I find it hard, these days, to get back on track; I am unfocused and exhausted. I have the impression that things are moving too much and I almost can’t keep track. In the same way that people living centuries ago thought the earth was flat and static beneath their feet, today I ask myself of this immobility is not simply a fog and lack of information.
From every side come word of corruption, embezzlement, living the good life, and disputes over money among the top military leaders in the government. Meanwhile, down here, the only certainty is that every so often, from Mount Olympus, a head rolls.
I don’t like rummaging around for answers in a future where only one thing is certain: uncertainty. But to deny that the bricks are falling from the wall of power would be naïve. It will not be the first time in history that self-destruction is the destiny of the powerful.
This is an excerpt to a version of the song, Epitaph for Vladimir Visotski by Karsmarski Jacek (Polish dissident songwriter), which includes Ciro Diaz in his latest album, The Blue Slug, that I listened to compulsively for at least two months, especially on the street with my mp3 inherited from a friend who now has an I-pod. (Download the lyrics here) (Download the recording and album cover here) The song (in summary, which runs about ten minutes) is about a desperate artist going through the circles of hell in search of an answer or death, and at the end of his journey there is only loneliness and the weight of the supreme power above himself. So I found myself at times catching the bus across Havana at 12 noon in August under the perennial sunshine and with the distressing feeling of not going anywhere, or arriving too late, or going for pleasure ... I feel that I have already arrived at the eighth enclosure (this is the finale of the song) where there is nothing, and I feel useless and empty, and I look at people without faith who walk along the street and who have so much fear that they no longer know they're afraid, and who have seen so many Roundtables and so many news broadcasts that they no longer know what belongs to reality or just to the TV screen. They cannot discern that they no longer believe, but cannot disbelieve either, and just move along past me not going anywhere.