Book: Cursed days

"The holiest of titles," the title of "man," is as disgraced as ever. The Russian people are also disgraced - and what would it be, where would we put our eyes, if there were no "ice campaigns"!

The people he said to himself, "Of us, as from the tree, and a club, and icon", depending on circumstances, on who is the tree processes: Sergius of Radonezh or Emelka Pugachev.

The "left" all "excesses" of the revolution knocked on the old regime, the black hundreds - the Jews. And people are not to blame! Yes, and the people will then blame everything on the other - a neighbor and a Jew: "What am I? What is Ilya, I will. It is we Jews on the whole thing knocked out..."

... one of the hallmarks of the revolution - mad lust for games, play-acting, posture, farce. A man wakes up the monkey.

For a long time all is a steady decline. As angrily, reluctantly opened the door the doorman! The polls all have a fierce aversion to all work.

Tolstoy said about himself: - the trouble is that my imagination a little more alive than others... and I have this trouble.

"Go without work, went to the Council of deputies to request places - places they say no, and here's two orders on the right to search, can be of great profit. I told them to go little distance, I'm an honest man..."

"Still not time to understand the Russian revolution, impartially, objectively..." hear It now constantly. Impartially! But this impartiality would never be. And most importantly: our "bias" is in fact very, very precious to the future historian. Important is "passion" only "revolutionary people"? And we-well, not people, or what?

Waking up, as a particularly clear, sober, and realized with horror that I perish from this life, both physically and mentally. And record I really, you know, that hit like crazy... Yes, but does it matter?

I now avoid all forces to leave without special need on street. And not out of fear that someone will get it in the neck, but out of fear to see the present-day street person.

What a huge place is a death in our the already tiny existence! And about these years and say nothing: day and night live in an Orgy of death. All in the name of "bright future" that seemed to be born from this devilish darkness. And formed on the earth for a whole Legion of professionals, contractors, building human well-being. "And in what year it will come, it's the future?" - as asked the bell-ringer from Ibsen. Always say that: "This will be the last and decisive battle!" A timeless tale about red bull.

The night went by on the boulevards: low sadly and bows his head Pushkin under a cloud, with patches of sky exactly said again, "God, how sad my Russia!"

What an abundance of new and bombastic words! Throughout the game, a farce, "high" style, bombastic lies...

Struggling with this, trying to get out of this tension, impatient waiting for at least some isolation and I can't. Especially terrible thirst as soon as possible flying days.