u ve got worlds to live, but who are u?

I delayed my day. I didnt sleep again, i didnt breathe again, i didnt think again. I went to the core of the city and “ho fatto la finta”/ pretended day is going on. Under the Red Walls, on the grass – day wasn’t going. I didnt enter university. I called to my work and for the first time missed it. Just told i wouldnt appear. Thast happens.

I needed somebody who won’t ask me questions. I came to his place with strange feeling that i can tell him everything, every single detail of my head and thats why i just don’t need to. Like he already knows. He was playing guitar, he was playing guitar and i was sinking in blue music and my thoughts. He didn’t ask, he was playing. We went outside, sat, and after first glass of champagne i realised i don’t need to keep on here – “make me a bed please” – i asked him.

- U wasn’t home yesterday – he told me the next evening, when i appeared to my family with sea food and white wine.
- I wasn’t home yesterday.
- Why? Why after this i need u to talk for hours, to be with u for hours, and u need to run away? I feel like i rope u to me and if i let u go – u will “fly away”.

And we were talking for hours. About worlds of us which we are trying to go along each others.

Delaying this week – in the morning before exams i was sitting at the monument of Lomonosov with a morning newspaper, trying to be a part of the world which considered real one. Probably.
World of us.
World of mine.
World.

between 2 days.

- U told me u want to be everything for me.
- I need to be everything for u.
- But i am not. i am not everyting for u. u wouldnt wish to be that for me, u wish, becouse u know what does it mean to be not.

This conversation finished when it was light outside. This conversation finished with me screaming with pain. Crying with pain. Screaming with pain. I fell down on the floor with pain. I had to live this day, this day has already started. And I didnt even know how to keep on breathing.

books of him

- So why u want me to sign books for u?

We were sitting in House of Coposers and I fingered books of him. Old books of him. Written when I wasn’t even born.

- I don’t really want to sign it. People sign book, which gives them delusion of being in touch with a writer they have seen once.
- No. please sign it. I’ve got several signed books and must tell it IS very important. I ask people to sign a book for me if I feel that this man can give me a lot, can teach me a lot, can rule me, can help me make my way. I watch a sign of him and it invigorates me. I will watch it in several years and will realize if I made steps I wanted. U ask me could I ask my mom to sign it? Of course I would. Because she’s one who directs me.
And u’re one – I feel – who can tech me a lot.

In first book he wrote: “Today is 22 of may”. And a name.
In second book – he wrote – “And today is 24 of may”. And a name.

Thank u.

Friday night in that dark smokey rock-n-roll bar is the place I m going to whole week long. Is a place where I dance till I fall, drink wine till I’m drunk, kiss till I’m enough, sing till I can’t talk… and more and more and more. Is a place where I want to finish my week. Where I do finish my week. She put my dress off in the middle of the dance hall and I’m left in shorts with a glass of red wine. In the morning I will put my dress on again and will go in the morning to morning. In the morning to morning.
There are a lot of men in y life. There a lot of men in my life I want to be in touch with. I care about. I\m interested in. I don’t mind. I’m disgusted. I play with. I don’t like.

there is just one man I want and I love.
But there are a lot of men in my life who do own my feelings.

I gather them in that dark smokey bar in Friday night.
I gather them all because I can gather people whom u don’t really care about.
If they find a girl here u will just laugh more. And care less.

But that Friday – when there were 3 dates of mine together and I came last in the car with 4th, I felt nothing but tiredness. Sleepy tiredness which made me sleep this week in library and in university. At work and at the bar table (which is much better then under bar table, - he laughed at me). I was sitting in the window, holding my naked legs, ruined with this week and this week of silent quarrel we had with zver’. Quarrel which made me surround myself with men in silly wish of revenge and self-confident.
I was sitting in the window, holding my naked legs, when I received a message – message that Matteo now – in Greece – remembering Krisis Janra.

I glanced around myself realizing strongly that I wish one single person here. That actually in my life I wish just couple of persons. That actually in my life there are just couple of persons I am ready die for. Just couple of persons I know I’m tighed stong with feelings u can call “reall”, u can call «настоящие».

"how can u know me so good and still love me"

So that’s 2 you – that’s ur monster side and ur Anastasia side. And just monster side loves me. Monster side is one who cries when she can’t cook food or can’t use a coffee machine. And Anastasia side pretends thad that monster side doesn’t exist.

perfectionism u d say?

But i want to be everything for u. not only a woman to love, not only lover, i want to be ur friend, ur companion, ur co-worker maybe, ur past and ur future, ur dreams and ur wonders, and hesitatings, and sun, and rain, and night, and day... i want to be ur life, i want to be everything for u.
everything. i want to give u all kind of emotions u can have or u can get from anywhere, anybody in ur life.
is that a lot i want?
but i have to be.

only i told that day was - i want to be ur friend also. not only a lover.
and he answered - "the day i feel myself with like with my friends, the day i am with u like i am with my friends - it s the day i don't love u any more".

End of disscussion. back to Moscow to think about.

swinging in the bridge

немного из дней

What /the hell/ are u doing? I ask myself with my voice low
What /the hell/ are u doing? – I ask him loudly and laughing.

It’s too serous to waste it, to throw away. And I won’t..
Так говорят. «пусть будет проклят день, когда я встретил тебя». Зачем ты пришла тогда?

Не целуй меня. Уезжай. Из Москвы. Уезжай.
Он отошел на несколько шагов. Смотрел на меня.
«Видишь, спокоен как…»…

Каким незначительным кажется это все. Каким ненастоящим. Досадным, неправдоподобным повторением. Невкусным. Несладким. Негорьким.

So I just have to wait now. 2 weeks. That’s no more depend on me – and that’s scary.

english

When Esperansa saw me at the lection in the university she laughed. I had a fever a week but I couldn’t miss a lesson. “I do hope, - she told laughing, - I do hope that once u become a teacher to whom students would come with high temperature to another part of the city, just picking clothes from under a sofa as u did, dear”.

“U know, I haven’t been at my work today, - he told me picking me up after lesson, - I came just to English”.

“I want to quit, - she told, - but I don’t want to loose English lessons”.

“Today I realized I love English”, - she wrote.

I feel drunk.

recollecting

So when we were sitting next to ponds, next to ponds where trees are sinking, so when we were sitting next to ponds drinking champagne in the crack of night, drinking champagne to come back soon to Krisis Janra night, drinking champagne to celebrate warm Moscow night, and to celebrate our coming back again. “it will never be as before” u say? . Probably. But I was watching at the sky in the dark water (or at the water in the dark sky) and was remembering clearly one morning at her place. I had a feather in my hear and long blue skirt. I was with my feet and shoulders naked. Step by step I was making a line declaiming Blok loudly. I reached wardrobe and put myself in. Lighted up water-pipe. And dived inside myself.

At this moment she was sitting with big sunglasses and boa. And she was reading Gamlet’s monologue.

There are loads of reasons to drift apart.

But I ask myself – do I have a lot of people in my life with whom I can put myself in the bathtomb with a umbrella in my hand and towel on my head in order to portray a monster, feeling no more then genie enjoyment.

I don’t.

portwain

Have u ever felt urself that lonely? Have u ever felt urself that lonely in such a warm night? Have u ever felt urself that unnecessary in the life of another?

question

- what s more beautiful? Moscow or Budapest?

- In Budapest i had fun
In Moscow i was happy
U visit Budapest
U live Moscow
Budapest is very nice
Moscow is very fascinating

But. not camparasion between Danube and Moscow :)

все-таки молодой Пушкин великолепен!

Я вас люблю, хоть и бешусь,
Хоть это труд и стыд напрасный,
И в этой глупости несчастной
У ваших ног я признаюсь!
...
Алина! сжальтесь надо мною.
Не смею требовать любви.
Быть может, за грехи мои,
Мой ангел, я любви не стою!
Но притворитесь! Этот взгляд
Все может выразить так чудно!
Ах, обмануть меня не трудно!...
Я сам обманываться рад!

from Gerzen and from my head

Без всякой видимой причины к таким людям льнут, пристают другие; они согревают, связуют, успокаивают их, они – открытый стол, за который садится каждый, возобнавляет силы, отдыхает, становится бодрее, покойнее и идет прочь – другом.

Знакомые поглощали у него много времени, он страдал от этого иногда, но дверей своих не запирал, а встречал каждого кроткой улыбкой. Многие находили в этом большую слабость. Да, время уходило, терялось, но приобреталась любовь не только близких людей, но и посторонних, слабых; ведь и это стоит чтения и других занятий.

Сколько еще Огаревых в жизнях, есть еще, я иногда проецирую его на себя, но…-сущность-то, основа – другая.

Я достаточно одинокий человек (как назвать человека, который любит одиночество?). и я провожу одна много времени. Я имею ввиду то, что пишу – я провожу одна очень много времени. Но иногда из этого одиночества не хочеисчя нырнуть в еще большее одиночества. Нырнуть. Погрузиться. Спрятаться. Потеряться. Раствориться. Это всегда происходит тогда, когда этого быть не может, это часто происходит после резких ударов или резких слов, это никогда не происходит, когда я действительно одна.

И вот – между университетом и работой, между теми местами, где я – это мое такое социальное я, где я – это я на вынос, я мучительно хочу остаться одна. Я не вспомню об этом со своими учениками, но после я попрошу отвезти меня домой.

И как же мы все далеки друг от друга.

в тот день. чуть чуть.

Когда мне говорят, что у меня необычные штаны, к примеру, мне очень хочется ответить, что необычный человек необычен ко всем. И необычный человек будет необычным даже голый. Это просто совпадение, что у меня необычные штаны.
Очень хочется так ответить. Но каждый раз стесняюсь.

Я купила себе немного клубники, пока ехала на работу. Это было приятно и невкусно.

philosophical fury

F*ck it. They f*ck me up. I m f*cked up. I m f*ucked up with this f*cking system. This Steel(-coin) Curtain. This Mafia. I cant believe that for exploring the world futher them my country I have to crush to political “troubles” and then – money “troubles” they beat me with smiling smugly.

They fuck me up

We live through it in different way. I was sitting in library overfilled with unreal plans and anger (that one which destroy from inside). I was mixing philosophic termins from the book with the most dirty words I don’t usually use, this wonderful inheritance of my tatarian past. I ran outside to find her smoking nervously under the rain with tears on her face.

Reread it again, please:

“meeting conflict, contradiction – is not the signal to hysteric. Is MUST be a signal to use all the power and resources to Pass it”.

Forget about it, Fei said in French cafeteria where I was eating cheese watching myself up in the ceiling.

That was 10^th hour I was crushing myself.

I came back home and we started. We had our head, we had internet, we had anger enough and – what the most important – we had wish enough.

At 3 30 we composed a plan which was may be one of the most complicated I ever used to reach a country.

But we made up a way. Let us try to use it.

I m ready to agree with each single world of Chaadaev “philosophical letter”, this disappointed paper of powerless anger. I m ready to write my own! But this time nobody declare me “Mad” and imprison me. (well, very very probably!).

in the conversation about poetry

U can not write poetry if u have seen the World War. if u have seen Hirosimy, Chernobyl, death death and death of the modern world - u can't write poetry. u're stupid if u write poetry.

I immidiatelly cut conversation.

Just in Helsinki under white sky i suddenly scratched myself:

Only u can if u have seen the World War. if u have seen Hirosimy, Chernobyl, death death and death of the modern world - only u can is to write poetry.

U?! what do U think?

beginning with today

"Ум, диалектичный ум, надо с самого детства воспитывать так, чтобы противоречие служило не поводом для истерики, а к толчком к самостоятельной работе по разрешению противоречия при актуализации всех ресурсов".

that was the most "человеческая" phrase in the book. Yes, i started my philosophic course in this halp empty grand library...

Guess how much i love you

Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare's very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening.

"Guess how much I love you," he said.

"Oh, I don't think I could guess that," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

"This much," said Little Nutbrown Hare, stretching out his arms as wide as they could go.

Big Nutbrown Hare had even longer arms. "But I love YOU this much," he said.

Hmm, that is a lot, thought Little Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you as high as I can reach." said Little Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you as high as I can reach," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

That is quite high, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. I wish I had arms like that.

Then Little Nutbrown Hare had a good idea. He tumbled upside down and reached up the tree trunk with his feet.

"I love you all the way up to my toes!" he said.

"And I love you all the way up to your toes," said Big Nutbrown Hare, swinging him up over his head.

"I love you as high as I can HOP!" laughed Little Nutbrown Hare, bouncing up and down.

"But I love you as high as I can hop," smiled Big Nutbrown Hare - and he hopped so high that his ears touched the branches above.

That's good hopping, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. I wish I could hop like that.

"I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river," cried Little Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you across the river and over the hills," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

That's very far, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think any more. Then he looked beyond the thorn bushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be further than the sky.

"I love you right up to the MOON," he said, and closed his eyes.

"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "That is very, very far."

Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night.

Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile,

"I love you right up to the moon -

AND BACK."

I found it in Bilingua during on -literature-Belinsky-portwain-afterwork-disscusion-Monday. i was still in tenderness and light afraid of what i m going to do with this book. i carrefully carried it home, hugging with both hands and out it next to wine and hat shelf. i was afraid to loose it and every morning was glancing in aware up to a shelf. finnaly i put it in the back and carried it through airports, planes, airports, planes, sky and a little bit more airports.

every morning since i recieve: "Znaesh kak ya tebya lyublu?! vot kak - raskinuv lapy shiroko-shiroko"...
and i whisper... Znaesh, kak ya tebya lyublyu...

граница(ы)

Small sign “France” flied the left side and I turned my head shocked. “We re in France?!” I asked darkness around. That was border. That small sigh was border.

Everytime since new country lied me buy I couldn’t help but feeling confusing.

They were fighting till death for these borders. Each single centimeter here is overfilled with death bodies. Each single centimeter here was a bet till blood, was a ground to own, was a proof, was a belong, was life, was country, was pride, was…

To cancel it like this. Puff. No borders.

My apolitic soul, confused with steel curtain of my country, felt still confused in the world of no borders.

There are 2 things in EuropeI used to shout about crazily, loosing my head and voice. First – that u can open ur eyes in the morning and say – I want to go to Portugal. U buy a ticket or hitch-hike a car and go to Portugal. The same morning. And may be u re never back. Or may be u re back in the evening.

In my flat country it used to be the next way: “my bed is standing next to the window. Every morning I open my eyes and see sky. And every morning it reminds me that I m not a bird”. (who told this beautiful verlibr?)

And second. That delaying borders and moving along – there ARE countries. Here – they speak Italian. They eat Italian food. They are fucking proud about Italian food, Italian history, Italian traditions and Italian sun. (wine, cheese, see, souses in complecte) Move 1 kilometer. They speak French. They speak no more then French. They are fucking proud about French food, French history, French traditions and French sun. (wine, see, sauces in complecte).

Being one big country Europe is still The countrieS.

Around mine I see that countries are trying to forget the soviet past. In Litva they destroy monuments of Russian soldiers. In Kazakhstan the last Russian name of the street was delayed yesterday. That was street in honour of Pushkin.

Road by sea passed me through Spain and France. I entered Italy. Dreaming along Mediterranean sea I was trying to define “the border” word.

We reached Barcelona in 10 hours. In 1959 two young guys who are now Umberto and Luigi, these proffesors and writers, made this way in the car for 22 days. Till Barcelona. There were no roads. But were borders.

People were dying for them.

But people are dying also for less important things.

on the roof

i mean i would love to use ur body for self satisfaction, but that the last think that can exite. i would prefer the opposite actually.

one of the most crushing conversarions

- Why do u laugh at me so much?! u hat, think i take myself too serously and decided to overlaugh me?!

- Exactly!

- How can u tell all this about me, laugh, and then add – я люблю тебя?!

- Because that moment that u’re pretending that hard that u can do everything is one of the most tender part in u which I love.

- But how can be loved a person which can’t use coffee machine and can’t orientate!!!

- Well, if u manage to love me, think it much more challenge then to love a person who can’t use coffee machine.

- Да, ты тот еще подонок.

It was in Girona. We dropped to Girona to have coffee on the bridge.

###

I don’t know any more about any right or wrong things.

But when I came back, the way I live seemed to me the only right way to live my life.

I knew that probably I was wrong.

But.

I came back from the country that I m fascinated with. I came back speaking language which I like. I came back from the man which I love. They presented me book in Italian in the plane which I will read. I made the last evening for Hasan and first dinner for my family whole together. I mean – whole together at the table talking. I was talking with my sister. I m – the fuck – reading about Allesandro II now and listening to Beethoven. Tomorrow the person ehich I dear as my friend will come to my place.

And may be that’s the fuck right.

In the last night at 4 a.m I opened my eyes. I got up and climbed the stair to the roof. Birds made me deaf. I was watching at the medditerrian sea from the up and from the morning. I will come back – I told calmly to myself. Even if one day I curse all this. That was fresh and too early even to reflect.

I climbed back. Where have u been, he asked not opening his eyes. He hugged me and fell in sleep. I was listening to morning. And every time I was trying to move his hands on my head on my shoulder immediately stopped me and tighed me stronger. I was listening to fresh morning feeling all the warm of the body next to mine.

i give myself. i can argue and shout about it as much as i want. but i give myself.