Category Archives: BOOKS

a Book (Fragment #027)

Урок 27 - The Book (by Culpeo-Fox)

An awesome work by Culpeo-Fox. Favourite books, favourite movies, favourite voices and favourite persons…

Again… this happened again. Again, I was reprimanded by Mr. Turdman and sent to our library to endure my punishment. I restrained myself with some effort, and hid my happy smile. I put the mask of a martyr over my face, and slowly left the classroom. The conditions of my punishment were that I must unpack some boxes filled with donated books. I must repair the damaged books then sort and catalog them all… Do you think that’s boring? Hell, no man! I know this work well and enjoy it!

On my way, I came across Patrick outside the library… Hmm… What the hell was he doing here? He should be in the basement near his precious ribbed eggs… As usual, Patrick was engrossed in himself and didn’t notice me… or he just pretended that he didn’t… as always… My day would be made if I ruined him and his eggs! With such lovely thoughts, I walked into the library.

…I need, my dear friend, some illusions of elegance. Some elaborate magic tricks of my mind. Some visually enigmatic intrigue. Hmm… For example, I see… a pompously decorated dinner table… genteel society and lazy intellectual discussions… candles, goblets, silver… The luxurious tablecloth falls down to the floor… long… so long… and… Do you know what? It isn’t a tablecloth! It’s the hem of a dress! Long… so long… A long evening dress, an elegant, beautiful dress. It’s worn by a pretty girl standing on the stairs… with a glass of red wine and a cigarette in her cigarette holder, with a fur boa on her white marble shoulders… The girl is apathetic and cold. She doesn’t care about this genteel banquet. She spits on it. But… no… I was wrong! I glanced into her eyes… I understood… She isn’t cold and apathetic! The moment passed – she sharply tugged her hem! And candles, goblets, silver fly up into the air! And expensive red wine splashes pale aristocratic faces like luxurious toilets! And truffles with oysters dirty the exclusive parquet and silk wallpapers! And our girl… Oh! She’s fucked them all over! She’s leaving the banquet with her head held high through the front door…

…when I came back to myself, I was alone in the dark at the library. Damn! What is this? I twiddled the book without a cover in my paws. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

the Bronze Horseman (Fragment #025)

My work in the museum is what I would call my hobby, as my work in B.O.S.O.M. is my real source of income. It’s a very nice, financially advantageous environment… if you can adopt the thought that you are merely a tool – a means to an end. Filth, innuendos and deviant urges are all commonplace, routine parts of the job here. Nobody will be polite towards a kettle or a floor mat. It’s normal. The wishes of our clients are supreme law here. Because (sorry for my banality!) they pay. OK, let’s do without naming the number I dance to!

Generally, we all do everything, and we can’t reject orders. But everyone has their own private preferences. Betty, for example, likes to be a piano or a harp. She likes music and musicians. (By the way, she has a really rad voice! She might make a great career out of it.) Damn! I looked away again! My bad!

What about me? If you’re reading this part of my scribble, you should know that my passion is literature. I like to be a book. I like writers and readers. I like to be written and to be read. I’ve been educational supplies and novels, vignettes and literary magazines. They’ve yearned for sweethearts and derided malevolent persons with me. They…

– Hey, baby! A client is waiting for you!

I put aside the anthology of The Silver Age of Russian Poetry.

– Come in, Schulz!

He’s a really great guy. He always tries to select clients for us whose proclivities match our personal bents.

– What is it today, Schulz?
– A reader. Pushkin. The Bronze Horseman.
– Not bad!
– Yes… I know you like books and Pushkin, baby… but there is a slight change. Today won’t be ink.

Suddenly, I notice the heavy awl and a packet of little metallic beads in his hands.

– What the hell?
– Sorry, baby… It’ll be Braille. Your client is blind.

“And turned to him with his back, proudest,
On height that never might be tossed,
Over Neva’s unending wildness,
Stands, with his arm, stretched to skies, lightless,
The idol on his brazen stallion.”

Oh, my poor over-extended spine… Fuck! Pushkin! Son of a bitch! Why did you write such lengthy poems?! I hate you and your excessively descriptive style! Now I’ll only read Matsuo Basho! (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for the grammar corrections and improvement this essay!

a Mess on the sky (Fragment #029)

It was a mess on the sky…

I was designated for the visual arts. I was accurately planned but I was impatient. I was fidgeting and knocking. Our breed was losing its own positions at an alarming rate. My parents were studying tarot, the manuscripts and natal charts thoroughly… they couldn’t goof again. I was made with a mechanical precision. A day, an hour… Yuck! I don’t even want to imagine this sterile and dull process!

Sun Opposition or Square Pluto.
Mercury Sextile or Trine Neptune.

The degrees, the angles, the seconds. It was a big mess on the sky.

Pluto had a hangover syndrome. Why? It was because of… Hey! It’s not your funeral! I promised to keep this secret! Venus, like every woman, was running late. Mars, as always, was on the routine of war…

Uranus came first. He sat with Scorpio and smoked. “Your generation is noted for their willingness to dispel social taboos of all kinds. You push the boundaries of accepted behavior. Fanaticism is a common trait in your generation.”

Jupiter and Cancer. I don’t like either of them. I’m usually playing hooky during their lectures… “Your warmth and willingness to accept all people for who they truly are makes even the most inhibited people feel comfortable around you. You strive to bring those who feel disenfranchised from life back into the fold of humanity.”

Wow! Bingo! Venus and Mars came! “Your powerful emotions make you a lover of the arts as well. You feel music and art speaks to you. Generally beauty of any kind has an affect on you.” “Because you feel you are a natural leader you do much better giving orders than you do taking them.”

It was a hellish mess on the sky! 

I appeared without warning. Uranus dropped his tobacco pipe. Scorpio and Cancer stopped playing chess. Venus squealed. Only Mars, like a true warrior, was calm and gazed at Venus’s boobs. I was accurately planned. I was designated for the visual arts. But I was impatient. My parents fucked up again. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for the grammar corrections and improvement this essay!

a Muse (Prologue)

Урок 28 - The Muse (by Gloom82)

Another masterpiece by Anton Semenov. Do you like? No?! Damn him… go away!

– Write!

Cold water flows down my face and I open my eyes. Damn him! Again… My nose inhales fusty air and I understand that this nightmare isn’t just a delirium. It’s real… I take up the wet pen. I write ‘fuck you’ carefully in the moist writing-book. Letters are dancing and I close my eyes, but I can’t close my ears.

– She will write. She can. She’s trying to rebel but I can force her.

…give me the strength to speak and to be silent
give me the strength to be a lamb and a tyrant…

Some might suppose that this is my paradise. I would agree if it were not for one zesty detail… What would you name the paradise that you can’t leave? I call it ‘a gaol’. Do you want to debate this? No? I thought not…

…give me the strength to inflict the death-blow
give me the strength to endure the last throe…

Sometimes I try to hide myself. I squeeze my puny body into the corner behind the door and close my eyes. This trick doesn’t work. She finds me, finds me every time. I still don’t know how she does this. I’m always on the alert yet I’m always taken unawares. She moves like a weasel. She has small sharp teeth and eyes like gimlets…

…give me the strength to hold the king’s crown
give me the force to stay the court clown…

– What are you mumbling? Stop it! You can’t fool me! I know you from the ground up! Write! Stop talking! Write! Write!

…give me the strength to lift up the baton
give me the strength to stop the marathon…

She bends over me. Muses are the most cruel and pitiless creatures.
I curse the first fucking day when I wrote my first poem. I curse the first fucking day when I saw her small sharp teeth and her eyes like gimlets.
I curse the first fucking day when I smiled at her. She…

My Afflation. My Curse. My Muse… I lose my consciousness. Finally… (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014