The Real Nerds

How slow can your heartbeat get? Are you able to hibernate and wait until Geiger counters stop tapping out breakcore hit tunes and the silence of a post-apocalyptic reality wakes you up with the gentleness of church bells? You'll put down roots into the sterilized ground, lying to yourself that deep down there is still something that will help you not die. Will you start to regret then? A million years ago, I should have set fire to a bank. Eight hundred years ago, I did not know what love is. For infinity I have lied to myself that organic gluten-free cheesecake will save the world, that work makes you free, that coins dripping down from golden roofs of villas will be like rain filling glasses of thirsty African children. I wore dreadlocks in a gesture of solidarity. I listened to conscious hip-hop and attended benefits. I replied with monosyllables to the question "why do you care?" because I had no idea, I had no idea, I did not know with an ignorance of a reptile-brain. Geiger counters become silent and everything is as it has always been. You look around and miserably lie to yourself, trying to burry a feeling in the deepest corner of your intestines, a feeling that a milion years ago you should have robbed that bank and burned all the money on the altar of the eternally unfinished Sagrada Familia, and then walked into the sea and drowned – at least you wouldn't know how it all went from there. Stab the ground with meter-long nails and try to brush aside your kilometer-long hair, hair growing down your nose all the way to your lungs, continue trying, filled with an impossible, indeterminable sorrow. You don't know words to describe a sadness so deep, because in reality everyone who has ever felt it was already dead.

So there's a brick in your hand... What now? There’s a Molotov in the other hand, a police line behind you and a shop window right in front. What do you do? Someone said, "If you die in a game, you really die" -- what if you were to die right now? Are wet dreams of horny punk teenagers the only possible form an upcoming revolution can take? That revolution won't come because you're scared of the consequences. What will happen to your job? What if your apartment filled with Ikea furniture and Banksy posters gets collectivized? The revolution won't come because no one will be left to seed torrents, because iTunes servers will burn down, leaving no music for your morning jog. The revolution won't come because I don't want to throw bricks at policemen, even though I hate that institution and what it does to people, being a career path popular among social groups that do not drink soy latte. There will be no revolution as long as even the slightest shades of comfort are left in our lives, as long as mine is mine and not yours, as long as I will always be me, and never us, as long as we call each other whores and remember lyrics to songs about communists hanging from trees like leaves -- we've internalized the language of hate: we dream nightmares about opening chests and tearing out rotten organs one by one. But what if these aren't nightmares? What if we have to tear out reeking intestines in order to save slightly bruised lungs, what if it's necessary to cut out the spleen and remove a couple ribs in order to not drown in a sea of rotting offal, what if what should happen next is one of us grabbing a piece of genuine meat floating on the surface, swimming with it to the shore and creating a new man? Without ribs this time, because god started from the rib and he fucked everything up.