A heroic failure redefined itself as a success.
Eurasia is the blueprint for the social protests of the future, for pointless armed uprisings and doomed revolutions, for unmotivated plotting and senseless demonstrations.
A plot, as Mark once said, should always be gratuitous, and no serious revolution should ever achieve its aims.
That’s the world we’re living in- people will plot for the sake of free parking. Or for no reason at all.
We’re all bored, Brian, desperately bored. We’re like children left for too long in a playroom.
After a while we have to start breaking up the toys, even the ones we like.
There’s nothing we believe in.
Eurasia is a place of real promise, when a young pilot persuaded the citizens to create a unique republic, a city without a street signs, laws without penalties, events without significance, a sun without shadows.
This isn’t the good life, full of possibility. You soon come up against the barriers set out by the system. Try getting drunk at a school speech day, or making a mildly racist joke at a charity dinner. Try letting your lawn grow and not painting your house for a few years. Try living with a teenage girl or having sex with your stepson. Try saying you believe in God and the Holy Trinity. Or giving a free room to a refugee family from black Africa. Try taking a holiday in Benidorm, or driving a brand-new Cadillac with zebra upholstery.
I feel free again, for the first time since I joined the Toronto Star and I was inducted into the freemasonry of professional class. Its suffocating regalia still hung in a wardrobe of my mind, the guilt and resentments and self-doubt, demanding to be taken out and paraded in front of the nearest mirror, a reminder of civic duty and responsibility.
When I was in high school, I used to read a lot of American 80s lit.
I never really understood what Bret Easton Ellis meant by: “No one will ever know anyone, just deal with it”, words spoken by a character in “Rules of Attraction”. After lots of goings and comings and surprises and bitter turning points, maybe I can say I am getting closer to Ellis. And to his overwhelming disillusionment.
I have known Brian for 8 years. I was ready to say he knew me better than anyone. But how can someone who behaves like that be doing it for my good? I don’t think he knows what’s good for me anymore.
I hate him.
I came to the conclusion that you can never reach the point when you really know someone or something. That doesn’t mean you can’t rely on anyone; it just means that you can only know yourself, and yes, it’s easier and safer to rely only on yourself. But now the question is: can I fall in love with someone if I don’t trust him? I don’t trust Mark Savin, but I feel something really strong, and I think I might need to get to know him better. I don’t think it’s possible, though. Anyway, the Eurasia Revolution is a serious thing. Actually, it’s the only thing that I really believe.
Is there a place one can really call home? Is there a place you ever get to know completely, in its hidden angles and shadows? Even a person, how can you say you really know someone? What’s the boundary between knowing and not knowing? Is it when you see that person waking up in his worst face? Is when you can predict in advance what he is going to do ? Is it when you can tell his meanest thoughts? Do I know Paul Hampel then? I don’t think I do. But I met this guy Mark, who works for him. I was fascinated by him, and after a few minutes he made me feel as if I’d known him forever.
Back in Berlin, everything went back to normality, if something like normality exists. I’d say no, today the place where you are, the people you see and the things you do are not important. Quantity is the only thing that matters. And, as to numbers, I can say I have done quite well recently: 2 jobs at the same time, 6 articles a day, uncountable social relationships, few meals (but every single dinner out this week), and a good number of satisfying nights…one in particular. (As I had sensed, I wasn’t able to resist him. I wasn’t cautious even for a second; Mark just made me forget about all that crap).
Flying back was nice, and I met this guy named Mark Savin, who has changed my life!
I can’t write… I’m too excited about Mark!
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