- (see begining...)
- In thousands of parsecs from the Yli-Kittila a dark night came to Leo`s Cosm. R-Camilla exhausted and stiffen by the snow blizzard felt a touch to her wrist. In a distance the lights of the lodge appear.
***
- In the morning I have had a breakfest in the hotel and went to find Artist-in-Residense occupation for me. I wanted a work&living studio in one of this new creative “postindustrial» spaces. I wanted new friends, new ideas. New way of life.
- - So, whats your line? - Helga - plain girl with braces was international guests coordinator of a DOK – the creative hub in south-west Amsterdam .
- - I am futurologist. And currently I work on a novel about humanity deep future. How can we transform our nature with technologies? What are the futures of social spaces? To what points our Universe evolves? What does it mean to stay a human in the time of values ruins?
- - Ok, have you any publications?
- -No more...About pharma marketing only...
- -Or grants for your work. Maybe any other supply?
- -Do you understand, - I began to sweat, - I want to cease to be the office rat, I dream to change myself and set up my own way.
- -That is extremely interesting, Leo. But we have not space for you now. Make your application next year. I believe, you will achieve your bright goals. Try to take an art courses. And try to search a funding...
Then a similar talks I had in other
few places. Not an artist, not an office-worker, not a buisinessman,
not a criminal - I felt
myself like hanging in nothingness with permanent fear to become
holland homeless beggar. Enviosly I learned about different
super-duper activities of “new creative class” such a wooden crafts, electric circus with
monkey-robots, ethnic fashion, provoking
graffity, nude videoart, landart in rural boonies, bioart with ears
on a belly, lesbian comics, sophisticated media-art, anarcho-poetry,
NGO for help african migrants (why I am not a black, not Jewish, not
a gay?)... countless
designers, dancers, musicians, experimental theatricals....
Where is
my place?- Take the
little lost pup to your home!
In the main, I have changed for a week my naive notions about modern
art. Not enough to shit on a city square and to declare that it was
“perfomance”. Very important to fundrising for this.
***
It is
known that depression is caused by an imbalance of serotonin and
dopamine in the nervous tissue. With the help of my lab-on-chip I
synthesized powerful antidepressant -serotonin
reuptake inhibitor. I
called it “Mr. Gloomoff”
All
the Yli-Kittila
inhabitants
-Bob,
Gob, Nob and Misa became addicted to “Mr. Gloomoff” firmly. They
fressed it in handfuls. And remained exactly the same pigs. In
addition to
junk, scrap, leavings, dirty underwears the mounts of sunflower husk
appeared. They nibbled the seeds with incredible vigor. And praised
me for the “fantastic wheels”. I was terrified. A sloth,
gluttony, debauchery and abomination of desolation were thrived in
the village. And now the narcomania added. I decided to change
tactics and take up the balance of their life priorities.
-Dear
friends!- I gave a speech from unstedy soapbox, - We
are all sailing in the same boat called “Eternity”....
They
applauded coping with their large popcorn baskets.
-Burn,
Leo!- Gob cried.
-Ok,
thank you. Look around. -Bob and Misa turned back anxiously. - We
live in a garbage. The clouds of drosophilas closed the Sun. Instead
of the meadow`s fresh air we inhale a stench of decay. The
world is full of mysteries and secrets. All the paths are open.
Imagine the future of a great deeds, great breakthroughs.
Imagine
your own kids larking on a lawn....
One
by one they got up and left the meeting. I was very tired.
Admittedly, undertaking was meaningless.
***
Camilla gave a knok to lodge`s doors.
It opened. In the back of the red-light room the Old Photographer
brewed herbals in a
large aluminum pan.
-Good night, wanderer, - wrinkles of his face had been
carved mahogany.
-Good night, monsieur,- she take a seat on antique dower
chest eagerly absorbing the heat from the chimney.
-Here a fried potatos with orange-cap
boletus. Eat. - he sat in front, and began to roll a ciggy.
Countless photos dried on
pins around. Red light lulled.
***
I tried to kill
this nagging anxiety by
beer and canabis, sitting on a canal of red-light district in front
of Oude Kerk. Every now and then a boats with loud crazy guys and
girls passed near me. Tomorrow Monday they will back to their London,
Brussel and Frankfurt offices. Loneliness and emptiness. The
emptiness and the loneliness. Uncertainty. Want to fuck. Do not want
to move anywhere. Want to friendly support. No words to chat. Want to
revelation. No strength to pray. You can come along and across the
whole of Tibet, write a heap of books, but did not find your own
truth. And some of people reach enlightenment, sweeping floors. Who
needs my pathetic attempts to understand the world? - “First of all
you need it most”-
And its the bullshit,
because this lausy metaphysical worm always just ruined my life by
constant gnawing “why-why-what for-what for”.
I waited for Sign.
For example a boat named “SensLand”, a store with neon signboard
“Camomile Wine” or something else. Nothing happened. I wanted to
die and had lay down on the piece of cardboard. I put my backpack
under my head but something rigid in it hindered to get comfortable.
It was paint marker – usual green felt pen. I pulled it out going
to throw it into a murky water of the canal. But instead have written
on the cardboard with large letters:
ACUTE NEED FOR CAMOMILE WINE
***
I
have undestood my mistake. - I tried to solve problen “in
general”. However,
Bob is unique person with his own history. Gob has particular way.
And Nob is very different from others. Misa is Misa. And only their
garbage is common place for all. Sultry noon. Flies. Dirty mats.
- -Sorry, Gob. I was really stupid. Years of Avenue deep design are disabled thing, I know...
- -Yes,- Gob tippled vapid beer from a huge mug,- in very beginning I constructed a very simple self -evolved social networks for others. All that values, meanings and rituals. Sure, for profit- namely, for direct physical contact. That is to say, I have neglected my own Cosm. And became homeless....After many miles of aimless wanderings, I have passed the Academy entrance exams....
- -Stop!- all became tangled in my head, - This my history. Are you the Mirror?
- -Partway. You know, the Avenue is more complex. And I am emerging epiphenomena of many levels: I am part of Camillas Cosm (again- from different points), I am one of your possible futures, I am bunch of neutrinos of distant long-dead star, to some extent, I am Copernicus, nibbling sunflower seeds, double contingency, and of course exactly that forgotten guitar....
- -Ok-Ok, - I turned over to feel less sweaty mat, - Tell me, Gob, how to solve this conundrum?- I have to cure you and others- all Yly-Kitilla from senselessness. To save from rotting breath of Eternity....
- -Excellent question, - Gob handed me the mug with his vapid beer- how about Camomile wine?
- -No, thanks. Rain begins.
- to be continued...
***
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