I have a topic for the courserwok!
I have a topic!
I have a topic!



Sorry. Couldn't resist. 

With Mom.

Mom: I want to Germany. I want to UK. I want to Fracne again. I want to Italy. I want to travel.

Me: I want to Luxembourg.

Mom: ...

Curtain's down.

Brodsky.

This is so beautiful I could cry.

"A Christmas Ballad"

In anguish unaccountable
the steady ship that burns at dark,
the small shy streetlamp of the night,
floats out of Alexander Park
in the exhaustion of dull bricks.
Like a pale-yellow, tiny rose,
it drifts along, past lovers’ heads
and walkers’ feet.
In anguish unaccountable
sleep-walkers, drunkards, float like bees.
A stranger sadly snaps a shot
of the metropolis by night;
a cab with squeamish passengers
jolts loudly to Ordynka Street,
and dead men stand in close embrace
with private homes.
In anguish unaccountable
a melancholy poet swims
along the town. Beside a shop
for kerosene, a porter stands,
round-faced and sad. A ladies’ man,
now old, lopes down a dingy street.
A midnight wedding party sways
in anguish unaccountable.
On Moscow’s murky south-side streets
a random swimmer sadly floats.
A Jewish accent wanders down
a yellowed melancholy stair.
A fragile beauty swims alone
from New Year’s Eve to Saturday,
exchanging love for bitterness,
unable to explain her grief.
The chilly evening floats above
our eyes; two trembling snowflakes strike
the bus. A pale and numbing wind
slaps reddened hands. The honey-gold
of evening-lamps flows out; a scent
of halvah fills the air. The Eve
of Christmas holds the pie of heaven
above its head.
Your New Year’s Day floats on a wave,
within the city’s purple sea,
in anguish unaccountable—
as though life will begin anew,
and we will live in fame and light
with sure success and bread to spare;
as though, from lurching to the left,
life will swing right.


1962


Check the russian version if you want to: http://www.world-art.ru/lyric/lyric.php?id=7375

I am going to repeat myself, but considering the fact that my moving is kinda cyclical it's okay.

I am out of time, I float somewhere in-between. I float, I fall, I rise, I drown, I float, I float, float, float.

I like the word "float", okay.

Actually, I've just realised it's the end of November and it freaked me out a tiny bit.

friday night is was. almost.

Webcam Dictatorship.



Saturday Bliss.

I've finished the deeds in the morning/afternoon so the evening was relatively free. I finally met my friend and went to Starbucks for a gingerbread latte, funny enough, I couldn't do this before.
I don't forget about that great program on Kultura TV-channel, the episode was about Marlene Dietrich today - can't wait for the one about Andy, oh! And I am hooked by the Bertrand Russel's book, I've not expected it to be this interesting. The History of Western Philosophy.

Everything is in the x-mas/new yesr decorations. Already! I think I'm lost in time.

A little fly in the ointment: this darn headache is back. Urgh.

I. Am. So. Tired. By the end of the work week. I. Can't. Even. TYPE.  

I'd love to have two alternatives: to hybernate til the New Year Eve

or

too have a time turner and a self-renewing supply of strong coffee and persimmongs.
although right now I'd rather prefer having a cup of gingerbread latte.

no (much) sleep, no eternal supply, no Starbucks for me now. SOS!

In case you have forgotten what my face looks like.

stupidface.

deeper.

I have this nauseous feeling of standing on the shaky ground. Something is disharmonious and I don't even now how too fight this , because I feel it coming from the inside.


My insecurities are back. I don't want to boast about the i-think-too-much thing again, but I feel all these issues rising inside me, crawling in my chest, filling me, even taking over sometimes and, finally (?), coming out with feeling mediocre. Mediocre. Middling. What a word. Not actually grey - but mediocre. And worthless. Where it all comes from? I could blame it the unfinished action effect,  as you might know (or not - I don't remember writing about this openly) I haven't succeeded in something this summer in spite of putting so many efforts in eat. I dissapointed... well, mostly myself. It doesn't let me relax. Reminding: finish this, finish, finish. I deserved the place... Didn't I? Don't I? Probably no.


But I believe this started earlier. It certainly did, but who cares? I am the one to blame. It's all me, always me, only me complicating my life, only me bothering too much, me trying to meet my own expectations, me being afraid of failure - again - desperatly. 

short summary.

1) I have troubles with my coursework. With choosing a topic, to be certain. I don't want to go deeper in the details, it tires me, but this just pisses me off. Darn.

2) I'm still coughing and also go through headaches, I had a couple of nose bleedings, not sure whether it is connected. I don't mean it as kind of whining, just saying. I need to relax.

3) On our Monday English classes we discuss our home reading, and after discussing the thrilling episode with a good deal of suspense (in case you've read "Dandelion Wine" - remember Lavinia Nebbs and the Lonely One?) it felt really creepy to go home by dark stairs. Yikes! Bring the elevator back! (!!)

4) It's cold.

5) Darn mediocre feeling.

6) I want to flee far away. And a mug of cocoa, please.

7) To sum up - I'm tired and whiny today. Forget it.

Black Sabbath Solitude

Drives me mad.

I really like this new show on "Kultura" TV-channel which is pretenciously called "The greatest show on Earth" - a thing to argue about, believe, as the host overacts and the special effects look cheap, but I like it even in spite of that. I like how the show is presented and, mostly, I like what they show and talk about. These are series of short docmentaries about the most famous people in history, of different occupations - Nietzsche, Lewis Caroll, Salvador Dali, Marlene Dietrich and so on. You are suggested to put on the role of the person of each episode and look at everything through his eyes - not sure if they've succeeded but it's still curious!

There was a documentary about Fridrich Nietzsche today. I couldn't wait for this to begin, I find Nietzsche an equistly interesting figure and really think that he is basically misunderstood - has always been. Which doesn't mean I share all of his ideas - moreover, I am actually not familiar with every single work of his and have just a general picture in my head, which is to be improved. But the way he used to think is curious.
It's sad that he ended up being a madman.   

Damn this. I just mean, I start thinking too much again and this has always been so destrusctive because I end up feeling mediocre, worthless, notgoodenough and, worst of all, lonely. So - damn thinking things over, hooray for being busy and exhausted.

Eh.

Homework is my only friend for this weekend! Can you feel my proud indignation?

I didn't write a single word here yestarday, saving some thoughts for today but now everything i was going to say feels a lot like whining of some kind.   

I've chosen Bulgakov's feulliotons about Moscow for my course work. This is kind of exciting for me.

I've studied here for two months and a half now and I can't believe this is the first (!) time I miss studies. I remember using every excuse for staying at home when I was a schoolkid! Kind of weird. I shoouldn't have gone anywhre yesterday, I felt like such a crap - there were just no use of me.  

However, I feel much better and will be back to Uni tomorrow. And  I've actually done quite a lot today. I even feel a little bit guilty because I was supposed to have a rest. Well, I chose working in a relaxed mode - not bad either, huh? Urgh, I've never been this much of a nerd.

milk and honey.

This is gonna be a tough week, I feel this. Nevermind, I'll survive.


Okay, and now I want to finish my mug of milk with honey and read some Oscar Wilde (over and over, again and again). 

priorities & mentalities (c)

It's fascinating. It really is, not in a good way, how with all the time this place hasn't really changed much. It's stuck on its worst points, staying the same, always the same.

It was like that in Ivan the Terrible times.

It was in Peter the Great times.

It was in 19th century.

It was, worse than ever, in Soviet-fucking-times.

(I was surprised to learn that the word perestroika doesn't have an alternative in English language, in this certain meaning. Not very suprised, though - pretty explainable).

It was in post Soviet first years.


It is now.

In a global meaning. The essence of this place hasn't changed, when so many things has. The principles? Priorities? Values? Even the society? Well, at least the shell has changes, the cover, the wrapper, but not the mentality. And I feel that the Decision I made years ago is right and still very relevant, so I am more tolerant now, and not so feverishly obssesed, but I am still certain in my Decision, dedicated and faithful to it.

It's a question of time. I can't miss the chance when it comes. 

I am ill. I want mulled wine. I want cocoa. I want marzipan. I want movies. I want books - want Nabokov, Woolf, english ghost stories, immortal Bulgakov. I miss Europe. I don't wanna do anything. I don't want to write essays. I don't want to read history books. I don't want to think of the topic for my coursework. I don't want to wake up early the whole next week. I hate the subway in the morning. I am feverish.

Phew! I pushed the month limit of whining! My conscience is clear! Actually I've completed some tasks and take medecine and drink a lot of tea like a good girl, I need to be recovered by Monday. I will.    

I have a sore throat. I hope it won't get worse because I just can't miss studies now, a lot of important lectures and seminars are to come. I know I need to stay home tomorrow but it's not really convenient now. I won't be home 'til six tomorrow. Sheisse. Poor throat, help yourself.

I look forward to tomorrow to meet my Alexandrina, even though our plans on going to the cinema collapsed.


And write now I, completely overdriven, am going to have a cup of herbal tea for the good sleep and go to bed. And then I'll wake up in Friday and will be fine.

DAMN.

Sneaker Pimps - Black sheep.

Repeatrepeatrepeat. I actually stopped counting.

I feel tired and, actually, slightly out of sorts (just because I hate being this amoebic) the whole day but I still managed to make the day quite productive so it's okay.

It was snowing today. Not a real snow but still.

It's getting quite cold. I've been thinking about some pleasent things connected with winer (christmas ornaments, seasonal drinks, snowfalls, clementines, etc.) but completely forgot HOW FREAKIN' COLD it can be. Yikes! And how I hate winter clothes...well, not always.

Quite a weird start of the week. I overslept horribly (but still came in time). The whole day was tiresome (what a torture - going through it without caffeine!) but not bad.

I am back to being busy, which means - back to normal.


And I crave chocolate and want to read/re-read some Nabokov's stories.


What a boring post. Shame on me.

Lydia Lunch.

I absolutely adore her now.

now playing: Hole - Awful.

What a dissonance. It was such a beautiful autumn day and I spent it writing about the death symbols, cemetery cypresses, gloomy image of Saint Petersburg and evil moon, observing the sufferings of the lyrical heroine in one of Akhmatova's poems.
  

The Heron and the Crane.

An adorable thing by Yuriy Norshteyn. English subtitles (though very well done) look funny here :)

now playing: IAMX - Lulled by numbers

Home alone tonight. And if you think that I am going to throw a party and/or get  drunk you are wrong. But it's unlikely that you think so. And yes, I am going to write a bit for my 20th century literature work - that I am supposed ti have finished by the end of the month - and read some Bradbury. And probably watch a movie, if I don't fall asleep. Three-day-weekend, huh! Plans of the same kind for tomorrow (okay, library and shopping). Ah, and eating grapes, but I guess it's not worth mentioning.

Okay, I am gone to study. Hello, A.A.* and see you, Blogger.

*Anna Akhmatova

Yuriy Norshteyn's master class was really good - even though I've started floating in space by the end of the evening. Just due to being tired.

His imagination is amazing. And his passion for what he's doing, I wish I will be as passionate for my job as him one day. And I love how he sees art. He's an animator, but he was talking about everything - cinematograph, music, literature, painting. Everyone who creates something is an artist. And literaure can be a kind of cinematograph, and everything is connected tightly.

I love this point of view, it's close to me - I have always seen a writer as a kind of artist. In my last essay a comared a writer (in a broad meaning) to a demiurge, but why can't demiurge be an artist?

Yuriy Norshteyn is giving a master class in our Uni tomorrow. Kind of curious, I'm going to attend this.


Four lectures tomorrow and three days of rest - having too much rest is weird or it's just me paranoid.

I am tired and moody. I guess I better go to sleep until I've made someone else moody.

Maybe a bit of sleep will do me some good?

The second module has begun. Oficially. (I was supposed to write it yesterday). Seems like I am going to have even less time than usually and to be even more tired - pretty horrifying but I am sure I will manage this although I haven't decided how yet.  It's not like I have a choice, actually.


We were told to start choosing topics for our coursework - okay, firsly texts and then topics - so thinking, thinking, thinking. I have some ideas but they are a little vague. I the texts I would like to work with in my head, but the topics! It's yet to decide.