Silver lining

The end of week

2008-11-02T12:57:00.000-08:00

Sunday evening is the saddest part of the week. Saying goo-bye to all that happened this week, you think of what is in store for you next week. But it's just a small passage of the day. Come on, think that a new day wil bring you something good, just get up fresh and be ready to begin. To begin your journey into a new week.

Финал всё ближе

2008-06-05T08:25:00.000-07:00

В воскресенье состоится финал Ролан-Гарроса, открытого чемпионата Франции по теннису. Сечас известны лишь полуфиналисты. Среди них - Федерер и Надаль. Первый выиграл 12 турниров Большого Шлема, второй - Ролан Гаррос последних трёх лет, до сих пор не покорившийся швейцарцу. Их соперничество - уже не просто борьба сильных мастеров, а принципиальное единоборство, схватка, в которой Надаль одерживает верх раз за разом, а Федерер получает новый шанс. Сколько этих шансов осталось? Неизвестно, но цена каждого последующего всё возрастает.
На кону - заветный титул. Кто победит?

2007-11-27T10:35:00.000-08:00

In politics truth is the lies that couldn't be proved.

Dance. Dance. Dance.
Haruki Murakami

Another winter is coming. I'm up to my nose in studies. And dancing. More friendly and sociable with friends than ever, more alone than ever. Dance.

Медитация

2007-11-27T10:03:00.000-08:00

Пальцев изломанные линии
Ощущают неприкосновения.
Шепчу без причины прости меня,
Не зная, что значит прощение.

Опережая дождь на мгновение,
Слёзы исчезают под каплями.
Всё, что потеряло значение,
Забудем. Такими и стали мы.

Из прошлого в настоящее
Будущего идёт ожидание,
Лавируя между скучающими
Преждевременностью и опозданием.

"Wanna be alone? Than break this world to hell!"

2007-10-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

"20 cigarettes" movie.
It is better to believe an enemy, than not to believe a friend.
It is better to take it easy than serious.
It is great to ride the same route as the film hero on Moscow night roads just after watching the movie!
It is essential to be able to wait and to be able to act in the right moment.

What is to love?

I think I should consult my grandfather on that, ha-ha!
Maybe, that is to wait and to act...

2007-10-04T03:33:00.000-07:00

The autumn is slowly coming to the city.
The sun appears more and more seldom in the clouds and the wind is cooler day by day.
The yellow carpet of maple leaves on the ground grows thicker. A maple leaf of Toronto. A maple leaf of Moscow. No difference. Beauty is universal. And still, unique.

Why writers "kill" their characters. Five circles of death.

2007-09-27T05:44:00.000-07:00

When you read a book can you guess if the main characters will stay alive in the end or not? And what about writers themselves - do they always know what will happen to their characters? Life and death play a significant functional role in literature. Moving on from obvious examples to complicated ones, there may finally appear an answer for the question: Why do writers kill their heroes?

1. Hamlet.

The inevitable death of this hero was not a secret from the very beginning. The ganre of the play is tragedy, which implies that the outcome will be tragic with the main characters being killed. The necessity of death in this case is dictated by special features of the ganre. Certainly the author didn't choose tragedy and then HAD (unwillingly for him!) to take his heroe's life because of the ganre - it would be senseless. The idea, the pathos initially were tragic and the choice of ganre only helped the writer deliver this feeling. Consequently, there was no intrigue whether Hamlet will live or not - he was doomed, which could be seen in every verse, every line.

Hamlet's type: the death is necessary, logical, predictable and justified.

2. Katherine (''The thunder" by A.Ostrovsky), Clyde (''American tragedy" by Teodor Dreiser).
The difference from the first type is that the ganre,the drama and the novel, didn't oblige the writers to "kill" the heroes, whereas from all other points of view this final seems to be quite understandable. To predict Katherine's and Clyde's deaths were more difficult but once they are dead there's a feeling that everything happened as it should have happened. The finals are tragic but natural.

Clyde's type: the death is logical, relatively predictable and justified.

3. Patricia (''The three comrades" by E. M. Remarque), Andrey Bolkonsky ("The war and peace" by Leo Tolstoy).
If in the first two cases there could hardly be any questions like "Did they really have to be killed?", this case is the first where the author's position might be challenged.

Patricia. The novel is about friendship and love in the post-war Germany of 1920-s. Robert Lokamp and Patricia fell deeply in love with each other and their own world of love is a big contrast to the reality of that time, full of violence, evil and desperation. The author shows that these two worlds could't exist parallelly. Pat is not killed but simply dies of a disease. She had been ill from the very beginning but didn't tell Robert about it until it was impossible to hide. This plot line, in different modifications, Remarque would repeat in "The triumph arch" and in "One night in Lissabon".
Was her death the only outcome? She could recover, they could split up (well, THEY couldn't) or maybe something else. It would be natural as well, and the tragism of life in Germany in 20-s could be expressed without the personal tragedy. This is how the final could be challenged.
But at this stage the challenge and the arguments are not convincing enough. Cernainly, what is written that is written and otherwise it would be a different book. The dim premonition of a coming tragedy made the relations between the man and the woman even more beautiful - and in the reader's eyes as well. It is DYING BEAUTY - which is most charming exactly because it's short-lived and dissapearing: the last sunshine in the dusk, the last sunny day before weeks of rains. Remarque transferred it from nature to relations. And the choice to "kill" the heroine now can be understood.

Bolknosky.
In the drafts he was killed in the first volume in 1805. Than the author decided that the inner world of the character was able to be developed and let him live. In the forth volume, when prince Andrey was ready for the happiness he had deserved, he was injured in Borodino battle in 1812. Tolstoy plays a cruel psychological game giving his character chances for recovery but eventually killing him. Tolstoy's idea was that during prince Andrey's disease such a deep truth opened to him that he could no longer live in the world of people with his new vision of the universal order.
The question is: why didn't Tolstoy let him recover and live, without these universal truth but simply live?
The explanation is that Tolstoy didn't do it because he had another main character, Pier, whose happiness in the novel would't be possible without the death of his closest friend. The two friends represent absolutely different philosophies of life and Pier's appeared to be more adapted for reality. Andrey's were not. That's why he died.

Patricia's and Bolkonsky type: the death is not the only but justified outcome, less predictable but helping the author reveal his idea more deeply and effectively.

4. Secondary characters in Dostoevsky novels "Crime and punishment" and "The Karamazoff 's brothers".

Getting older.

2007-09-25T11:03:00.000-07:00

She packed my bags last night...

No tears. No stars.
No doom. No scars.
No love. No death.
No time. No breath.

No joy. No light.
No shock. No plight.
No "yes", no "no".
"I'll have to go".

No laugh. No tears.
No rights. No fears.
No hate. No love.
No - that is enough.

The world is mine.
The eyes are blind.
The words are dust:
"Can", "may" and "must".

I'm just tired.

Wake me up when September ends

2007-09-20T04:30:00.000-07:00

My room is my prison.
I don't have a reason
to go outside
and come back.

My smile's no more power.
I sleep seven hours,
forgetting myself
in the black.

I breathe, move, speak, study
And still, I'm noBODY,
without a soul,
it's just flesh.

***

My eyes're widely open'd
My spirit's not broken.
Itstead of full stop
I put dash -

Depeche Mode. "Suffer well"

2007-09-17T10:30:00.000-07:00

Never was sure what is "suffer well". Is "suffer" a NOUN - a deep hole in the ground with sufferings at the bottom or a VERB - to suffer in a good way?

2007-09-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

Клип "Верни мне мою любовь" (что же в конце песни рубит главный герой?).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Sano-DmLrw

IF THE STARS ARE SWITCHED ON...

2007-09-14T10:22:00.000-07:00

Somewhere on the edge of the earth, on an edless snow-covered plain, there stands a small wooden house. From a dark-violet sky, whirling and flying in the wind, snowflakes are quietly falling down, thickening the snow blanket on the pines, the ground, the house's roof; they silently knock at the window which is dimly lit from inside and disappear, leaving nothing but drops of water. Evening. In the house, isolated from the rest of the world but with such a cosy and warm light of a reading lamp, a father is sitting by the bed of his son, as he does every night waiting for his child to fall asleep.

- Daddy, tell me a fairy tale, please!
- I've told you a lot of them. Which one would you like? About kings and kingdoms, heroes searching treasure in forests, courageous princes fighting with dragons?
- No, I know them. I wanna a new one. The one I've never heard before.
- All right. I'll tell you one. But it's an unusual fairy tale. It's about love.
- Love?
- Yes, love.
- But, Daddy, how can love be a hero of a tale? She is not a man and she is not alive.
- You will see. Just listen. And that is how it starts...

Love was born on a shiny summer day. Yes, it was Sunday, and the end of June. She was very light and fragile, it was a baby-Love, and could easily be drifted by the wind. She was looking at everything around her and it was so new - and so wonderful. On the next day after her birth, in the evening, Love went up a Tower. The Tower was very tall and it was windy there but this time she was not afraid of the wind. She looked from the height at the city below, at the millions of lights which were glinting calmly and stretched till the horizon, at a big dark lake sleeping in the moonlight. She looked at it - and felt so HAPPY, that she wanted to start crying.

- Daddy, if somebody is happy, why does he want to cry?
- At such moments you feel the life very strongly, you feel it all at once, its beauty, which opens to you like a sun from the clouds. And the tears are something like... like your feelings coming outside.
- Your feelings coming outside - repeated the child.

From that evening Love started to grow. Well, she was still a baby but she knew already that she was living in a lovely world and that it was her world. But the most important was that she had people whom she belonged to. A boy and a girl. She was theirs, she lived with them and she knew that they were hers. Nothing else mattered.

- Did Love live together with them?
- When the girl and the boy were together she was with them. When they were apart... Love watched them and was their angel. She knew the next day they would meet again and waited for that moment.
The days passed, one by one, and Love had a very fine life. She walked along the streets, listened to music, sang and danced, went on a trip, wached movies and sat on the sofa on the terrace when she was tired after the long day. But then... then she felt that these days couldn't last all the time. Well, she guessed from the very beginning that she would have to leave the city where she was born, but the closer was the day of departure the sharper she realized it. She was happy, yes, still happy - and unhappy as well. She started crying but this time her tears were different from the first tears on the Tower.

- But why did she have to leave, Daddy?
- The boy and the girl lived on different planets. And they had to come back - each to his and her planet. It was sad, but it was to happen. They had their families there, their houses and their Universities - schools for young people. When at nights Love was watching her boy and girl she was thinking that soon the night will come after which they won't meet next day. Now she was with them, but the present would turn into past, because after today always comes tomorrow.
The last day in the city finally came. It was almost usual - and still it wasn't because every minute was full with the feeling of the coming parting. In the evening, the girl and the boy went to a harbour and sat down near the lake. They looked at the gently rocking waves, the ships sailing past with people having parties on them, at the sky, where, as usual, there was a moon and a glimmering star they got used to seeing so much. They talked and they came to a decision to finish, to stop what they had between each other. They could no longer be together because as I've said they had to go to their planets.

- And what about love? Will she go to another boy and girl?
- No, she can't. She has her only BOY and GIRL - and no others. She belongs only to them since she was born.
- Daddy, will she then be able to watch them at nights as before and to be their angel?
- She... she wants to... but it's so difficult, she is still baby-Love, she is very fragile and the distance between their boy and girl will be much bigger this time, and the time longer. And she is very precious and needs care so much.
- Daddy, Daddy... will she.. will she... d..die?
- Oh, sonny,... don't cry, dear, don't be crying, my honey, don't cry...
- WILL SHE DIE?
-.... The time spent far from each other seems much longer then the time spent together. It's not because the people want it to be so, but because time is something that clears away many, many things. These things become memories and life is going on and just memories are not enough for her.
- Will they forget each other?
- It's not like forgetting about what you were doing in the morning. It's like... like having no longer memory of who was with you. The memory will change and the attitude can change.
- The people can change?
- Yes, sonny, you've said it better. And still... still...
- What, Daddy, what, tell me what?!
- Love has a chance. She is fragile, she is young, and she will have to learn to count months, not days as before... but...but if she is real, not an illusion like a mirage in a desert, if there is a spark, even a small one, that won't fade away, Love will survive. It's not everything that time and distance can change.
- Daddy, can you tell me something? But promise to be honest.
- I promise.
- Do you believe in it?

Father looked out of the window where the snow was falling down. The clock on the wall were ticking in silence. Tick, tuck. Tick, tuck. Motionless, he was sitting with his eyes closed. The child thought that father wouldn't answer at all when he said, quietly but firmly.

- I do. If there is a chance, no matter how big it is, to save Love, than she can be saved. Sometimes there's only one chance. One in the whole life. To recognize it is most important.
- Is Love precious?
- Yes, very. But not you in love are precious - it is LOVE IN YOU. To love someone is to love only this person and no one else.
- And no one else - the son repeated.
Father and son stopped talking, like people who had said too personal, important, innermost words to each other and who knew that anything else to say now would be inappropriate and odd. The son, though a child, was able to feel it.

- Good night, Daddy.
- Good night. Father tenderly touched the son's cheek with his hand and switched off the reading lamp on the desk.

Lying in his bed, the child was watching snowflakes whirling in the dark square of the window. In the darkness of this square the earth, the trees and the sky mixed together, as if covered with the spot of ink which flowed over a sheet of paper and hid everything that had been drawn on it. Everything, except drops of snow and except two stars glimmering through the break in the clouds with a steady light.

He was thinking about the girl, the boy and their Love. He wanted her to survive so that she could be their angel. He wanted to help her but he knew that it wasn't him who could do it. It could be done only by the two people to whom she belonged.

"And then some day their Love might cry again", he thought. "Cry with those tears of HAPPINESS".

Falling asleep already, the child remembered one phrase he had heard somewhere bebore:

IF THE STARS ARE SWITCHED ON, THEN SOMEONE NEEDS IT.

2007-09-13T12:50:00.000-07:00

A TRILOGY OF OUR LIFE.

Three things you should never do in Russia:
Don't get OLD, dont get DISABLED, don't have CHILDREN unless you are wealthy.

I. BEING OLD.

Autumn. The low grey sky is drizzling on the grey asphalt. An old man is sitting near the subway station on a folding chair. He is playing accordion and singing. A bag near the chair is for coins and, much more seldom, banknotes that passers-by drop on their way to the subway.
Another station. Another old man is playing another accordeon and, closing his eyes, sings with inspiration about the days when he was young. Sometimes instead of him on that very place there is a good-looking old woman with a wonderful, pure voice. When their working day is over they will go to the local store and buy some food, for which, though they have retired, they still have to work.

I meet such people regularly on my way to the Institute or tennis-classes. And I know that I don't see MUCH MORE. The money that retired people receive from the goverment is enough just not to die of hunger. We proudly call ourselves a great country with quickly growing economy but at the same time we neglect those who used to build in the past all that we have now and who is UNABLE to take care of themselves any more. The country is not killing its pensioners. It just LETS THEM DIE - it's much cheaper for the economy, which, undoubtadly, should be quickly developing.
Two days ago on a TV program there was news about a famous actress who died this year. In a small flat where she had been living alone, there were plenty of rats and no toilet. ARE WE LIVING IN DARK AGES? The answer, however cynical it maybe, is simple - she USED TO be famous - but no more. Paraphrasing this sentence we formulate the first principle of our government which is applied to millions of citizens:

"YOU USED TO BE HELPFUL - BUT NO MORE. WE ARE NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR FUTHER LIVING."

Our war-veterans, a special case. Once in a year, on May, 9 we remember about them, 80 and older already, and thank them for saving OUR life. On May, 10 we have no idea what THEIR life is like. How much extra money does the government pay to them? 600 rubles? 1000 rubles (40$)? Very generous. A noble sign of gratitude. Maybe those of them who will reach 100 years will get a special bonus.
Our so to say Health Care Program in fact provides us with an absolute minimum of free medicine. It's very expensive to fall ill because NEVER will you be able to count on free treatment, pills, and an operation. But if you are old WHAT ELSE CAN YOU COUNT ON?

THE COUNTRY WHICH DOESN'T REMEMBER ITS PAST, CANNOT HAVE ITS FUTURE.

The government forgets that the economy is meant for people, not for better results in annual reports. And even most of the figures in those reports prove that we are far, far away from being called a REALLY developed country.

Autumn. Evening. The grey sky is drizzling on the dark asphalt. The old singer stands up and goes home. The money in his bag will let him spend the nearest evening without hunger. And tomorrow there will be a new working-day.

First step

2007-09-13T06:38:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name's Anton. From this moment on, I'll be writing about things that start me thinking, about something that I notice, feel, and would try to express. There'll be two languages - English and Russian. I would try to use English most but it'll depend on the complexity of what I'm writing about. Let's get it started!