Today is one of the greatest and most joyous days for Russia. What a day!
Feeling rather despondent. Things at the newspaper are not so good, there is a lot of absurd editorial nonsense that would take too long to write about. Stupidity, too. This, together with the censorship, is making the paper very mediocre and childish. Too many sarcastic sketches. But we will continue to fight and not lose hope. I’m as stubborn as a mule in this sense: once I devote myself to something I don’t see anything else, and now, unless I am writing for Russkaya Volya or fighting with Russkaya Volya or talking about Russkaya Volya, I feel I have nothing to live for. It’s absurd!
It would seem that there’s a way of getting drunk without resorting to vodka: exhaustion and autosuggestion. Throughout these days I have been positively, genuinely drunk. I find it rather agreeable.
By my reckoning, 1917 will be my death year.