Boycotting the boycott
I turned off the TV news and read Tolstoy today. In Russian. Out loud. With a glass of Moskovskaya in my hand, because without a good sip of a 40 % originally Russian vodka, no one will ever understand him.
Halfway through his novel, I felt freezing cold, and decided - maybe inspired by his War and Peace - to not fucking freeze for freedom any longer, even though they've been trying to convince me that by doing so I could stop the war.
Fuck it, I thought, if I freaking freeze to death nobody will even understand what I've given my life for, and certainly my end won't be ending any war.
Even with gas straight from hell, I would have turned up me heater today, snuggled up to Tolstoy’s words today, gotten wasted with originally Russian vodka today, fallen out with my Ukrainian neighbours today, when they claimed they had better borscht than the Russians, flushed Lvivske down the toilet today, since it has ever only given me headaches, and: you know what? I don't even feel guilty.
I expected the guards to take me in, my boss to throw me out, my father to beat me up, my grandma to take me out of her will, the devil to take me into his arms, God to hit me with a lightning bolt, but none of it actually happened – quite frankly, nobody really cared. Because they don’t really care, the people: not even the clever clogs, who are constantly acting the big shot. They only want to feel like they’re doing something important, know what’s important, are someone important. They only want to feel better: than before, than the others, than the Russians, than me, who decided consciously I’m not better than any of them. and they are not better than me, even though - as of today - I boycott the boycott!
“And how will you explain this to your children and grandchildren someday?”
Asked exactly this, I will answer like a lawyer would: with a counterquestion.
How in all the world will you?
How will you explain the discrimination against everything Russian in favour of every little Ukrainian thing? How will you explain your acceptance of a right-wing ambassador who visits German Nazi graves and has been known for praising them? How will you explain that you simply had neither an interest in nor a clue about Eastern European history, and only blindly trusted whatever you were being told? How will you explain using the verbiage solidarity to cover up your own discriminatory tendencies? And, maybe most importantly:
How will you explain that, doing all of this, you still felt better than, still felt superior to everyone else?
As for me, I'm sitting here, warm through Russian gas, wasted thanks to Russian vodka, reading Russian literature in Russian, while I am expecting Russian friends who are still the same people as they've always been, and I am - just like all the years before - still proud to be one of them.
Halfway through his novel, I felt freezing cold, and decided - maybe inspired by his War and Peace - to not fucking freeze for freedom any longer, even though they've been trying to convince me that by doing so I could stop the war.
Fuck it, I thought, if I freaking freeze to death nobody will even understand what I've given my life for, and certainly my end won't be ending any war.
Even with gas straight from hell, I would have turned up me heater today, snuggled up to Tolstoy’s words today, gotten wasted with originally Russian vodka today, fallen out with my Ukrainian neighbours today, when they claimed they had better borscht than the Russians, flushed Lvivske down the toilet today, since it has ever only given me headaches, and: you know what? I don't even feel guilty.
I expected the guards to take me in, my boss to throw me out, my father to beat me up, my grandma to take me out of her will, the devil to take me into his arms, God to hit me with a lightning bolt, but none of it actually happened – quite frankly, nobody really cared. Because they don’t really care, the people: not even the clever clogs, who are constantly acting the big shot. They only want to feel like they’re doing something important, know what’s important, are someone important. They only want to feel better: than before, than the others, than the Russians, than me, who decided consciously I’m not better than any of them. and they are not better than me, even though - as of today - I boycott the boycott!
“And how will you explain this to your children and grandchildren someday?”
Asked exactly this, I will answer like a lawyer would: with a counterquestion.
How in all the world will you?
How will you explain the discrimination against everything Russian in favour of every little Ukrainian thing? How will you explain your acceptance of a right-wing ambassador who visits German Nazi graves and has been known for praising them? How will you explain that you simply had neither an interest in nor a clue about Eastern European history, and only blindly trusted whatever you were being told? How will you explain using the verbiage solidarity to cover up your own discriminatory tendencies? And, maybe most importantly:
How will you explain that, doing all of this, you still felt better than, still felt superior to everyone else?
As for me, I'm sitting here, warm through Russian gas, wasted thanks to Russian vodka, reading Russian literature in Russian, while I am expecting Russian friends who are still the same people as they've always been, and I am - just like all the years before - still proud to be one of them.
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