5. It was supposed to be a relaxing Saturday night
In the moments of the deepest madness of being surrounded only by a system that is trying to manipulate me, deprive me of all my money, squeeze me like a lemon and get me where it wants me, in the position of a slave who is only pushed forward and does not see that to the right or left there could be a path to freedom, I went outside for some fresh air…
But the music was bad. It sounded recycled. I heard it all in the 70s. In the 80s. It was already here. Lousy remakes. Where are the original authors? Are they dead? Have the rights expired? They must all be turning in their graves. Who were people like Mozart? Like Wagner? Like Mahler? Like Dvořák? It's worth a shit today. I don't even know who's croaking there. Does it have a penis or a vagina? I have no idea.
From the first flash of consciousness, it was clear to me that it was all a fraud. Everything around me. And that I would never adapt.
And the cocktails were also worth the price.
