krusenstern.livejournal.com

krusenstern. livejournal. com - a magazine of one strange person from the past

A site like krusenstern. livejournal. com is not just a blog. It's almost a museum of itself. There lives a man named Krusenstern, who clearly does not want to become popular, but at the same time writes everything he thinks. It’s as if someone posted an old diary directly on the Internet, without filters or modifications.

He keeps his own journal there - yes, exactly a journal, as if in the nineties or even earlier. No social networks, no beautiful photos, only text. Sometimes he talks about his life. And sometimes - about the people around. It was as if he was sitting on a train and saw everything. All these conversations, glances, a bottle of beer, a conductor, a book about Latin - all this is written in the first person, with a touch of causticity and slight surprise.

Today he talks about a woman who believes that everyone wants to deceive her. About how she acted like a judge on the train. How she almost filed a complaint with the police for spilling beer. And guess what? He doesn't laugh at her. No. He even made peace. They had a conversation. About the fact that people have become different. That trust has melted. That every day is a small war between me and everyone else.

And then Lesha’s friend comes, also exhausted. He shows the documents three times. That's because somewhere there is a system where people check on you, even if you're just driving home. And here the questions begin: who are we anyway? Why are we so afraid of each other? Why do we think that everyone steals? That everything is a crime?

What kind of person is this crusenster?

He doesn’t live here. Not now. His world is a train that moves slowly, with the noise of its wheels. This is a bottle of Essentuki on the shelf. It's the feeling that there are too many people around who have already decided that you are bad. Or maybe he himself is the one who wants to be good, but doesn’t know how?

His style is almost literary. He writes as if he had read Bulgakov or Kataev. But without pathos. Without trying to look smart. He's just telling. Sometimes it's rough. Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes it's cruel. It's like he doesn't care about ratings or views. He just wanted to say: Look, I was on this train. I saw what others saw. And it touched me.

Interesting, isn't it? When a person stops playing roles. When he says: Well, let's say it seems to me that everyone wants to deceive me. And at the same time he does not boast of his wisdom. No. He simply admits that yes, this happens.

What topics does the magazine touch on?

• Trust between people - there is none, and no one believes, even if they want to.
• Problems with systems - document checks, conductors, law enforcement officers.
• Communication difficulties - when two people think that one of the other is crooked.
• Living in a society where everyone considers others to be guilty.
• Why are people so afraid of each other - and why has it become the norm.

He offers no solutions. Doesn't teach. It just shows a picture. Strange, almost fantastic. Where a woman with a higher education is afraid of spilled beer. Where the neighbor with the suitcase becomes a villain just because he moved forward. And there is also Lesha, who presented documents three times. And no one told him: You can be calm.

All this is everyday life. But it’s like something out of a movie about the future. Everything is strange there. People talk through walls. There is no trust. Each sees the other as an enemy. And although he writes about the trip, one feels that he is not talking about it at all.

All this is living history. Not made up. No effects. Just words. And they work. Sometimes you read and think: I thought so too. Exactly. And then you realize: yes, we have all become different. We don't trust each other anymore. And why? Who knows who will try to deceive you next?

And here it is - this magazine. He doesn't want to be popular. But he is. As a reminder. About how things were once simpler. There was trust. There was a man who simply said: Sorry. And that was enough.

End of the story? No. It continues every day. Inside each of us. For some, on the train. Someone has it at home. For some, even in chat.

A site like krusenstern. livejournal. com is not a blog. This is a mirror.

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