Giannina Braschi - Empire of Dreams

Backstage all the characters of The Intimate Diary of Solitude are getting dressed. The TV is on, and Mariquita Samper is dressed up as Berta Singerman. New York. New York. It’s the year 2000, when Berta Singerman forfeited her American citizenship and went to live in Moscow out of love for Uriberto Eisensweig. In this show, Uriberto Eisensweig is exactly 30 years old, 20 years younger than Berta Singerman, which makes this the toughest role that Mariquita has ever played in her entire life. Mariquita had to gain 30 pounds and age considerably. She had to draw crow’s feet around her eyes. In reality, Mariquita is 30 years old, the same age as Uriberto. In reality, Uriberto and Mariquita have been in love all of their lives. Judging from the looks of both protagonists, they’re in the prime of their lives. One is Capricorn and the other, Aquarius. December 30th and February 5th. A fortune-teller had already predicted it: “You’ll marry five times without having married at all”—she told Mariquita in New York. “You’ll forfeit your American citizenship. You’ll fall in love five times with the same man, and you’ll think five times that he is a different man. You’ll understand that the same man also fell in love with five different women who were the same woman. But while making love the fifth time with the same man who was a different man, you’ll reach the peak of your artistic career. And the fame of your myth and your story will make you shine as the greatest artist produced in the brief history of humanity.” We are in the year 2000, when Berta Singerman turned 50. My name is really Mariquita Samper, and I’m from Puerto Rico. I live in New York City. My name is really Uriberto Singerman, and I’m playing the role of Uriberto Eisensweig. Mariquita also goes by the name of Berta Eisensweig, usurping my name, or taking Mariquita Singerman’s or Berta Samper’s. Name games are all the same. After all, every name is a usurpation of a fragment of my life and works. Every name is a different name in another history of humanity. I was just telling Uriberto Eisensweig that it’s not easy being Mariquita Singerman and playing Berta Samper because it’s not easy being in two different versions of The Intimate Diary of Solitude . In spite of what the writer of this diary thinks, I am very far away from Uriberto Eisensweig and New York City. In spite of what might be or is, I’m simultaneously in New York and Moscow. It’s exactly midnight on a winter night in New York. Here I am in perfect sync with the time and date of New York and Moscow. And here I am, in the year 1985, recording these pages of history. How many lies are told in the name of art and literature! I was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico. I grew up near the waves of the sea. They showed me that lies are true. And that I should come and go as I please. Like ships or waves, I’m constantly moving from place to place. I don’t know how to stay still for a single instant. I’m an unbalanced woman by nature. And like the waves of the sea, I’m always resisting attacks and insults. I’m vulnerable in love affairs. I’m always, or almost always, something different, and I’ll never figure it out. Today for instance, I got a Christmas present. I opened it and there was a snowball inside. Sometimes I cry just to cry, and sometimes I laugh just to laugh. I’m fickle with my affections. I rejected the sea a thousand times. I repeat that I left Puerto Rico at 18 never to return. I crossed all of Europe in two years. I returned to the sea and wound up in Manhattan. I’ve lived longer here than anywhere else. I’m an artisan of life by nature. Now I understand what I used to understand a long time ago, although I’m not sure I remember what it was. I’ll never forget what I remembered as a child, and I entered its secret secretly. Now that I have this snowball, I ask myself if life is a snowball. I was 23 exactly 23 years ago. The truth is, I landed in Moscow yesterday, and today I’m 50 years old. Wasn’t that what the Narrator wanted me to say? I’m sorry, but I’m only 30 even though you make me look like I’m 50. I doubt that the readers are as stupid as you. I’m also sorry that I believed that I fell in love with Uriberto. You wanted me to fall in love with him. Didn’t you, Narrator? Too bad Uriberto doesn’t exist. I’m sorry to deceive you, reader. On the other hand, I’m also Uriberto Eisensweig. I’m sorry to be simultaneously what I write. The Narrator is also a product of my imagination. What I write seems unreal, but it’s true. I want to lie, but I don’t. And sometimes I cry just to cry. I am a man who has had many loves in his life — said Uriberto Samper. But he immediately corrects himself and says, “Sadly, a single love so confused is more than enough. Don’t you think so, Mariquita?” As soon as I came to New York, I fell in love with a book. After I wrote Assault on Time , I immediately wrote Profane Comedy . I left for Puerto Rico. Returned to Europe. Changed my name more than twenty times. And grew rich with lies. I pretended you were Uriberto and I was Mariquita. I walked around New York City dreaming of making that great trip to Moscow. I renounced my American citizenship. I landed in Moscow. I gave more than 100 poetry readings. I read “This is the Child Mother of the circus.” I read “Eggs are months and days too.” I acquired the wisdom of Poems of the World . I became a fortune-teller, a magician, and then, Shepherd Giannina. I defended memory. I preached of poetic eggs. Everyone thought I was mad, and the masses adored me. I turned poetry into a circus of lies. I’ve lied all my life. I’m a liar by vocation and history. I made up this story as I was walking alone in New York one day. It was easy. I burst out laughing at life. I’m such an idiot! And I started to cry. In reality, I’m 30. In reality, Uriberto is Uriberto and I’m Berta Singerman. In reality, he is 30 and I’m 50. In reality, we haven’t seen each other in five years. I met Uriberto on a street in New York this year. The truth is that I haven’t spoken with him and he hasn’t spoken with me in five years. In reality, it was the Narrator who insisted that I tell the truth. But the truth is: I always lie. I’m so much happier since I broke up with Uriberto. I’m glad you left me. Sometimes I’d like to see you. I’m not always happy you left. Sometimes I still write about Uriberto and Mariquita when I should be writing about Uriberto and Berta. It’s not easy to tell the truth when you’re writing lies. But this is just another angle of the diary narrating my solitude. Uriberto is alone. So is Mariquita. Berta is the only one who dreams of companionship. Berta fell in love with the same man five times. She changed his personality. She made each man live in a different place. They all believed Berta was the woman of their lives. They all believed Berta Singerman’s lies. But Berta didn’t know how to love anyone but herself. Berta was another lie. But sometimes I dream of living her life. Berta died the day she discovered that all of this was a way of telling solitude that she was still accompanied, when in truth, she was alone writing another lie in The Intimate Diary of Solitude .

The things that happen to men in New York! This is written as an exclamation. It is, of course, an exaggeration — says the Narrator. These things don’t only happen in New York. They happen in Havana and Berlin. They happen in Madrid and Moscow. And they don’t only happen to men. They happen to women too. I thought it was strange that I couldn’t find the men’s room — said Mariquita Samper. I asked where the ladies’ room was — said Uriberto Eisensweig, dressed up as Berta Singerman. After I left the restroom — said the Narrator — I sat down to watch The Things That Happen to Men in New York . Maybe this is why I’m always changing my name. I don’t like being called Mariquita Samper when I’m really playing Berta Singerman, and I’m a lesbian. Mariquita, the fairy drag queen! Backstage, Mariquita Samper dresses up as Uriberto Eisensweig. And Uriberto Eisensweig dresses up as Berta Samper. Don’t you know that I’m Uriberto Singerman? And that Uriberto Samper is none other than Berta Eisensweig? Listen, sir, to the things that happen to men in New York! Mariquita: “It is I, Uriberto Eisensweig!” Suddenly, the curtain falls. Apparently, the public likes The Things That Happen to Men in New York —says the Narrator. Why else would they applaud so much? Deep down, they’re asking for an encore. Uriberto gets a bigger hand when he plays Mariquita Samper. Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Listen, lady, to the things that happen to women in New York! They think that they’re women, but they’re men. They think that they’re men, but they’re women. Backstage is Mariquita Samper’s mother. I don’t want you dressing up as Uriberto. What thrill do you get from scandalizing people? Mama, don’t you see them laughing? Don’t you see them having fun? Deep down in every man there is a woman. Deep down in every woman there is a man. Things are men and women. Apples look for pears. And pears love peaches. Listen, sir, to the things that happen to pears in New York! Nothing new. We already knew that men like pears. And that peaches like oranges. We also knew that an orange is an orange. And that an apple is a peach. I didn’t know that — says the apple’s mother. I thought my daughter liked peaches. But pears? Gentlemen, ladies — she says, placing her hand on her head. I didn’t know that happened to women in New York. Ladies, gentlemen — says the pear’s father solemnly — I didn’t know that it would happen to my son. But the things that happen to men and women! — sing the pear and the peach. The apple and the orange join in the chorus: