TEST

Container (Lukas Moodysson, 2006) / Transcript

'Where is the tape? Hey, do you know where the tape is? I gotta have it now. There’s a sofa in the street. A microwave oven. Hamburger buns, thirteen Roman coins, ten East German stamps. Christina Aguilera’s autograph. Paris Hilton’s autograph. A medal awarded to all those who helped to clean up after Chernobyl. Speeches by Leonid Brezhnev on a double LP. You must wipe the table as well. Use a dishcloth. Use a little warm water to wipe the table. If I was a boy, I would have sex with Paris Hilton all day long. But then again, I’m not a boy. I am a girl in a boy’s body. Teddy bear, monkey doll, ball. The skin’s natural mechanism for cell renewal. An exfoliation for eternally fresh and smooth skin. A mountain of shoes. Seven tons of hair. Hamburger buns with or without sesame seeds. Emersed in a thousand kilos of Eight Hour Creme. Cortisone, Locobase. Airport, mother’s valium, virus, pig, apartment 28, one centimeter, two, three, four. Lipstick, acetone, sugar, big, big sausages. Life is so hard and square. I have very sensitive mucous membranes. Brad Pitt’s gonna move to Sweden just for me. Say goodbye to your mother. Black hands flung across the wall. There is your son. With the deep cuts in his head. N379P. The beautiful, wonderful, fantastic girl who lives inside you. Your inner little me. The world’s most beautiful, most glamorous little me who goes to all the parties. The 19th of June. I sleep like a tree with Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson on the other side of me. A belt around my neck, 20 meters. Seperate feces from urine. One times one and a half meters. A cable, naked with a sack over my head. Chemicals; electricity. A growing cigarette in my ear. Naked against each other. I’ll cry if you do not wanna be my friend. I’ll be unhappy for the rest of my life if you do not wanna be my friend. It doesn’t matter that I’ve only seen you in the movies; I love you anyway. I cannot live without you. I am hiding within you. I have nowhere else to go. I’ve crept inside you, and got stuck. I am your child. You’re little baby. No, you’re not my child. You’re just some fucking growth. I’ll cut you out like an appendix. Will you stop groping me? I don’t want you anymore. You do not exist. It’s over. And then there was this idiot who hacked into my cell phone, and took all the pictures I had i it, and put them on the internet. 243 grams of bread; 36 grams of meat; 18 grams of fat; 11 grams of cornflakes; 8 grams of sugar; 5 grams of marmalade; 5 grams of coffee substitute. They said on TV that I had a migraine attack. They said that I had checked into a new hotel. A checkered blanket; a vaccine certificate; a concrete foundation. Today we know that all matter’s built up of incredibly tiny building stones called atoms. Have you ever worked at a resthome? Do you know why popcorn pops? Will you please get the knife out now? Will you cut it off now? You fucking retard. I take anything I get my hands on: food, love, drugs, the subway, C-section, anything. Why should I say know? You only live once. I saw this thing on TV about Sudan. That’s when I decided to go there, and try to help stop the war. But while I was sitting in the taxi, I noticed the driver was looking at me, and I realized he recognized me, and he thought that I was cute, so then I asked if he wanted to have sex with me, and he did, so then he got to, and unfortunately I missed my plane, so I never made it to Sudan, but as soon as the filming of this movie is done I’ll go there, ‘cause it’s so horrible. There are people dying all the time. I clean and I clean. Where does all this dust come from? Why should I clean when there are people dying? What does it matter if I clean? I can’t watch TV anymore. Mucous membranes; connective tissue; placenta. The newly installed shower; the mouth; the drain; the slime plug. French fries; mayonaise. I remember nothing. I only remember that I felt sick, and I went out to get a little air, and the rest is blank. I have a cloudy memory of sitting in a taxi with a lot of people I didn’t know. They were laughing at me. They made fun at my clothes. And then I think I threw up all over the floor of the taxi. And there was a voice that said: ‘Be welcome, O Blessèd One. The Lord is with you.’ I must be some kind of magnet. I can’t go to the grocery store to buy an apple without all the apples flying at me. And all the faces, and the entire floor. And I think about the carpenter, the guy who made sure there was a floor that I could walk on in the store. And what if he’s dead or sick? Who would have his daughter, who is ugly and wears glasses? And no guy wants to go out with her. But just today there was a guy who asked if she wanted to go out with him, and for a second he was so happy, because she thought he really meant it. But it was just a joke. His friends were around the corner laughing. It feels like the whole world is forcing its way inside me, leaving something inside. Something that chafes inside me, that scrapes inside my stomach, like a little baby, a little parasite. And I think I am the Virgin Mary. When I walk down the street everyone looks at me. It’s because I’m famous. They whisper my name. Look, did you see who that was? But I just walk past. I pretend that I didn’t hear, but I know exactly what they’re saying; I know exactly what they want. They want to attack me, and tear me into pieces. My particular interests are: celebrities; the Second World War; collecting different things; different methods of torture; different type pornstars, like for example Savannah; God; Jesus; Mary; as well as various catastrophies, like for example nuclear disasters; like for example the nuclear disaster at Chernobyl. I can see it all before me, inside my head. There is like a box labeled ‘catastrophies’, and inside that box there is another labelled ‘nuclear disasters’, and inside that box there is a third labelled ‘Chernobyl’. Then I take a carton of yoghurt, and the yoghurt symbolizes all of my life force, and I pour all the yoghurt, I mean, my life force, into the box labelled ‘Chernobyl’, because I’m going to cool the reactor with the yoghurt, and everything turns white, because I am a superhero, who helps mankind. What is the point of being gay if you’re going to live just like everyone else? Everyone thinks I’m gay, but I’m not. They called me a ‘faggot’ when I was seven years old, but I borrowed a book from the library so I know that I’m something else. I am a woman. I am a woman, which is not really the same as being gay, is it? The fact is I hate gays. I think homosexuality has become a cancerous tumor on society. You’re not allowed to say that, but I’m saying it anyway. Stop. Nobody listens when you say things like that. You just make yourself ridiculous. Then I took ethanol. Highly concentrated evening primrose oil. Essential fatty acids that are important for my hormonal balance, and for my skin. 1000 milligrams per capsule. Sulfur; amonia. Hi honey, where are you? An A cup; a city built out of ribs. Why can’t I, who according to all the votes am one of the sexiest women in the world, hang on to my men. Yes, please. Farewell. Nice to have met you. See you soon. Goodbye. Then I lived in Madrid for two years. I lived like a transvestite, but I was not a transvestite. They lived in a tiny, tiny apartment with a guy from Romania. I think he was a Gypsy, but he only admitted it once, when he was so high, so high, so that his head was so high up in the clouds he could poke God in the butt. That’s when he said he was a Gypsy. Later I walked back and forth outside Gucci and Prada and Dior, hoping David Beckham would come out, and then I would trip, and he would help me up, and then he would see who I was, and then he would see I was his lost little boy. What are you waiting for? For me to jump out of the window. Is that what you’re waiting for? Then your problem is solved. Or should I cut it off myself? Is that what you want? Won’t you please take out the knife now? Please. Can’t we do it now, today? Because today I have the most beautiful eyes in the whole world. I’m on the cover of all the magazines. Today I can do anything. Here comes Whitney Houston. I’ll help her get on track again. I can go out with as many guys as I like. No, you cannot. Yes, I can. The subway is full of idiots who are going to die. But then the next day he came back to earth again and he denied the whole thing. He said he wasn’t a Gypsy at all. Then he said he was from Hungary, but I knew he wasn’t, because I had licked his passport. I licked and I licked, and could tell by the taste that it was not a Hungarian passport. I am actually a woman. I don’t want it anymore. I don’t wanna have a willy between my legs. It does not feel very nice to be a woman and to have a huge willy hanging between my legs. If you don’t take it off now, I’ll just cut it off myself. I don’t wanna talk to anymore counselers. Bloody pissant, stop pissing in my stomach. Fine. So get rid of me, so you don’t have to deal with me, and I don’t have to deal with you. I don’t want to be inside you any longer. I don’t wanna be in this movie. I was at a party and my breast fell out, and everyone laughed at me, and they thought I had let my breast pop out on purpose, because I wanted the photographer to take tons of pictures of me, but it was really a mistake, because my dress was so small. I don’t know how it happened, it was not on purpose. I miss you so much. I love you. I can’t live without you. What are you talking about? What do you mean, you miss me? I’m here with you. Everyone thinks I have breast implants, but I don’t. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? Won’t you please let me go? Please? I don’t wanna be locked up inside this disgusting body anymore. Everything bleeds and stinks. Snot runs; urine flows. I sit in fron of the TV wearing a diaper. The school cafeteria is full of fools who are going to die. Michael Bronson, you’re going to die. Jonathan Medler, you’re going to die. Susan Voight, you’ve ruined my life. Do you get it? You’re going to die. Do you get it? Why is everything so sad? Why is everything everything everything so sad? Why do we live such short lives? Why can’t we go on forever? I don’t wanna look like this. I don’t want these thighs. I eat six raisins for lunch. My skin smells like aspirin. There are such strange rumours about me. Five small embryos; one Tranformer; one bathroomette. Hello? A nail fell of. I don’t think that people understand what it means to be as famous as I am. Imagine that as you open the door hundreds of photographers start taking pictures. There is no escape. When you’re on vacation, there there; when you go eat to eat, there there; when you’re sitting in your car crying, they’re out there in the dark, trying to kill you with their lightning flashes. It’s like prison. It’s a nightmare, but it’s a nightmare you become addicted to. It’s like heroin. If you stop you feel everyone worse. You lie on the floor, shaking. You can’t get up. You throw up on the floor. You put your hand in your own vomit, you didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Sorry. It just happened. I can’t control my movements. I try to get up, but fall down again. I really prefer organic products. After a day of work with enormous amounts of makeup on my face, I wash it all away with Shu Uemura Cleansing Oil. My skin feels both smooth and clean. Salmon, strawberries, oatmeal, nuts, chicken, oranges, carrots, Omega-3 foundation, lip gloss, sun powder, melon, Lavender Ylang Ylang. If I don’t get enough rest I always use Midnight Secret from Guerlain. Le Crayon Khôl, Hydropower eyeshadow, Crystal Balm, Meteorites, Blush Delicious, light drops, Glam Shine, Microshadow. Earth, spirits, star, glass, Sheer Radiance, Yoghurt Massage, Anti-Age around my mouth, 24-hour non stop moisturizing. 5000 liters of thermal water in a little jar. The party is visible between my eyebrows, and my forehead reveals, vertical wrinkles on my cheeks as a result of breathing problems. MicroCushion seeps into the nailbeds. My skin is rejuvenated from within. I changed in a taxi. I love champaign. I have the world’s most beautiful eyes. No, I’m sorry, I can’t speak any longer, I must go now. There are 30.000 people who die of hunger every day, and there is an old man who’s promised me 500 dollars if I spent the entire night with him, and with that kind of money I could save the lives of one or two people. My name is Jena Malone, and I’m an American actress. It’s my voice. I live in California. I’ve never been to Sweden before. I don’t know what room I’m staying in. My mouth is full of gelatin. A huge bathtub is full of animal skeletons. My blood is full of fat. There are so many things you have to do: wash the dishes, laundry, go to the bathroom. You gotta have money so you can pay the bills. And suddenly it’s like I can see into the future. I dreamed that Brad Pitt broke up with Jennifer Aniston. He got tired of her because she was no longer Rachel. And then in the morning I read that they were going to get a divorce. So then I thought that everything I dream becomes reality. And I became so scared that I have not dared to go to sleep since then. There is so much hate in my love. There is so much love in my hate. I wore the most tasteless dress of them all at P. Diddy’s 35th birthday party. I want you to stay with me. I’m so scared that something will happen to you. It’s so dangerous out there. People run right into each other, like panes of glass. They break and cut each other. There are so many drugs they can drop in your drink, if you turn your head away just for a second. Then you fall asleep, and they rape you, and take all of your things, and put you in prison, and I may only see you from the other side of the thick window made of armored glass. I cannot touch you. But suddenly a Britney Spears appears. She lifts you up and tells you not to be afraid. She opens her mouth and puts you in, and then she swallows. And down you go into her stomach. And then suddenly a light goes on. And suddenly I’m in Romania. How the hell did all of Romania get inside Britney Spears? Good God, I have become so fat. You’re not fat. I used to be so very thin. You are still thin. I’ve become so fat. I think I’m pregnant. But you can’t be. Yes, I can. But we haven’t slept with each other. No, I know, it’s a miracle. A bunch of papparazzi is hiding in the bushes around the stable where the Virgin Mary is just about to give birth to Jesus. They’re trying to get a shot of her tits. O God, what a turn on. This is the best party I have ever been to. It never ends. And everyone just dies all the time, like flies. This is the happiest moment of my life. I’m sitting at the kitchen table playing table hockey with my father. I am the Soviet Union; he’s Sweden. It’s evening, it’s dark outside, a lamp shines above the table. It’s just my father and I, it’s as if we were embraced in a coccoon of light, and outside our little coccoon there is a great darkness. And then there was this man who was in charge of the county health department. He wanted to bathe and wash me until I was really, really clean. It cost 2000 dollars each time. And now there’s like this crazy custody battle, because nobody wants me anymore, not the psych ward, nor welfare, nor mother, nor father. Which is why I have to live here at the pizza parlor, until they decide who is to have me, but the man who owns the pizza parlor will sell it soon, and then I don’t know where to go. You’ll just have to live inside your grandmother’s disgusting hip replacement. So totally fucking disgusting. Won’t you please just come here and give me a hug? I’m so sad about everything. I’m so sad about how we live our lives, and the state of the world. But I’m also very satisfied about being so sad as I am. I enjoy distancing from it all. For then I become a little superior and I’m exalted like a saint. But then I must punish myself. Then I must force myself to eat four bags of chips. I’m dilated five centimeters. You stick your finger in the hole. I reach inside you with all of my arms. You are dilated six centimeters. A black box inside your heart. Hello everyone, I shall begin by showing you some of my latest purchases from eBay. This is something very special, it’s a pair of black leather boots which belonged to Savannah, the legendary pornstar Savannah, whom I love very, very much. I have always had a soft spot for a certain type of beautiful but tragic women. I always identified myself with them very strongly, and so very much more. Not just identified myself with them; I have also felt that after death their souls have moved into me, and now continue to live inside me. These boots are the most expensive I have ever bought. And on second place is this letter from Auschwitz. It’s a prisoner writing to the one he loves. He writes: ‘You, my son, the only one in my life’. In third place is this German helmet from the Second World War. In fourth place is a collection of letters addressed to Savannah. They are written by various admirers. ‘Dear Miss Savannah,/You epitomize classic American beauty: blonde hair, baby blue eyes, and an ass that any man or woman would sell their soul to possess. And here is a guy asking her for help. I’m wondering if I’m missing out on something. Some days I get a strange feeling. I lie in bed and wonder if this is it. If this is all there is to life. But then when I am together with someone and mere consumed by passion, then it feels as though I’m on top of the world. How can one go from feeling so empty to feeling so wonderful? Do you understand what I’m saying? What am I missing? Do you have feelings like these? And how do you deal with them? Please write me at the above address and tell me what you think. It would be greatly appreciated.’ I take vitamins every day. I go to the hospital. How can someone as little as I am have room for something so big? How can someone as dirty as I am have room for something so clean? I go to the hospital every day. I sit in the waiting room until they close; I have nowhere else to go. God, transform this prayer into fire. I just wanna dance, but there’s only ice in the freezer. A bunch of people dressed as animals; a doll’s carriage; a kettle; a Transformer. You are the world’s best mother. I’ve got a touch of diarrhea. I sit alone in my hotel room. I have to learn my lines for tomorrow. I would really prefer to go out to see the city, but it’s such a challenge. So many people crowd around me, it just turns into chaos. I stay in my room and order something from room service. Just a small salad. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I come from. I don’t know who my mother is. I don’t know who my father is. Someone left me outside an orphanage in a basket. I’m terrified. What am I doing? I wanna go home. This is my home. This is all I have. This is my bed; this is my toilet; my bathtub; my TV; my remote control; my mirror. Dilated seven centimeters. I can’t close the lid. Everything just pours in. These tiny, tiny bottles of alcohol, the room key and the ‘do not disturb’-sign. All of the movements from those who have stayed in this room are now passing through me. All of their thoughts are forced into me. Their breath is forced into me; their dreams. I must lie motionless like this, because if I lie motionless, completely still, the thoughts and the dreams will pass right through me, and out me. If I relax and don’t resist then they run out of me, they pass through me, and continue out into space, but if I make just the slightest movement, then the thoughts get stuck inside me. They bounce around inside me like a ball in a pinball machine, and continue to bounce forever, and then I break, I crack from within, my skin breaks apart. No, I’m not a celebrity, I’m not an actress; I just pretend. I work here at the hotel. I clean rooms, and sometimes when a room is empty I pretend that I’m staying there, and that I’m a famous actress, who is making a movie, and during the filming she’s staying here at this hotel. I’m completely torn to shreds. I’m radioactive between my legs. I’m covered by a thick layer of led and concrete. No one can come close to me, ‘cause they’ll get cancer. Their skin will fall off, and there is cancer everywhere. There is cancer in your blood; you can’t breathe. And when you cough you spit out blood, and your skin is totally black, and there’s blood coming from your ears, and there’s blood coming from your nose, and your teeth are falling out of your mouth, and your hair is coming out in pieces, and your nails are coming loose, and there’s blood coming from your eyes: you have seen too much. I have thought so much about that day. Savannah was in a car crash and got a cut on her face. She was completely distraught and thought her career was over, and then she lost the will to live and went home and shot herself in the head. I wish that I had been there. I would have licked up all of your blood; sucked up your brain from the floor and spit it back into your head again. No, can’t we just stop now? I’m too tired to make this movie. I have no energy. I’m too tired. I have a hole in my head. It’s just getting bigger and bigger and all my brains are running out like red flowers in my long blonde hair. I will now leave everything; I will now leave this planet. There is no one to eat up all the food in the cupboard. I leave behind all the boxes of cereal that I never got when I was little; the letter I never sent to my father; all the newspaper articles I saved with such care. And every time my real name was mentioned I crossed it out with a black magic marker, so that it disappeared, and disappeared, and disappeared. You’re now rotting in the earth, little Savannah. Little darling. Your pale skin and your freckles and the little crack that everyone wanted to see. Now we shall never see it again. No longer can a little Jesus child emerge from there. Now it no longer exists. I clean and clean but it doesn’t help. Everyone laughs at me when I put on my prettiest dress. Did you know that that was one one survived Chernobyl? It was a miracle. He was inside the reactor. All of his colleagues died. His skin was black. When they pulled the sheet off at the hospital the skin came with it. But he survived, and is still alive. But his skin doesn’t work as it should. He can’t touch oil, because his skin will break. He has stared straight into the fire. Your eyes melt, they are bleeding; your eye sockets are bleeding. You have seen too much. You have touched too much. And there are too many who have touched you. It’s a miracle that you live. It’s a miracle that you are still alive. The doctors can’t explain it; they say it’s a miracle. I know I only got this part because I’m fat. I got it because the people at the film company think that all fat people are tragic, but in reality I’m not at all like this role. It’s not me; it’s just a role. I need a Foot File, I have calasses on my heels. My fingers itch all the time, it’s like larvae under my skin. Did you know that those sick, sick people have made a native scene? With David and Victoria Beckham as Joseph and Mary, and above it all Kylie Minogue as the angel Gabriel. ‘Well, here I am, hanging with my cute little ass hanging above David and Victoria’. What’s the point of having a cute little ass? What’s the point of anything? You just end up dying. Then it doesn’t matter. There you lie in your grave with your cute little ass, it’s not so cute anymore. It’s full of worms. So why should I take my medicine? I’m only going to die. Or having invented a new medicine, I will fix anything. And you can make the whole world a paradise, where everyone feels good and nobody feels bad, and no one feels fat and ugly. Can you do that? In that case you can also make sure I don’t have to go to any more Oscar galas. It’s so frustrating. Everyone just imitates me. Everyone wants to wear the same dress. But next year I’ll show them. I’ll come dressed as an astronaut, and I’ll float about in space, and I’ll drop an atomic bomb upon the earth, and I’ll just fly around in space, and watch as you’ll crawl through the ashes. I’m trying to breathe life into your disgusting, spoiled brats who no longer have any skin. I think that winter’s most important item is a poncho. My favorite drink is a Strawberry Daiquiri. 23rd of November. Today I tried to leave the apartment, but the first thing I saw when I went out there were the headlines. They said Kylie Minogue had breast cancer, and a nine year old boy had died while playing football. I can’t close my eyes. You have had my eyelids removed. It’s so very, very sad. So very, very horrible. Imagine, he just died. He just collapsed and died. I can’t live with all this sorrow. I must chop it up into tiny little pieces. Please God, why must small children die playing football? I can’t get up. My legs won’t carry me. Why must Kylie Minogue have breast cancer? It’s too hard. I don’t wanna live. I’m a disgusting, fat truck full of shit. Cans; Coca Cola; Codeine. A dead bird; an empty bottle of dish soap; skeleton; Styrofoam; ballet shoes; implant 0367. Please don’t kick. Won’t you please just lie still in there? My stomach is completely sore. I’m so tired. I gotta sleep a bit. People don’t understand how difficult it is to walk around carrying another person all the time. If you don’t stop kicking I will get an abortion. Your little body is so delicate. Suddenly you’re in the Emergency Room, bleeding and bleeding. My little darling, you must be still as a mouse, so that nobody hears what you say, ‘cause then they might get angry and hit you, or kidnap you. I don’t know where you are. Jesus, I don’t know where you are. Hello? I am your mother. Won’t you give me a call. A fossil of a dinosaur’s egg, a teaspoon in memory of Princess Diana, a name tag that once belonged to Swedish TV personality Claes Elfsberg, a plate in memory of Bing Crosby, who died in 1977, a little piece of meteorite, a little chip of the Berlin Wall, a carton of milk, a bag of chips. My bikiniline is growing out, in massive thorny branches. There was someone begging outside of the grocery store, so I told him he could home with me and take what he wanted. He was so totally shocked. He didn’t wanna go. I’m not like that; I would have said yes, and then I would have taken as much as I could carry. I’m not the one to say no; I say yes to everything. Refrigerator; dishwashers; a Spice Girls watch; a letter from the Eastern Front, it’s addressed to (…) in Berlin, the 7th of April, 1944. A meteorite from an asteroid between Jupiter and Mars. I can’t close the lid. There is no lid. I am so unbelievably pretty. Everyone wants to be with me all the time. I have so much money. I go to so many parties. I have a boyfriend. He’s so handsome. He thinks I’m so cool and pretty and funny and sexy and smart, I have such soft skin, such beautiful eyes. He can lie in bed and just stare into my eyes for hours. We can stay in bed the whole day, just lying there, holding each other, kissing each other, stroking each other. But suddenly it all ends. Everything collapses. Suddenly I realize he doesn’t exist. I’ve been alone the whole time. I’ve just been speaking to myself. He didn’t stroke me, ‘cause he doesn’t exist. It’s like a blow to the head. And I wanna kill myself. I’m so ashamed of myself. I’m so awful. I’m so disgusting. I shouldn’t be allowed to live. And then I cut myself in the arm as deep as I can, and then I hate myself even more because it’s so stereotypical to cut yourself. Every stupid teenage girl cuts herself. It’s like I’m just imitating others. I just do what everybody else does. And then I just wanna die. Good night. See you in the morning. What time is it? Where are my pants? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. This is my husband. This is my wife. This is my son. This is my daughter. This is my girlfriend. This is my boyfriend. I have to shave. Where are my panties? This is a copy of Jennifer Lopez’s engagement ring. The real thing cost five million dollars. This thing cost ten dollars. From a small distance you can’t see the difference, but if you come close, if you get up at six in the morning, and begin the day with jogging, and you follow upo with weights, then you can see the difference. And in the afternoon you do double-time on the running machine, then you can see that I’m just a copy. And in the evening another round of jogging. Then I fly to Tokyo; then I fly to São Paulo; then I fly to New York. The monitors inside the airplane show a smashed-in face. The fluffy clouds under us. Air temperature: negative 51 Celsius, altitude: 10.972 meters, speed: 832 kilometers per hour. A little baby sleeps in a basket, a man stands on his toes, two women from Germany try to sleep under a red blanket, the water bottles become compressed, the smashed face slowly turns upwards towards Heaven. I feel like a hospital bed. You can lie on top of me now. Can you see into my eyes? I bend my body apart and show you the entire crack. A mountain of clothes; four tons of cut hair. The taxi is wide open. Here I am kissing Tom Cruise. Here I am kissing Katie Holmes. I can’t eat. Why should I eat when children in Africa can’t? The food tastes like ashes or sand or I don’t know. Tastes like someone has vomited on the plate. (…) My kindergarten burtn down. I do one hundred sit-ups. (…) Russel Crowe’s jetlag; loneliness; adrenaline; the telephone in my face. My parents have turned their bedroom into a gass chamber. They received an advantageous stipend. I run but I don’t get anywhere. It’s the same old whimpy me, inside the same old pathetic body, drenched with cheap perfume? What do you mean, cheap perfume? It’s not cheap perfume, it’s Tommy Hilfiger. No, it’s not. It’s a crappy, cheap copy you bought in Thailand. You stink like a whore all the way through your skin, to the depths of your shrunken brown heart. That’s where I live, in your disgusting, dirty, horrible heart. I trip and slide and never make it in time. A house next door is burning. There is something black in the street. The ambulance comes. They roll out a gurney. I get up from the gurney and walk to the door. Wanna know what happened when I was born? What happened was that one day my mother was pregnant, so that my dad left because he’d never slept with my mom, so it couldn’t be his child. But then an angel with a really cute little ass came to my dad and said that he should not be afraid, because it was God’s child that lay in my mom’s stomach, and the child would save humanity. So my dad stayed with my mom. But when I came out of my mom’s stomach I wasn’t really quite what they had expected; I didn’t look like a normal child, and I didn’t seem as the way I was alive. So they quickly drove me by ambulance to my mother’s breast, but I didn’t wanna suck, so they tried to feed me ravioli, but I didn’t want to eat. Then they put me on the back of a ladybug, and the ladybug had to walk around with me on its back, ‘cause they thought I might come to life if I had something fun to do, but it didn’t help. So then they didn’t know what to do. It seemed nothing would help, so they gave up, and threw me into a plastic bag. And my dad snuck out to throw the plastic bag down the garbage shoot. He opened the door, and suddenly they all threw themselves upon him: all the fans, and all the paparazzi that had gathered outside our door. They threw themselves upon my dad, and took the garbage bag from him, and ran away with the bag, the one where I was in. And then I had to go to a psychologist, and I had to take medication, but it really dried out my mouth. My mouth was so dry that I could no longer leave the apartment, because the air out thre felt like sand, and that’s why I was late for my own premiere. It was terrible. The photographers were out of their mind. My son was born blind and handicapped because of my addictions. I have more than 300 pairs of jeans at home in my gigantic closet. I’ve had sex with four Spice Girls. I’m surrounded by tragedy. I get a shock when I see myself naked. I never wear panties with jeans, ‘cause then your ass looks the best. And when I get hungry, I drink a glass of water. Okay, let’s do a little celebrity quiz. Who never wears panties with jeans? Who has a son who is blind and handicapped? Who was late for their own premiere? Who has had sex with four Spice Girls? Who is surrounded by tragedy? Who drinks a glass of water? Okay. Here comes the answer. The answer to all the questions is: Jesus. We are all Jesus. And Mary is our little disappointed mother. Joseph is our confused stepfather who doesn’t get anything. Our real biological father is God in Heaven. The same heart beats within us all. But why was I given this role? Was it because I was the best? Or was it because I was the prettiest? What if they were all a bunch of actors better than me, but who weren’t just pretty or thin or whatever it is. And why did you happen to stuff your child into my uterus? Was it because I was pretty? The most perfect for the pictures you would put up everywhere in all the churches. Or was it because I was so young and naïve that I didn’t dare say no. It can’t just be a matter of coincidence. Do you believe in coincidence? I don’t. Which means you must have chosen me. Did you think I was the sexiest of all the virgins in Palestine? Is that why? But ware you sure I was a virgin? And what if it isn’t your child? Wouldn’t that be a little embarrassing? What if I just lied to you and said I had never been with another man. What if there are places not even you can see? Are there such places? 0735. 033938. There are places where my dad doesn’t see me, small recesses, where I feel so alone, and where I feel so free. My psychologist says I have to stop reading gossip magazines, or at least cut down, but you’re so cute. I’m getting senile. You have such lovely eyes. I’m getting cancer, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, ADD. I gotta have a shovel. A box. All gone. Eight centimeters. Here in this box I lay down all my love for you. Here I lay down all my love for you. Here I lay down all my love. I need to use my mouth. I need to use all of my intestants. You ar eso sweet, you’re just like me. It’s like I’m just looking at myself. I think we met when we were small. I think we met on a ferry somewhere. Now spread your legs please. I’m going to shove my bacteria into you, and the bacteria grows to be a little tree, and the tree grown into a rope, and the rope stiffens into a chain, and the chain is so strong that it will never break. I’ve applied sixteen times to drama school but I’ve never been accepted. I’m convinced it’s because I’m too fat. I try to explain it’s because I have a little baby in my belly, but they don’t wanna listen to me. It doesn’t matter that you’re fat; I love you anyway. ‘Meine liebe, liebe...’ I want you. I wish I were you. I wish you were the one who wanted me. No one has ever wanted me. No one has ever chosen me. I was always the one who was chosen last in gym class, when I went to school, in the horrible, horrible place where I grew up, that I don’t even wanna say its name. There was never anybody there who wanted me; not even me. Meine liebe, liebe, liebe, liebe… All of y our bodily orifices are warm and tight. All of my orifices are soft caves, which lead into a wonderful temple. And there inside it’s so light. It’s like death. It’s like coming to Heaven. For I’m completely open, and I let the whole world enter me. There is room for everything in me: dishes and glasses and cars, and all of Africa, all of Romania, and the Sun can live in me, all of its light, the birds. All those who are sad can enter me. I am no longer afraid. I no longer close myself. I let everything in. I am no longer afraid of anything. There is nothing to be afraid of. I open my heart. I welcome all the suffering. You can put it here. I will commit into my breast. All of your instruments of torture. I know you wanna get rid of them. You can lay them in my breast. I have cut open my chest cavity. It’s not difficult. It’s perforated between my ribs. I can take on all of your weariness. I can take on everything. I can run and jump, and if there’s anyone in need I can help out; if your grocery bags are heavy, I can help you. O my, my, I’m so happy. I can take care of everything. I’m so happy. Why are you giving me all this medicine if I’m so happy? I’m healthy. You’re the one who is sick. I’ve dilated nine centimeters. My water breaks out of me. Behind the mirror my water breaks into me. Inside I am a little girl, waiting to be born. It is I who am Jesus, it is I who am Jesus’s mother. Where is the tape? I can’t live without you. Please get out the tape. You can’t live without me. Where is the tape? I must have the tape. This is where I lived when I was little. And here, and here, and here. This is where I got dressed. This is where the grass grew higher and higher. This is where I crept in and hid. This is where I lay waiting, and waiting, and waiting. My fingers, my head. Ten centimeters. I’m dilated ten centimeters. My heart is full.'