World War III Radio: Вичуха для наряжения ёлки, от Деда Витчхауза (№61)

Well, what the fuck is this then? Another Sovietwave/Post-Soviet Mix, I suppose. Some might say I’m broadcasting from behind enemy lines, but I can’t really buy that. I have no enemies, or just maybe everyone is an enemy. Who knows anymore? It’s just people fighting. Shouting at each other and sometimes shooting at each other. What’s my part in it? That’s not been very clear for a long time. Maybe just to chronicle the whole ordeal and I’ve not been doing a very good job. Beyond maybe capturing a mood. The zeitgeist. The prevailing vibe. Or I’m just blowing smoke up my own ass and simply re-posting music. It would be nice to think that there’s more to it than that.

It would be nice. If nothing else though there’s the music. That’s got to count for something. Sharing beautiful things has got to be better than sharing the venereal anger and hatred.

I hope.

I really hope.

I’ve a feeling this morning that I’m in this world way over my head, overwhelmed before I’ve even put on my pants. The darkness in the morning isn’t so uncommon. Sometimes it lifts like an early fog. Sometimes it sticks around for the whole day and it’s waiting for me again the following morning. I’m used to it by now. It used to seem more weighty, like a heavy blanket.


Well, like I said. I’m used to it.

Time to get up and move.

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