woman in ur life.

- yes, I’m reading “Idiot” now. And I think that I’m starting to get Russian woman’s character.
- But no! that’s not it!

Dostoyevky had just one topic – tragic destiny. Love is just one of moments in this destiny. But destiny is only man’s destiny. The woman is just an obstacle on the way, Dostoyevsky wasn’t interested in this by itself, it’s internal display o man’s destiny. He writes about tragic way of his man’s soul which was person’s way. Yes, woman have a big part on this way. But woman is just man’s temptation and passion. All women are elements, rudiments, where man’s destiny is sinking to. They don’t have destiny by they own. Dostoyevsky is interested in Myshkin and Rogojin’s destiny, and Nastasia Phillipovna is smth which put destiny in practice, awake man’s passionand divide man’s identity. Woman is getting man’s even with himself, is just a decidion of man’s human theme.

U can’t retrace person’s destiny with women’s destiny. And that’s why woman can be interested only as rudiment and atmosphere where man’s destiny goes through.Man id chained to woman with passion. But that his bussines, with just himself, with his passionate nature. He won’t unite with a woman.

And may be that’s why women’s nature of Dostoyevsky is that hysterical, that heartrending, cause it won’t unite with man’s nature…with man…

And there is another type of man.

Who has woman AS a destiny. Whose way, aim, gain, only sense – is unite with a woman. He does everything for being with a woman. And then he does everything for her. Everything got sense only with a woman. What’s the point, what’s the reason to do anything, to reach, to achieve, to try, to make, to become… without woman. FOR.

i was thinking about it watching a man for whom I was sense. And knew, that after loosing me and the point, e needs, juts needs, - to find it again. Will look for it. To justify himself in front of university.

I was watching him and knew that I will never become a destiny for a man who’s telling me he loves. Me. I knew that for this kind of man, for this exactly man I’ll always be aside. That he has his own way. Which is besides woman. Besides me.

My woman nature tell me that I was born to vanish in man. Give myself up to him.
Something more in my nature tells me… that I have my own way too. Besides.

And for u? who am I for u?

almost just quotes from last days

- hey, and how are u?
- I’ve just bought tickets to…
- Buy me too.

Waking me up in the train he pat my head and told softly…
and she was made to be happy…

I will write about this small town, I should write about, I should …
- Why u took ur external passport with u – mom asked suspiciously.

I was sinking in rivers in the streets
Trying not to sink in thoughts

That was cognac and kvass first night. And people. They were coming and coming and every time I thought that was kvass in my glass that always was cognac. “I m drunk in Voronej” I wrote. “and u?” I had to sent it this day. I remembered it in the morning and deleted from “unsent” folder.

“Brunet girls fit to u” – he said - “I don’t think I ll ever forget it”.
“we should invite him? - she asked kissing my belly.
But the fact that I knew him and didn’t know her made the answer easy.

Cognac.
“Cognac and beautiful girls always costs me troubles”.

“that’s poker. U want bigger begs? Lets play for undressing”
.I didn’t even see my thoughts in the darkness. I didn’t even know where train goes.
“I’ve got just 2 items. I’m sorry, no”.

“We came here just to play drums?”…
“We came here just to play drums, hell u all! I want this drum!” more. More. More! I Came here just to play drums with u

My mind is deeper swamp then I thought.

may be that becouse of slepless night..

I was sitting in the all-day-long line for an external passport. Left from me a modern old woman was sitting with a PC. Right from me ordinaryanry old woman was sitting with a pale eyes. And i was reading Fransuasa Sagan and was davvero crying for every her page. Her short novell "parting as romans do" made me weep and leave out to warm moscow winter. like sometimes u wake up in the middle of the night 'cause u cant stand sleeping longer...

nights in pieces

- i can't even use my tactile way - i typed in the end of the quarell. ( i used to kiss him when he was saying i love u)
- and thats the point, маленькая моя

"why?! why?! u re the only happy thought of mine. the happiest thing i have. why i cant make U happy? i feel useless. u're sad..."
i tried to smile

рядом с окном

подарок Рафаэлю так и лежит у меня в комнате

мне так жаль, что этот человек заставил меня жалеть об этом удивительном годе

to be a "happy" thought

and again that year distance 2 photos...

something like i look now. something like i feel now.

"every time after that conversations i feel break in pieces but i never feel u closer then after"

sink. dai. sink. давай же. тони.

just like it. Nimain. and Baldicyn. (Хочу фото Балдицына и Жаринова...)

without bra but with decolette

- То есть ты придешь без бюстгалтера в том декольте в Дом Композиторов, пить вино?

Она выполнила обещание...

about some libraries

State Library…

That was my second time and second time that was bad result.I came back home angry till tears on my cheeks.

There are 3 reasons – Hasan told – why these women are THAT miserable. They are just library women next to all these professor every day around. Nobody fuck them. I’m sorry, figlioletta. And their salary is smaller then nothing. U have to understand.

Hasan ends up in this way every time he calms me down. U have to understand.

It’s striking how this place managed to

keep this dusty un-human miserable atmosphere. Manage to be full of cards instead of books and of disgust instead of people. It will take u some special efforts to get to book. And first – right after this heavy doors – is trying to understand and stand the fact that all these old women – without even watching at u – not even a glance – without even watching at u make u feel loathsome and unworthy. Remembering all the books of Alexandrian library I ran down dusty stair to literature which is not there.

And u… u’re about reading Dostoyevsky. U’re really about reading Dostoyevsky. MY Dostoyevsky…

u look pale and exhausted, - mom told me when i came to her after the Week.
i still look pale.
and still.

where else in the first morning in Scandinavia?

In that books bar - when they brought us glasses of port vain, a bit cold and cozy and still these pieces of folk music from upstairs - I told her that story.

In Finland that was.
All these stories when u just arrive in Helsinki – 6 a.m. – to the central square of cold sleeping city. I mean – u have to organize smth if u find urself at 6 a.m. in the center of cold sleeping city. Scandinavian one. For that very day that was no way better then come to visit ghetto of blacks.

He was just passing buy. A bit drunk. In white jacket.

Yes, that one which is on me. After all I put photos which we made that before-sun hours in empty streets with later with-Mark photos. I don’t only mean absent of people. Or absent of light. This emptiness was smth more.
So he invited us (ok, that was more thrust ourselves upon) to drink a coffee after sleepless night in the train. “I live kind of alone” – he mumbled. Place was full. Absent-minded, slim, black, they were everywhere. In every next meter, in every next room. Some were frightened with us, some seemed not care. They made us tea. And we spent there all the morning.
Playing football mostly.

from that film.

"And u remember how u came here for the first time? No, u don't? We went to eat pancakes afterall, u told me u always eat pancakes after that. And we were walking under the rain for a long time until we find some pacake place. I remember we got wet to the skin but were walking slowly. i was talking with u about love. and u was talking with me about umbrellas..."

и время уклоняться от объятий

and who told it?
thats a time for everything
time to loose and tie to find
time to sow and time to reap a harvest
time to love and time to hate
time to talk and time to keep silence
time to throw stones and time to gather stones
time to laugh and time to cry time to complain and time to dance
time to kill and tome to cure
time to destroy and time to build...

time to embrace and time to avoid an embrace

sink

back from flat country

и в эту ночь я просто должна была заснуть без него.

это называется отдаваться
и это страшно. но..

u've got friends from Ireland?

http://www.gazzaro.it/accents/files/accents2.html
i checked here - and it turned out that i do have Irish accent - more Dublin then North Irish but still... so she was right here...

самые красивые часы жизни, she said

And that was beautiful.The most beautiful may be.That beauty which is born from insanity or strangeness. But this strangeness is going along ur soul. And u can’t think another way. That beauty which is standing people still if they know or see this. That esthetic, absolutely esthetic, beauty for a beauty.

And that film… whirl. My worship to this film in the end just making this film around me. That was a film. My film. Her film. Of one very odd director.
Thank u.

она вся в этих словах

- Я чувствую себя взрослой, - я выпрямилась. – Убирать пустую квартиру к приезду любовника рано утром – это быть взрослой, нет?
В ответ она сделала рок-н-ролл погромче. И превратила ванну в сияющий обелиск. Об это ванне она потом сказала фразу, пожалуй, самую нежную и самую дикую – в этой заботливости и дружбе, - самую нежную и самую дикую…
- Да, и стиральную машину тоже. Я подумала, а вдруг вы захотите сделать это на стиральной машине. Ее нужно было вымыть.

боги

I have a friend who writes me one kind of message every time he is “having a life there”

“oh my god”

“oh my god” I told when we – absolutely, perfectly drunk – left a dressing room of transvestite show.

What is dressing room of… ? women’s boobs to check, men’s legs to pull, kisses of people u would never like to see kissing, make up of “Marylin Manson” and flowers decorating ur decolette now since.

More… cognac. Viski. Wine. Stolen vodka (oh my god). Stolen juice (better).

Dances… dances wasn’t about seducing… but then I was told - “and u’re so young. And this sex is just coming out from u. I mean – let’s watch u when u become a woman, in ur 30s. go and dance more”. And we went and we were dancing more. Nimain, that dance wasn’t about seducing, was it?

“I’m so glad I came here” – I whispered, embracing my parents…

each charm - is syntheticaly exited madness.each passion is charm. Novallys

i should turn it to talant to exuse it. one should turn to talant a passion to exuse it.

when one day u take ur money to buy and underwear, to buy underwear to satisfy ur f*king estetick sense and ur body and u come back with brocken bag becouse u bought too much ooks in the next store.

one month later u take all ur money again and do absolutely opposite.

the next day the rest of the money sank in the wine in House of Composers...

like in the Rome, remember? that shop that was - "books and wine"

the most drawing in and the most challanging ever

такие вот правила

Однажды он сказал мне – знай, что я никогда не соглашусь быть только частью твоей жизни. Я не соглашусь быть только историей, мимолетной историей, или серьезной, не важно, я не соглашусь быть только историей. Ты либо моя жизнь, либо нет. Я – либо твоя жизнь, либо нет, понимаешь? Я не соглашусь занимать мало места в твоей жизни.
Он потом много раз это повторял. Если я давала повод. Это было квинтесенцией, чистой выжимкой всего того, что я встречала раньше. К себе встречала.
Либо я отдаюсь вся –
Не только душу. Но и тело
Не только тело. Но и душу
(и когда второе, а не первое?!)
Если я не отдаюсь вся
(скажешь, ты женщина, весталка, все в этом, но не только мужчины требуют без остатка…)
Если я не отдаюсь вся
Он не согласится на это

Я не говорю, что вся вчерашняя долгая-долгая ночь была о этом. Спасибо, что поняла, сказал он. Когда-нибудь я увижу тебя, подумала я, мне жаль, что не в этот раз. Когда-нибудь я увижу тебя, но то, что я предлагаю, прекрасней, чем обладание, и ты не захочешь этого. Я боюсь. Я не говорю, что то, что пришло в переходу лет, разбилось и рассыпалось, было об этом. Или говорю. Я говорю, что прекрасная история, которая кончилась, была об этом, но с другой стороны… Я больше не отдавала себя полностью. Значит, в этом дело… Я нужна тебе, чтобы раствориться в тебе? ты нужен мне, чтобы...

Да, и про любовь… когда Маркес сказал: «Я люблю не того, кто ты, а того, кто я, когда я с тобой», я не понимала этого. Совсем. это была самая глупая фраза из «13 фраз».Да единственно верная.Мы любим себя в человеке. Себя в человеке. Что человек.Он должен отдаться тебе.Чтобы раствориться в тебе.
На меньшее – не согласен.

when i was left on a train station

- What?! You really made a photo of your new bag?! just a photo of a bag in line?!

- Yep!

bams

More i read, more i watch.. more and more i realise that the cheapest stake is the human's life. the cheapest decisidion is to waste or not to waste a life of... one person...or thousand of them. that dowsnt cost. that doesn't have any price? here?
well... thats too much people here, isn't it?

that was in ur life?

- I’m really affected with one idea. Sometimes it makes me awake and weird. That every second… in metro, in the street, turning the corner u suddenly can meet, can face, can see the absolute beauty, the absolute happiness, the absolute person… ever second. When u’re not ready. When u don’t wait. In the middle of ur day and of ur life… That’s so strange – I murmled in end of the day (or in the beginning…?) – when mom came to me for a small talk.

- And sometimes… yes, in metro… u can read ur book sitting in metro and suddenly feel something in ur belly. Feel something and don’t understand what is going on. U lift up ur head – not for somebody, u just lift up ur head to get rid of the feeling… and see hands. U see hands and suddenly u know, u see that this hands will embrace u. that u will be in this arms. U lift up ur head more and u see a man. He is watching u. and he knows, he sees everything. Too.

- That’s too much, mom – I smiled with my eyes closed. – overrun here!

When I opened my eyes mom was leaving my room.

- And that was, dear, - only she told.

Мне очень жаль...

"да не существует, Насть, такого слова!"

Time to time i translate ur russian posts. With a dictionary of course, with a translator. And that's pretty dificult i must say. Sometimes u use words which don't actually exist..