Authentica (Fragment #023)

Here you are!”

Maybe I’d plopped my notebook down a little too cocksurely, but I was feeling pretty confident. Hell, I’d been sweating over this essay for two whole nights, rummaging through the dullest monographs and sneezing up billows of agelong library dust.

The professor picked up my notebook with two fingers, kind of like it was a filthy toad. Well… actually, I consider toads pretty cool. Take, for example, Hypnotoad or Kermit. Or, even, Jin Chan. I remember, once…

“… plague!”

His harsh voice made me jump. Damn! It looked like I’d lost the plot again. I needed to concentrate. What the hell was he saying? Yes, toads were  The Second Plague’, but had I said something about toads out loud?

I raised my eyes and stole a look at his reflection in the dim windowpane. Then our eyes met. For a fleeting second it seemed as though his glance was flaring a bright orange, but when he turned to me, his eyes were yellow as always. This angry look was a storm warning.

“Too vague! Up in the air! It’s a mere dalliance with the topic, not an exploration!”

Why was he always on my case? But there was no sense in arguing… at least not now. This morning, I’d heard how Uranus had said something about the Moon being in Aries and that one should avoid open conflicts. (If someone had said to me some months ago that I would make decisions with an eye to this cosmographic crap, I’d have given them a Screw Loose sign. But this University can make anyone superstitious like the last pea goose in existence.)

I took my unfortunate essay and went to the door. I had almost stepped into the corridor when his acrid voice struck my ears.

“And don’t forget that using translations in research is  ‘mauvais ton’. If you want to get a decent result, you must work with authentic texts only!”

Huh? Ball and Tzara? In the original? I fucking like it!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Schubfachprinzip Bar #3 (Fragment #026)

I was sitting on the box, sipping cold beer, when suddenly something rustled under me. I almost jumped out of my skin with surprise and spilled beer onto the counter. Damn!

Someone began to guffaw. I scowled and was going to give a rebuff, but this loud rustle repeated. I slipped off the box and cautiously peeped into a round hole on the side. There was something white inside, like a big rat or a rabbit. I looked through a hole on the other side. A pigeon! Aren’t they flyers? How on earth could someone cage a poor bird into such a stuffy, dark box? A big poker-picture on the side of the box said Kuckuck Circus’. Of course. That was a given. A circus.

I stood straight up and looked about. The bar had suddenly lost its charm. It was as if someone had twitched the festal cloth off a table and bared its true, smeared and scratched ugly surface.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Schubfachprinzip Bar #2 (Fragment #025)

“Get out of the light, bimbo!”

Someone pushed me from behind with much giggling. Why on earth do these idiots call me bimbo all the time? I definitely should change my style! It’s such a pity that I can’t make a public appearance with my real exterior. They would have bitten their tongues then, that’s for sure!

But they were right to some extent. Standing at the threshold wasn’t the best way to spend time in a bar. I went right to the counter and perched on a high, narrow box which served as a bar stool.

The bartender jumped out of nowhere. I opened my mouth to make an order, but he looked me up and down, tsked, and disappeared again. I stayed there with my mouth still open in surprise. What a strange way to serve customers!

I didn’t get a chance to express my indignation. The bartender popped up again. (Was he sitting under the counter?) He plopped a hug mug with dark beer in front of me. Hmm.

The bartender gave me a wink.

“Schubfachprinzip! Do you know how it works?”

I was at a loss. Such an unexpected question! I’ve never supposed that combinatorics and beer could be married. I thought to myself for a moment then said with uncertainty, “Well… if ten pigeons are placed into nine boxes…”

The bartender burst out laughing. I felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe I’d made a muddle. I’m a humanist after all, not a digithead.

“Schubfachprinzip. It’s easy. Drink one box of beer and get another box for free.”

He giggled and disappeared again, leaving me to wonder about such strange mathematics.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Schubfachprinzip Bar #1 (Fragment #024)

I felt like a boiled rag. That’s why I’d decided to weasel out of all this bookish bullshit and have a stroll around instead. Aimless walks have always helped me to take my mind off things, to get my head together. And, besides this, I will often find myself in interesting places or near interesting people. If I do possess any talents, this would definitely be one of them.

I was going down a drowsy narrow backstreet, pensive, kicking my toe against a small round stone. Klat! The stone ricocheted off of a worn porch and fell between the bars of a sewer grate. Yuck! I raised my eyes.

‘Schubfachprinzip Bar’.

I snickered. You don’t believe in coincidences, do you? Well, there you’d be wrong, bro.

If you want to arrive at a decent result, you must work with authentic texts.

With this thought and a remnant of a wry smile on my face, I pulled open a heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The interior was really cool! Well… not cool, actually. Perhaps that wasn’t the correct word. Rather, the interior felt right, true. It felt real. If I were to have designed a bar, I would have done it in exactly this way.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Broken Poem (Fragment #16)

I knocked at the door.

“Come in!”

The professor was sitting on the window sill without his shoes. It looked a bit strange, but I had gotten used to his little quirks. Generally speaking, our entire magistral staff is a strange sort of panopticon—a freak show if you will—and so sitting barefoot on a window sill looks like kid’s stuff in comparison with the other teachers’ habits.

“What are you staring at? Give me your scribbles!”

I had gotten used to his bad manners too. With impassiveness I offered my worn down notebook to him. The professor opened it, read some lines and screwed up his face.

“What the crap?”

“It’s my homework.”

“Are you sure?”

“It seems so…”

“Quite so. It only seems like homework.”

He tossed the notebook against the wall. It bumped into a shelf of softbound texts, opened and came apart. Lines that I had written with diligence and care crumbled. Words and punctuation marks were scattered higgledy-piggledy in every corner like pieces of a shattered cup. I sniffled and bit my bottom lip.

Gather up this trash. And don’t spoil such precious words with your glamorous bullshit.”

I stood and looked at his bare feet, at those claws clutching over the floor. They were long and crooked with an unpleasant yellow hue…

“Look sharp! I’m not going to hang around for another aeon!”

I started to gather my unhappy poem from the dirty floor. Resentment was slowly turning into fury. Plucked peacock! I will sort you! I will show you anti-glamour!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017