All in the past

“We are cool people! Well, even if not cool, then very good! "

Danil Fayzov

Two vigorous people-people of the past era, with a jumping gait, are rapidly rushing along Sobyaninskaya Moscow from a fashionable shop to the fashionable shop, from the ealni to the unplex, then over the sidewalks, which did not really have time to put tiles on, suddenly stop somewhere, look around the handful of people and pronounce: “Yes. Here we drank and sold books. ”

Employees of the State Research Institute and the Operator with the Camera are running behind peppy people, carefully fixing their every word. The museumification process occurs. Peppy people are the poets Yuri Tsvetkov and Danil Fayzov, the organizers of the “cultural initiative”, who once headed the “bilinguals” and countless stores “O.G.”, and now the State Research Institute is trying to museum to museum for the last ten years of their biographies, conventionally called the “Moscow literary process of zero”.

Everything is folding and correct. Here Eduard Limonov came here with his "comrades". Evgeny Rhine drove there, and Lyudmila Ulitskaya rode on one leg. There was a lot of vodka. Vodka was poured from dummies. Encouraged her radish. All this is so, all this is the material from which it is so cool to write a Housing and the Housing and the Housing, a set of funny facts that allow us to imagine an era. But something is still wrong here, something important is not enough. What?

In the Kozlina Song, Vaginov has such a character - a dentist Misha Kotikov, collecting material for the biography of the drowned poet Zabefratsky. He carefully fills out the cards, where he lists all the women with whom the poet met, their age, appearance, circumstances of the meeting. All this has the most direct relationship to the Zaafrata, but is not related to his poetry. From a long list of the ballerinas of the Imperial Theater, States and the Secretary, it is impossible to understand what the poet was the deceased - and whether it was a poet at all. All this resembles the pursuit of an unattainable way that has left, evaporated. We have only material evidence in our hands, which does not mean facts that do not make it clear or imagine.

A group of excursionists moves along Zamoskvorechy. In place "Feast of O.G.I." - Japanese snack. Fayzov tells how Viktor Erofeev came here. I am trying to present this scene, and my consciousness has to do a difficult operation for this. The building on the corner with Klimentsky Lane begins to dilapidates and fading, the plaster crumbles, the tile replaces the asphalt.

“Everything was different then,” says Tsvetkov and begins to remember how he got up early in the morning to pay money to suppliers.

It doesn't work out. Instead of a bookstore, there is still a brand new, recently plastered snack, on the left, the freshly painted bulk of the Church of St. Clement with its some kind of Viennese silhouette rises on the left and did not have time to fade by the baroque stories.

The group goes past the Kremlin. The 14th corps is hidden by forests. It seems that archaeological excavations have already begun in its place - they reveal the remnants of the Miracle and Voznesensky monasteries, whose exact measurements are waiting in the wings in the Museum of Architecture. On Nikolskaya was also "O.G.".

The recently rebuilt bell tower of the Zaikonospassky monastery, in the cathedral of which stored plans for restoring the neighboring Nikolo-Greek monastery, is not far away. The bell tower of the Zaikonospassky monastery resembles the bell tower of the Church of the Assumption on Pokrovka. The church was also demolished in the 30s, and its restoration now seems very logical.

- I do not like this word, but we were cultural players. Book prices were different then. 30, 50 rubles ... The kitchen, of course, was small. A dog somehow ran out of it-there was a terrible mess-and we joked that this meat ran. But there was a potato with mushrooms ... Ah, how well she went under vodka.

I am trying to imagine how Viktor Erofeev enters this lane, but I shake my head in displeasure. My mind refuses to recognize the distance between me and Viktor Erofeev. It is possible that right now he enters the “phansic” or “Tsiolkovsky”. Limonov still goes surrounded by his “comrades”, and Eugene Rhine composes poetry. I am also a contemporary of these people. For “bilinguals” I was too young, perhaps, but I live at the same time with them. And the story has not yet managed to endow the things that these people use every day, a special halo of scuffs, which makes us be touched by manuscripts, Lorneta or the night cap of a long -deceased classic.

What ghost are people who have come on an excursion? Is the era when "O.G." And "bilinguals" existed, have already passed? In China-Gorod in the transition, the foundation of a barbaric tower is visible. Somewhere underground, the foundation of the entire Chinesegorod wall is hidden. And it would not be so difficult to restore it. On a neat lawn, next to the Tretyakovsky passage for tourists, the foundation of the Trinity Church in the fields is opened. For the restoration of the passionate monastery, not 90 or 100 thousand people have been expressed. Sukharev’s tower is waiting in the wings. Perhaps all this will remain projects, but now all Moscow re-rebuilt monuments, even those that have not yet been restored, even those that have not yet been decided to restore, seem so significant and real, as if they were more real than countless basements in which there were once bookstores. And by this unreality of what until recently it existed and functioned, and you can determine the change of the era, or even several eras. Speech, of course, is not about all of Russia (everything is quite obvious here), but only about Moscow. And it is precisely about the end of the zero era in Moscow, and not about the literary process, they testify to the employees of the State Research Institute of Floods and Fayz.

Everyone stopped at the fashionable Jewish restaurant, in the courtyard of which children play. Excursors do not notice children and try to peer into the restaurant building, representing Bilingualva in its place. Talks should be conducted about literature, but constantly break into the personal biographies of the audience (they have survivors of the catastrophe love to tell each other about the old life). Literature has long left these walls, and conversation about it is impossible. Walking in such places, we can only talk about the era that gave rise to them, since this era has already passed, and literature always continues, usually experiencing even the civilization that gave rise to it. Unlike the era, literature cannot be fixed on camera or tied to several houses or artifacts. And it was after the departed era that all these people came here.

At first glance, it seems that the era did not have its own face - it is so close to us. It has to be isolated in separate details. And "O.G.I." There is no better and no worse than any other signs of time.

In all the stories that the Fayz and flowers tell, some total carelessness is felt. There were only cute, glorious people around, and now they have sunk somewhere at once or somehow scattered around the light. But then, at the time of their heyday, these glorious people always gathered together and drank. Sometimes they bought books. Sometimes - they drank a lot. Sometimes - they bought many books. Which - no longer remember. It seems that they sold Murakami, as well as the "poster", and some other poetic collections. After drinking, they started to brotherly or read poetry. And now they read poetry, and they drink, and brother, and buy the magazine "Poster". But they do it more responsible, more began to frown, more often they ask each other fatal questions: how do you feel about ...? Or: And you are on the side of whom? And, having asked the question, cunningly, or even with a challenge, look at the interlocutor. There is no more carelessness. Either it appears only in memoirs, or it was really characteristic of the time when the library was in St. Clement, and there was a simple house in the place of the bell tower of the Zaikonospassky monastery.

Carebaby. And nothing more can be said and it is impossible, only what was the time, and then suddenly ended. Descendants will probably be able to distinguish more, find the peaks of this era, determine its exact physiognomy. But we only have a feeling of the vague anxiety that you experience, suddenly realizing that the landscape around you has invisibly changed and that at home, roads, gardens around us are just as eternal as time.