Confession… A fairy tale in the style of sentimental cynicism - Evgeniy Limanskiy

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out of my creativity. Sure, I am pleased to hear that, like any author, but I do not believe her. At least because from my life experience you cannot just unexpectedly start to do something well, and even more so, create something outstanding. However, one thing of course is true; she can see the main and summarize it for you. In my case this is that there is an entertaining text (we use this epithet in order not completely belittle the results of my work, by the way, it is also her merit) but it lacks of the very smallest, the main idea. And without the idea, the most talented text becomes just chatter. Before that, it seemed to me that the main idea I just had. My main character is an outstanding person and worthy that to tell people about her and at the same time to prove her uniqueness. However, it turns out that so far I have not been convincing enough that the main idea just automatically arises from reading the text. Well, I will try to prove it through a super idea.

      To give myself confidence in what I am saying, I will give you a small example that I came across, listening to the radio presentation by the venerable musician and rock theorist of the best hits in the female performance in the whole history. Moreover, I apologize in advance, if to some snob from the culture this example will seem too simple and uncomplicated, and as frivolous for subsequent global conclusions. I proceed from my cultural level. In the first place of this hit parade there was the legendary hit Janice Joplin “Piece of My Heart”. I agree 100%, but this hit does not bother me enough to be covered with goose bumps. However, the hit of Suzy Quatro in a duet with Chris Norman “Stumblin’ In”, which was in third place, first time hooked me more than forty years ago, and still I listen it with delight and ecstasy and always at the top of loudness. What follows from this? The understanding of the masterpiece manifests not at the notional but on the sensory level. Moreover, it is just highest emotions that are the criterion in choosing the best. That is, the best is determined not by the aggregate and quantity of complex passages or by the breadth of the vocal range, which undoubtedly also matters, but whether your body would be covered with goose bumps from the appearance of harmony between your inner tuning fork and the external, in this case, musical impact. It is an infinite set of such sensual preferences in the aggregate, that creates the phenomenon of a masterpiece. The hit that conquered me in my youth is not the first, but it is in the top. That is, my sensual choice corresponds to global recognition and preference. But whether it is the first or third place, it does not matter. In any case, it is in the top. Means, I am able to distinguish on the sensory level something outstanding from mediocrity, and not by reasoning and inferences, but namely at the sensory level.

      From this musical excursus, we will proceed immediately to the proof of the correctness of my choice in case and personality described by me. This proof I would call “Ode to Death.” When the whole story ended and I found myself in the post state in which I found myself, I understood the main and very simple thing. I am not already so interested in anything in this life. How would it be more convincing to say? I have not seen London Tower and Taj Mahal, I did not hear in live Paganini and Horowitz, perhaps I did not try some masterpieces of culinary or winemaking art. Even drugs I have not tried so much to fall into the drug mist irrevocably. I have not seen, or heard, or felt yet much of something in this life that it was supposed to “demolish my roof” and make me a complete apologist for this someone or something. Sorry, I confess there is a small remark. When I was already in these post-conditions, I heard from Vladimir Pozner in his broadcast a short story about how he visited Cape Horn. And the miracle happened, I was hooked. Suddenly I passionately wanted to see this beauty, feel the powerful breath of the ocean, see the frolicking penguins and breathe in the sea breeze. This desire, however, quickly passed, but it was. And this means two things at once, first, of course, the magic power of the word, in this case of a famous journalist, and secondly, the fact that I have not yet died (in all senses). But, continuing the interrupted thought, I want to say that I experienced the highest pleasure and happiness in this life. Pleasure is so highest that the sense of its exclusivity cannot be exceeded already by anything in this world. It is sex. The first thing I hear in response, do not confuse the sour with the fresh, and the second, do not try to discover America again. But I did it, I mean I discovered America again, because, I am not talking about sex in general, namely, about sex with my heroine. And I say this because I have an experiment with about six hundred sex cases and I can say that this is one of the highest achievements in this field. Again, I foresee an objection in the form of the fact that for a particular male, the experience in six hundred sexual cases is a lot, but from the point of view of global conclusions is negligible. But let us return to the example with the hits in female rock, which I spoke at the very beginning, and at once in two aspects. Aspect the first. At the age of nineteen, when I first heard the song of Suzy Quatro, I was not an advanced music lover, and I heard and understood not much in rock, but that did not stop me to get to the point with my inner tuning fork and feeling. Aspect the second. With my conclusion, I do not claim the truth in the last resort and do not define my heroine as an absolute maximum. I just want to say that she is in sex, as well as Suzy Quatro in rock, is in the top. It is objectivity, and then subjectivity begins. It turns out that objectivity is a combination or coincidence of many subjectivities. Incidentally here again we turn to the classic example of Cleopatra, as an undeniable example of sexual talent. The first confirmation is the abundance of fans and applicants, on the principle of “the people’s path to it (in this case to the body) will never overgrow”. And the second is the amount of payment for the opportunity to come into contact with sexual talent, human life is neither more nor less.

      In spite of my claim to objectivity, I am only a man with my own subjective conjectures. Moreover, even in my experiment, I find an example that I put above my heroine because of some objective sexual parameters. And I am grateful to this girl; we will call her Carina, who was able to sober up my insanity for a while. However, here the subjective presence or absence of goosebumps or their intensity comes into force, as in the case of Janis Joplin and Suzy Quatro.

      I have also understood that you could live all the lifetime, but not to feel the goose bumps, that is, such a dull, monotonous life without the goosebumps. Quite simple examples, I tried lime the first time not so long approximately ten years ago, and now I use them only, since then to eat lemons for me, it’s like chewing paper. But if I had not tried it, so I continued thinking that tea should be drunk with lemon. Or one more example, it seems on Bali, I do not remember exactly, I tasted coffee, passed through civet cat, and after that a few days I could not drink just coffee, it seemed to me a tasteless slop. Then, however, I got used again, but I had felt the highest taste.

      And here we actually go directly to Ode to Death.

      Not so long ago and already in the post period, I suddenly clearly realized that I was not at all afraid of death, that was I was ready to die at any moment and, moreover, it would be interesting to me. No, the word “interesting” here is not exactly appropriate. I will digress for a minute, and while I think about what the word approaches more than “interesting”.

      I, in my time, having picked up fragmentary data on some religious currents and theories of the Universe, had begot my own theory. Again, I apologize for my ignorance, that I might ascribe somebody’s theory to myself. On earth, there are, apparently, especially for us, the people, a vivid example of my theory. These are caterpillars and butterflies. For completeness, you also need an undeniable acceptance of the postulate of the existence of the soul. In general, by the will of someone Higher, we, people, are just caterpillars. We live in this world, overwhelmed by caterpillar’s passions and wishes. But sooner or later, there comes a time when the caterpillar fully fulfills its function and dies. As a result, a butterfly is born, that is, a soul that will exist in another dimension and with absolutely other goals. However, the cunning and paradox lies in the fact that this very soul develops in the caterpillar, and soul perfection depends entirely on the caterpillar in which it develops. In passing, I will say that I (I do not know which word to pick up, I will say softer) do not completely share our usual tragic grief in the case of a close person’s withdrawal. I will say, perhaps, a blasphemous

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