In the sandbox

5:30. Oh God. Oh God. Where am I?

7:00. Weighed.

7:03. She returned to the bed, upset due to weight. A bad situation in the head.

The famous novels Helen Fielding are not about middle -class quirks, not about Babu Duru. “The worst thing is the next five minutes,” the penetrating Slavomir Mrozek formulated. Specific questions of Bridget Jones like "How to choose a boyfriend?" or "How to program video?" They come down to the universal: "How to live the next five minutes?" To the most damned of questions.

14:00. They say that it is for a short time is a great way to restore strength.

19:30. Here is the devil !!!

In novels about the adventures of the great and terrible Bridget Jones, the most successful moments where there are neither large nor medium narratives, but there is a series of intervals , segments, replicas, interjections. Where already psychologically reliable speech behavior is once again certified by accurate timing. For the first time, opening the Bridget Jones Diary four years ago, I recalled the intervals of Vasily Rozanov, Leo Rubinstein, Eduard Limonov’s “Loser Diary”, but there is still a difference. Our distinguishable poetry is distinguishable, their formulas strive to intact in an ideal dimension, outside of time and space. In essence, poetry is a kind of corporate ethics. Ours insist on chance, on the optionality of their speech gestures, but immediately present “well -done things”, almost aphorisms. Ours seduces the hypererotic pose "The Great Russian Writer". The one who at least once tried it on himself no longer perceives the “next five minutes” seriously.

In the past year, the country demonstrated the will to globalization. On the pages of the new glossy magazine, Vladimir Sorokin seriously talked about which of the current Russian writers worthy of the Nobel Prize. And we thought! At least one notorious cynic! But no. In a recent TV, the host without abysses told the studio to the guest: "Edward, close your ears. So, Limonov is a great Russian writer!" The toasted was proudly silent, did not protest, although he was invited as a politician. Sad. Even the cultivating sobriety Dmitry Prigov suddenly betrayed himself, revealed passwords and turnouts, putting Viktor Erofeev’s dialogs as an example Boris Akunin (D.A. Progov, Shapoval S.I. Portrait Gallery D.A.P. - M.: 2003, p.152-153). But lettu, Akunin has many times manifested the reluctance to be a “great Russian writer”, Akunin does not want to measure either the old or new “artists”, including Erofeev, whose dialogs are actually already, he was too lazy, checked. (In addition, Akunin does not have “dialogs”, but a comic book, in the pictures, this is placed in the “cloud”.)

And then, wasn’t it reasonable Prigov explained to us that there is no difference between those writers and these writers? Now he is amusing Akunin in revenge for the fact that this acunin managed to fully implement the project, which Dmitry Alexandrovich advertised a decade and a half years, advertised and only. But why did the project fail himself? We will leave aside speculation on the topic of the scale of talent, on the topic of talent, proves seem to be a fairly smart stylizer in order to carry out something similar, purely technological . Theoretically. It turns out, however, that he fought in the “great Russian writer” that his social body is trying on it, secretly practices it, and this pose, as if a complex yogic asana, fetters the movements of the master, forces him to participate in corporate fuss and compare the incomparable in all respects.

Helen Fielding wrote a book proportionate to a person. It is not a fact that all books should be so, too human. But at least some books should be modest, programmatically small. "Bridget Jones Diary" is an exemplary prose of life, presenting the coming five minutes as an inalienable nightmare of each of us and thus equalizing the poor with a millionaire and a conservative with a liberal. A film adaptation is a much more commercial project. But she also has her own virtues. The second part, "the facets of the rational" , even prettier than the first . Actress Renee Zellweger inhumanly turned out and finally turned into a comic, sweet bbw . It turned out a story about how a cheerful private person, at best, had a chance of a non -extinguished role of the second plan, regularly violating the rules of the corporate game and, thanks to these violations, achieves the right to the role of the main one. All other characters have several spare strategies in behavior, plan, smart, make acquaintances, try to look. And only this one, so to say, the stuffed fool has in mind the only next five minutes. Probably the Higher Forces plan for her. "Nobody knows the future!" - Smirily recited in recent "Riddik chronicles" aware of space aliens.

In Russia, the concept of "project" has taken root, and this is not surprising. "I love our planes of enormous people, scope of the steps of the fathom!" - In the past year, they talked much more confidently about accomplishments, prospects and scale. The country is getting closer to the truth. I'm afraid this meeting of old friends will be joyless. A classmate-scenarist calls in Tula, with whom I have not communicated for a long time: "I read you in" RG ". It turns out that nothing has changed!" And - offers to participate in a meaningless television adventure of those on which a couple of years ago I already spent a lot of time not paid. Paradox: it does not occur to anyone to offer psychiatric assistance to the authors of stupid series, vile films and pretentious books, but look, my stylized intimate muttering causes condescending sympathy.

But in fact, this is not sympathy, but horror. There is a logical rejection by a person attributed to the corporation - a private person. Private opinion is annoying, from the point of view of corporate ethics, a private person is necessarily mistaken. But the worst thing is that he defiantly despises all social design. He plans himself within the boundaries of the next five minutes and by the sixth minute he treats with distrust, reading it for an optional luxury, for vulgar futurism. General democracy is not a market, not private property, not liberal spells. Democracy is when they say: “Here is Mansov, he is always mistaken, he is wrong, and therefore we want to know his opinion. And the common truth, this trouble -free girl on call, this political correct snot - we will get wet with a hygienic napkin.” In short, as the experience of Bridget Jones teaches, excess (social) weight provokes a bad situation in the head .

"Mom, mom, I saw my grandmother again!" - "How much can you tell, son, do not dig in the sandbox so deep!" We did not have time to suspect the hero of the subtleties of nature and a tendency to mystical intuition, as the frank mother refuted our best suspicions. But what a deep drilling, but how much an aplomb! A joke of the year.

I remember how in the early 80s concert entries of the Rock Group "Time Machine" went on hand. But I was always a fan of good voices, inventive arrangements and frenzied melodramaticism. I did not like even more or less professional, but monotonon-depressive "Sunday". He listened, listened and returned the Bobin of the "car" with an expression of disapproval. The school friend was offended: "Are you completely bad? After all, these are songs of protest and struggle!" - "For example?" - "For example," puppets ". The whole truth about the Central Committee of the CPSU and about Brezhnev!" - "What, what?!"

Immediately, an open letter of cultural figures "Star from the Blue Bird" arrived. Some Philharmonic bison and Viktor Astafyev, who joined them, presented their ridiculous academic claims to the car, which discredit the very idea of ​​combating new aesthetics and non-vovarity behind it. In the 82nd I won the regional competition and went to the Eaglet pioneer camp for a month, where inquisitive young men and girls participated in the All-Russian literary festival. All these were cultural, worthy people, with some I made friends forever. In our second detachment, where the most adults, 16-year-olds gathered, the letter of the bison was hotly and unanimously condemned right at the night pioneer fire. I terribly liked the "eagle" and new friends, but this pathos caused the most unkind social forebodings. I still remember how, contrasting with deep digging rockers, “sales VIA”, who knew by heart Vysotsky and all of Makarevich Misha from Omsk hissed in my face: “But the most disgusting, the most vile one is Via“ Funny guys. ”No-on-vi!”

It was in the dining room, so I almost choked on the compote: what did these are guilty of? Continuous love-carrot, in the authors the best poets and composers from Derbenev to Tukhmanov, a dozen brilliant vocalists from Berger and Lerman to Barykin and Aleshin. I vaunted VIA, these sudden sprouts of domestic urban culture, which were breaking through the ideological reinforced concrete of the CPSU Central Committee in the late 60s, I could not understand why my not years developed peers play a decrease , rejecting the voice and meaning - in the name of the triumph of falsetto and speculative contribution. I felt like a dissident. With his whole body, he felt how the era was approaching when he began to talk about love and health, but the foggy semi -literate hints would gain the status of a new religion. Just ten years later, huge advertising posters naturally appeared on Moscow streets, where the whole “car” who won all and the payment for victory helpfully advertised that they would not ask.

The following happened. Based on the rustic princes in the origin of the communist princes, fiercely choked by the deceptively simple city mass culture and, like the heroes of Zoshchenko, who respected the vague semi -literate balses (in a broad social sense, and not only in pop), small shopkeepers, people for whom the Western culture are enemy, and Russia are too great. For two decades, the poetry of a small shopkeeper is unable to suggest the answer to a terrible one, to the main question of world history: "What to do in the next five minutes?"

Wait, soon we will have a space program until 2050. We promise ourselves and the world Mars with Jupiter. Again, we will fail the current five-minute, and then we will really end. Even the former “great writers” will go into oblivion, because there will be not a single grateful reader, only greedy cosmopolitan plebs. Disappointed in the profession, the last Slavist from the University of Gettingen will publish a monograph, where it will vindictively prove that the so -called Russian literature is the fruit of the exquisite hoax of the Prague Student Mug.

December 27, 2004, 20:37. Oh God. Oh God. Where am I?