Tomorrow

-  Hello, woman, how are things going? How is your life in America?

-  Ooo! The boy has finally bought himself a phone with which he could write some messages!

-  Yeah, the boy is very fashionable now

-  What happened? Why aren’t you online anymore? Where have you been?

-  I’m still here, I just don’t start the talking. If you had asked something, I would probably have answered. 

-  Yeah, right

-  I had a phone, in fact I had two phones, but yesterday I broke one and took this one for everyday use. It’s older, but it’s still working. Now, I have to buy a computer to talk to Tolea, too. Do you know that during the last year I’ve talked, once in a while, only to you and to Tolea?   

-  What?! You don’t have a computer?!

-  Calm down, I have a computer, I was just joking. I just have to make a new profile because I forgot the old password and can’t log in to video call you or Tolea

-  When are you going to come here? I’m still waiting for you

-  I’m afraid of Americans, do you know the song? I don’t know, I want to, but I can’t. To get a visa, one needs money, steady employment, tons of documents etc, etc, i: ti: si:  Moreover, I’ve been applying for a Green Card lottery for five years now and every time, they say that they’re sorry but my entry had not been selected. I didn’t pass through the sieve. I imagine that they’re so sorry, but so, so sorry to the point that they can’t even sleep because of this. Honestly, this situation starts to annoy me. If they don’t want me, why should I want them so badly? I’m waiting this May to play one more time. If I don’t win this year, probably I won’t apply for the seventh time. Let them be in holy peace, tell me about you? How’s life? What’s new?

-  Nothing; everything is great, the job is ok, the kids are healthy and everything else is going pretty well. Listen, but do you feel better? I mean, since you’re not talking to people; I, honestly, don’t understand you and what’s happening to you...you practically isolated yourself in those mountains

-  No, I don’t necessarily feel better because of not speaking to people, but if you asked me what was the reason of my withdrawal from the social life, I wouldn’t know the answer. People tire me, their presence suffocates me, but there’re moments, nonetheless, when I’d like to have someone with whom to grab a cup of tea. There’re moments when I’d like to feel that someone really wants to listen to me, to know how I am doing, how I am feeling and since we’re talking about people, I’d also like a massage...there’re such moments, dear, they don’t last, but they come and go from time to time. After all, I’m a social animal, too. What is written in the genes can’t be erased so easily. What can one do? To tell you the truth: I, honestly understand people around me. I understand that they quickly get bored. Today, you can’t complain to anyone because life is hard for all of us and people get bored, don’t care or they may even enjoy your hard times; you can’t brag about being successful because life is tough for everybody and people get bored, don’t care or they may even envy your good times; if you make jokes – you aren’t a serious person, if you keep silent – something is wrong with you. I don’t know, it’s better to let them alone. I don’t know why I made a step back, but it’s not an isolation. It’s not like I’m staying here, in the mountains alone, waiting for the Holy Spirit to come down from the sky. I live here, I live among people, I talk to them everyday, they touch me, I touch them, some kiss me, I kiss some of them...it’s just that till the evening, we become strangers and at dinner I remain alone and without any massage. Besides, pretty much everyone knows my email, my phone number and you can give the address to everyone, I won’t mind it. It’s just that I’m not making myself visibile, I don’t press the like button, I don’t share, I don’t write what’s on my mind and don’t post photos in which everyone can see how happy I am. I’m staying in the shadow, a little further back, just enough not to see the show very clearly. I don’t give a damn about the actors and I’m not interested in their lines either. The actors have no talent and they’re playing with a disturbing shallowness. Their lines are learned mechanically and if I don’t listen to them, I won’t lose anything. I was forced to learn those lines, too. I know them by heart. I still use them from time to time, but I’d like to forget them. I’d like to have my own lines...simple, unostentatious, trivial, insignificant, preposterous and wrongful, but honest. Honest and mine.

-  Hey,  не гони (Russian: don’t go crazy)...When do you begin to learn Russian? How’s your internship?

-  It’s good, I can’t complain. At the moment, for example, the situation is very calm. Every afternoon, we’re doing some group activity, but after that, everyone is free to pass the evening as they please. Well, not exactly as they please. If one had a problem with alcohol, they can’t enjoy a beer, you get it, don’t you?  At the end of the day, after these group labs, therapies, whatever, they can use the phones, the computers, the telly...they can listen to music, read or simply lie in bed.  Now, for example, a girl is reading Voltaire, Candide, another guest is a little restless because the voices reappeared...in fact, he has been agitated for a week because of the voices he’s hearing, another one is listening to music, some are smoking outside and the rest of them are watching the telly...probably, they don’t even hear what the telly is saying, but I think this is encouraging. No, I don’t think, I am sure that this is good. Maybe this is a sign that not everything is lost? For example, now on TV they’re talking about a box match, that is going to happen soon and they’re showing how the boxers are being weighed...one of them is screaming, swearing and beating himself with his fists on his chest...he’s spitting and saying that he’ll kill the other one...hundreds of journalists are taking photos and smiling. I get that millions of dollars are at stake here, but...This is pretty much the apex of evolution, my dear. There isn’t any space for improvement. This is it. Potable water for everyone? No, you can’t have it. Have you bought a TV yet?

-  No. My American colleagues are in shock that I live without TV.

-  Be careful. Soon, we’ll risk big fines for not staying in front of the TV for at least three hours a day. Everybody will be obliged by law to spend the minimum amount of time in front of the screen that is telling us the absolute and the supreme truth. I wanted to write that they will force us to give comments and critiques as a mandatory feedback, but then I realized that it would be impossible. A comment would require a minimum of thinking and they will never ask us to do so. It’s too dangerous for their comfortable seats.

-  Do you know that I’m not eating sugar anymore?

-  What a chimera. Nowadays, you can find sugar even in salty products. Do you know why we like sugar so much? An explanation could be found in the concept of evolutionary time lags. Let me explain it to you, dear: evolution is an excruciatingly slow process, but the environment around us is changing rapidly, so as a consequence, today’s people and their minds aren’t suitable for the present environment. In other words, we lagged behind. As in the past, sugar, fat and other stuff weren’t so available, but necessary for survival, people developed this preference. In the meanwhile, sugar and fat have become more than available, but people remained with this preference, which is now noxious. This theory explains even the fact why we aren’t afraid of cars and guns, but we pee our pants and howl in despair when we see a spider or a snake. The cars and the guns are part of the modern, present environment for which our mind is not prepared yet. Do you follow me? Our minds and senses aren’t wise enough to   understand that we should avoid guns, as we avoided snakes,  if we want to survive. There’re also other explanations, such as, for example, the big companies and their friends from different governments. These people are experts in marketing and little lies. They are the masters of  virtuous deceit. Also, there’re other interesting explanations from the biological and the evolutionary point of view. But, last week I was reading about evolutionary time lags and I wanted to brag about. For this academic moment, please give me nine dollars and three cents.   

-  I didn’t understand anything. Do you remember when I made you fried chips?

-  Wait a second. Someone wants to talk to me

One of the friendliest guest of the center is standing in front of me. Plump, always with the sunglasses on and with both hands in the pockets, he is showing me his existence through a fade, dull and confused smile. After every two minutes, he’s pulling up his trousers until above the navel and immediately after, he’s pulling them down like a rapper. He repeats this ritual with an exactitude that cheers up even a learned eye with such nuances. He’s coming from a rich family and he has had, all his life, servants and cleaning women. All his life, he has had almost everything he wished for. When he first came to our center for treatment, he didn’t even know how to put a plate on the table, but washing the dishes was something beyond his reality. At the moment, he knows; he still has to learn, but step by step, hopefully, he will learn that in this life if you shit in your pants, you have to wash them. Such a simple rule, but still, so hard to be learned, especially when one has more than he deserves; especially, when one has more than he needs. At least, I hope that he’ll learn this rule the soonest he can. It’s for his best. His parents won’t be alive forever. Money devalues in time. Let’s see what he will do, when he’s out of here. He has been here for eight months now and he’s never returned home yet, because he has a rich history of excessive use of drugs. Still, his main problem is not substance abuse. In fact, this center is not a rehabilitation one, but it’s a facility where people with schizophrenia and personality disorders come or are sent with the hope that their lives will improve, with the hope that the treatment will miraculously change something.   

-  May I borrow a cigarette, please?

-  Sure. Wait a second.

I’m taking the tobacco out of one pocket, taking a filter and a rolling paper out of another one and I start rolling him a cigarette.

-  Are you coming tomorrow?

-  No, tomorrow I can’t come, I need to deal with something, but I’ll see you on Monday.

-  What time do you finish today?

-  I think I’ll stay in another half an hour and I’ll go. Why? Did you get tired of me? Holding the cigarette out, I’m asking him, smiling, looking at his covered eyes with those sunglasses that I hate so much.

-  Nooo...he’s answering, also smiling.

-  Everything ok?

-  Yes, everything ok, thank’s. Grabbing hastily the cigarette, he’s going away.

Yeah, everything is ok...this is his usual answer, but I know that everything is not ok, not even close to ok. Something is hidden behind those sunglasses. Something is lurking...It seems to me that he doesn’t understand what’s hidden there either. No. It doesn’t seem to me. I’m sure that he doesn’t understand it. It would be great if one day, I could see what’s going on beyond this – everything is ok, but how? Every time he blocks me with this line and I haven’t been authorized yet to push a little and to shake him up to see what happens. I prepared some questions for him. I need to wait for the right time... I’m looking at him while he’s going away and I’m thinking that he succeeded at cutting down on smoking: from over eighty cigarettes a day to forty. I guess, this could be considered as a little progress, too... 

-  Done, what were you saying?

-  Nothing, did something bad happen?

-  No, he just asked for a cigarette and went back into his world

-  Horrible

-  It’s more sad than horrible. Since I began this internship, I’ve started to believe that psychological disorders are often sadder than neurological ones. I don’t know how to say it. I don’t want to upset anyone, because everyone has become too sensitive about everything, but in the case of a neurological disorder one can find the cause and work on it with chemistry and actual, concrete stuff, meanwhile the psychological ones have seven thousands unknown causes...everything is so ambiguous. You try, try to help the person, but in most cases, you can’t do anything. You try to help someone to be more functional, but it often happens to worsen the situation. I don’t know...I might think so because I’m at the beginning...maybe in the future, I’ll be more optimistic

-  Are you happy that you passed from Economics to this?

-  Yes, I’m...but at the moment, being at the beginning, I’m feeling a little vulnerable

-  What do you mean vulnerable?

-  Wait a second; you ask me a short question and I write you a novel, I can’t keep pace...wait, dear, wait...do you even read what I’m writing here?

-  Haha...I want to go to Maldives

-  I can’t speak Romanian well, but you ask me if I want to learn Russian. For the moment, it’s enough that I can understand it a little bit. Wait, what was the last question? Aa..vulnerability. I don’t know how to explain. I have moments when I feel such a pity for the clients of our center to the point that it weighs me down. There’re moments when I’m looking at someone and seeing their blurred glance, suffocated with affliction, pain, suffering and medicines, I feel such a pity. It’s a kind of suffering that they don’t understand it, the doctors, most of them don’t understand it while they’re pretending to know everything and the regular people also don’t have either a clue or wish to understand it. I can’t go on with this attitude, I need to become a professional. Besides, I’m a little surprised about this feeling of mine because I’m not the most empathic man, on the contrary...

-  Interesting...do you feel so every time you see them?

-  No, there’re days when I don’t feel this way at all, but there’re days, which I think will disappear with experience, when it weighs me down. For example, several hours ago, I was looking at a girl here; she was standing zoned out, with her hands on her knees and with her hair flowing on her face...I couldn’t bear it, I stood up and went away to do something else. The absence of life, of energy and of the present moment disturbed something in me 

-  I think that it’s a normal reaction

-  It may be, but I don’t like it, I don’t like this feeling at all. I don’t see its usefulness. Besides, I’m telling you that this is strange for me because I usually don’t have much empathy for other members of our species

-  Be careful, it sounds like you should get a checkup, too

-  I’m honestly afraid of making a child now because of these personality disorders. You don’t even know how to raise him: if you’re too authoritarian, there’re chances to end up badly and to hear the child whining about not having freedom, complaining about not letting him do whatever he pleased, not letting him developing his personality, individuality and other similar words, used by parenting experts. Do you know that, nowadays, there’re courses of parenting where people go, and pay of course because without money any parenting course is useless, and teach themselves how to be parents? My grandmother raised sixteen children without any parenting coaching. I don’t understand how could so many generations exist before us without these courses. They should have come together with our casting away from heaven. Get out of my heaven, you jerks, but keep some recommendations because I still love you. How could the first ones of us climb down from the trees without any parenting courses? What were they thinking? On the other hand, if you let the child do whatever he pleases, one day you’ll wake up and he’s thirteen and he’s so free in the clubs with a cigarette and a cocktail in his hand without knowing who the fuck was Victor Hugo...or you can hear her that she’s twelve and she’s in love and can’t study for her biology class. Listen to her, she’s in love and you can’t do anything, especially now when everyone wants you to be in love. If you don’t let her be in love, the child protection will knock on your door. I don’t know...but if I decide to have children, I think I’ll be a little authoritarian. How do you manipulate yours?

-  Lol...my method is simple: I give them two options; both are good for me, but they’re thinking that the choice is theirs. For example, I ask them: Do you want the blue sweater or the green one? All I want is them wearing a sweater, I’m not interested in the color, and they, by choosing the color, think that it was their decision. Do you get it? I agree that it’s very difficult to raise a child and it’s very challenging and hard to be a parent. 

-  I see that you’re veritable democrat. All democrats, today, use your system, but we’re talking about democracy and nobody is allowed to touch this subject, otherwise the heroes will immediately come with their drones on your neck. They’re the holy heroes who share pieces of democracy to everyone. Democracy with closed doors...

-  Please, don’t start it...you know that these talks are useless

-  I know...my father, for example, never put on the table two sweaters...he gave me the blue one and, without many discussions, I wore it, otherwise he’d use his divine belt and problem solved

-  It seems that even today you’d need some smacking

-  Possible...wait a second. I need to run to the bathroom to wash my eye. I was smoking when the wind blew some ashes directly into my eye

-  Lol..which one?

-  The right one

-  What a schmuck...

-  Meanwhile I was chatting with you, I went out to smoke a cigarette; it’s a little cold here and the wind has just started to blow...I’ll explain you later

I’m throwing the cigarette and I’m going in. I’m running to the bathroom and in the meantime I’m gently rubbing the eye. It’s burning...it must be red. I feel how it starts tearing.  I’m rinsing it with cold water. The burning is fading away. I’m opening it to make sure that I still can use it. I’m looking in the mirror. I’m seeing myself. I can’t decide what I’m feeling for this face. I’m not feeling either love or hate. It’s good that such accidents happen from time to time and the eyes are tearing...in this way, they cleanse themselves...well, they cleanse even when I cut an onion... I should cry from time to time...I can’t go on so many years without crying...no, I’d better cut onions...when people cry, they make such horrific and disgusting faces. To me, they look ridiculous. Plastic dolls under fire... I’m washing my face with cold water. I’m drying it with some toilet paper that hasn’t been used by anybody yet. The toilet paper is drenching quickly and in a few seconds my hands are full of useless paper crumbs. How little did it take to become useless. Any analogy would be unavailing. - You’re so shameless to compare a human being with toilet paper...- In fact, I’m not comparing the human being, but his life...  I’m checking myself in the mirror to see if any bits of toilet paper remained entangled in the hair of my beard. No, but I’d better wipe this smirk off my face. If somebody sees me, going out of the toilet so cheerful, they could consider my post-toilet reaction a little bit exaggerated. How many people get out happily of the bathroom? How many people would like to get out happily, but they simply can’t? I’m turning the light off and closing the door behind me. I’m going outside and sitting on the chair next to the entrance of the building to continue the messages and maybe to smoke another cigarette.     

-  Done. I’m ok; you can go on with your life and live carefreely. Listen, how about sharing some gossip with me...who got married, who is pregnant, who has already had three children? Have you seen the photo where Dodon[1] is with his dogs?  Dodon and the Dogs- it could be such a nice title for a painting, like Girl with a Pearl Earring or The Smile of Dodon , or even better Dodon- the Son of Man, but instead of the apple, it should be something else there, you know, and in background, The Scream of a Moldovan...poor dogs

-  Shut up...I’m working here and can’t lough out loud...wait a second, I’m going to send you some photos

-  Send me...brag yourself...show me Latin America, show me Asia, show me bikini, show me beaches, show me eccentric dishes, show me hearts, drawn on sand by people who haven’t a clue what a human heart is looking like in reality, show me peace slogans, written on trees with a knife, show me the sun, show me edited smiles, bombard me while I’m down 

-  Well, I’ll show you a couple of slaps when I see you...c’mmon, tell me more about your internship; I’m very interested in

-  Honestly, it’s nothing much to tell and as it seems, dear, I’m not allowed to tell, either. But if I remember correctly, you didn’t like when you were told what was the movie about. Everyone is living his short, sad, absurd movie, directed by a stupid and untalented filmmaker. Besides, the director is very poor because the quality of the movies is the worst. I hope they won’t bore me. In fact, I’m sure they will, but hopefully not soon. I want a sufficient pension

-  I want to pee because I drank a lot of tea

-  I’ve always wondered how many sacks of tea would we have drunk in a week, if we had been a couple..c’mmon go and do your thing

It’s so cold...my fingers have frozen from writing so many messages...I’d better go inside I’m looking at the living room of the center: large, comfortable, clean...I’m looking at the guests...I’m looking hurriedly at my collegues, who probably don’t consider me a colleague yet and it’s possible that they think that I’m a little stupid; I’m not sure. Many had thought it before and many will do it after, if there’s an after. I hope that there’s an after. I want it to be. I crave for an after because until now I haven’t understood much. I don’t care...indeed, I’m not a genius, I didn’t discover anything, I didn’t create anything useful or profitable, I can’t speak Italian fluently, I sometimes stutter, I often can’t express eloquently what I want to, so no need to be sulky now. If they think that I’m stupid, there should be some reason. Let this be my only problem in life...but if they called me stupid in a spoken voice, I’d probably get angry. The stinky ego of human species. The traps of human pride that constantly wants to be fed... - Be careful, especially that you’re able to recognize these traps and you usually can’t stand the people who fall into them – I know. It’s just bad theatre...I probably don’t care of what the collegues think of me because, at the moment, I don’t see them as threatening rivals, as potential collaborators from whom I could benefit, as important elements that might influence my existence in such a way I couldn’t control...how long is she peeing? Why is it so hard for me to look into people’s eyes? A few seconds and I avoid eye contact...I feel uncomfortable. I have nothing to hide and still, the eye contact bothers me. May it be that I’m afraid of creating some kind of connection when I’m making eye contact with someone? Possible...I’ve always been afraid of reciprocity...of human relationships, that I couldn’t keep under control. May it be this the reason why I always avoid looking in somebody’s eyes? Thinking about it, I realize that I often don’t look even in my mom’s eyes...the translation of this movie is so annoying, the voices are so unnatural and affected, but if people, here, are lazy to read the subtitles, I think they deserve this...a, the news about the box match, apparently ended...how was he yelling... – Screaming and encouraging young people to practise manly sports, millions of dollars are made. – Yes and this isn’t a good sign and nothing will change as long as these manly sports are fashionable and profitable. We’re living sick times and someone is making a fortune out of our illness. From all the colleagues, I can’t stand this one. Every time she speaks, it’s like she’s the main character in a play. Every five seconds, she’s passing the hand through her hair in such a repugnant way that drives me crazy when I see this gesture. Her high-pitched voice disturbs my guts. How would it be like to live with such a woman all your life?  When she says something, you’re under the impression that in a second she will have an hysterical crises. It’s good that we have different working hours. The other one is OK. There’re moments when she’s really nice. OK, let’s not be ungrateful.  The most colleagues are OK. When I started this internship, I was expecting the worst. I was expecting to be yelled at, to be ignored, to be told to go home, in Moldova...maybe, they’re doing all this in their minds, but I don’t care. These expectations were born from past experiences. Nevertheless, I found a good team. They’re OK. They’re OK because we have nothing to share. They’re OK because I don’t expect anything from them. They’re OK because they don’t expect anything from me. They’re OK because they don’t see me as a rival. What does it mean to be OK? What the fuck does OK mean? I like this painting on the wall. Nothing byzantine, just a few colored lines spread chaotically on a piece of canvas. If you keep looking at it, in a few minutes you feel nauseated and want to throw up... 

-  Done...God, it’s so good

-  Did you pee? Are you happy?

-  Well, if you pee regularly, I think you haven’t got many reasons to complain

-  Or if you pee without any extra help...

-  Or if it gets out when you want and not when it wants

-  Nowadays, the yellow is very stylish, so don’t worry. We’re an yellow civilization

-  Please, tell me some books I could read. I’m honestly bored with the one I’m reading now. I’ve been reading thirty pages how one strolls about

-  I hope you went for a walk with Orwell, Huxley, Atwood, Llosa, Saramago...Flaubert is very nice. Marin Preda and the Russians make a pretty good company. Right now, I can’t remember others. What are you doing this weekend?

-  I don’t know yet, I’ll see

-  One of these days, my boss was suprised when I told him that I’ve read some italian writers in my life, but I’m not sure he believed me

-  I want to dance

-  Mila, may I ask you something silly?

-  Always...you know that, don’t you?

-  I know that at this moment of your life: two children, a career, a house, a husband...all good,  you can think that my question is stupid, but still, do you have moments when you think that life sucks? Moments when you realize how absurd and pointless everything is? I have moments when I don’t want to believe it, rationally, but I feel it...I don’t know... I’m not thinking of suicide or other extreme acts, but lately, I’ve had a feeling of utter emptiness, of absolute pointlessness. I feel that my life is like a monologue without spectators, like a marathon in a square metre surrounded by cemented walls...capisci (do you understand?)  my dear friend?

-  Capisco, capisco (I understand, I understand)...it’s been a long time since I’ve realized that life sucks, but all you can do is: either to live thinking about it or to simply enjoy it

-  To live thinking about it or to simply enjoy it... How not to think about it? How to enjoy it knowing it? How to ignore what you know? If you don’t know it, I could understand that you could enjoy it, but even when you don’t know it, there’s a minimum of unconscious knowing, a minimum of suspicion about something and again things get complicated. It’s almost impossible not to know absolute anything. I worked with people who didn’t know anything since their birth and I, honestly didn’t see any joy. But why is it necessary to enjoy it? Millions of people live without enjoying it and this means two things: either they know something or they don’t know that they should enjoy it. It’s so easy to say enjoy it, forget and enjoy it, let it go and enjoy it 

-  Enjoy it and let me work

-  OK, kiss you. I’m done for today, too. Another day has passed in the faded paradise. I’m going home and straight to bed. Don’t forget to send me some photos. Keep in touch

-  OK. Kiss you, too. Don’t disappear again. We need to arrange a day, when we, all three, have the days off and to video chat. I’ll let you know; Bye. Kiss you

" Another typical, pointless conversation...we have been friends for over ten years and I don’t remember any articulate, coherent conversation. We jump from topic to topic so that in two minutes we could talk about the sad lives of polar bears, syphilis and international politics. This might be the reason why we’re still friends and wish each other the best. Thinking about it, I realize that I don’t have any idea where she works and what she does for a living. I should ask her next time. I might ask her now, for example, with a message I could solve the mystery; I could take advantage that we’re living in a digital world where nobody uses pigeons as messengers anymore. No. Next time. Today, I’m not interested in. How is it possible not to know what your best friend does for a living? Without doubt, we have a strange friendship. Often, many months pass without a word thrown between us and then we talk like we just saw each other. Many thought that we were a couple, but if we had been a couple, we wouldn’t probably have been so open and so sincere with each other and our friendship wouldn’t certainly have lasted so many years. Anyway, I have to ask where she’s working. I can’t be such a jerk, but may it be that after all I’m not a jerk? Does it matter what is her job? She can be a top agent, a top lawyer, a simple receptionist or a cleaning women, I don’t care. I should behave nicer with the two friends who haven’t escaped yet. The older you get, the harder it’s to make new friends. When you’re young and drunk, you make some friends...if in time, some of them haven’t disappeared, then there’s a higher probability that they will remain longer in your life. Why is it harder to make new friends after a certain age? When I was thirty three, at the beginning of the thirty fourth, I went to a lot of conferences, lunches, dinners; I met a lot of people with whom I drank a lot of tea and coffee, with whom I had long discussions, shared opinions...I met a lot of persons, I talked to a lot of persons, I gesticulated, I smiled...and nobody is here anymore. The phone