Etudes ex abrupto about music and not only is a lot ofIn the world surprising, and the most surprising of the most surprising and banal - the person.
Sometimes intolerably I suffer from the fellow workers with their eternal insignificant talks about “a daily bread“ or from their debilizm which they loudly exchange, without being ashamed of anybody. All their talk or is especially materialistic, grounded, and rotates only around “food, belongings and money“, or extremely poshla also are silly when they begin to argue on other subjects.
“Chekhov was “blue“ which wrote music?“ - our economist is interested at me. “You, for certain, mean, Tchaikovsky“ - with badly hidden sarcastic smile I correct. The laughter and irony are my last weapon against this extreme nonsense, otherwise, from all this important platitude, I would burst out crying directly on the place. Mention of sexual orientation of the great composer as the most remarkable fact from its biography - not “Nutcracker“, “Dance of flowers“, “The swan lake“ - well, though something! - after sad laughter plunges me into long despondency.
I also not very well understand music, it is much better in literature, at all I do not consider that everyone has to be able to distinguish aurally early Dvorak`s works from late Mussorgsky, or there to know the capital of Bangladesh and to be familiar with the period of “A storm and an impact“ in the German literature. But to be familiar with the program of high school - everyone is obliged how to know the multiplication table. In an opposite case, it has to be a shame to the person telling similar nonsenses with itself. However, that he says nonsense he maybe does not know. Then, it is necessary to be ashamed to those who know it.
And therefore, seemingly, I am ashamed more for our economist, than she. I still some time sadly think about it “the barbarian`s spittle“ to me in a face, and she already with pleasure drinks fragrant tea with Kokrunov candies, and emotionally tells the following story about some boy - the disabled person.
“He was such patient, could not move, he had no rhetoric“ … it is the second barbarous spittle in me in the last ten minutes. I do not maintain the told nonsense because if not to fight against it, it will fill all space and will survive me.
“That that you told?“ - I am interested. “Probably, you meant motility, or still something“. I also am not sure, whether so it, but how to bear all this?
“Motility, rhetoric - what difference. Well, it was paralyzed“ - the economist loudly takes a sip tea, discontentedly rotating eyes in my party.
Present the person with perfect ear and music education. Judge Mozart, expert Beethoven, admirer Liszt. Not that it was the conceited person, it is haughty and contemptuous to people around, just the nature and his passion to music endowed it with distinguished taste to the finest. He is able to execute on a piano “Moonlight Sonata“ of Beethoven - not that it is professional, but nevertheless. He cries under divine sounds of “Requiem“ of ingenious Mozart - not that each note got into his heart, but nevertheless. And still it very much likes Brahms. “That is that is that, that - that is that, that - that is that is that is that“ … And he should listen to a pop-music all the time: on radio, on television, from discussion of colleagues. And not that it was against - at all is not present, not nevertheless are endowed with delicate musical taste - and it not against everyone had musical addictions and preferences, he even feels guilty that does not love popular music and that it has such distinguished taste, but the matter is that he is forced to LISTEN to the VULGAR POP-MUSIC ALL THE TIME as that non-smoking that it is forced to breathe a tobacco stench of the smoking colleagues all the time! WHERE RESCUE?
Yesterday, from there is nothing to do, watched “Evening Igor Nikolaev“ in Jurmala. God you mine! What about mine was become? What has happened? Not, I am not that fan and Mozart and Liszt`s judge, to a yadazha I will not distinguish Dvorak from Mussorgsky and me quite ordinary hearing, but as almost one and all extremely vulgarly look! Bright Alla Pugacheva with the wriggling Galkin is vulgar. The clown Leontyev with the “Is vulgar everyone wants to have both the bride, and the friend“. As always are vulgar Moiseyev, Rasputin, even Gurchenko with the braces and liposuctions. Sing in a low voice, or perhaps and “under plywood“, drag on a scene of the untalented sons, daughters, grandchildren, the twice younger lovers, friends and friends.
As their songs, one are similar to another as inkubatorsky chickens. As poshla scenic dresses of these clowns as their sweet talks are hypocritical.
And once Pugacheva on a high note took “Do not offend me, for the fact that trusted you …“, “Iceberg“, “The lake of hope“, and Leontyev “Hang-glider“, “Opening day“, “Day in September“. And I trusted them. I TRUSTED THEM.
On a scene some bolsheguby and siskasty bowls, some vulgar canaries, whose sexual appeal, at least, wriggle time in ten exceeds their solo abilities. Some vainglorious machoes who are doing the unambiguous movements by a basin and lewdly winking public as if they already want it.
It is a shame to me. It is a shame to me lying for hundreds of kilometers from these newly made stars on the sofa, to the adult man with the coarsened hands with activity of these scenic troubadours of 21 centuries.
Soso Pavliashvili steps on the stage. Was never his admirer, his expressivity and sincerity just imposed. And after all this buffoonery of its probirochny songs “Let`s pray for parents“ rattles as the anthem from which sounds and words, there is a wish to rise from the cluttered-up bed.
Contrast is so strong that I do not keep from tears. How the hall claps, it is visible that emotion got also into yet not absolutely coarsened and besoted hearts of attendees.
Muslim Magomayev, Anna Hermann, Vladimir Vysotsky, Okudzhava, Martynov and many others - in principle those who made a platform of those times, so and a pop-music, - people of different generations, genres and styles who were united by one - they were the PRESENTS. Not counterfeit as these in a bright wrapper Harlequins and Kolombina, they believed that they sang, and we trusted them. Those lived, and these play.
The other day listened to Nani Bregvadtsa. Again - was never her admirer, it belonged to generation of my mother rather, never even specially listened to it. And here I stop, I give up all affairs and I listen, wiping tears its “Snowfall“ or the song of the woman after parting. What words, what sounds getting into the soul and awakening in it that good that yet not absolutely fell asleep!
I switch. On other channel crown Vinokur - again - in the emperor of humour Russian. In the hall all “ beau monde “ and the VIP - persons as now it is fashionable to repeat this tautology: state persons, pop elite, businessmen.
The holiday is nearly national, about a heat Friday “ prime time “ hour so on two, two and a half.
On a scene eternal “Levchiki and Vovchiki“ creep out, it seems sincerely congratulate the hero of a national celebration. The hall exults. At what even those who are not present there (video installation).
the same flat jokes about the lovers flying from a balcony, “Viagra“ and an erektsiyny superfunction is shorter humour on the verge and beyond.
Me it was thought here: and the whole generations of people who never heard Vysotsky and Okudzhava, Hermann and Magomayev grew already and were created. Did not see how Nureyev dances. Do not know Tarkovsky`s movies. Which did not hear Raikin and Kartsev`s thin satire (it is good though Zhvanetsky with us). And millions from this green young growth, thousands of representatives of this tribe “young and unfamiliar“ believe that that kitsch which we see on today`s scenes and is MUSIC, CINEMA, LITERATURE.
They listen to Dima Bilan - quite good the disco music, I will agree, - but it not loaded, empty, in a beautiful candy wrapper, as those “Forfeit“ or “Sprite“, fakes under orange and a lemon which there 0,01 volumes, are not present in them any vitamin. They watch action movies about the Great Patriotic War and almost do not read. And why to them the word when there is a picture of which it is not even necessary to think.
I turn on radio. Two psychologists give advice to all called studio. A question “I fell in love with the young man. He does not know about my feelings. What to do to me?“ Question rhetorical and idiotic at the same time. As the most reasonable option here one, following: it is natural to let know to the passion about the feelings and to find out its attitude towards itself. Well, also the second option is possible: to tell nothing to it, and to love quietly, meekly, stradayuch. However, too option. The subscriber`s question of what to do is similar to a question hungry, bought sausage in shop and questioning “That to do to me with sausage?“ - and to wait for council from the local psychoanalyst.
Psychologists, these doctor shower for fools, having sorted the most exacting image a situation - well and as, in every minute of such reasonings the subscriber should pay and not on the cheapest tariff - nevertheless come to a logical conclusion that “it is better to eat sausage as it is initially intended for this purpose“.
The second unfortunate on the line. Most likely, a male being, divorced and got a petty intrigue with some there woman who suddenly was gone. “What to do to me?“ - the poor creature questions. “To it pulls me, I, probably, love it“. Judging by ridicule of a situation, despite easy tragic element, the feeling of love or sexual hunting, really deprives the man of both will, and reason.
After ten minutes of debate, wise psychologists, through linguistic flourishes and spotykaniye on native, great and mighty, nevertheless come to consensus that the man it is necessary “for a shersha the to fa“, and, having found, to take an interest why that “made legs“ and whether she will want to be together with it again.
At what all this occurs at the level of understanding of pupils of kindergartens and pupils of elementary grades of high school who, seemingly, too listen to moronic councils of aunts - psychologists. What is called, “and the hedgehog will understand“.
What else “clings“ me here, so it is absolutely serious councils of these warm-hearted Aesculapians - let, they are weak psychologists, but, for certain, normal people, women. An, no. Throughout the subject “If after You Open in the Feeling and You Are Rejected“ nasal aunts chorus wail that “if you were rejected, throw this love, it means not your love, and look for another. Try - and you obryashcht. You knock - and will open for you“. So that`s that. That is, love, it, as pair of shoes: this did not approach - away. Another presses - away and it! And so on. And I that, the fool, till 33 years sacredly believed that “that the Lord connected, people yes will not separate. Both in an illness, and in a sackcloth …“. It appears, lagged behind.
I cut down this cretinism. No, I am not a misanthrope, I love people. Though, as they say, to love people easily, here to live with them … But also I am ready for it when they behave more - less adequately, do not torment me with the foolish reasonings and behave as homo sapiens, but not some Australopithecuses and Neanderthal men.
And not when I from the hoary with age and not silliest person - trade in books in the &ndash market; the neighbor who came for matches I hear vast reasonings on a subject: “A week ago in the area arrested the husband of one acquaintance, the militiaman who was a werewolf in shoulder straps, the tyrant and the murderer rolled into one. In a baby carriage carried the automatic machine and drugs, raped two and with the cohabitant killed three“. “And from where all this is known?“ - I am interested. “So cops proved everything! And Stepanych told me“ - with astonishment the neighbor as if being surprised to mine a tugodumiya goggles on me. Further he anathematizes in all ways and makes an auto-da-fe to “the werewolf in shoulder straps“ as if he carried on an investigation and collected by own hands proofs.
“But this person can appear how completely guilty in all that charge to him, so in whole or in part not the guilty person. It can be slandered, substituted, hung up some “âčń˙ę“. And as justice is managed at us, all of us know. In my opinion here it is necessary to be careful in charges“. But the sosedushka me does not hear mine, does not understand more true. He trusts everything that a little bird told and revels in the eloquence.
I understand as far as all this is terrible, and is silly. To believe what showed - perverted TV, told - nabrekhat radio, transferred - neighbors muddled.
Norms. Norms our time. In the neighbour`s yard I hear dog squeal, such strong that I understand that something befell. I go there. I see the neigbour, the rural woman quite pleasant in communication which beat - and it in the face of the little grandsons who arrived to her on a visit - the sentry dog. As cries of an unfortunate creature shortly stop, also I do not interfere and I do not know a situation. But later I learn that the dog was beaten for the fact that he strangled and gobbled up one of the neigbour`s chickens. And he made it, most likely, because he is constantly hungry. I regularly feed up a dog everything, than I can, and every time heart hurts when I see how the animal snatches a crust of bread out of hands or swallows of the dried-up porridge.
The dog for months sits on a chain, it even for water has no bowl. It is visible that the dog, because of malnutrition, did not develop to the natural sizes, bones stick out through skin. All poltorametrovy radius - where gets a chain, is covered with “dog mines“.
Ya several times said to the neigbour, the quite good woman that the dog needs to be fed - is more useless that it eternally hungry, and it is necessary to bring up if you want to be an expert. But for the lovely woman not to a doggie, it has enough problems.
And so I think to myself: it is a God`s creature, months sitting on a chain in the chilled doghouse, with the become hollow stomach, never heard the kind word from the owners, never felt friendly pat on withers, never much even dry bread gorged on.
And felt everything that she saw - it is matyuk and damnations from the “lovely“ woman, my sosedushka. Kicks in edges. And after she strangled chicken at all generated hatred in the hostess. And, because of the cretinism, will never occur to that, good, normal woman that that she can be guilty of something.
I, how many such “normal“ aunties and uncles everywhere? How many such “normal“ morons and imbeciles in our immense country?
What? In my confession pathos notes of arrogance are heard? Arrogance? Arrogance? No, I do not declare at all that I such acute and seeing everything, the highest authority which judges all. Upas My God. I made mistakes too, I make and still I will make. But I, unlike others, impenetrable, recognize that I do not know something and I do not understand that I argue often precipitately and also precipitately I arrive.
But some truth, unlike a set of ambivalent everyday situations, for me is ABSOLUTE and INDISPUTABLE. I am ABSOLUTELY confident in them.
I refer to such truth also an above-mentioned case with a dog. Nothing will rehabilitate for me the unjustified violent attitude towards an animal.
Work. Bog. Bog. While worked at full speed, proved, showed, made offers, showed an initiative, it was everywhere unloved, and repeatedly bit. Could not understand why? Wore out two pairs of shoes in three months, worked so hard, did not get out of shops, ran on clients. All only hissed in a trace. “Upstart! Vypendrila! Who are you such?!“ Because wanted quiet, inert life. Because that only you will not make to do nothing.
And as soon as ceased to run, show, prove, spat everything, in soul sent all to hell dog, and sidny sat down at the table which is filled up with papers, colleagues calmed down and even fell in love.
Now I sit, in the first half of day I shift a piece of paper from the left edge of a table on right, and in the second, same piece of paper from the right edge of a table to left. I wrinkle a forehead, I do a clever, thoughtful air, on ten time I dial some number, and then I put down a reciever as if it is busy, or I resolve trifling issues with gas station of printer cartridges or acquisitions of facsimile paper so as if I am going to acquire all shares of Bill Gates, to sell them, and to invest the gained money in the Swiss banks.
The director, having noticed everesta of pieces of paper on my table, notices “There now, now and Daredevils earned on all power“, and all with pleasure flatteringly smile to the director as if they believe what that tells.
While it was honest and told the truth, did not love, not trusted and even hated. As soon as began to wriggle and lie, there was a trust, people declared “The person“.
it was worth coming Earlier into some office where all yawn and to take an interest: “What there is no work?“ - to hear revolted “That you that you? We do not manage to breathe freely, and you here! Go from where came!“.
That now, it is worth coming into some sleepy smoking-room and to tell “That we work very much? It is impossible to pereutruzhdatsya so, it is impossible“ to hear “Yes, we are such. Otherwise we cannot“.
But sometimes, nevertheless, happens in a disgusting way.