- Sergey Rosedkin -
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ME LIKES DZHULIJA ROBERTS Glik 6	Glik the sixth The daddy, of course, — it is ridiculous. In it I in the daddy — as here not skalamburit. In it I in daddy, in papahentsiju. Papets mine — an awful pig. It simply cattle — mine fater. It took and has thrown us with mother, hardly-hardly to me has knocked fifteen. Yes, Dzhuliju its ancestor in four years has thrown, and me mine — in fifteen. Only just it is a high time to start to discuss cunningly-podpyorlo when I was going to with it the problems which have ripened by spots — well, there about polljutsii, condoms, onanizm, and to discuss a hang-over and other similar thingummies which is better with the father, if it to you the good friend-friend, — as suddenly my ancestor at first to not which Sleepyhead Eltser has moved-has run away, and then from it together and at all — for ocean, to America. Has exchanged us with mum on parhatuju жидовку* and smelly zabugornuju a life! But, anyway, and spermatozoid daddy on me has allocated-has given in due time, the genes in me has by right of succession programmed, here from here and — the daddy with pictures-cuttings. Once, already before my marriage, we with mother have started exchange of our two-room apartment (Belief Pavlovna has flatly refused to live with us, despite quite equal relations with Anna), here then I and have found out on mezzanines old chemodanishko, almost the fibre. It has appeared, with this suitcase in prehistoric still times my ancestors and prikatili in Rams after the Moscow university: they together studied on filfake, in the same place and have got married, there and narodili me on the second year. Well and here, fater so hasty escaped from us, that has thrown all sacred archive which stored in this student's chemodanishke — three albums with the photos, the used up writing-books, degree job in handicraft cover, a sheaf of letters and, including, the shabby folder with a large inscription on a title — «ALLA PUGACHYOVA» … My god that only in this chubby folder was not! My daddy as the youth mokrogubyj, collected-stored cuttings from magazines and newspapers, concert tickets and aaplets, posters and typewritten copies of the reviews-responses about concerts … It these letters-reviews, probably, dispatched under newspapers-magazines, at least, — from «the Soviet screen» — I in a folder have found out one answer: Respected tov. Nikolaev! Many thanks for attention to our magazine. Should express to you both gratitude for so serious and frank letter. It seemed to me, that you have understood the main thing: the film has called a storm of delights because of occurrence on Alla Pugachyovoj's screen. And it is valid, on a film it is possible to go tens times only to hear the singer, but no more that. The film is empty. And actually, would insert 5-6 more numbers musical, than a little nothing meaning dialogues better. I wish you successes in private life and in study. Yours faithfully The item litsotrudnik department of the Soviet cinema of J.Pavlyonok. Hardly I will comment: first, I now carry a surname materinu, therefore papashinu I open-give out **; secondly, the Woman who sings »which has done is a question, of course, of a picture«, I know, in due time to noise-thunder; thirdly, in a folder it was found out fourteen used tickets in various Moscow cinemas, and all of them, I think, were on this filmets; fifthly, as to you this hilarious wish of successes «in private life» to the person who has already the wife and the child, and itself runs fourteen times on the same foolish film to see the adored singer; well and, at last, it is possible to imagine only, with what delight «tov. Nikolaev» rushed a stallion on floors of a student's hostel and bragged to friends of the answer from «the Soviet cinema». To me the mother told, that at them there, in a hostel, the whole community was, something like club of admirers of Alla Pugachyovoj — one guys, certainly: Gathered also the magician with its songs hours twisted-listened, photos of the singer exchanged, behind tickets for its concerts by turns at the nights stood-stood … Once, the mother told with a snicker, one of these has started to break their family room obshchezhitskuju in three nights cranky "allamanov" and in a voice to cry out through drunk tears: «Sashka, rise! Rise! Alla was lost!.» Our Nikolaev has jumped as cranky, has let in a colleague-sectarian and that, literally sobbing, muffling the we howl my peep (and me was all year ones and a half, and I, certainly, have woken up from drunk bedlam), has told terrible history as their adored Alla exhausted late at night the car in garage, for weariness or with I will sing has knocked down the daughter Christina holding, ostensibly, garage doors, and there and then itself in garage from a grief was hung up on a kapron automobile rope of blue colour … In a word, there such terrible details were, even mother washing has believed and together with these two fools, having forgotten about me, has cried … Yes what there to speak, Alla and really the national favourite then was. But to fall in love with it as in the woman … Here to me that it is not clear! I look at it on a box and otorop a beret. No as the singer it quite still anything — all these Valleys, Allegrovy, Vajkuli and other Ponarovsky, not speaking about younger, like Hlebnikovyh-Varum, to it and in soles of its house bedroom-slippers do not suit. Recently has given out "Madam Broshkinu" and — again on a game. But to fall in love with Alla Borisovnu passionately as in the woman … Even Filja-poprygunchik, its husband-spouse so-called, and that already to represent passion to it not in forces — has exhausted. Because Alla Pugachyova, at all its doubtless singing talent, — the ordinary terrestrial woman. Well not the goddess it, not Venus, not the inhabitant of heaven — here in what zakavyka! I would understand daddy more strongly, if he in Mirej Mate has madly fallen in love or, let us assume, absolutely ohrenel and — in Odri Hepbyorn. Here for Odri I my run away fateru have excused much. And more about my ancestor — to terminate. That he married my mother is I understand. Perfectly I understand. There were two provincials-studiozusa in the stranger it huge capital, near at lectures sat, shoulders incessantly adjoined, about liked «to the Word about shelf Igoreve» vzasos together listened, in a hostel from each other minutes could not have a rest, and did not want — here and soshlis-have coupled, have thought up what live the friend without friends now, probably, cannot. And here still I in an organism of mother objavilsja suddenly-was got not particularly as though whence — whether to condoms minutes of is mad-thoughtless student's love-passion?. I, in any measure, and zhidovku understand the Sleepyhead, well, that it to it and from it has run away. First, Jews in general, speak, women burning and from mind svihnut any muzhik at desire can. Itself did not try, I do not know, but from them and the truth any is painful-raising radiation proceeds, at smell level, whether that, and can, fluids — at our university of these rahilej a pond prudi. Happens, you stand from it, you talk — on business, about serious, — in eyes oil you look, and hardly below a navel unexpectedly shchekotanie also the easy fever along a backbone … suddenly begins And, do not give My God orthodox if its hand touches yours casually or a breast it you will feel, when Rahil this (in the world Lyudmila, Tatyana, as a last resort — the same Sofia or the Rose) will be pulled through your shoulder something in the manuscript of the dissertation or the textbook of methodics about Russian literature to show-specify … And secondly, my Nikolaev not only that from smelly ours rasejskoj poverty was pulled out, lives now in that zazhravshejsja to America, it now quite can also the eyes to see-contemplate as required Dzhuliju Roberts, for lives-lives in that megacity New York, which, on the Internet hearings so I adores Dzhulija … However, that's it, dzhulija washing, so at what here daddy? To it New York, most likely, and without it is good … I am all to my ancestor I can excuse, because I understand. But here understand one I long could not: really he never dreamt about present, of dizzy love? I could not understand it, yet have not dug out in its smelly fibre archive a writing-book with vospominatelnoj the army story. He has had time to serve to University in our valorous Soviet Army. And, in the most heroic armies — a construction battalion. But an essence not in it. There, in the story which and is called "Construction battalion" (too to me — Sergey Kaledin worn-out!), certainly, all this mess already navjazshaja in a teeth about dedovshchinu, obvious imitation pryot under Dostoevsky from it «the Dead house» and under Pomjalovsky, I «bursy» read Sketches, after all — the philologist … However, stop! That it I was sprayed by a saliva? If under the truth the story "Construction battalion" of my Nikolaev forward grafomanu to Kaledin will give hundred points to the same. And, judging by date on last page — 1980 — the father has written the thing much more before it konjunkturshchika "novomirovskogo", yes here anywhere has not published. My old man in general could become the quite good writer if poprobivnee, poevreistee was. I still when at school studied, I remember, read its stories in the regional newspaper and could not to carp at what — its stories liked me. In a suitcase for some reason cuttings have not appeared, and I would re-read that. Whether I even have disturbed mother a question supposedly were saved at it where cuttings with stories of the father? Belief Pavlovna mine has come off Bunin's small volume, through club of a cigarette smoke on me has with astonishment looked (almost all beggarly salary at "Chesterfield" spends!) Also has haughtily explained-has reminded, say, prosaic opuses of its Nikolaev do not interest at all … About the story "Construction battalion" I and to ask did not become: if read — and under tortures will not confess. The manuscript, judging by date Is written-is finished, was already — in Baranove, to me five years was, the marriage and family Nikolaevyh institute cracked, probably, already on all seams, here and has pulled the father on such memoirs. However, that there rassusolivat: I will result a fragment-story about the first love from the story of my father Alexander Nikolaeva "Construction battalion" completely and I will allocate for this purpose separate — following — glik. The right, the story of that costs. ______________________ * Certainly, similar expressions could and be cleaned, but they painfully brightly characterise this absolute still the boy: if its father runs away with the negress, it, possibly, quite often remembered about "nigerov" and pretended to be the racist … ** Ha, an open secret! In the end of the notes the author and a surname of mother will mention time and again. <<<Glik the fifth Glik the seventh>>>
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© Rosedkin Sergey Nikolaevich, 2001
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