Permaflow 17, ASPIRE http://realini.blogspot.com/2022/03/realini-in-newsweek-participant-in.html
Claire would have been the ticket out of the giant prison which was this whole country in the days of Ceausescu – my cousin and best friend (which could be an oxymoron, for friends do not stop being friends, never mind the ‘best’, according to Thomas Mann http://realini.blogspot.com/2015/01/death-in-venice-by-thomas-mann.html who wrote about the big words we abuse, love, friendship) used to wish that he wakes up one morning and sees the American flag, because this land has just become the fifty first state- but it was not as cold blooded as that.
It could be that I try and justify this stranger – to repeat the reference to Proust, we are a different person with the passing of time and look back in wonder at what that weird fellow was doing in a body that slightly resembles our own – who was just out to seduce the girl from Sheffield, but still, I was eating her pussy and I was attracted to her…now, the question of love is a complicated one, and to be genuine, it was not adoration…however, the use of ‘to be honest with you’ is not indicated and I have learned that during some AT&T training for the Atlanta Olympics, where I worked as a volunteer for the multinational’s team (so there I am, contemplating some good that came from the association that was otherwise so exploitative) where they underlined that saying to be honest now would suggest that we are not honest at other times, they also told us to avoid asking for help, and instead, cry ‘fire’
There is the question of what would have happened, had I gone along with the plan to marry Claire and settle in Sheffield and eventually work in a supermarket and root for the Sheffield United, if that is the name of their team, and travel to this country as a foreigner and drink beer at the pub, get bored with the woman that had a level of education that was inferior to mine, and had probably read twenty times less, which is not to say her EQ, emotional intelligence level, was not way better than mine, and this is what matters…overall, she might have been, maybe still is, way better as a human being.
The question would be if there is much common ground outside the bed, and if boredom would not become so overwhelming as to annihilate any material advantage to be had over there, as compared with here, positive psychology has demonstrated that money is not the key to happiness – they have looked at lottery winners, those with big tickets, of a million or more, and after a few months during which their wellbeing spikes, they return to a base level of happiness, and besides, experts look at the rise in income levels which has been staggering over past decades, while the levels of happiness have remained about the same – so on that front, there would not be much of a gain, there is also the question of whether I would make Claire more interested in Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Chekhov and other Magister Ludi, or vice versa, there would be a dramatic fall in my reading activity…other studies show that we keep to the level of our friends and constant companions and we ‘are also what we regularly do’
“We are what we repeatedly do…Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit…” this is what Aristotle has said actually, but then there is the version of events wherein I would be saved from the tyranny, which would have been a completely different ball game…as it was, the revolution happened and then, I would call Claire and my interest in joining her and living in a democracy waned, and then disappeared altogether for some time, seeing as there was so much promise and effervescence in the air in the first days…
When in 1996 I would be in the USA for the Olympics, the plan would have changed and I would be very interested in living there and trying to get a permanent position with AT&T in New Jersey or elsewhere, but they did not see what they were missing, and furthermore, they would like their slave in this part of the world to keep his activity for the fucking 250 raised after much haggling to 400 dollars per month, a sum for which they expected work as if I were paid a million dollars to at least a quarter million, with me using my premises, home as office, my clothes, shoes, accessories for their representation, which at one stage included Bulgaria, talk of fucked up demands for a goddamn four hundred bucks
Vicious as I was, there is another marriage that I would skip, this time with a Texan woman, who would come with her mother to this city, because that was the alternative to fleeing from here, but by the time they land in the capital, I would have met with…Miss Romania, and if this sounds appalling (and it is) there would be no way in hell or purgatory for me to abandon the sexy, gorgeous Danah, and leave for the Red State (with so many members of the cult of Trump, which means a vast group of stupid, fucked up people) and leave in a village near the Mexico border, and say that I enjoy the American way of life.
Granted, Linda was the ticket out of the gulag, initially, when we met before the 1989 Revolution, but now, with things dramatically changed, and the emotional lottery jackpot in my hand, the situation was different and embarrassing, as we met them at the airport, took them to the house and then have them stay with uncle Sandu and some others, while I avoided contact and thought about my new found catharsis.
It would end up in tears and thoughts of suicide, which now that these two peaks are juxtaposed, it makes sense, there is that belief that some have in Karma, otherwise called what goes around comes around, and then what I did to Linda, Danah would do to time, when she abandoned me on the way back from miss Universe, which took place in Las Vegas, and the winner was from Mexico, a pageant where our local girl would meet with Jack Nicholson and many other celebrities, glamorous, exuberant, attractive, otherworldly people and enchanted with them, she would return here and say sorry, but it is over…
Not in those words, but the message was about that, and I had been such a fool to dedicate too much to this side of the bond, even thinking of scenarios for her speech there, at the Miss Universe pageant, starting with ‘I was born in a cold winter, near the Soviet border’ – come to think of it, this may be the moment when I went mad and started imaging myself as a scribbler and her, about thirty-years later, I would start this deluge, torrent of lines that are have all invaded this blog here -
http://realini.blogspot.com/2022/02/unique-in-world.html?q=unique+in+the+world and it seems it would never stop, or at least until my fingers get cold for good…