Читать книгу Time - Sergey Semashko - Страница 5

jungle law. Man differs from the animal – what? The presence of spiritual values (I almost wrote two limbs), which cannot be expressed in monetary terms, or even to compare with what/either. What kind of spiritual values: love, charity, altruism, generosity, ambition, and responsibility for their actions. In Short… “Jura”. I’ll come up with a new language with a Caucasian sound. Hell, I’ve only published two chapters, and I’m already being sued for style and grammatical errors. I do not claim to be a gram/Nazi. Or, as they spell it. If you promise… I’m talking about the publishing house, which gives me the opportunity to publish the “thing”, if you promise the authors not to meddle in their work, or in anything they do not limit, then keep your promise. I’m doing literature longer than there is a platform Ridero. I mean – I know what I’m doing. Meanwhile, I bring to the General information: literary modernism is a very complex text in the structure, which is difficult to perceive and read. That’s why I used poetic markup to make reading easier, as it’s much easier to read when a row goes into a column. Let everyone else do what they want. I want it in the Bulo column. Easier to read. It’s not my fault that the editor has poor functionality. I know that it is difficult for the reader to perceive a text that is continuous. This was invented Chapter podpevki, subtitles, podrazavalacki. The work is already divided into chapters, each of which is called simply – “00:00”, “01:00”, “02:00”… the Planned very big volume of art, so publish on chapters. As for this: “something”, “somewhere”, “when”. To explain long, and no one not interestingly, I think. It’s a banal evolution of language. It happens that the words “something”, “somewhere”, “once”, get stuck in front of the dash and it turns out, a kind of whole machine-gun fire from the dash, where it becomes unclear where the dash is the isolation of the proposal, and where the hell knows what else. So, I began on individual words to prescribe oblique dash, and isolate – direct. It would be better if they took care of how to introduce the work of authors in prestigious awards. Instead of teaching the masters of elite literature how to create masterpieces. Do publishers will be unpleasant if they have a couple/three Nobel laureates, or at least the winners of the prize “Booker”, “Grunt”, “smash Hit” and so on… it would be Better if they took care to spread a network of literary agencies abroad. It would be better if they took care to create the best conditions for Mature authors to publish. Just to their (authors) are not lured to other publishers, where this look. In General, publishing is a business/machine. The best thing it can do is release the product of intellectual labor as quickly as possible. I’m not complaining, though. Today, the book is already hanging in stores. God bless them. And the, now scandal will begin, it is unclear from/for what. I would like to draw your attention to your poor knowledge of world literature. My God, how many barns on the shelves of bookstores! Is it at least someone/something you have/like? Taste is the main thing that makes a simple writer brilliant. Taste, sense of proportion (not always necessary), mastery of syllable, energy potential. I’ve talked about this a lot, so I won’t repeat myself. In many ways, the personality, sorry, the cult of personality literary figures is of great interest. Half of books classic literature, if not say – all, at all no one reads. Almost no one knows classical literature. Of course they are bought. Put on the bookshelves at home. Scattered around the room. Propping up their furniture. But they are afraid to read them. Of course, I’m biased now, because Yes, there is a small percentage of the total mass of the reader who loves and consumes only classical literature. But in General, I read trash. This stuff does not develop, does not give any aesthetic sensations and pleasures, does not give any quality knowledge. But it sold well, quickly becoming popular, and just as quickly forgotten, it takes place in space, perhaps in order not lonely was it worth the money that gives pseudorandomly from consumption, in a word – this garbage is aimed at an audience that Fig, where to hit the grandmother, if only for a few moments to feel human. Here’s the new truth: a man must be, not to seem. It’s hard, but noble. This requires enormous patience, but leads to well-being. This goes against the accepted norms and illusions of happiness, but somehow leads to freedom. Many people dream of being free, but do not want to understand what freedom is in/truth, and what to do to achieve it. In fact, freedom does not exist at all. Every person, whether he wants it or not, depends on many provisions, such as food, sex, money, living space, and so on… But it is a mistake to think that if you get all this, you will become free. “Not at all!“a Russian officer of the eighteenth century said and shot him in the forehead. Freedom can only be in our imagination. Freedom is imagination. Freedom of thought. And here to do and speak, not everything turns out. Some/any is easy gymnast does a somersault on the beam. Freely. But for a tractor driver with thirty years of experience – such freedom will seem unthinkable. He’ll break his leg at best if he tries to climb the log. On the other hand, if it is properly pricked with painkillers, and give a sniff a couple of tracks of cocaine, it is in this state, it is able to dance the Lambada not only on the log – on a tightrope under the dome of the circus. This is about doping. When I worked in construction, in plumbing and carpentry shop, covering in the shop, in the workshop for the finishing of the car, in the office for the sale of medical equipment, the installer of plastic Windows, loader, assistant agronomist, explosive technician, nurse city hospital, a security guard dairy plant tectorum in the bakery, Plugarul the glass processing, stempelen for the production of bricks, the clamp and prominately on the asphalt, a dobyvatel in karrah gypsum deposits, I often met people who are not able to work without a hundred grams after Breakfast. I literally annoyed everyone with my sobriety. Although, you know, my mother died from the effects of alcoholism. She often hung out in the men who could not live a day without a glass of vodka. Obviously, it had a strong impact. Not that I despise people who like to drink. I despise alcoholism. And I don’t drink alcohol for one reason only – I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop. Who likes – let him drink. Unless someone against. If only I was not imposed. All the more, I after all only alcoholics despise. What’s the difference between a drunk and a simple drink, by the way? Or even – a drunkard and a simple man who drinks only on holidays? Or even – a drunk and a simple man, overturning a glass in his bosom, just for the sake of maintaining the company? Systematic drinking is alcoholism. Even the regularity in a plain drink is latent alcoholism. The funny thing is that only when a person really understands the danger of alcohol, drugs, gambling, casual relationships, only then he ceases to touch all this. The ancients drank wine only in those cases… however, also to drink in earnest. Omar Khayyam drank not by the will of Heaven. Basically, drink, of course, from boredom. And if you really go deep, then there is a lot tied to the functional work of the brain. A normal, creatively active person does not need to resort to surrogates and substitutes for pleasure. It the pituitary gland produces this amount of alcohol and drugs, that there, sorry, even us rock stars would envy. And all this, I want to note, is achieved in an absolutely natural way. Look at the children – they are constantly experiencing a whole range of sensations. And what about the two lovers? What about the four lovers? Well, I’m joking, of course. And then, we, nor God willing, will appear in the multifunction family. God forbid if the state allows polygamy. Gay/some/where permitted. In powerful and ancient Egypt pharaohs fucked not only with their wives, whom even by name did not know – they fucked daughters, daughters, daughters, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Well, of course they were perverts. It’s the stuff they show in movies and tell you in books. I’m telling you, at the time, sex was a religious thing, and it often went too far. As, for example, there was a time when the Buddhists had to undergo hardships, and was not as popular as it is now. Now, instead of Buddhism began to flourish homosexuality. I don’t remember what age it happened. And the oldest that lived, forever wandering from one place to another, the sex took the form of an ordinary Orgy. That is, they gathered the tribe around the campfire, rolled the binge or high “cultural” plants, and it all ended in a crazy fucking under the stars. Almost the same thing the Romans did in their baths. Almost the same thing the Egyptians did in their palaces. Almost the same, did the Japanese in their chambers. Almost the same thing we do when we gather in saunas and brothels. What do you want, if in England already naked running around the streets. And about the nudist beaches – generally silent. The Communists will probably burst with anger now. They and the family/it is not too encouraged to talk about sex. What there to speak about the rest of the. Well, they’re Communists. Who/W have to restrain human passion. Bang/exhale/inhale – hold. It may be said, but it is worth considering why it is so difficult for outstanding people, in their essence, valuable people to achieve recognition by society? There was a time when mathematicians, for fun, gathered around the fence and painted with coal on the boards of puzzles. And the people gathered. Although, maybe it’s all a fairy tale. I read it in some encyclopedia of the seventy-fourth edition. In the Soviet Union, this would have been possible if it had not collapsed, or it had not collapsed. I even heard that then people worked at the plant on this principle to increase labor production, they something like forty-five minutes worked at the machine, and then, at the machine, did physical exercises. This, of course, is hard to believe. But rumors the world I remember. By the way, it’s not so bad to feel like a woman. Body, as if honey is poured. In women, the center of gravity is very low, so when they go on/something in a hurry, then slightly lean forward. Chained to the ground. There are, of course, disadvantages. For example, to take a certain height, it is necessary to apply Titanic efforts. And anger, out of nowhere. The moodiness of the character. Changeability. Why wasn’t I born a woman? The world would fall at my feet. I’d get everything I could ever want. At the same time, not doing a damn thing. The task of the mother is to cultivate the feminine principle in children, so that they can survive in a difficult situation. Well, when a person is equally developed and the feminine and masculine. Such a person will not disappear anywhere. But men are afraid, of course. Because pride, vanity, self-centeredness. Men do not know how to be a support for others. This only have women can be learn to. And although, say, that men not crying. That depends. It happens even more often than women. Sometimes, from mere trifles. From sadness, the case, or melancholy. But, men are able to open new. This can only be learned from men. But, the men great enthusiasts. However, the memory of many short. Woman remembers everything. Everything to the smallest detail. No, God forbid, her what/either to argue. She remembers what was said three or five years ago. A virtuoso of the lie. Even without a hint of conscience. Why? But themselves – horror, as acutely react to a lie. A sailor loves a sailor from afar. The sea mile is almost five kilometers. Among sailors, by the way, homosexuality thrives. It’s almost like a prison. Who/W was not invented to bring women on the ship. Superstition masks vices. Someone/the coined, at all, on the sea walk. Someone, once was the first. Pioneers always remain in the shadow of the past. Always. And the best seafarers are known to be women. Although the story of do not know. Elisabeth, Catherine, Zoe Kosmodemyanskaya and Jannu Dark. You heard these two highly successful the legend in a spirit of thousand and one night? Lovely! What talented, however, people lived under the Soviet Union. No denying it. From this we can draw an iron conclusion that in social countries the population is much more educated than in any other. Where people are fed, dressed, have a roof over their heads and opportunities to realize their talents, there is always culture at the highest level. And not without taste. Who can say that the United States of the fifties did not have good taste? They knew how to dress, listened to jazz, understood science and understood art. Communism came from France. And when the French had bad taste. As far as we know, there is an abundance of these tastes. But in any culture, in principle, it is possible to recognize good taste. Take at least the inhabitants of the Pacific Islands, whose intellectual abilities and imagination are limited to laying shells and stones on the sandy shore. Also, a kind of exotic, alluring curiosity. The prototype of learning. Newton compared himself to a boy collecting seashells on the seashore. “Exotic” means remote. In the world, in fact, so much interesting, good, beautiful. Elephant hunting. It’s epic. Desert storm. Twelve-ball storm. Jaw. Eruption. Whale migration. Sharp-nosed mountain peaks. Lush sea. Severe and clean glaciers. Agile penguins. Australian kangaroo. Bustling Tokyo. Safe haven. A lonely lighthouse. The rustle of the dense jungle. Gangs Of New York. Perhaps the US has always been a gangster country. wild West. Eldorado. Wall Street. Whether it is worth taking an example from them at all. Although they have an amazing passion for heroism. But whether it is necessary if to understand. It always seemed to me that life in Western countries is pink. It turned out that this is not so. The imaginary of the desired is ahead of the actual. Better bedbugs under the mattress than dvenadtsatifigurnaya boat for scrap. Bedbugs stimulate to success. Drive to a brighter future. Stalking and biting. Nibble. In different places, not fearing the trick. And what the bedbugs, exactly, fear? Unless you can fall on your back. Simply from this position it is difficult to get out. But it is good to do something else. You understand me. Dreams of unfulfilled dreams. The calm before the storm. Approaching a whim. It is impossible to resist what is happening within the laws of nature. Daring folk, cocky people, learned to cheat nature. Deceive the essence. Lying is, in fact, the most accurate science. Stupidity – cold calculation. The world is changeable. Nature is constant. But everything, one way or another, returns to normal. Law of gravity. God. As/the smoothly fall sink sink. Quietly, so, neatly. You’re afraid to scare me off. Have you heard the Holy inspiration? We can’t hear the silence. Did you hear the blissful current? We don’t know how to listen to silence. Have you seen the victory banner? We can’t see the silence. I’m like a Ghost in the air. I’m like an angel – three feet above the ground. I’m like an entity in the shape of Paradise. I’m like a bird – a meter above the water. Absolutely clear sky. Quiet sea current. A serene journey. Laziness is the mother of invention. The whisper of the wind. Thought flickering. Vibration of actions. In a world full of bustle, and no end to the growing evils, could be born the good hope and love, could give rise to something similar to “Mu”. Mutant. Murzilka. Muscat. Torturing the cow. The murmur of the stream. From morning till night washing of house linen. Who wanted soup. Someone-selected plums. We had nowhere to run to the end of the world. Wherever you spit, everywhere problems of personal character. Everyone wants the forbidden. Breaking the laws of nature, you should take into account the reckoning. Every action has its reward. Any loot goes the same way. The inevitability of truth suppresses will. Fear of difficulties paralyzes logic. It’s not as hard to cheat as it is to feel cheated. Checkmate before the battle. The great power of curses. Mighty precision guns. The glint of the blade on the tip of his nose. The Holy water that spills from my mouth will satisfy anyone who approaches. My bright face, which is red with radiance, will be seen by anyone who moves away. The power of my words, which are imprinted in the granite of truth, will reach everyone who reads these lines. The power of my thought that pours out of the fertile moisture of wisdom, will remind everyone what he lives for. The harmony of my theories, that brick by brick is tormented by long sleepless nights, will enrich the knowledge of anyone who is immersed in the depths of ignorance. All you need to learn the knowledge? Not everyone, but you can not deny this to anyone. Knowledge comes from God, from Nature, man has no right to award himself what is not created by his hands, his mind. And do not forget that man came from Nature and from God. From the universal mixing of matter. From atoms and electromagnetic bonds. From a small sperm to “MOP” in meter eighty, or “boar” weighing one hundred and forty kilograms. From fertile clay he, like as,,, too, occurred. But here we mean the artistry of what is happening. So/then, if you look deeper, it is not fucking made of clay, and even of clay, and from the sea came people. And to be more precise – crawled amphibian, which later adapted on land, and then dinosaurs, ferns, mammoths, monkeys, and so many millions of years, until it degenerated what we now see – hippies in multicolored clothes, and punks in jackets and grinders. Black-eyed turtle, frugivorous forms, and therefore slow than/similar to that of a cantankerous old mother-in-law, can serve as a prototype of man. A proud and lazy lion, Keeper of the pride, the successor of the family, the prototype of the ruler. Playful monkey, moderately restless, always unexpected, the prototype of the star of the Federal TV channel. By the way, they are very much interesting to say. Diction. TV hosts are specially taught to speak rhythmically in order to keep the audience’s attention. Chernoray and mohotani. Fried tomatoes and boiled firewood. Rotten rubber and bunches of eyes. Dead cherry and purple glass. The dashing of Nostradamus and the idleness of Vasily Pupkin. The stamp in the passport and the inevitability of what is happening. Revolution in the shadow theater and Eureka in the room of crooked mirrors. Wildly popular Harry Potter and naloychenko dictionary of Chronologie existence. Abeunt studia in mores. As sounds – and! The action becomes a habit. A long-forgotten language. The ancestor of today’s culture. Came – saw – lifted her skirt. Polynomials in the realm of cunning. Locker room for lovers. Deposits of certificates of honor and photos. Badges of luck. Cackling under the unobtrusive texture of support. Who can use all this? There was a time when I spent all my modest salary on books. However, it is necessary to pay tribute, I read them and I continue to reread. There are such works, from which tears come to my eyes. There are those who cool the blood. And there are those in which the author himself, who wrote, will never understand where there is hidden meaning, and what, in General, is the matter. The natural genius it does not matter what is happening around. He is completely absorbed in sensations. What is more important – self-knowledge or knowledge of the world around us? Both, in fact, are equally important. Without self-knowledge it is impossible to reveal talent. Without the outside world – to succeed. Everything is so interconnected, and at the same time, separated, that there is a feeling of real madness, in which only God is destined to understand. God is the law of gravity. This is what unites and regulates the movement of Affairs. Once it was assumed that the universe came from a global explosion. And the guardians of the Vedic wisdom believed that there was no explosion, for how could there be such a wonderful, beautiful, strict and orderly world in which nothing could be added or taken away from the big Bang. On/essence – forces destructive. After all, it is absolutely impossible. But the explosion was. He was the end of the Old World, or, so to speak, the Old Universe. He was the end and, at the same time, the beginning. And in General, there was no end, no beginning – there has always been a process of creation and destruction. The cosmic whirlwind. And when several generations of universes will be replaced, people will learn to get up such things that will allow at the click of your fingers to destroy the worlds, and only one movement of thought – to create new ones. Until, of course, not be stupefied to the level of the horse, and not to be a Drudge. I am so far away that sometimes it seems that the orderlies will come in, twist my trembling body into a straitjacket, and take me to the House of the Blessed. You could say I’m walking on the edge of the blade. Barefoot. You can hear the engines humming. The yard is full of cars. I note that the brand of cars is very much consistent with the nature of their owner. I here, for example, like the Porsche Boxter. I do not know why, but I like elite sports/cars. Mostly people can read the brands of cars: one love family, hatch/Becky, other Lada do not disdain, others Japanese. In short, cars – this is a separate topic, which has a high rating on the benches in the yard. Motorcycles are a different subject in narrow circles. But looks nice. I always liked to watch as some sort of biker speeding along the Avenue on some sort of Yamaha. Missing the pits. And only whistling in the ears. Passers-by in a frenzy from the soot of the roads. Yes, friends, it would be worth paying attention to. We completely forgot the smell of clean air. The smell of gasoline is familiar to us. The smell of gas, burning, garbage cans, junk, spread – we know perfectly well. But the smell of clean air? Well, someone will say – it smells of ozone. Not always, as the smell of ozone may appear only after a storm. And that is what/some remote steppe, where not shitting stray dogs, cats, rats, homeless people and other… Today the smell of clean air can only be high in the mountains to discover. And even then, only above three thousand meters. Where the forest area, still smells of herbs, firs, junipers, lichens, leaves from last year. It smells of the natural environment. So natural that nebenabreden. Perfumers around the world remain in the shade after the scent of lichen, which is impregnated backpack tourist. It cannot be removed for a long time. It is so pleasant and unobtrusive that it constantly wants to breathe. There are two types of geniuses, after God. These are so-called forerunners and followers. The first is always better to stay in the shade, because their blossoming imagination the public is not ready to perceive as a normal course of thought. There is not even stroke – and a surge of thoughts – fireworks, fountain, eruption. Followers are always consistent. Their thinking is indeed a process. They’re always insanely authoritative. It is absolutely impossible to argue with them. They are so methodical and correct that there is a feeling as if you are run over by a tractor. But there is always a relationship between forerunners and followers. Fluid the brain of Plato, brought the clarity and rigour of teoretizm of Aristotle. Who is the real genius and who is mediocre, hard to say. It is important to understand that they both reflect a great truth. It is impossible to consider each separately. It’s like counting a chicken as a bird. She/it is, of course, a bird but can not fly. Yeah, it takes a genius to come up with a whole science called “Logic.” But, to recognize the logic of nature, too, need to be genius. Why is the people judged by the highest, or rather by their best representatives? Can’t ordinary people be geniuses? Of course, genius differs from mediocre, or talented, or capable, only one thing – the creativity of thinking. Creative beginning. Agnus dei. Which is Latin for lamb of God. The Creator, and in General, being outside the box thinking. The great man is distinguished by the scale of thinking. In short, I walk like that around the house and comes to meet me a guy that lives on the floor above. We don’t know each other. Well, or superficially, maybe. Not that he was bored that night – he looked lost. Moved the meek step – by-step wandering. He seemed confused and frightened. Although, for some reason it seemed all was well. He’d tried to stop me but couldn’t Express what he wants. I couldn’t even say anything. Nothing even ordinary. I took the opportunity to shoot him a cigarette. And then he offered me a beer with him. Frankly, I more just wanted something/anything to eat, than to be filled with booze. Especially, I do not drink beer, and in General, I do not drink alcohol. I told him he should have bought me a gyro instead of a beer. And he, immediately, asked how much it is worth. Well, of course, who will spend money on the first comer. But gyro is worth as much as beer – one hundred and fifty rubles. This is such a huge sandwich, somewhat reminiscent of Shawarma, but not in lavash, but in a crispy cut bun. And the filling is almost the same as in the Shawarma: meat, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, some sauces to taste. And he took the mug of beer and dried fish. We sat down in a diner that is called “pub”. However, quite a decent institution – like a diner. It’s always crowded and noisy. The conversation/that we have flagged. He immediately identified the position of authority, noticing that the fathers fit me. Yeah, I wasn’t really interested in what he had to say. It is unlikely that he could tell me something that is of any value to me. But thanks for the pie. I ate that from/the table could not get up. By the way, it should be noted that he eats like a pig. Casually breaks the fish, tearing out the flesh, instead of cleaning, as do all normal people. Well, come on, we talked about this and that. He mostly talked, and I listened, crunching a bun. And then, unexpectedly for me, he began to consult me. In part, perhaps, he was no longer able to stand my indifference to the conversation. He asked me whether ***** to work in **********, one ******local ***********, that all day ****** ******, * ****** ****** at ****** and ***** ***** welcome to ******** beautiful. I won’t ******* *****, because * **** no *************, Yes.********** from the point of view *********. I answered him, ' of course,“****, for if he could be carried away *********, then it will be a real biblical miracle. He’s from my imprisonment flashed a smile with some cunning. Then he told me he just wanted to ******** with his *******ahhh! Well, ******** *** him, and that ******* from the distant. Typical authoritarian logic. ****** na ****** – ***** in *****. It’s none of my business. I finished Giro, honestly listened to the interlocutor, and went home. Nothing genius in ordinary people I not watch. Everyone has one thing in mind – to eat, ***********, drink, sleep. But the genius of the man just can’t sleep. He is constantly tormented by doubts. He is constantly overcome by aspirations. He is constantly dissatisfied with the situation, or too long idleness. I do not condemn the simple hard workers, and even loafers not judging. Sometimes I do too. However, hard work no longer do. I can’t. I have neither the strength nor the patience. Moreover, I even allow people to be in my presence by themselves. Although and slips at times thought, that many until me, as until moon. A kind of reminder not to get too involved in the company of simpletons, which is given in the morning and taken away in the evening; that on Wednesdays they smile, and on Saturdays they grin. Meanwhile, I’m almost always welcome in all companies, as the decoration of the “table”. Apparently, I cause a festive mood in the public. In turn, willingly I agree to stay a little decoration of idleness, but when we are full to satiety – I leave, having taken with myself something, and even someone who needs a bra for breast support. But what I really don’t understand is the awe of the common man before authority. Not – understand/it is possible, I want to say that I can not despise these phenomena in the psychology of human existence. Everyone wants to be meaningful, to be listened to, to set an example. But what he did for this remains a mystery. Okay, I guess. The adult population on the stock reads. The horror! Me many things, at all, in life incomprehensible. For example, I do not understand why Russian publishers… although, here I am wrong. Of course, Russian publishers do not neglect the works of brilliant writers. They publish classics and in the top lists of the most read works we see half of the names of those authors that for several centuries, and maybe thousands of years, have sunk into Oblivion. Western book publishers, I see, still try to dig up talent among the other crowd. They still try to find a person capable of creating something that has not been seen in the world. And Joyce, you know, actually sat on the neck of some millionaire who wrote him a “scholarship” to create a brilliant novel. And he created such a novel. Justified, so to speak, expectations. Any talented, or even brilliant writer, would be happy if at least someone supported him. Van Gogh used the financial help of his own brother, who traded some garbage, and the money he always had. At first glance, anyone would say that Vincent and Theo’s relationship was almost the standard of brotherly love. In fact, it was all much more complicated. And so I think van Gogh didn’t shoot himself because he was crazy. Well, or, partly not because. He shot himself, most likely because of the refusal of financial support from his brother. And whether it was worth sacrificing the life of such a beautiful artist, if Theo himself died only six months after the death of his brother. Again, human selfishness makes life a living hell. I suppose if they both had a little patience to endure all the trials, van Gogh’s paintings would have been sold safely, and everyone would have been happy. Well, if he didn’t get it into his head, of course, the idea that only after the artist’s death paintings become valuable. No. I just had to wait. Endure all the trials. And this, as you know, is the most difficult to implement. I do not have freedom. I’m tired of the endless routine that surrounds me. From these gyrations. The infinite is the same. Give one. Take the other. Third prompt. The fourth console. As a reward for everything – you look like a junkie, why you don’t do anything, why you don’t work, who the fuck needs your books. Well, someone, you know, needs. Someone/that happens, will sit down in an office of thoughtfulness, will open a file on a tablet or the smartphone, and will sit, will think while behind doors the turn won’t be formed until to it start knocking with a reminder. Who is reading my books, my crap, which I vysmeival, howl, sing. Who/that that/that is for yourself is. I long got tired of reading about love, about war, about knights and suicide. I’ve been living it for a long time. I am a knight, a lover, a warrior and a suicide in one person. I haven’t been surprised by this for a long time. Almost all books about love. Without women it is impossible to create a book. A good book is created only when a woman is near. Inspiration? You look at her smooth skin, shaded by small hairs. You look at her scarlet lips, which you want to suck and not let go. You look into her burning eyes, which will see the reflection of his tortured face. Ask that the woman was near if you want to create “thing”. Then the book will go as easily as you could imagine. Then the thought will trample a machine-gun tape, and breath will become frequent to the level of the astronaut in outer space. She is involved even when she is not there, but her image is inherent in your head. Do you think men can achieve something by themselves? They can just sleep and lie around all day on the couch. They don’t itch anywhere. They barely feel anything. A woman will give everything you need to create a good book. She will write with your own hands, only manage to knock on the keys of a treasured spell that secret from all the obedient sectarian literature read, moving his lips, in the office in thought. If you’re lucky, she’ll feed you after that. It seems as if I’m talking like a hardened gigolo. But all men are, in fact, Gigolos. If you look at the subject in the right light – in the light of truth. The first woman whose man sits on the neck long enough is the mother. When mother dies, he goes to look for a new. Capriciously chooses. Some don’t. I choose. To attentive, obedient, active was. What would did not say too much, too react, all the others despised. All! Further you are already like Christ in his bosom. Normal folk wisdom. At the time it was much more interesting – a man almost with a knife to her throat and demanded a dowry, otherwise flatly refused to marry. Of course, it’s a wild time. Then people have three jobs: to get food, to melt the bath and swing kids. Now almost the same, only add a fourth concern: jump shopping. Men, by the way, love to go shopping. There are as many of them as there are women. In General, women are mostly engaged in making money. They endlessly working, endlessly busy, endlessly making plans. And men, meanwhile, go shopping, sit with children, include a washing machine. Some are even well versed in the properties of washing powder and anti-scale. Men have long turned the tables on women. You think I don’t like shopping? I just love shopping. I leave most of my money there. Something that Bank for a rainy day. Shopping online? Yes, who needs them! Unless from it you will derive pleasure of consumer character. I’m a consumer – I’m a hardened consumer! I consume everything there: clothes, food, utensils, gadgets, products, objects of art, scientific developments, computer games. I choose condoms based on my mood. When I’m too angry, I buy hussars. When paddles – with banana. When sentimental – with strawberries or sea breeze. The world of consumption is partly created for men. A woman works all day when she goes shopping. It is, even when he walks, it buys not for himself – for men or boys. She did from life not a damn thing you need – besides work. Have you noticed how sometimes they gather on Friday evening, uncork wine, something there laughing? Where’s the man in the meantime? Sitting with the child. She calls him, says she’ll be here soon, and we should get the kids to bed before she gets back. It means that she will return under the drunkard and she urgently needs to fuck a man. Whether he wants to or not. The men, as a species, are long gone. They play sports to please a woman to always stay in good shape when she comes home drunk. Some teach foreign languages to entertain a woman with cultural phrases and during/time to navigate the terrain, when the whole family went abroad to relax on the overseas beaches. Some study martial arts to avoid blows to a muzzle when suddenly dared with friends to throw a booze in a sauna where it is impossible to phone. This is extremely rare, but to be prepared for such situations is always necessary. “Mas, I can’t sit with your friends?“he says, leaning against the wall. Of course you can, my dear, but with permission. All with permission. Who said you could watch TV after midnight? Who said you could talk to strange women on the phone? Who gave you permission to talk to women?! In short, friends, we are evolving, and through this evolution, we are becoming Pets – livestock. But this is normal. Why do we need all these conquerors? One day the world was under the heel of Darius. Fell under the pressure of Alexander the great. Shook from the countless raids of the Vikings. He submitted to the generals of the Roman Empire. We’ve had enough of this useless blood. An experienced artist is able to conquer the whole world alone. Everybody thinks, yeah, snotty daub. But what is the work of an artist, a writer, a musician? They build artistic images. The man looks at the picture. Whether he wants it or not, he notices it or does not notice it, and the image penetrates through the secret doors of the unconscious, and already works from within. Ennobles. There is such a treacherous force that none, I’m sorry, “dam” will not stand. And then, the light flows through the whole body. Have you noticed how quickly psychoanalysis has conquered the world? It took only a hundred years for psychoanalysts to unravel the mysteries of the human soul. Many, of course, believe that we know very little about the nature of the unconscious. But it’s not. The whole science was formed. Although, on/essence, ancient, as a barn mammoth. Beata solitude. Blissful loneliness. To conquer the unconscious is like to conquer the space. Psychoanalysts are the heroes of our time. Heroes of the twenty-first century. Hercules and the heroes, in comparison with an experienced psychoanalyst, just chumps village, suffering from bouts of madness and alcoholism. A good psychoanalyst turns the ancient fire of rage into a tiny wick on the tip of the penis, which is pleasant and harmless, which will warm and give pleasure, which is eternally contemplating and beneficent. A good psychoanalyst has eyes, even at his fingertips. But to conquer the unconscious is possible not only with the help of psychoanalysis – it penetrates into all spheres of our life. In art, in music, in naive drawings of children. A person can be read by how he arranges housing, how he dresses, what movies, books, music give him pleasure. It is easy to read just by listening to a person’s speech. With a certain concentration of attention, you will hear the degree of his education and intelligence, you will hear his intentions and desires. In the shadow of the past lies the theory of the fate of all mankind. The unconscious is the shadow of the past. Historical shadow. Its threads go back to ancient times. So deep that you wonder how all this could be preserved and passed down from generation to generation. And then, still and manifest itself in some aspects our life. Almost everyone. Just imagine this panorama of events. How many people, how many names, how many battles. Yevtushenko was a good poet, but all his work was focused on success. No wonder that in our age – the age of marketers and supervisors, people love to read poetry Yevgeny Yevtushenko. And this, let’s just say, is not a very distant example. Ancient poetry, prose, painting, famously slipped into all corners of modern art. Today, no philosophical doctrine is complete without religion. How do you imagine the crucifixion of Christus? Jesus Of Nazareth? It was, I recall, in the Roman Empire. The crucifixion and the ascent of Calvary at that time was an ordinary event. Drove all the criminals. And Jesus, just made a RAID on the sanctuary of the Jews. He became a Saint only after he was punished for what he had done. Who even thought of playing stigmata in their hands? Stigmata is an acute nervous pain in the wrist area, the cause of which is a strong concentration of mind and energy on the achieved goal. Anyone who managed to rise above the world could feel this most acute pain, from which you want to howl, from which the hand in a spasm is reduced that as much as the teeth creak. Do you know what a crown of thorns is? It is an electrical impulse emanating from the depth of the body, so powerful and painful that a dense ring is formed in the head. I you these religious myths can debunk until deep night. I just want to say that the historical past should be understood in the right, clear light. It is necessary to avoid all kinds of illusions associated with mysticism, which is very fond of being ignorant. Artistic image, carries an aesthetic, pleasing to the eye, ear and in General – perception, function. But to understand it one must normal. The laws of physics have not been canceled. God is the law of gravity. From this/that we are all socially born. From that/that we live in groups, families, teams, groups, companies, duets,