sex around him.  He masturbates.  He doesn't like it.  But he doesn't want to fuck.  He wants SUNSHINE and FLOWERS and a LOVE AFFAIR.  But everything around him is so unromantic.  He doesn't like girlie magazines but sometimes he gets them.  And he fantasizes.  And masturbates.  But it's all so unromantic and he wants SUNSHINE and FLOWERS.  And he wants to kiss someone.  But his friends think him naive and stubborn.  So he writes unhappy poetry.  And he gets hemorrhoids and he gets constipation and he worries a lot.  Sometimes he thinks whether he is attractive.  And he looks at those guys and gals on TV and he feels cheated.  He wants MORE.  But maybe there is no MORE.  So he cries.  But he writes and writes and tries harder.  What else is there to do but write?  He would like a revolution but it seems unlikely.  And he looks at all those mask-like faces and he feels sad.  AND ANGRY.  He wants to rip those masks right off.  But they are scared.  They don't like to touch.  The don't like to feel.  They want to fuck.  Sometimes the man without a goal thinks that he wants to fuck.  But he knows.  And cries.  And his friends tell him GROW UP.  But he doesn't want to grow up.  He wants MORE.  But maybe there is no MORE.  And the people around him work hard and drink hard and fuck hard.  Some are not like that.  Some spend a lot of time alone in fantasies and daydreams.  But they are scared too.  And lonely.  Some eat a lot and watch a lot of TV.  But they don't touch.  They are afraid to touch.  They don't kiss and they rarely smile.  The man without a goal sits in his room or sleeps in his bed or takes walks.  He doesn't go to health spas, he doesn't lift weights and he meets a lot of homeless people.  Once he met this guy with an organic brain disorder who secretly wants to be an actor.  He meets a middle-aged manic-depressive homosexual with diabetes and a foot infection, who graduated from a top school and also writes poetry.  Everybody is a poet, an actor, a thinker, a writer, a movie star, a rock 'n' roll star.  The man without a goal is very sad.  He feels like he is in prison or in an insane asylum.  Everyone is afraid.  Nobody touches.  Nobody kisses.  Nobody hugs.  Everyone wants to fuck.  The man without a goal looks at his TV set and gets upset.  He calls up his friend and wants to talk to him.  But that man thinks he is Jesus Christ and yells at him about nihilism.  The man without a goal is sad and calls his other friend friend from the army.  I'm in luck, says his friend, I'M GETTING LAID.  He calls his homosexual friend and he tells the man without a goal that things are getting much worse and he was turned down for an apartment.  The man without a goal is very sad and wants to cry.  His psychotherapist left him and there is no one to listen to his heartache.  Nobody touches. Nobody kisses.  Nobody hugs.  Everyone is busy being an actor, a poet, a thinker, a movie star, a writer and a bigass winner.  The man without a goal reads Bukowski once in a while.  And Heine.  And Lorca.  He likes to read poetry.  He wants SUNSHINE and FLOWERS.  And a WOMAN.  But all he has is a fantasy.  Perhaps some day he will get published.  Perhaps some day his friends will understand him.  But in the meantime he weeps in loneliness.  The world is so lonely.  Nobody touches.  Nobody kisses.  Nobody hugs.  Everybody smiles.  The man without a goal doesn't like Grateful Dead and punk rock music.  He wants SUNSHINE.  He wants FLOWERS.  He is stubborn and naive.  He doesn't want a job.  But he has no money.  He wants to write poetry, beautiful poetry.  He doesn't want to be sarcastic all the time.  He wants to touch.  He wants to kiss.  He wants to hug.  But his friends want to talk philosophy.  And everybody wants to be a bigass WINNER.  The man without a goal doesn't want beer.  He wants MORE.  But maybe there is no MORE.  The man without a goal is a virgin and everyone tells him to GET LAID.
     But the man without a goal wants MORE...
 

                                                                  June 30, 1987
                                                              --Alexander Shaumyan