Ноя
11

Безымянный 122444




  • Let’s coffee in Lviv!

  • I have a dream


  • This time it was real deal – two and half days en route. And somehow it didn’t cost me much – about 20 euro for return ticket and only 1 euro for food. Hell yeah – the local prices are definitely affordable. I could even settle there, but the city has a problem with a water supply system. And hey – haven’t I told a name of the city yet? – It was Lviv or Lemberg of as locals call it – Banderstadt. The latter consists of two words – a surname and a German word stadt, which means city. The trip being very long and tiresome some way, I decided to take along a volume of novels by Stevenson. For I had this book half read long ago, and now, concerning this distant journey, I thought it would be a nice chance to finish it. So, there were a few novels and the one, which impressed me enough – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. While reading you just can’t link together all the odd events, but the author, as always, brings some clarification during the narration. And this stuff strongly reminded me that one of Wilde and his Picture of Dorian Gray, for the main problem, I guess, lies in the same subject – duplicity of a human nature and his actions as well as the duplicity and hypocrisy of the society. The moral and mental suffering and anguish of the main hero are just as resemble as of Dorian Gray, but I found the description by Stevenson more complete and penetrating into the very angles and corners of the human soul. And of course I liked his style of writing, and his gift to make a genuine detective story out of nothing, for you really become involved and experience and worry about someone’s destiny and fate. So as long as Stevenson goes here and there, to and fro, never touching and approaching the major plot itself, never showing a single hint or allusion to give you any sort of a clue, therefore he leaves it up to you to ponder and ruminate on the occasions to happen. Now I would like to quote one dialogue from this book, which took place between Laurence Sterne and some young chap. Here it is:
    “Sir,” he said, marching up to the table, ”I do not like your face.”
    “That is a pity,” said Mr. Sterne,” for I like yours.”
    “I perceive you set up to be a wit,” said the young man.
    “No, sir. Only a Christian,” said Mr. Sterne.
    “You cannot pretend to make any pleasure in this dinner,” said the student, changing his ground. “Come, be done, be done with it, and do not keep me waiting.”
    “Whence is your hurry?” inquired the parson.
    “Because when you are done, I presume you will say grace; and I have a curiosity to hear you canting.”
    Mr. Sterne instantly laid down his knife and fork, and stood up with a reverent demeanor.
    “Lord,” said he, “look down upon thy two poor creatures, met here together in the worst inn (among all thy various works) that I can ever remember to have visited; and grant, Lord, unto each, that of which he stands so much in need – to me, digestion; to him, manners.”
    Genuinely fun story this one is. To be frank, I read it a few times before understanding the humor itself and the witticism of Mr. Sterne. I presume him to have been a nice lad in the first place.
    But let’s return to our days. As I travelled barely through a half of the country, the level of purity and correctness of Ukrainian language went up gradually from my progression from the east to the west. So, since the poor Ukrainian is a cause and a reason for a severe butthurt of mine, I scarcely kept myself from slapping all those brutal bastards, who were ignorant of their fucking native language. And here does a surprise part come in – I personally know this language, but I come from a Russian speaking region and my poor Ukrainian can be forgiven in case of any mistake, but when you, silly pricks, who usually dwell in the Ukrainian speaking regions not even should – you are fucking obliged to say it right. When you fail, I just sit and wonder why, ‘cause there could not be any reasonable explanation to that shit. Nevertheless, I proceed from my inner hate to more amiable themes. At least we are united and must be as a unit, “one nation under the God.” So one more shit I could never stand – this obsession to eat, gorge and devour all the fucking food, which was taken along, while travelling by train. It’s a special feature only concerning to railway. You won’t ever see these goofy people chucking their meal on a plane or on the ship. Well, that was an old fuck, who observed that tradition rigidly once more. Hardly had I entered my reserved seat, I caught this smells and fumes of fried chicken, boiled eggs, every other bullshit. You know, separately all these foods do not make me vomit or something like that, but in the mixture I just go barely insane and crazy of that shit. And fuck yeah – he was eating all that with a great pleasure marked on his countenance, chewing every bit and slice, swallowing it carefully. God, damn it, I get pissed off. But you must somehow put up with that. So did I. 

    The next morning I woke up as usual somewhere at six p.m. For there was much time left till the arrival to Lviv, I set to reading a story by Stevenson - “The Raja’s Diamond”. I must admit it was a nice one – very vivacious, moving, holding breath story, not so complicated and sophisticated as A Strange Case… And what stands out more in this work – a sense of humor. Yeah, I dearly and cordially laughed at all the adventures of that poor young man, who had become a victim of some one else’s fraud plot. This writer definitely has a good humor. So I finished that stuff pretty fast and still there was whole lot more time to spend and I started staring into the window as if struck in stupidity. For I really got nothing to do, shit. Once my father called, I talked to him about the matches of that day. Then other passenger inquired if I was going for football to Lviv. So we filled a few extra hours with our half pointless conversation. Being approaching the city, he began to conduct me the local places and explaining some things concerning the city. Having been passing Ternopol region, I noticed multiple traces of a recent flood: here and there the level of water reached a reasonably high mark. And of course, these landscapes – pure Taiga, so you can admire the scene consisting of hills and trees, somewhere mixed with pines, but not often.
    Now change a pace a little. Let’s talk about xenophobia and its nature. I headed towards this trip being very inspirited – thought I would deal with those people lightly and without any troubles. But it turned out to be a hard one to do. And I failed for once I heard that replica in their dialect, my hate boiled to such a degree, that I can’t even describe it. Nor could I describe and analyze its nature and any preconditions to it. I simply became hatred about that man and that’s all – no reasons, no prejudices, no causes. And having taken it into account, laying on a bed, I concluded xenophobia to be a reflex, a reaction given and put in us from the very moment of birth. Shit, I genuinely regretted that I could neither love nor respect, or even just reconcile with the presence of such citizens in our country like him. And hey – this hate wears more inexplicable air, for I had no practical reasons for those feelings – he neither offended nor hurt me in any way, he even didn’t acted defiantly or something like that – simple chap, but a one concern for me – HE’S FUCKING UGLY SPEAKING. And I can not really make it or figure it out. Anyway, I think he is not less embarrassed, when he travels in our regions. Nor he hates less, than I did that day. Damn, and these pricks honestly believe in uniting this country – what a kind of simple minded morons they must be to think so. Ahh, maybe I’ve come up here with an idea – send teenagers from the eastern regions to the camps, located in the West, and perhaps it’s gonna balance all the situation with this mutual hostility, which festers in our folks. And hell yeah – kids have more chances to get on with each other, than these stupid adults. I evidently profess this idea and hope for the best. But hey – am I fucking dreaming or what else? – these faggoty politics simply aren’t interested in a health and peaceful society and public. It’s not profitable, for who’s gonna vote for them in case there is no confrontation in the nation and our folk does not vote “against” instead of “for”. Dull prospect it is indeed – going down and deeper with every passed year. Nevertheless, we’ll be hoping for better anyway.
    Thus having arrived, I just took a tram right to the center, which is called Market Square, or Ploshya Riynok. It is very common for every nowadays and former European cities to have these squares. As I know, there is one in Berlin – Marketplatz. In the tram I saw a bunch o’ lads on a fearful countenance indeed. Then I got to know that they had been our supporters from Rivne – city located not far from Lviv and belonged to the western region. So respect to them as well. One confusion to go – I was pretty mush surprised about those punchers instead of conductors.















  • Let’s coffee in Lviv!

  • I have a dream



  • Социальные сети

    Рубрики

    Последние записи