Am I the Enemy? A Confession of a Russian American

A big part of my problem is that this time around, the enemy is me.

The Horrible Face of the Machine

Once you have seen the face of the machine, you can no longer keep on with the meaningless conversations, you can’t even read the newspapers. All you want to do is kiss the earth and make love to somebody, in spirit. To breathe, in spirit. To hold on to the rope that leads you home, hold on to it with both hands, hold on to it like your life depends on it, and not let go. I suspect that those who are still excited about the newspapers, haven’t seen the face of the machine.

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Little Deaths

A ghost of you is everywhere. I feel dumb, helpless and enlightened. I think about all the places where we used to go every weekend. Restaurants, our faces, laughing. Trust, ease, feeling comfortable. Where the fuck did it all go? I refuse to think about quantum...

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Fever

It’s 7.30 in the morning and I am trapped inside an office cubicle, across the wall from the majestic American corporate skyline.

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Domestic Abuse (My Real Story)

When I was growing up, every day was a holiday. All things dark lived on the other side of the galaxy. Stupid things clearly were happening to stupid people who didn’t know better, to people who were less informed, to people who weren’t me. My life was an official walk to the bright future. I was an invincible sunny kid bringing home straight A’s, studying classical piano and Tibetan language, speaking at international conferences, hanging out with the rebels and playing in a band. I was dreaming big, problems were not problems. I was on the forefront of everything, and the world was mine.

Then I came to America.

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