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>From: verbit@germain.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian,soc.culture.soviet
Subject: Re: a poem and thoughts on Voznesenskii etc. (Re: Evtushenko)
Date: 7 Jun 1995 01:01:31 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article manin@camelot.rockefel
ler.edu writes:
>
>Actually, this is reply to both Misha and Yulya.
>
>In article <3qo7fu$kku@decaxp.harvard.edu> verbit@coxeter.harvard.edu (Misha Ve
rbitsky) writes:
>o The same happens
>o with all formal techniques in art: perceived as raw
>o senseless disorder when they are just invented, these
>o techniques soon enter mainstream and become exclusive
>o property of graphomaniacs and feebleminded elders.
>That boils down to saying that the only worthwhile art is that which
>makes a breakthrough in formal techniques. This is plain wrong, of
>course (with all my respect to Misha). And, at least Andreev does not
>pretend to make one. Which means that he may be judged from the
>standpoint of a certain mainstream (yes, there are multiple
>mainstreams nowadays), in which he belongs.
Not of course! This is a logical fallacy. What I said
is that an artist who uses obsolete/mainstream techniques
is dead/worthless. Any mainstream artist is worthless,
because entering mainstream culture a person loses
individuality and becomes one with the herd. As far
as I am concerned, this is a definition of mainstream.
What you ascribe to me is that artist which does not develop
new techniques is worthless. I never meant to say that; moreover,
I find this idea wrong and offensive. A fixation on form
offends my taste. There are many great artists
who were not interested in development of new techniques.
Caveman painters. Nikolay Tryapkin. Anatoliy Peredreev.
Konstantin Sluchevsky. Turgenev. Bunin. These are
artists who use the current techniques and were not
interested in formal breakthroughs (though, these artists
are usually somewhat deficient - in ideal, every artistic
achievement should be punctuated by invention of
new technique). My point was, Tryapkin and
Peredreev are traditionalists, but they pick the least
developed domain of tradition and their verse does not
sound stale. The pseudo-Tyutchevian verse which
Peredreev used and the para-folklore verse that
Tryapkin uses have not entered mainstream yet, and
are still interesting, despite the time passed after
these formal techniques were developed. Every formal
technique becomes obsolete, but it takes some effort:
in case of cavemen, it took millenia.
To some extent, the same could be applied
to Pushkin himself, who predominantly used (before,
say, 1927) the formal technique of Batyushkov and Parnis,
but nobody cares if Pushkin was formally innovative
or not. On the other hand, Nekrasov, the greatest
innovator of all Russian poetry, is now almost universally
despised as a literator. Formal innovation is not an
end in itself, it should serve some greater purpose:
as Gnostics taught (following Heraclites), the appearance
(form) of things comes from Devil, but the substance (soul)
comes from God. In this interpretation, the form devoid of
content (Streltsov's ``religion,'' or any kind of formal
excercises in art) is the worst kind of idolatry.
This reminds me the story told by Leskov in his
notes. Senator M. (identified in the appendix
as Merezhkovsky) used to have a prodigious son
(who later became a KD writer of some notoriety).
The son dreamed to become a writer, but senator
preferred some sort of solid career for his
offspring. To be sure that M. Junior makes a right
choice of career, he undertook a visit to Dostoevsky,
with his 17-y. o. prodigy. M. asked Dostoevsky
if his son made a good career choice, and how one
becomes a writer. Dostoevsky curtly answered that one must
suffer. Senator was naturally distressed and gathered
a courage to ask the venerable writer, if it is possible
to have a literary career without suffering. Dostoevsky
became very agitated, and threw senator with prodigy
from his stairs, shouting along with that ``Stradat'!
Stradat' nado.''
Leskov (who likely made up this beautiful story) died in,
I think, 1892 and was unable to follow the successful
career of Merezhkovsky Junior (I don't think
Leskov was even _aware_ that Merezhkovsky
became a writer).
M. Jr. fulfilled the dreams of his master: he became a
writer, made great career and never suffered. His works
are lacking in exactly this quality I was speaking of:
a substance. In view of history, Merezhkovsky becomes
a literary analogue of Milyukov: half-morbid, half-comic
cartoon figure with no divine sparkle, no inspiration and
no awareness of hell or heaven. If there is an utterly
disgusting soul-free human being, it is likely a KD member.
>The point is, Pushkin is beautiful, while Andreev is ugly.
Sheer truth.
My favourite burime of your page is about King-Kong
who ``na lyudei der'mo kladiot''. Tryapkin, one of my
favourite contemporary Russian poets, reminds me
the nameless author of this King-Kong masterpiece.
Misha.
``V magazine 1000 melochei
Zabludilsya seren'kii vorobei.'' -- N. Tryapkin.
``Suffering... Sweet suffering...''
-- Chief Cenobite, in Clive Barker's Hellraiser.
``Time was,
Time is,
Time shall be no more.
Here I open the gates of Heaven,
Here I open the gates of Hell!'' -- Current 93
>From: verbit@abel.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: Molitva
Date: 25 Jul 1995 22:04:43 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article ,
Dmitrii Manin wrote:
>
>In article alexey@cerc.wvu.edu (Alexey V. Andreyev) w
rites:
>[I transliterated it for KOI-8-challenged readers]
>o
>o Copyright 1994 Alexey Andreyev
>o ------------------------------
>o
>o _Molitva
>o
>o Ot politiki, ekonomiki,
>o ot ekranov, gde plyashut gomiki -
>o ogradi menya, moe kreslo,
>o ot oblozhek, gde golye chresla.
>o
>o Ot korystnosti i ot skorosti,
>o ot pokornosti russkoj topornosti -
>o ohrani menya, moya kuhnya,
>o ot kul'tury, kotoraya tuhnet.
>o
>o I uver' menya, kruzhka chajnaya,
>o v tom, chto serost' krugom - sluchajnaya,
>o chto prekrasnoe mozhet vse-zhe
>o ne tusknet', v luzhe lazhi lezha.
>
>Po-moemu, eto slaboe stikhotvorenie. V nem mnogo yazykovykh
>neuklyuzhestei, net muzyki slova, net tainy, i obraz liricheskogo
>geroya ottalkivayuschii. Dal'she mozhno ne chitat', esli vy soglasny.
Eshcho para takikh stikhov i ya stanu Andreeva sokhranyat' v archiv.
Eto nastol'ko glupoe stikhotvorenie, ono uzhe pochti interesnoe.
Vera Shur pisala v takom zhe kachestve -- stikhi glupye,
no ne nastol'ko glupye, chtoby byt' interesnymi, khotya
vremenami blizko. Vsio zhe, dannoe stikhotvorenie Andreeva
glupee (i poetomu luchshe) chem vsio, chem Andreev nas do
sikh por sadiroval.
>1. Yazykovaya neuklyuzhest'. Eto proshche vsego.
>
>1.1. Molitva dolzhna byt' obraschena k bogu ili bogam. Obraschenie k
>kreslu, kukhne i kruzhke edva li tyanet dazhe na samoe primitivnoe
>yazychestvo. Ne chuvstvuetsya v avtore very v moguschestvennost' ego
>"chainoi kruzhki".
A pomnite, Petya Vorobiev zavlek na scs stayu ``paganistov''
yazychnikov s talk.religion.misc? Tam byla odna, ona vsio pisala,
chto u nei est' dva boga -- serebryanaya svechka v levom uglu,
zolotaya svechka v pravom uglu. Ona im i molilas', i poklonyalas',
i kureniyami okurivala, i mazala ikh vsyakoi gadost'yu.
I vsio eto delo podrobno v Usenete raspisyvala. Byvayut zhe duraki!
Vsio zhe mne eta baba bol'she nravitsya, chem kreslopoklonnik.
>1.4. "Kul'tura, kotoraya tukhnet". Osobenno pikantno, chto ona tukhnet
>gde-to v raione kukhni. Vidimo, zabyli polozhit' v
>kholodil'nik. Ladno, "svet potukh" -- esche dopustimo, khotya
>"gasnut'" -- bolee pravil'nyi glagol. No v nesovershennom vide
>"tukhnut'" oznachaet tol'ko "protukhat'". Svecha tozhe ne "tukhnet", a
>"gasnet", ne govorya uzh o kul'ture.
Tukhlaya kul'tura! Eto zhe prosto Almaz. Eshcho paru let na
Usenete, i Andreev stanet Geniem. Togda on budet pisat' tak:
Ot protukhloi vashei kul'tury
Mne neshchadno khochetsya plakat'.
Ya khochu, duraki i dury,
V vashi litsa unylo kakat'.
I ya stanu archivirovat' ego stat'i, kak ya archiviruyu
maninskie, alexplorovskie i khrabrovskie.
[...]
>1.8. "Prekrasnoe lezhit v luzhe lazhi". Net, eto ya ostavlyu
>parodistam.
Uzh dyuzhe razha ty, Parasha!
I v sazhu dazhe, tut zhe lyazhesh!
Lezhi, Parasha, v luzhe lazhi.
Prekrasnaya moya Parasha.
Misha.
P. S. As Michael Kagalenko insightfully noticed, ``parasha'' is something
intimately connected with ``bereshit'' and with desecration of Christian
temples by Vladimir Makarkin and agents of Israeli secret service. Which
again returns us to the subject of ``The Prayer'' (see subject).
>From: verbit@coxeter.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian,soc.culture.soviet
Subject: Re: Pri oslablenii hrustyaschih svoistv - just relax (Re: Molitva)
Date: 4 Aug 1995 08:14:10 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article manin@camelot.rockefel
ler.edu writes:
>
>In article alexey@cerc.wvu.edu (Alexey V. Andreyev) w
rites:
>
>o Bol'shinstvo - lyudi kak lyudi, otvetili. Izvestnyj Vam Chudov, k primeru:
>o i odin iz luchshix stixov vydelil (kotoryj mnogie, dazhe "lit.profi"
>o otmechayut), i texnicheskij sovet dal - i vsyo eto v trex-pyati strochkax.
Sovet neudachnomy poetu mozhno dat' tol'ko odin -- chitaite
knigi, i staraites' poluchat' ot etogo udovol'stvie. Chelovek,
chitayushchii knigi zapoem i s udovol'stviyem, obyknovenno
ne pishet plokhikh stikhov (ili prozy). Khotya by i po nedostatku
vremeni.
No chto vego bol'she menya vozmushchaet v graphomanakh
(iz ikh skuchneishei fraktsii: Delitsyn, etc.) - eto
uvazhenie v suzhdeniyu ``professionalov''. ``Professionaly''
zhe eti bol'shei chast'yu lyudi s intellektom vyzhzhennym
dotla (obrazovanie imeet takoi effect) i zamenennym gotovymi
shtampami i klishe. Khoroshie pisateli -- nikogda ne
``professionaly''.
>o A chto Vam ne ponravilos' "Xorosho byt' gluponemym", tak eto estestvenno:
>o ya vpolne obdumanno nakidal "kostochek" dlya vsex etix Vashix maManinyx,
>o sVerbitskix i prochix "spetsialistov".
>
>Aga. Spasibo, rodnoi, vkusnye kostochki. Beda tvoya, Lexa, v tom chto
>ochen' uzh ty primitivnyi. Nu naskvoz' zhe vidny tvoi zhalkie
>ulovki. "Na obed speshil".
Nado skazat' chto mne stikhotvorenie pro pluponemykh
(edinstvennoe iz vsekh Andreevskikh) ponravilos' -- ya
ego dazhe sokhranil. Kak i vse ostalnye sochineniya Andreeva,
ono stertoe i vyalo povtoryaet izvestnye stikhi,
no v etot raz originaly (naprimer, poema Vladimira
Druka pro Cheburashku) nemnogo popriyatnee, chem obyknovenno
u Andreeva, kotoryi v 70% vnagluyu deret Voznesenskogo,
a ostal'nye 30% pol'zuetsya obshche-KSP-shnymi shtampami.
>Lyubov' k sebe. Nezhnaya, strastnaya, vsepoglosqayusqaya lyubov' k
>sebe. Tebe nado tebya brosit', Andreev. Nado, chtob tebya ty
>brosil. Togda, mozhet, ty v tebe razocharuetsya. Prosqai. Idi chitai
>Nabokova, on tozhe ochen' sebya lyubil.
Kak eto, odnako, metko i tochno! I deistvitel'nee, za redkimi
isklyucheniyami, chem protivnee i nenavistnee mne graphoman
(Borjka, Sasha Sokolov, Mikh. Berg, Narbikova), tem bol'she
on lyubit Nabokova. Ya ne dumayu, chto eto ob'yasnyaetsya
samovlyublionnost'yu, no Nabokovianstvo zavzyatykh (i chem-to
osobennym protivnykh) graphomanov eto fakt.
Da, i est' eshcho Italo Calvino...
Misha.
>From: verbit@coxeter.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: Verbitskomu - o poezii i voobsche
Date: 7 Aug 1995 10:26:15 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article alexey@cerc.wvu.edu (Alexey V. Andreyev) wr
ites:
>Misha Verbitsky (verbit@coxeter.harvard.edu) wrote:
>
>: P. S. Khoroshaya poeziya eto ne poeziya, napisannaya professional'no,
>: no i ne poeziya, napisannaya koryavo. Khoroshaya poeziya eto poeziya,
>: napisannaya neozhidanno.
> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>Eto kak, mimo unitaza, chto li? :-) Ty Mish, izvini za glupyj vopros: vot
>krasivo bazarit' ty nauchilsya pro poeziyu, a ty sam-to "pisal neozhidanno",
>a? Ty tut zasidelsya, zarubezhom, koli dlya tebya pro Lenina - neozhidanno.
>Pochital by xot' "Haiku Definition" na moei WWW Page, mozhet byt', ponyal
>by, kakoe slovo tut nuzhno vmesto tvoego bessmyslennogo "neozhidanno".
Tvoi stikhi, tovarishch' -- kakashka. Moi stikhi -- ne kakashka.
Ya ikh ne publikuyu v silu vrozhdionnoi skromnosti.
BTW, I recently acquired the book (edited) by Viktor Perelman,
(NRS strongman) by the title Vremya I My, # 123. Here I found
a great number of Poems written by the sometime scs correspondent
Yulya Genyuk, plus biography. Our Congratulations to Yulya genyuk.
For You, Mr. Andreev, this is a way to avoid embarrassment of
posting your `poetry' -- just bugger off to Vremya I My,
issue 124.
>Ty, Mish, soxrani stishki-to, chto Dima rekomendoval. Pochitaete potom
>drug drugu "vslux na skorosti", poxixikaete... Nu i "Playboy" tozhe
>prosmatrivaj inogda.
I was subscribed to Playboy. It is the best-written journal
with major distribution, upping all other major distribution
magazines (as opposed to fanzines, which are often better --
_Answer Me!_ comes to mind) by a wide margin. I stopped being
subscribed because I found all Playmates and most other nekkid
ladies fat, worn-out and having the same repulsive look of
commonplace stupidity. The last issues contained naked
pics of Bo Derek (the ugliest woman I have ever seen naked),
and after this affront I was unable to sustain subscription.
As far as I care, pornography is the only viable form of
art in post-industrial world, followed by serial murder,
pop music, computer games and Sci Fi.
Misha.
P. S. The rare example of poetry found in post-industrial world.
Written by genesis p-orridge, (c) 1980.
`Can the world be as sad as it seems' is a line by Charles Manson.
The plot is taken from a short story by William S. Burroughs.
THE OLD MAN SMILED.
Will you die for me?
Do you love me enough to give up your life?
Standing here in the desert
The crumbling city
How much do you love me?
Can the world be as sad as it seems?
At this the old man smiled
Sitting in a cafe in Tangier
Scars running from his wrist to his elbow
Perhaps I'll buy this book today
And I look at the boy with my hand on his thigh
As I move to the bed in the corner
And he started to smile
A plaintive smile of the boy as he lies on the bed
And the old man smiled as his
Prick started to twitch twitch twitch
And little drops felt out of the end onto the floor
And he looked to the side
Wondering what to do with his knowledge
Cold cold water in the bowl by the bed on the floor
23 days and 23 hours of the day
And the old man smiled as the vein swelled and the blood came
As he stuck the needle in his arm
Watching the blood burning and turning in the glass
Wondering where he'd be sitting tomorrow
Wondering which table his person will pass that day
Sitting in a cafe in Tangier
And down to his table came Captain Clark
He'd worked on the ferry for 23 years and a day
Taking the junkies and the babies and the corpses to Spain
Looking at coffins in a line across the water
You sink if you're dead
Cold cold water
And you look up in the sky
A cloud up above
And everyone's equal if it rains on you
And teh old man smiled
And his arm bent as he paid the bill
So I walked round the corner
To a room in the Bowery
And the boy was bent double naked on the floor
Rubbing himself with some kind of cream
And is this all a dream
Look at the blind men
Sitting in a row with white sticks
Takking at the TV screen
And they try to eat us
By the broken bed
They're always mad
And Captain Clark welcomes you aboard
Flight 23 from New York to Mayami
And it crashed in a forest
Burning bodies growing cold
People spewing blood from their faces
Screaming ``Why me?'' ``Why?''
And everyone says I'm mad
And everyone says I'm mad
They always say I'm mad
And I see myself in the gutter and the water
With the water wing gangrene dangling myself
Cos we really want to slaughter
Looking wide-eyed and so confused at the wall
Its gone on so long I wonder just who is here
Cold cold water
Cold cold water
And the old man smiled as he walked back to the cafe
Drinking coffee while his friends just stood around
Can the world be as sad as it seems?
Do you love me?
With my knife against your throat
It could only be me
You would only do this for me
And the old man smiled
Just the same way as before
Slowly getting old arranging his things
Making his business neat and tidy
Sitting in a cafe in Tangier
That's the way the world ends
With a wimper
>From: verbit@coxeter.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian,soc.culture.soviet
Subject: Re: Pri oslablenii - relax (Maninu o poezii)
Date: 8 Aug 1995 03:48:56 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article manin@camelot.rockefel
ler.edu writes:
>Kogda zapor slovesnyi -- nado tuzhit'sya.
>I rezul'tat voznagradit vas za trudy.
>Pust' mal, i trudno vykhodil do uzhasa,
>Zato sukhoi i krepkii, -- bez vody!
>
>On the other hand, maybe it *is* better.
Sure it is. It is f'cking brilliant.
Especially comparing with original.
>o Klinika kinika
>o ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>Eto deshevaya igra slov. Stikhotvorenie vovse ne cinichno v strogom
>smysle slova (one who believes that human conduct is motivated wholly
>by self-interest - cynic).
One who believes that human conduct is motivated wholly
by self-interest is _not_ cynic, at least in the sense
which Diogenus used. Cynic comes from the Greek word for a dog,
and Diogenus (Socrates' student) meant that the perfect person
must never work, must live in a kennel and consume as little as
possible. Diogenus also believed that society constraints are
harmful, and consequently masturbated, had sex and excreted
publicly (never washed either). Diogenus teachings were
accurately followed by the Russian hippie community, so
I (having spent formative years with hippie) feel partial
to the philosophy of cynics.
>o Komu nepriyatna siya metafora,
>o togo tvoren'ya - lish' detskii lepet!
This reminds me an immortal poem by `Goga' Kotlyarevsky
Posvyaschaetsya knyazhne Mari.
[...]
Kto skazhet s sarkazmom,
Seij stih prochitav
"Krasochno pishet, no eto slova"
Tot ne liubil,
Nikogo, Nikogda
Etot paren'- "pustyshka"
I mne ego zhal',
On ne poznal "Liubov'" i "Pechal'"
I loved Kotlyarevsky, but I despise Andreev. The difference is
exactly in their relationship with the subject. Kotlyarevsky gave
himself fully to the `poetry', and Andreev has piled reservations
upon reservations. Just like Mitya wrote previously, one must love
one's subject to produce anything of worth.
Misha.
Zamedlennyi shok, kanavy s vodoi,
Betonnye steny, syraya zemlya,
Zelenye okna, elektricheskii svet
Zaplesnevshi zvuk, raskalennyi asfal't
A mir byl chudesnyi, kak soplya na stene
A gorod byl khoroshii slovno krest na spine,
A den' byl schastlivyi kak slepaya kishka,
A on uvidel solntse... -- GO, 1986
>From: verbit@abel.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian,soc.culture.soviet,alt.satanism
Subject: Re: DISPUTATION (religious)
Date: 2 Sep 1995 04:02:19 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article ,
Alexey V. Andreyev wrote:
>Pavel Afanasiev (afanas@catalyse.univ-lyon1.fr) wrote:
>: In article <426op9$bd3@decaxp.harvard.edu>, verbit@abel.harvard.edu
>: says...
>: > I knew a great number of Satanist hippie/punks in Russia,
>: > and none of them ever spoke of Christianity. They usually
>: > argued that the world is, clearly, ruled by the evil force,
>: What a bullshit this Satanism is.
>Actually, what made me laugh in this Verbitsky's statement is "Satanist
>hippie". It's like if I said: "I knew a great number of guys in Russia whose
>mothers were Japanese, and their fathers were Irish, and they all had the
>same family name - Verbitsky"
Unlike, presumably, Andreev, I lived months upon months
in hippie sites (in 86-89), mostly in Crimea and Caucasus.
The hippie and punks lived in communes, termed
as `The System' (sistema). About 1/3 of those present
were Satanists. They were coached by a number of old
`System' Satanist gurus. The Satanists were quite a
nuisance, actually: e. g., they stole and burned several
Bibles (which were rather treasured and rare in ole SU).
Still, those I knew close were very nice guys, though lied
constantly, but so did the G@#$%&d-fearing `hipy' as well.
Misha.
>From: verbit@abel.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian,soc.culture.soviet
Subject: Satanism of hippie
Date: 5 Sep 1995 23:45:01 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article ,
Alexey V. Andreyev wrote:
>Misha Verbitsky (verbit@abel.harvard.edu) wrote:
>: Unlike, presumably, Andreev, I lived months upon months
>: in hippie sites (in 86-89), mostly in Crimea and Caucasus
>You're right, unlike. I've been to there 1) after 1990 and 2) basically in
>summers. For example, on famous August 19, 19.. I was sitting in Rybach'e,
>Crimea (pretty famous site) and eating pancakes with a nice girl called
>"Oshibka" ("Mistake").
As far as I understand, 1988-89 is considered death of the
`Sistema'. After all shambles left in 1989, I doubt strongly
in 1990 you could witness anything resembling the old-time
hippie community.
>: The hippie and punks lived in communes, termed
>: as `The System' (sistema). About 1/3 of those present
>: were Satanists.
>If you really were there you should have noticed that about 3/4 of
>those people were neither real hippie nor real punks but just poor
>kids who ran from their mamas for a while.
Again, this is true in 1990, but not in 1987.
The `pionery' like yourself and those you describe
were distinct minority untill 1989. I have rarely
met a Soviet punk who did not call himself a Satanist,
by the way. And this includes guys with jail terms,
heavy drug addictions and very characteristic punk
attitude.
>So with the same success
>you can call them "White Brothers", "Clockwork droogs" and so on.
>I believe that there were satanists there BUT satanist-hippie is just
>impossible, it's an oxymoron, or simply a soviet moron.
Sorry to tell you that, but a Soviet moron is you. There
is no such thing as (Western) hippie ideology, and even if
there was, Soviet old-time `Sistema' lived by different
philosophy. In particular, Castaneda reading was considered
silly, and, say, Annensky reading was considered a must.
Culturally, the chief mechanism within creativity of the
Soviet hippie community was `stiob' usually expressed
with wild soc-art creations and even wildest pranks.
Indeed, of all US hippie groups, the Soviet hippie
were the closest to Yippies, with the same para-militant
nonconformism and the same propensity for pranks.
>So what? Damn satanists caught poor kids, maybe lived side by side with
>hippies (like it really is in some sites; I saw) but it doesn't mean they
>were hippies. Just imagine what could be their motto otherwise -
>"Evil & Flowers forever", huh? Or maybe "Evil Flowers"? :)
Again, you are ignorant. Satanism was quite common
among Californian hippies. The most famous (alleged)
Satanist killer (assisted by a whole commune of hippie
gals) was a hippie songwriter (and, as many hippie, a
member of Lavey's Church of Satan) Charles Manson. And
Manson was hardly outcast: his songs were used by Beach
Boys, and he was an extremely popular hippie guru.
This is in US, where more hippie were peaceniks (due
to unwillingness to fight V. C.) than elsewhere. Peacenikisn
is not inherent in hippie philosophy: Yippies (200,000 of
whom came once to DC and used telekinesis to lift Pentagon a
few feet above the ground) were hardly peacenik.
In Europe, the peacenik sloganeering was insignificant.
Same hippies who chanted Hare Rama in US lived in anarchist
communities in France and Germany. Of these many were Satanist
as well (though less than in US, because Satanism is often
a violent reaction to officious religiosity, and there is none
in Europe). For instance, Rolling Stones, also hippie, were
outspoken Satanists. They worked with the occultist filmmaker
Kenneth Anger, put out the Satanic Majesties Request album,
and, employing the Satanist Hell Angels for bodyguards,
allegedly, used them to bring the human sacrifice in Altamount
(Hell Angels killed the black youth on scene during
the song Sympathy to the Devil, and R. S. continued
the concert as nothing happened). Of course, Jimmy Page
(also hippie) was a Satanist too and put ``Hail Satan''
backwards on quite a few Led Zeppelin tracks.
Misha.
"On the eve of his daughter's birth, a whirlwind flared in the darkling
haze of the North, inaugurating vestiginous insurrections against Nature.
A netherworld pageant unfolded in rapid time. Mandragora sprouted from
an unmarked grave; bees with human faces sprinkled pollen over the head
of the slumbering Sodom. The dog collapsed into a violent, unstoppable
bout of sneezing, its whole body convulsing, and died with dark blood
foaming from his snout and penis. These tarns captured the image of the
setting sun; in overwrought crepuscular arcades, cannibal scarecrows
clashed. Ghost-drums hammered in the bleak cornfields. No matter how
many times Philbin cast his dice, they turned up triple six."
-- James Havoc, _Dogstar _Pact.
>From: verbit@abel.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: on iron(y): free sketch
Date: 7 Sep 1995 03:20:29 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article ,
Alexey V. Andreyev wrote:
> Simon Hawkin takes a guess:
>
>: >A vdrug eto byla ironiya? Ya ne pomnyu, kogda AA poslednij raz
>: >pisal chto-libo ironichnoe, no -- vdrug?
>
> ...and die-hard Yulya Fridman replies:
>
>: "Ironiya" -- vryad li. Skoree, prosto zhlobstvo.
>
>
> Sr. Louis Simpson in his "An Introduction to Poetry" among other things
> defines irony: "A rethorical device by which..." and blah-blah-blah. He
> specifies verbal irony,
> dramatic irony,
> irony of situation and
> romanic irony.
>
> It's worth adding some more items, for example "zen irony" from
> A.Andreev's "Philosophy of Selforganization"; though it doesn't matter.
> Anyway, as we see, notorious M-or Verbitsky and M-llya Fridman usually
> use a primitive version of verbal iron-y ("utyugayutsya") having no
> brains for more poetical, multy-stage types.
> But I do wonder, Cema, what YOU mean saing "Ya ne pomnyu, kogda AA
> poslednij raz pisal chto-libo ironichnoe". You're kidding, aren't you?!
> Even entering this group is a special sort of irony!
I think this move should be trademarked by Bill Palmer. who
should promptly sue Andreev for copyright violations. Paraphrasing
Palmer, ``Who has no sense of humour? I have sense of humour!
Every article of mine is full of jokes. Only a man with a
sense of humour can spell the last name Dloutsky as Loutsky.''
As a sidenote, Andreev switched from posting his own verse
to the poems written by his friends. I observe this with
amazement, because I never suspected that one can find
a group of individuals who are all pathetic in the same
way, in such degree which denies credibility. Either
Andreev invented his `friends', or the former capital
far overbreed its quota of idiots.
Misha.
"It isn't the extremists, it's the average people who are killing the
planet. The extremists have always prodded the human beast toward
greatness. You and your middling, unexceptional efforts are chocking the
earth dead at its roots. There are too many normal people. Average pricks
such as you are ruining it for all of us. Because there are so _many_
of you, the Great Average Masses have arrested the species' advancement.
Average DNA reproduces itself geometrically, stuffing every inch of the
earth with ordinary people." -- ``Your zine is the reason the world will
end soon'', by Jim and Debbie Goad (Answer Me, #4)
>From: verbit@abel.harvard.edu (Misha Verbitsky)
Newsgroups: soc.culture.russian,soc.culture.soviet
Subject: Re: razgovor s tarakanom, poem (Re: Grafomany i podrazhateli)
Date: 11 Oct 1995 06:34:06 GMT
Organization: Sozialistisches Patienten Kollektiv
In article ,
Alexey V. Andreyev wrote:
>Igor Pustylnick (bk700@torfree.net) wrote:
>: Chtenie poezii ochen' chasto navodit na mysl': NICHEGO NOVOGO PRIDUMAT'
>: NEL'ZIA - VSE, KTO PISHUT STIHI - PODRAZHALY I GRAPHOMANY.
>
>Interesno, na kakie mysli navodit chtenie programm na C++. V 19 veke ne bylo
>C++, stalo byt', progammiruyuschie na C++ - moguchie tvortsy.
>
>: Ochen'
>: chetkaia mysl'
>
>Ni figa ne chetkaya. Ya ee do six por ponyat' ne mogu, xotya i univer
>zakonchil, i nad teoriej samoorganizatsii v aspiranture rabotal, i stixi
>pishu - blin, kazhdyj raz novye!
You don't understand his thought because by your nature
you cannot access thoughts. You are a graphomaniac, and
hence in the bondage of the language. You are the language
creature: you don't think, except by big chunks of text
you found in somebody's wriiting. Nothing you ever wrote
is in any way new. All you do is self-advertizing. Even
Zak May (with his misguided pride of having penis 8.5
centimeters long) was less audacious. Said
that, I have to add that unlike Andreev, Zak was intelligent,
thorough and wrote excellent articles - and still everybody
hated him because of his tendency to lie about size
of his genitals. Andreev's lies are more blatant. "I stixi
pishu - blin, kazhdyj raz novye!" Well, if this is true
then my clitoris is 8.5 inches.
All Andreev writes is essentially an attempt to
impress the world with the size of his genitals. Well,
some are impressed with 3 cells composing what he demonstrates,
but most puke from the reek of his only dead brain cell
decomposing.
>
> Razgovor s tarakanom
> ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
> Ya stixami ne zhivu,
> ya stixami - zlyus'.
> Vot polzet po rukavu
> tarakan. I pust'.
> Kraj stola - ne kraj zemli.
> Stoj, usatyj v'yun!
> Za stradaniya svoi
> ya tebya ub'yu!
>
> Odolela nischeta,
> ponyal ty, xoluj?
> Deneg, duxa - ni cherta.
> Pryamo xot' voruj!
>
> V obschem, kryl'ya ne dany
> nam s toboj, usach.
> Eti lyudi - kak slony.
> Zhal'. No ty ne plach'!
>
> Ya ujdu - a kto v otvet
> vspomnit obo mne?
> Ot tebya zhe budet sled
> zhirnyj na stene.
>
> Alexey Andreyev
> 1991, Leningrad
Stakan grafomanov.
V dvenadtsat' chasov po nocham,
Lish' polnoch' probiot na chasakh,
Muzhik Sukovatov nesiotsya
Nesiotsya v lichnykh sapogakh.
-- Pomyalovsky, 1867.
Zhil na svete tarakan.
Uvlechionnyi p'yanstvom,
Tarakan popal v stakan
Polnyi grafomanstva.
Ochen' polon sei stakan.
Grafomanam sladko.
Vot nedobryi grafoman
Dostaiot tetradku.
I chitaet grafoman
Sobstvennye teksty
Serdtsem chuyal tarakan:
Eto vivisektor.
Chto za merzostnyi stakan!
Chto za mraz' v stakane!
Dogadalsya tarakan:
Eto grafomany.
Serdtse slovno provalos',
No tesnitsya stado.
Polynebo, poluos'.
Ne prosi, ne nado.
Ne nadeisya, ne prosi,
Ne zhalei, ne ver'
Na kromoi poluosi
Zabludilsya zver'.
No Zeves (*) skhvativ stakan
Vynul iz kapkana
Gnid i melkikh obez'yan.
S nimi - tarakana.
Skoro umer tarakan,
Ot smertel'noi rany.
Esli ty ne grafoman,
Vidish' grafomana. -- Wed Oct 11 02:28:49 EDT 1995
(*) Zeves dolzhenstvuet izobrazhat' prirodu.
Misha.