To be famous it’s so nice
There are two memories from the late 80's that explain why I've started the series "To be famous it's so nice" - it's a TV and a train. Or better yet, a train and a TV.
In that time something happened to the Chop railway branch and the international express followed the reserve way, which ran through Perechyn. So there I saw this miracle. The cars were made of stainless steel, or very well painted with silver paint. Red livery seems to have passed all over the board. It was one and a half times higher than our domestic dirty green passenger trains. In the late 80's I, like all citizens of the Soviet Union, was surrounded by an incredibly lean visual culture. The choice was small, there was nothing to hope for. And here, as if the sun had set in a cave. It felt as if our small fragile town was visited by a world' celebrity. I saw this only on TV in stories about capitalist countries, about Japan, for example, where a train on a monorail crosses the city.
TV. It came to our house in 1987. I came home from school and watched, and instead of the black-and-white 'Record', there was a Japanese Sanyo TV. The whole apartment was immediately reformatted for it. A new iconostasis has appeared on our family altar, and it is beautiful. Not only that, it was with a remote control. Neighbors began to come to us to see this miracle. We became known in a wide circles. You sit on the couch and the channels switch themselves. All three: the first, UT-1 and UT-2. There was still Hungarian television, but it was very badly caught.
And then, much later, in 2005, I came to a party to my girlfriend. She had a very nice house with a small garden in the city center. There was a beautiful party, good people, good staff, fashionable music, everything, almost like in Hollywood movies. In the midst of the party, Ruslan Tremba goes out on the balcony and sings into the microphone the song "Suck my dick, kiss my ass". Then I thought it really looked like some 'west' music video. 50 meters away at the Stryiskyi market, grandmothers sell rhubarb for five hryvnias, and here is a Los Angeles' techno party. Why not. You just have to allow yourself that feeling. It's so beautiful to be famous.