Costel and his melancolies
As you know, I’m pretty busy these days, but the word came to my ear. One of my ex-high school colleagues has been published in one of the most read romanian cultural magazines, Dilema: To drink or not to drink.
To drink or not to drink
Most of the time, the space of life is filled with addictions. The small ones are called passions, the stronger ones - vices. Without the former you are depressed, without the latter you are a failure. With both, you are a crapulous person, who calls himself excentric just to save your face.
We can also class addictions as addictions that you know you have, addictions that you remember you had, and addictions you don’t want to remember. I don’t remember being addicted to my mom’s breast, but surely I was. Nor do I remember being addicted to Cli, the plush dog. Probably the earliest addiction I remember is to the wolf dog. A beautiful animal, ranked as a sergeant when he was retired from the police to our yard, coarser, but more loyal than the plush piece that held his place. What next? Jules Verne’s books. Sugar on bread and his books, curiosity. Then maths, or no - I used to call it an addiction, but it was more of a obligation. Pink Floyd, Janis Joplin, my classmate sneaking notes, the mare Lori, probbaly not in this order.
High school… too much order, a single wish.. there was enough place for a single addiction: alcohol. years apssed, liquors grew strongers, mixes got more complex. Life went on due to inertia, or did it stopped? Whenever I felt it was taking me in some direction, I tried to stop it. …And I was almost succesful a few times. My longest death was 4 days. It was obvious, it became a vice. Hospital, accusing faces, injectable silence, painful vitamins, other people. Then a superbe prayer. And a new addiction: not to drink.
Then loneliness, the bike, fishing… I can call them addictions. And internet chatting. How could I forget. Addiction to somebody else’s kind words, to the small joy of making somebody else smile, to those formal phrases, to feel yourself able to handle the discussion. Addiction that went so far that for three months my only words were “a bread and a can of meat please”. After these three months I was amazed by the height of the grass: three months when my words became a short tap on the keyboard. Three month when I realised one of the few places where the reality beats the virtual world is the sexual act… no matter whether it is passional or mechanical. And I realised there is a addiction to that too. Perhaps addictios define you as a person. The biggest ones imply the lost of happiness, the smaller ones imply its presence. We are a labyrinth of addictions, their inexistance would scare us to death. Otherwise I can’t see why God has built in us the addiction to Him.
The Play
Note from the editor: our happy days here at Dilema depend on letters as this one.
For Romanian-speaking readers, I preserved the original, years after the web page went offline.
A bea sau a nu bea
Spatiul vietii e umplut mai mereu de dependente. Celor mici le zice pasiuni, celor mari vicii. Fara primele esti un deprimat, cu celelalte esti un ratat. Cu ambele, un tip candriu ce-si zice uneori excentric, pentru ca îi pare ca suna mai bine.
Ar mai putea fi dependente constientizate, dependente de care îti aduci aminte si dependente pe care nu vrei sa le rememorezi. Nu-mi aduc aminte sa fi fost dependent de sînul mamei, dar cu siguranta am fost. Nici de dependenta de Cli, catelul de plus. Poate prima dependenta constienta, totodata si cea mai veche amintire, este cea fata de un cîine lup. Patruped frumos, iesit din politie cu gradul de sergent si pensionat în batatura noastra; mai aspru, dar mai devotat decît bucata de plus ce îi furase forma. Apoi… ce a fost mai apoi? Da! Cartile lui Jules Verne. Pîine cu zahar si cartile lui: curiozitate. A urmat matematica. Sau asta nu… cred ca i-am zis la vremea aceea dependenta, desi obligatie ar fi fost mai potrivit. Pink Floyd, Janis Joplin, biletele strecurate de colega mea de banca, iapa Lori (nu neaparat în asta ordine) au venit repede si au trecut la fel.
Liceul… prea multa ordine, o singura dorinta… nu a mai ramas loc decît de o singura dependenta: alcoolul. Au trecut anii, bautura era din ce în ce mai tare si mai combinata, din inertie viata trecea si nu prea. Si atunci cînd totusi se îndrepta într-o oarecare directie încercam sa o opresc. Si aproape am reusit în cî;teva rînduri. Cea mai lunga moarte a mea a durat 4 zile. Da, era clar… devenise viciu. Spital, figuri acuzatoare, liniste injectata, vitamine dureroase si alti oameni. Si o ruga atît de frumoasa. O noua dependenta: aceea de a nu bea.
Apoi singuratate, motocicleta, pescuitul… le pot zice si lor dependente. Si chat-ul! Cum era sa uit. Dependenta de vorba buna a cuiva, de bucuria ca ai facut pe cineva sa se hlizeasca, dependenta de acele cuvinte premeditate, sau ba, dependenta de a te simti "valabil". Dependenta dusa pîna acolo încît trei luni exprimarea mea prin viu grai s-a redus la: "aveti pîine? una si o conserva". Trei luni dupa care am ramas uimit, la contactul cu realitatea, de înaltimea ierbii; trei luni în urma carora cuvintele devenisera o rapaitura scurta a tastelor si mai apoi o rostogolire din vîrful limbii. 3 luni în care mi-am dat seama ca una din putinele chestii unde realitatea bate virtualul este actul sexual… fie el facut cu dragoste sau mecanic. Si bineînteles ca exista dependenta si de asa ceva. Poate ca dependentele te definesc ca persoana. Cele mari înseamna neputinta fericirii, cele mici prezenta ei. Sîntem o întortochiere de dependente, inexistenta lor ne-ar speria cumplit. Altfel nu vad de ce Dumnezeu ar fi strecurat în noi dependenta de El.
joaca
N.red.: Si zilele noastre fericite, la noi, la Dilema, depind de scrisori ca aceasta.