night train again!

i spent half of my childhood in Peterburg. near Peterburg. i remember fields and bysicle. my short hairs, huge stones and trees. cows and chickens. big. everything seemed to be big. my short hairs. bruises on my knees. second floor of our wooden home. our big dog. everlasting builted house. i used to jump down from the 3 floor to a hill of sand. every summer. till one day when i grow up and didnt go there.

so may be i don't know Peterburg at all. i came back to the city itself couple of summers again. with a long hairs already.

but i ve never seen it covered with snow.

i will come back in 3 days.

That was some kind of test in one analitic businnes journal. i tried to manage it during the work in the morning. so the answer was:
Sometimes u support Putin but it's like u're a little bit shy about it. Ur president is Chubais.

i was sitting and watching new Arbat grey cloud-busters.
elections has place at 2nd december

...as Napoleon wrote in his notes... he felt happines just may be one two days through his life...

lean out of the window

Yes, I think the situation is more or less the samethat there was in Italy when Berlusconi was on power.There are some slight differences although..
1) Russia was (and still is) one of the greatest powerin the world,and the power that the president of russia can controlis muchmore big that the power the italian minister cancontrol..
2) in Italy there has never been a plebiscitary love for berlusconi:half of the italians loved him (thing are changing now)and half of the italians didn't at all. This factdidn't give him the possibility to control everything,despite the fact that he controlled all the medias
3)Putin is much much more intelligent thanberlusconi..it means it is more and more scarying teme..
...
the only thing i don't understand is..you want to became a journalist,it doesn't mean only write in agood way, and read a lot,and about wonderful subjects, as you already do)), but also seek for the truth beyond the curtains of appearence..
i think a state in wich a journalist likePolitkovskayais killed, for her positions against the state in the cecenian situation, is dangerous. and i think it should worry you, not only for the "ideal" of truth, but also for your own future, as a journalist (because i'm sure you'll became one).
...
and then there is litvinenko, and all this.I don't think italy has been better, there were (and still there are ) so many strange affairs, our recentstory is full of mysterious killings, (even of a prime minister!) of state terrorism , of links between state and mafia,then before we had fascism(!)...

so i'm not really here to talk to you,who live in the"poor lacking of democracy russia", from my "perfectlydemocratic country named italy" because that's not true..and i will not tell you bull shits about "it was better before in USSR" and all that..but i just think one should worry when democracy starts to fail,,in ANY country..and that is the situation now in russia..since you're a journalist, i would really suggest youto read the books written by Anna Politkovskaya...(...)
...
even if perhaps you already know more about her than there is written there.. but if you don't, think about reading it..you're a lady like her, you want to become what she was..
if you don't, then who else?

That a letter I received in the morning. Since that just may be a month ago I started to try to realize what is going on in my own country in my own time – that letter was an extra push. I started late – I mean to live. I started and I didn’t like it. And I dived to another world – which I was happy to discover and sorry to loose. Old black-and-white films, middle age literature, silver century poems… I was everything but not the day which is here. I didn’t read newspapers, didn’t listen to the radio, didn't watch tv. I didn't need. I had another life. My journalistic education was a formality.
Just some times ago I asked myself – where do I live, when do I live and what do I live.
Universe always send us a help. I met one political historic person who shouted me about this world.

And this morning – it was this letter.
Thank u.

reflecting about my life and reading newspapers

Nada Nadim turned out to be a real boon for special service – athletic and aggressive, clever and calculating, she could speak fluently Arabic (which is really rarely among USA secret service men) and new perfectly all the Middle East. In 1999 she was accepted for employment to FBI and in 2003 she was sent to Bagdad – in aim to question captive militants. She's done that so good that in couple of months CIA enticed her as a secret front agent.
Only that she was a double agent already.

self-regulation of population

I looked at this bag under my feet, big, dark blue and a bit dirty. Bus was overcrowded, morning was just a rain, rain, rain, rain! My way to work. I looked at this bag and remembered clearly all the buses and metro explosions of last couple of years. Quietly I thought fast – at the least I will feel no pain. Right in front of this bag I had no reasons to fear. I came back to my article about future president and Duma elections, which all the world outside cares much more then we do.

i need cofee' and to think...

мне нужен кофе и подумать...

never heard before...

so they say that if u come to Russia and will:

drink one bottle of vodka

sleep with one russian girl

and spend here one winter

u will not be able to leave

so. one vodka. one girl. one winter.

questione

what is more importante -
city
or people in the city?

я.

Странная особенность моего характера, вдруг взрывающаяся, когда я выбираю человека, с которым готова стать ближе. Но я делаю так, что этот человек становится – необходим. Важен. Обязателен. Я делаю так, что без него становится, наверно, невозможно жить, даже один день, привязываюсь к нему будто веревками, каждой клеточкой, каждой мыслью. И я привязываю его к себе точно также, не веря этому ни секунды, не единой, не веря, что это возможно. И потом, в бесконечном холодном припадке бешенства отдираю эти веревки от себя вместе с кожей, не веря даже в свой собственный крик, настолько, что разучиваюсь и чувствовать что-то. Я верю, что это я пытаюсь избавиться от мучающей меня зависимости, не в то, что я отдаляюсь от человека. Конечно, я верю, что ему все равно. Мы все верим, что другим все равно. И что больно бывает только нам. И что чувствуем только мы. И что ржавые крючья раздирают только наше сердце.

Я верю, что я могу быть равнодушной.

Но я так мнительна, будто с меня содрали кожу, и не только каждое слово, даже воздух причиняет боль.

Ощущение собственной ничтожности, собственного несовершенства, не-ума, не-характера, сводит с ума.

Я верю, но что я могу.

Я верю?

moscow side-streets

there were words on the wall, very high, i was staying and reading it untill recognized:

"Глаза тролля были как у счастливого ребенка, а поэтому в них ничего не читалось, поскольку счастье ребенка -- это то, что всем нам следовало забыть."

"Troll's eyes were the same that happy child has. and that's why u could read nothing there, 'cause the happiness of child is the thing all we should forget".

That's from the sory of Guy Davenport "Mr Churchyard and troll".

(http://www.lib.proza.com.ua/book/1793)

and the seсond inscription was:

"Женя, я выросту! обещаю!"

"Jenia, i will grow up! i promise!"

"overheard" conversation

- i dont understand her.
- it's ok. i know her 3 years. she's my closest friend. i still don't understand her.

one thinks it's necessary to understand the person with u - absolutely. "all sides". i think it's impossible to know even urself.

Dostoyevskiy wrote (who else now?) when he was 18:
"Человек есть тайна. Ее надо разгадать, ежели будешь ее разгадывать всю жизнь, то не говри, что потерял время. Я занимаюсь этой тайной, ибо хочу быть человеком".
"Man is the secret. and it needs to be clued. And even if u clue it whole ur life, don't tell that u wasted ur time. I do this mistery just because i want to be a man".

on the way

and she left for Napoli then - and me - to Siena.
what can u say more?

just that Matteo has birthday today. in Rome. and he told me he prepeared everything for biig and great party. everything. "manchi solo tu".
manco solo io

writing again

sometimes when i read stories u write... it makes me wanna cry.

about people in our lives

So I brought her to House of Composers, she came back. 2 weeks of her in Barcelona, 2 weeks of me in Moscow. One hour we had and that was absolutely not enough. Just for couple of topics. To intimate friend u never can tell - everything - . she will tell about her first trip by herself so many days more...
So I was sitting in front of her there - drinking in rush and small fever my glass of fizz, listened about sex on the beach, sex on the stairs and on the ground somewhere- in Spain - so far - and noticed that I don't see Fey herself. I mean her face, eyes, hairs and clothes. I tried to concentrate on her - here and now - but I was more on that night shore in Barcelona. For a long time already Fey is an image for me. Fancy, character. - and it's cover appearance itself. Was she away these 2 weeks? I don't' know.

and reading and reading him

From Dostoyevskyi u must learn to think, - I heard a lot of years. But Dostoyevslyi frighten me. So much. To read him means analyze own soul - and who ever has enough courage for that? I don't. He describes my thoughts and feelings, my deep wishes and deep fears with a merciful censure. And I feel shame, and I feel hopelessness.

One person from "записки из подполья "... susceptibility to offence he had. Reading it and understand that this part of the soul just proof it's imperfection, incompleteness. " why I distorted, tortured myself so much. That was just boring... I created new life to live just some life...I even fall in love twice, even suffered, just was tired with inertia..."

Ганечка from Idiot book is described closely, with all his words and thoughts. It's starts so easy - but u don't have courage to finish to read about him.

"... how hurtful it is to be reach, from a good family, with a good look, educated, smart, even kind, but in the same time not to have any peculiarity, any talent, even any eccentricity, any of ur own idea to be решительно "like everybody". U're rich but not a Rothschild. Family is honest but never s been marked. Ur look is respectable but expressed a little. U're educated but don't know what to do with it. U're smart but without any of UR ideas. U're kind but without a magnanimity. Etc etc. with everything. There are so many people like this. More than u can imagine.

Or Лизавета Прокофьевна, which

In combination and in mess of all these absolutely normal, ordine things, through her uneasiness, anxiety, nervousness that she always had, she every time managed to detect something, that scared her till fever, with the most mistrustful, most unexplained fear - which just means - with the most heavy fear. What now she has to feel, when among all these funny, groundless, silly worries something really important started to appear, something which really worsted alarm, and doubts, and suspicious.

but how can two build a relationship if one build just walls?

remembering Erasmus

That was a questioning among young people of Europa, 15-31 y o (for the first time since 2001). EU was the topic. Cosa ne pensi? So result is - for youth European citizenship means first of all the possibility to live, to study and to work in any country of the block. 94% - study, 88%- work possibilities called the most important. Erasmus proofed, Erasmus rules)

talks from Barseloooona

- actually i understand not much here. in nights i understand nothing at all...

- keep on! why! u ll come back and will face with so much thing u have to understand here and after

euroworld

I was reading Euronews (as a good once journalist student) and remembered some old rhapsody about Europe from the native person there. Yes, it's like one big country - seems to be, may be, - he was saying, - but I love it. Love it for one simple reason. For example there is 3 hours from my hometown to France. By car. But when I pass the border of France, u can believe me - I'll find myself in the another country. With another everything. Culture. Language. Traditions. Cuisine. Attitude to everything. And that's mad. And that's crazy. And that's worth of it.

- I still can't imagine the Visa situation in Russia, It's just hard to believe u. I was trying to imagine - ok, tomorrow I wanna go to Spain. But I can't. because I can't get visa. No. impossible to imagine.
- Still we're even lucky. Remember iron curtain. Although some people say that was better.
- So u say 3 month in Italy? Let me see...July - Italy itself. August - Europe for sure. Wait, I wanna remember countries which I didn't visit in Europe..Portugal
- I hate u.
- Hm.. yes.Portugal. But I don't wanna go there.
- I hate u.

/not/let myself

the thing which i'm afaraid the most
the most
is my own feelings
or if i let them to overwhelm me.

can't help but remembering Turgenev again with his so touchy analysis of human soul:

Я уже не мальчик, даже не юноша, я уже не в той поре, когда обмануть другого почти невозможно, а самого себя обмануть ничего не стоит
(I'm not a boy already, not even a youth, I'm already not in this period of life when it's almost impossible to deceive another, but it cost nothing lo cheat urself)

reread Dostoyevslyi. happy.

With ur quietism u can fill with happiness even 100 years of living. Let me show u the death penalty and let me show u a finger - u will give a birth to the same beautiful idea, and u will be content afterwards. One can live this way.

...они вышли наконец на Литейную. Все еще продолжалась оттепель; унылый, теплый, гнилой ветер свистал по улицам, экипажи шлепали в грязи, рысаки и клячи звонко доставали мостовую подковами. Пешеходы унылою и мокрою толпой скитались по тротуарам. Попадались пьяные.

some people's evenings

Football was in front of me - live - Milan-Shahkter, back that was swing. Pairs were swinging here, and I couldn't believe I AM in Moscow now, I am in my time, in my city, in early winter, so tired, that I could just watch even without smile. I turned back and front, clamped between English and Italian. They discussed Kaka. And Gattusso. Mostly. And shouted hard. I felt so quite here, more sinking in music behind my back, I wanted to touch them and charge myself trough the passion, passion to anything. Pairs were swinging, smiling, flirting, slipping, music complimented my soul. I can reason myself very pathetic sometimes, I realize that. I stayed more and more. I had to go and I didn't. Milan scoared 2 goals and I felt myself better.


By the way about Will, even that I told him I hate his nation (deeper and deeper with every day of my work), my attitude to Will himself is just pure tenderness jf course. Let us forget about nationalism sometimes. After all President of France told today that he just love and respect way of America, shaking hand of Bush. The name of the article in French "Liberasion" was - "French kiss". Perfect.

can u see on the pic the perfect flag of Italy?

There were 5 of us. I couldn't help but remembering my Swedish-Mexican nights. There were 5 of us. From France, England, Italy, America and Russia. (bring us back for 60 years - if we're really official representative of our countries:). Luicile, Will, Pietro, Kris and Anastasia accordingly. We were watching Moscow from highs of New Arbat's skyscrapers. We were facing winter here with the first night snow. And we had a laugh. Vodka and juice.We were sharing ourselves. We were sharing our countries. And we had a laugh in spite of all the countryful world by itself.

I supposed to learn Russian and Russia here? - italian was saying, - and she supposed to help me actually. But I ended up just creating Italy around myself.
I lifted up my head from last presented me "Il Gatopardo" book. Will was perfectly singing Vasco Rossi song (I mean hoarse voice, slack position and drunk self-importance), not listening to American country music background.

как кошка...!

she was blaming

…but u’re the one who creates relationship this way. U’re one who makes it too close and to sincere. To meet everyday. To trust everything. To share the soul and air. U’re one who makes it impossible then to live without it, without u. u can’t complain it here. If we can call it – fault – that’s only urs one…

N.G.E.

Funny it is. It makes me smile warmly in spite of weird sides here. I mean maem, of course. And his New Girl Explore.

I was sitting with Slava in eat-and-talk. (I spent there to much time obviously – my meetings of all types – from dates till studying, also meeting with just myself – have place there. Tables’re covered with paper and provided with pens. Asya painted my portrait on one of it).

Maem appeared in restorant unexpectedly to cheer me and Slava. He was with his date. Anna the name was. She sat next to me. I remembered maem told me smth about this girl. That she’s so similar to me in many ways.

Official contact?! Please! I felt myself silly and wise, seasoned and weird. I don’t remember my mom getting to know previous husband to new one.
We finished evening 3 hours later may be. couple glasses of red wine.
“Ur friend is so wonderful! – she will tell later. – I adore her. I’m so impressed! Incredible! Hope to meet her again…”

After several days and another several girls I came home under sleepy weight of first snow. Maem’s number highlighted on my cell phone. “u have to save me – he whispered – call me back in 10 minutes and just listen whatever I say, ok? Where I’m? in café. Please!”
“she was terrible – he will tell later. – I couldn’t stand her. I mean – I’m impressed. Hope I will never see her again…”

I glance sometimes girls downtown. Who it might be one day? Even if mom tells level of expectations now is too hight.

mom told me something about how to program Universe

more and more i listen, more and more i know, i see, i can imagine myself easily, i just want to find myself on the concert of Vasco Rossi in the stadium - second biggest in Europe, overcrwded with people, overcrowded, and sing, no - shout, csream, cry Albachiare words by word by heart when Rossi doen't sing it himself - just lifts his microphone up and to the crowd. i can imagine easily this evening, this night air, this rush, people with sweat on the foreheads... but when u can imagine the every drop and light - does it mean u almost see what will happen?!

workdays

I don’t think she hates me. My new editor. She watches me. That’s for sure.

Actually I do the same very often. When u meet somebody up u like him or u don’t like him. That’s the deal of 2 seconds. (Fei used to tell me that she doesn’t like 95% of new people and I’m such a good friend of her just to be lucky to get in this 5%). But sometimes u don’t. just can’t understand. Things u get used to like in other people u hate here. And contrary. So u watch. U observe. Looking for every extra evidence to choose ur attitude to this person.

I often do it.
No she does it with me.
I think so. If not. I just understand nothing here.

I adore her. She is professional on her work. She s got 2 edications – one is economical. She is sportsman. She created the project in this firm and work there from beginning. She’s got talent in systematization. My mom would adore her. She thinks every woman should be a bitch.

I had several emotions every day. I complained everyday. I choose different way of behavior. I ended up with kind of revenge. I wanna be better then her. And take her place. I think she’s disappoint with my no-skills. She tries not to show it. And explain me every word. On Friday I got proud when every my sentence she corrected with new expression: yes, idea is write. U got it. And ur sentence is not a mistake. We also can write this way. But we will not. We will use this way. -I was proud. Really.

And she drawn me diagrams. And pictures. And explanations. That depressed me. And home I learned it by heart.

By the way – yesterday she bought me coffee.

e.d.

Every day.
Every day.
Every day is the same bad and it's so good in the new way every day.

Every day brings me something from yesterday and from tomorrow. I hold my breathe.