Solclarity

Dmitry Aleksandrovich Prigov sent this article to the editorial office shortly before the death. We did not think that she would be the last.

Nostalgia is a pleasant thing. A certain diminishing and comforting, cleared by the corresponding optics image of the selected past. What is bad here? Nothing!

And our time is not bypassed by this cute occupation. But it is symptomatic that the 80s of the XX century became the subject of nostalgia. The years of the so -called stagnation of Soviet power - real, built, completed (and how else?) Socialism. Not bad too. Only sociocultural sanity is important in contemplation of such a phantom and the ability to distinguish it from historical reality. And in this case, this is noteworthy (which was devoted to one television program) regarding young people who no longer know all the intriguing details of that time.

The nostalgic phenomenon of the "Russian" person who compensated to overturn, re -coincide with pure natural being, has long been known. The ironically and similar assessments of this kind of dreams have long been known - he, this person, would like to acquire freedom of extracurricular naturalness, maintaining, however, all the values ​​gained by culture. How lovely!

The same was shown by the television audience when discussing a similar problem. That is, the desire to find the former, as it were, calm and not burdened by the problems of choosing and decisions, the spiritual state of stagnation, but to preserve this very opportunity to openly discuss and criticize, as if not even noticed, as the natural air of modern being. (It recalls how the son of my acquaintance asked me: “Why didn’t they allow Brodsky, what is there?” That's it: what is there!) To connect the former, as it were, retaining the opportunity to go to rock concerts (which were simply prohibited). And also calmly and without hesitation to buy beer, cigarettes, coffee, and not stand in lines and at the entrance to the cafes and shops cannot be asked: there is beer? Are there any coffee? Are there any cigarettes and matches? Are there any sausage?

I remember that for a long time during a trip abroad, I could not get rid of this very charming habit, entering the cafe, ask: "Is there coffee?" What brought into a considerable confusion of the owners who suggested that I needed an unknown unearthly coffee that he had completely unknown to me.

I can’t but describe and (in my opinion, not for the first time I am remembered for me) a certain in its heavenly almost simplicity and honesty menu in the city of Bratsk in 1978, where all grocery stores shone with absolute purity, offering a struck by a struck only giant cakes of a poisonous-almonian radiant coloring. It is to this reason that I was attached to the dining room of the local forestry complex, where I arrived in a short -term business trip. The first dish in the empty canteen was called - the soup is empty, unnoticed, which directly corresponded to reality. The second is horns with sausage scraps (it was the only one that inspired that someone has a sausage itself, if its trimming is mentioned). And the third - in the corner, on the table -covered oilcloth, there were mayonnaise jars of yellowish liquid, reminiscent of a clinical laboratory with analyzes of skinny urine of the elderly, weak inhabitants of local surroundings. The inscription meant: liquid tea without sugar.

In all this, of course, in contrast with the current times of total advertising deception and temptation, it was amazing the exceptional, almost confessional honesty of naming. Yes, it is impossible not to remember and the only knife on the entire dining room, drilled in the handle and by means of wire attached to a long wire extended along the entire room, and moved at the request of the seedlings from one end to the other.

So, it seems that the nostalgic images of the past are unlikely to saturate this kind of charmingly repulsive details. Anyway, it is tempting to end up in the Pushkin era, but it is preferable in the noble noble Petersburg family, and not a serf at some sabotex. And in Soviet times, it is again lovely to be in the Moscow academic or artistic spacious family apartment, and by no means a camp among the snowy spaces of Kolyma or under the supervision of the KGB. Or in a psychiatric hospital. All this is understandable.

The self-claimed (namely, self-consumed, since everything is quite free of memory) sirens, like Kurginyan, singing the charms of that time in the face of little remembering, and simply not knowing that youth, are not very clear.

The main argument in favor of the predominant humanity of the Soviet system is a certain universal pathos, especially manifested during the Great War. Well, after all, there was an unearthly pathos and unearthly unity in another people who conquered all of Europe and with incredible rage of opposing almost everything that was put up on him, the world. Yes, love and loyalty to the leader was no less. I recall a certain, as it were, who worked in all situations later an excuse: a simple and honest member of the Communist Party. However, if you think about and try on, the same argument transferred to another soil sounds somehow strange: an honest and simple member of the fascist party.

And, of course, it must be understood that the free education and medicine (by the way, in themselves, are not subject to doubt about their social utility), so to speak, so to speak with everything else, were repeatedly remembered in all disputes as irresistible arguments. (Like now no longer recalling complex grocery sets, where, in addition to the necessary and difficult to produce oils, sausages, etc., were also included, let’s say, some cereals. But you didn’t have to choose - everything was sold only in a single complex.)

That is, we repeat, we need elementary awareness and sociocultural sanity. And there, and choose what you like more, especially in the form of a hat or songs. Who is against? I am not.