I doubt I’ll ever reach an academic high.
I opened a can of pate and a jar of grated beetroots planning to wash it all off with a bottle of French whiles listening to The Clash Combat Rock.
Above all, Christmas tree sparkling with goddamn lights and an media theory book lies wide open on a bed. Dissatisfied. Unloved.
– Just a minute! Let me have a drink and I will open you up… from the front and from the behind. It‘s always tease tease tease, you like when I‘m on my knees…*
There is no romance left. All turned into sentence to death.
I got used to my four walls, I no longer hear them talking with each other. Sometimes people ask me, is there a reason I stopped writing? Well, – I prolong, – to write and write well, one has to be a voice of one’s generation. And my generation is silent.
We are so lazy, that we no longer create, we only repeat. We need the Third World War to wake up all that sleeping beauties from an eternal sleep.
I no longer observe what’s happening around me.
I lick my plate to the last bit of pate, wipe the table surface with a dump sponge, turn the lights off, turn down the volume and begin to tap the keyboard. I am putting words together letter by letter with one hand only, lazy, almost as lazy as I live. The other hand pressing the bottle tightly, tightly to my lips… tap tap tap…
…there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is, but it’s there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.**
Our generation is like an unreached orgasm: you’re almost there, almost… and nothing. Very disappointing experience.
Something’s gonna happen. Something must happen.
… and it won’t be the end of the world, contrarily – it’s gonna be a new beginning. In a different shape. It won’t be a revolution, or war, it won’t be a new religion and (let all the Christians forgive as the Lord forgave, as such is their fate) Second Coming of Jesus. It’s gonna be smell, taste, touch… we will finally realize that we are one. The whole. It’s going to be a huge change. There will be victims, most likely those who reject the new model of living. They will step down voluntarily. Over three hundred years from that day an utopian civilization will be built, and then another end will follow, as the future is an echo of the past.
– Isn’t that right?
The book closed it-self, fluffed the pillow and moved away from the bed so I could lie down and rest.
*The Clash | Should I stay or Should I go
**The Matrix (1999)