Rus Articles Journal

I stop drinking

I Stop drinking - to write. And to what? To create quite good verses, it is necessary ruthlessly to turn soul and heart inside out, “for a while to go crazy“, to experience strong emotional explosion after which you will be ill. It is necessary, speaking to dry medical language, to spend a large amount of mental energy. And result? Eight squeezeed-out, premature children - lines, each of which raises in you doubts - and whether it is correctly written whether the size is observed, whether the reader will understand what I wanted to tell? And whether he will want, the Reader to understand? to Write with

, without shooting to itself at heart, especially without bothering any there feelings - experiences? So write many. I know. Or rather, it seems to them that feelings their deep and original that is written by them sincerely and, undoubtedly, skillfully, and any doubted it, their personal enemy. But they are deeply mistaken. They write mechanically, caring for correctness, conformism, a form more, than for feeling which surely has to be present at the poem. And the feeling will be present at it only if you gave this feeling to it. Also only one worries such poets - popularity.

How to become popular? For many it the same as to be a good poet or the writer. It means to write and about what is clear to all. Or, as it is not strange, to write unclear and artificially. It means to publish itself in different newspapers, magazines and collections. It means in all convenient ways to score points, points, ratings. It means to advertize itself. Means to have many friends and acquaintances who will advertize you. Means, so means … And all this is falseness.

is not interesting to the Writer other writer. Only one is interesting to it - that it was read. Also admired. Then, perhaps, he will read you and, perhaps, too will admire. Of course, if he is a well-mannered writer. to Write with

“to a table“? Silly. A literary profession - always on a potreba, if not to wide “pop“ public, then narrow intellectual circles. The writer always needs the reader, and even if writes “under cloth“, then in secret hope that sometime all the same its works will be found and demanded. Almost each writing suspects of himself talent or at least the hidden opportunities.

Popularity often is based on fiction. On fiction of belief of public that it is talented, good, fashionable. As drink “the Cook - Cola“, a colored poison which is whipped by the whole world. Convinced, by regular zombiing that it tasty and abruptly. All know that “the Cook - Cola“ - poison, and, for example, the Russian kvass - it is useful (and it is not less tasty!) but seven of ten drink it, but not it.

of the Reader needs to be brought up. To go on constantly to it “it is good, good, good“. And, I assure you, in a week - month he will passionately believe in it. And will prove others the same. It how to say to the person that he is a fool. Or, on the contrary, very clever. Will believe.

Happened, read a frank nonsense. Or simple such, children`s rhymes moreover with mistakes written. And - during a time to borrow from the author of enthusiastic admirers. It is popularity. And at another deep, scraping on a nerve, revelations. And syllable. And size. Both form, and contents. And to read - do not read. Perhaps, it is the real poetry.

But the real poetry it is not enough who wants. Difficult it. Forces to think, ask itself questions, to suffer. It, as those fakes which are carried by the majority. “Adidas“, “Armani“, “Gucci“ and so forth. Cost cheaper. And feeling such that present. And what it present - it is not enough who knows.

Since the childhood knocked us into the heads that this poet or the writer great, this talented, this known, having eliminated for all of us insignificant and ungifted. That is, for us solved whom to us to read and who is not present. And now solve, practically depriving of us it is right on opinion. And I, having read many, including in the original, came to terrifying, first of all me, to opinion: I DO NOT AGREE.

Very much I love Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov. I know its many poems heart. But I will not understand in any way who appointed it the second, after Alexander Sergeyevich, the poet of Russia. And why not the first? And why not the third? The fifth, twentieth? Its verses quite artless, simple, sometimes you do not see in them that superiority for which they apply.

Anna Akhmatova. Russian Safo. First poetess of the Silver age. Why? In its many verses I do not see either depth, or special poetic gift. And Tsvetaeva has both that, and another. Goethe`s

, “chief“ poet of Germany. Here, where ease and plainness of images, forms, the contents which are cut out with the German diligence and nonchalance. It is sure that all these “Meisterwerke“ were concerned as pies at my grandmother - quickly and surely.

Shakespeare, Salinger, Steinbeck, Guy de Maupassant, Tolstoy, Bulgakov … I love all of them, but who, speaking to the modern literary language, so took care of their rating?

Shakespeare of Pasternak, is much better and more poetical than Shakespeare (if, it is in general his dramas).

Salinger from it “At an abyss in rye“ is simply primitive with his teenage slang, avarice of literary images, forms and contents. The Russian name of the book is much more poetical, than all book. Who made by

of Solzhenitsyn the main chronicler of Red terror? We also listen to it, listening spellbound! And why not Shalamov? And all others? Tens and hundreds of reporters of those awful times?

As is a lot of decided, simpering, pretentious. It is cleverer to tell - more cunning. Sloves of everyones is more - where it is necessary and it is not necessary. And that it is not beaten,-. Seem, all attention is paid to search here of such here “clever“ turns, words. And on contents almost nothing remains. Also it turns out that if it is obscure - means and he is talented.

Therefore, that will do! I stop writing!