About Life in Occupation

About Life in Occupation

Ah, reminiscing about the good old days of youth.

Back in the wild days, my buddies and I loved hitting up various rock gigs. With no internet or smartphones, party announcements were these scarce ads plastered on bus stops or in public transport. The epic rock duel, grandly named "Premiere of the Century," was a tradition held in the confines of a Soviet cinema.

In an old, shabby two-story building, you'd find the nightclub "Twisted Tits"! Well, almost - "Sunrise." But trust me, there was plenty of "unholy" stuff going on.

Yes, demonic nicknames, loads of metal and leather, bizarre hairstyles in every color imaginable, piercings, tattoos, and boots with steel inserts on towering platforms – basically, anything a free spirit and imagination could afford.

United in our quest to be unique and vibrant, we gathered to chat, exchange experiences, listen to music, and, above all, let loose.

However, real "ghouls" lurked in the square across from us – those hulking brutes in tracksuits, cursed creatures. As per ghoul tradition, their sole purpose was to maim, destroy, and rob. Those damn louts labeled us "non-conformists," oblivious to what that even meant, ready to thrash us for it without realizing their own lack of "conformity." Explaining why being a "non-conformist" was bad was beyond their comprehension. It was just, "You don't look like us – you're scum and subhuman, grrr!" I understood we were only "non-conformists" in relation to them. That's how it goes. Classic.

Back in the club, it was so packed that even your underwear smelled like Churchill had opened a cigar club when you got home. People occasionally went outside to catch a breath, plus, alcohol at the bar was out of reach for teenagers. The nearby store was another story.

To leave and come back, you needed a ticket (countermark).

And that's what our antagonists exploited.

And here began the fun!

During the breaks between performances, you'd go downstairs to the toilet. Surprise, surprise – a CHECKPOINT! They'd let you through for money or cigarettes, but even then, you weren't safe from a beating. Does it ring a bell?

Closer to the end of the show, when only two or three bands were left to perform, you'd realize that while you were moshing and stage-diving near the stage, behind you, guys in "Adidas" tracksuits were already working you over. You look around, and it's unbelievable! There are almost none of your kind, just "ghouls" everywhere. And you still need to leave the club and get to a safe area. You gather your remaining friends, hoping no bottle or rock flying your way finds someone's head. And everyone remains unharmed.

It might all sound harsh, but it was just childish quarrels. Many of those people changed their outlook and matured. When I realized it's more beneficial to build your own happiness than destroy someone else's because life is short.

It's sad and scary that tens of millions of misfits never got there and remain ghouls from the outskirts to the end. Their reckoning will come soon enough.