The banality of our everyday life, the overflow of the socio-political cauldron from which the stupidity and base passions of ethno-nationalist creatures flow, stifles any form of progressive awareness that it is possible to establish a different paradigm of existence. That is, it suppresses the search for ways to finally break out of the vicious circle of the same matrices, before which this country has emptied itself, becoming a content without form and essence. It may not seem so to some, but I cannot escape the impression of suffocation produced by the pressure of abnormality established as the only narrative that is possible to understand.
Thirty years have passed since the end of the war, many generations have experienced their maturity in that time, a lot of foolishness has passed over us, but the same feeling of missed opportunities remains, the evaporation of light that has the desire to oppose the darkness that has crept into all our hopes. To finally say that enough is enough. That there is a minimum of awareness that it is possible to exist outside the exclusivity of nationalism and that it is possible to swim to the other shore. We cannot know in advance what it will be like on that side, but giving up on any struggle, on any effort to change something, to go beyond it, shows our collective senselessness, a zombified atmosphere due to which we have forgotten what it means to think for ourselves and to believe that no state is eternally concreted as such.
And as time goes on, it seems that things are going further and further into unconsciousness, that the political straitjacket has so entangled every aspect of life that we no longer try, if we ever did, to find a different kind of path, to take a step forward, to take responsibility for what we do and what we don't do. And the very question of the absence of responsibility, the importance of the moment in which each of us will ask ourselves first and foremost what I have done, how much I have contributed to the general erosion of all values, is both a symptom and a diagnosis.
Every now and then we would play the state, but we treat it as if it were someone else's. Or at best, we lean on it when it is necessary to satisfy mythomaniac narratives about our greatness and glorious history. But we are unable to do anything to critically question the positions in which we find ourselves, there is not even a hint of dialectical confrontation, of reflection on what is true here and today. What nightmares are haunting us, and why did we agree to exist in them, to become related to them and prolong their duration indefinitely.
On the one hand, we are still bound by fear, we have not tried to heal or treat the memories of the nineties, we have let them run wild without any control. On the other hand, we have abandoned ourselves to the murky waters of other people's worries, constantly expecting someone to come from the side, some unknown hand from above, and save us from what we ourselves have produced. Between these two arms of what we exist in, we have agreed to be buffeted by the winds of exclusivity, the inability to imagine what we would really like for ourselves. Maybe we really don't know it or we are not ready to face ourselves. The illusions that we are important to someone, that someone should appear with a broom and clean up after us, have proven to be grave misconceptions in practice so far, but we still insist on them. We cherish them, because it is much easier that way than rolling up our sleeves, sweating and using our own strength to fight for the opportunity to change.
The fact that there is no rebellion here, nor any awareness of it, while all around us others are resisting the terror of bad managers as best they can, has reached its peak these days in the variety show edition in relation to who sat down with Naser and who was snogging. And the public was simply delighted with what Aca said, what Mile replied to him, and what Gorica added. We are a society of cheap spectacle and gossip, which engages with all its might only when something needs to be made fun of and when internet gossip is being created, on all other occasions, even though everything around us is irrevocably collapsing, we remain silent and as if we are not interested. While the ship is sinking, the mice lead the circle to the accordion, because what else are the mice to do, they certainly will not raise a rebellion, oppose, show that, even if they are sliding to the bottom, they are determined to try to win something for themselves until the last moment.
Bonus video:
