Thursday, June 30, 2011

HALF AN HOUR



never had you, nor will I ever have you
I suppose. A few words, an approach
as in the bar yesterday, and nothing more.
It is, undeniably, a pity. But we who serve Art
sometimes with intensity of mind, and of course only
for a short while, we create pleasure
which almost seems real.
So in the bar the day before yesterday -- the merciful alcohol
was also helping much --
I had a perfectly erotic half-hour.

And it seems to me that you understood,
and stayed somewhat longer on purpose
.
This was very necessary. Because for all the imagination and the wizard alcohol,
I needed to see your lips as well,
I needed to have your body close.


desires



Like beautiful bodies of the dead
who had not grown old
And they shut them, with tears, in a Magnificent Mausoleum,
With roses at the head and jasmine at the feet -

This is what Desires resemble that have passed Without fulfillment;
With none of them having achieved
A Night of Sensual Delight, or a bright morning.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

GULAG - Jews in Command by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn



"I love strong opponents! It's such fun to break their backs! said the Leningrad (jewish ) interrogator Shitov. And if your opponent (e.g. your prisoner) is so strong that he refuses to give in, all your methods have failed and you are in a rage? Then, don't control your fury! It's tremendously satisfying, that outburst! Let your anger have its way; don't set any bounds to it. Don't hold yourself back! That's when interrogators spit in the open mouth of the accused! And shove his face into a full toilet! That's the state of mind in which they drag Christian believers around by their hair. Or urinate in a kneeling prisoner's face! After such a storm of fury you feel yourself a real honest-to-God man!"

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
The Gulag Archipelago


"I named the leadership of the GULag in my book, GULag Archipelago. Yes, there was a large proportion of Jews among its command. (Portraits of the directors of construction of the White Sea-Baltic Canal, which I reproduced from the Soviet commemorative corpus of 1936, caused outrage: they claimed that I have selected the Jews only on purpose. But I did not select them, I’ve just reproduced the photographs of all the High Directors of the BelBaltlag [White Sea - Baltic Canal camp administration] from that immortal book. Am I guilty that they had turned out to be Jews? Who had selected them for those posts? Who is guilty?) I will now add information about three prominent men, whom I did not know then. Before the BelBaltlag, one Lazar Kogan worked as the head of the GULag; Zinovy Katsnelson was the deputy head of the GULag from 1934 onward; Izrail Pliner was the head of the GULag from 1936, and later he oversaw the completion of construction of the Moscow-Volga Canal (1937).[54]

It can’t be denied that History elevated many Soviet Jews into the ranks of the arbiters of the fate of all Russians."

Alexander Solshenitsyn from his last book "200 years together" about coexistence of jews and russians in Russia ( a strange topic...)


ps. Pink and Rinkly read this anti - semitic book by Alexander Isaevich Solshenitsyn with disgust.


Monday, June 27, 2011

Блядь 1


Клавдия Ивановна была страшная блядь.


Ещё Клавдия Ивановна часто водила к себе домой мужчин. Ей было всё равно — хоть кто, хоть забулдыга подзаборный, никакой в ней не было гордости.

Приведёт такого, чаю ему нальёт. А он сидит на табуретке, ёрзает: "Может по рюмочке, для куражу?"

Ну, нальёт она ему водочки в хрустальную рюмочку и огурчик порежет. "А вы что же не выпиваете?" — спросит мужчина. "Ах, я и так как пьяная", — отвечает ему Клавдия Ивановна низким голосом, и грудь у неё вздымается. Мужчина прямо водкой поперхнётся и, пока Клавдия Ивановна постель расстилает, залезет он в холодильник и всю остальную бутылку выжрет без закуски. Вернётся Клавдия Ивановна в прозрачном розовом пеньюаре, а мужчина уже лыка не вяжет. Дотащит она его до кровати, он ей всю грудь слюнями измажет и захрапит.

Таких мужчин Клавдия Ивановна рано утром сразу же прогоняла, даже оладушков им не испечёт.

WHY I LOVE NICE JEWISH BOYS




Going to bed with Jewish men is great fun and more than just a mind-fuck. Jews don't have that deep-rooted mixture of fear and revulsion that so many non-jews express towards women. Maybe it's to do with coming from a less misogynistic culture, where religion is passed down through the women. God knows, may be Jewish boys are often stuck on their mothers. So, perhaps they are a little neurotic. But Jewish men like sex! They are good in bed! Without being macho!
And there is a cock thing! Who knows, - may be there is a connection between a big Shnozzle and a long Shlong. But apart from Shlong, there is style! And lets face it, circumcision is definitely a perk. Less premature ejaculation and, of course, no aesthetic worries. A prick with a foreskin looks, frankly , embarrassing. A circumcised penis says, "Yeah, look at me. I am a Shmuck. I'm open to suggestion. You got a problem with that?"
But Jewish sex appeal isn't simply reducible to a flap of skin. The crux seems to be that all-important organ that's getting low in the WASP gene pool; a brain. There is no getting away from it: Jews invented Dialectical Materialism, Psychoanalysis, The Theory of Relativity, Hollywood and Christianity. They've never been shy about being clever. It's the ideas, conversation , opinions that make all Jewish men sexy - not the frozen narcissism or the inarticulate grants of their fellow caveman Wasps (for example).
Jewish guys are brilliant and that's why they are hot!!!
But then again, if you are not Jewish, don't despair! BTW, Tim - you are the sexiest of them all!

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

PROLETARIAT


One thing I am especially pleased with that I managed to catch the "working class" in its truly proletarian stage. Marx would recognize them instantly. They -- or rather "we" -- all lived in communal apartments, four or more people in one room, often with three generations all together, sleeping in shifts, drinking like sharks, brawling with each other or with neighbours in the communal kitchen or in the morning line for the communal john, beating their women with the moribund determination, crying openly when Stalin dropped dead, or at the movies, and cursing with such frequency that a normal word like "airplane", would strike a passer by as something elaborately obscene ....

from Less Then One by Joseph Brodsky

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Sid Vicious to Nancy Spungen - A love letter



Once upon a time, Sid Vicious wrote a love letter to Nancy Spungen.


They'd been waiting to score, having received a wad of dollar - bills - over $1000 in cash -for an upcoming gig. However, no narcotics could be found. Their dealer, Robert, gave them Tuinol, a heavy barbiturate which, mixed with alcohol, caused Vicious's withdrawal symptoms to worsen. At one point, he left the room and began knocking on all the doors of the Chelsea Hotel, screaming for drugs.
Then he crawled back to the room to be confronted by Spungen, equally enraged. She slapped his face, striking the broken nose and causing the the brutish pain to intensify.
Vicious , standing by the table on which a seven-inch knife was placed, reciprocated: one clean lunge at the stomach of his beloved. It was hopeless, stupid and typical of their relationship. Minutes later they embraced, reconciled. Unfortunately, Spungen removed the blade and omitted to cover the wound with a bandage of any sort. She lay down on the bed, while Sid dashed off to keep an appointment at the methadone clinic. When he returned, his beloved Nancy was deceased. She was not yet 21.
Police duly noted that her corpse was already beginning to decompose a mere seven hours after her death
.

For My Father Michael Vigdorchik - Happy Fathers Day




"We rented an apartment right on the edge of the town in the Rue Bonier, a street running off the Avenue d'Orleans not far from the Parc Montsouris. It was a large airy flat, which even had mirrors over the fireplaces – a fixture in all the new houses. There was my mother's room, Maria Ilyinichna's (she had arrived in Paris by this time), our own room and a living room.
 This rather luxurious apartment.." and blah m blah, blah,.. - this is taken from the memoirs of Nadeshda Konstantinovna Krupskaya about Lenin in Paris.
Why am I writing about it? Cuz my mom and dad live in Paris part time and we have a
tradition with my father that is a source of great fun for both of us! Every time I visit them,
we take a walk from our place in 15th all the way to Lenin's house in 14th , stand in front it and
wonder what Vladimir Ylyich's life was like, how he would work in the morning on his philosophy
thesis that he wrote there, have lunch with wife Nadya and run over two doors down to see his
sexy girlfriend Inessa Armand, a fellow revolutionary and a next door neighbour! And after
a quickie there he would get on a bicycle and go for a ride in a nearby Parc Mountsouris..
Needless to say that Dad and I walk to the parc laughing all the way!
So happy Fathers Day to my dear Father and i can't wait to see him and say hello to Lenin again!.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Miss Urania


...Heading the procession of His mistresses was Miss Urania, an American girl with supple figure, sinewy legs, muscles of steel, and arms of iron.
She was one of the most famous acrobats at the circus where he followed her performance night after night.
Little by little, as he watched her, curious fantasies took shape in his mind.The more he admired her suppleness and strength, the more he thought he saw an artificial change of sex operating in her - her mincing movements and feminine affectations became less obtrusive, and in their place there developed the agile, vigorous charms of a male. The exchange of sex between Miss Urania and himself had excited him tremendously. The two of them, so he thought, were made for each other.
And There was also that extravagant delight in self-abasement which (he expected) a commoner like her would show in paying dearly for the caresses of a nobleman.
Finally, one evening, with a little preliminary courting , Miss Urania surrended
But when at last his wishes were granted, he suffered immense and immediate disappointment. He had imagined that the American girl would be as blunt-witted and bruttish as a fairground wrestler,, but he found to his dismay that her stupidity was of a purely feminine order. It is true that she lacked education and refinement, possessed neither wit nor common sense, and behaved with a bestial greed at the table, but at the same time she still displayed all the childish foibles of a woman; she loved tittle-tattle and gewgaws as much as any petty-minded trollop, and it was clear that no transmission of masculin ideas into her feminine person has occurred.
What is more, she was positively puritanical in bed and treated him to none of those rough, athletic caresses he at once desired and dreaded.
And there was nothing he could do but resume the man's part he had momentarily forgotten..

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Himmler's Fortress of Fear



In Central Germany's Alma valley, a striking 17th-century castle overlooks the picture-postcard scenery that stretches in every direction; jutting majestically above green trees and bathed in sunshine, it looks more like something out of Cinderella than a former Nazi headquarters.
And yet the story of Wewelsburg Castle is irretrievably intertwined with the insanity and cruelty at the very heart of the Third Reich. In 1933, SS-Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler, the second most powerful man in Germany, chose the stronghold as the site of a new Nazi Mecca, a place he planned to transform into the very "centre of the world". His efforts to turn this vision into reality would claim the lives of over 1,200 people.
Over the years, Wewelsburg has become a symbol of the alleged Nazi obsession with the occult Some have claimed that Himmler chose the site because it lies on a nexus of 'ley' energies; others have suggested that bizarre rituals were carried out there by cults within the Nazi party. It has even been alleged that the castle's North Tower was such a storehouse of powerful magical energies that all attempts to destroy it at the end of the war were in vain. While the reality is considerably more mundane than some of these outlandish theories would have us believe, it is ultimately no less bizarre. Wewelsburg lies in Westphalia – "the land of Hermann and Widukind", as Himmler himself put it. Himmler had been considering two other sites as centres for the SS, but after viewing Wewelsburg on 3 November 1933, during a tour of the Reich, he made his decision that same night...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Jean-Paul Sartre, In His Own Words (Brace Yourself)

According to just released interviews, the famed existentialist and leftist activist was also a foul-mouthed taker of hard drugs who underestimated Hitler, insulted his French colleagues (and lovers) and praised international terrorism.

John Gerassi, Jean-Paul Sartre’s only official biographer, is one of the lucky few to have spent hundreds of hours in the company of the French philosopher. He recently published a 500-page-book full of interviews conducted between 1970 and 1974. Here are a few excerpts:

Sartre admits that he never felt guilty for anything in his life. He confesses he was depressed in the period before World War II, and that at one point declares that he was followed by crabs in the street — and would talk with them. He also admits that his experience with mescaline and amphetamines exacerbated things. He insults former French President Charles de Gaulle, alternately calling him a “reactionary pimp,” “piece of sh-t,” “pompous jerk,” “monster,” “f-ing bastard,” and “pig.”

Insults are common throughout the interviews. Sartre calls Andre Malraux, the French statesman and award-winning author, a “pig.” His work, says Sartre, was “crap.” The famous French existentialist uses the word “treason” five times to characterize his mother’s second marriage with a much loathed stepfather, a “Gaullist through and through.” Before the fateful day of the marriage, Sartre slept in his mother’s bedroom.

Sartre goes after his longtime companion Simone de Beauvoir as well, saying she lied about him in her Mémoires. De Beauvoir wrote that Sartre escaped from the camp where he was held as a war prisoner, when in fact he was liberated. She also indicated that Sartre published just a single article, in June 1941, in Comoedia, a collaborationist magazine. In reality, Sartre published two articles in Comoedia: the second was a Feb. 5, 1944 funeral tribute to the writer Jean Giraudoux. On Beauvoir, with whom Sartre had a long polyamorous relationship, Sartre says her book about Maoist China, The Long March, was mostly written in the library, from books and articles rather than real-life observations.

As for politics, Sartre claims not to have understood Nazism in 1933, even though he was living in Germany at that time. He says he didn’t vote in 1936 and regarded the parades of the Popular Front with indifference. He says he supported intervention in Spain, as long as he wasn’t asked to participate in a concrete manner. He also supported the 1939 non-aggression pact between the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany, and was apolitical during his stay in the German prisoner camp, where he was non-confrontational but used his docility as a “form of protest.” He says that in 1947 he was not politically active.

Sartre sympathizes with the revolutionary violence of the century, supports the USSR, Eastern Europe, and Maoist China. He minimizes the number of victims of the Cultural Revolution and doubts that it could have provoked such tragedy. He admits having published 18 articles in favor of Castro, and celebrates illegal revolutionary acts and “blood baths” committed in the name of political ideals. In regards to Cuba, he extrapolates a general theory of government through terror: “To succeed, a revolution needs to go all the way. It’s not possible to stop mid-way. The political right will always use terror to block the road, so the revolution must use terror to prevent that.”

He legitimizes and justifies the use of the death penalty for political reasons. He supports the Palestinian terrorist attacks of 1972, saying that, “Palestinians don’t have any other choice, because of a lack of weapons and supporters, than to turn to terrorism…The terrorist act committed in Munich, I once said, was justified on two levels: first, because the Israeli athletes in the Olympic Games were soldiers, and second, because the action was committed for an exchange of prisoners.”

He defends the Baader-Meinhof terrorist gang [the Red Army Faction, as the gang is also known, was a German left-wing terror group most active in the late 1960s and 1970s], saying that, “from a moral and revolutionary point of view, the kidnapping and the deaths of German industrialists committed by the group are absolutely justified.” He adds: “The Baader-Meinhof gang conducted itself well. They never killed a single innocent person. They hunted down vicious pigs within their society, and the American colonels that crawled before them.”

He calls filmmaker Claude Lanzmann, who directed the 1985 movie Shoah, “a good bourgeois” who “sings the praises of Israel” without seeing “what happens to the poor Palestinians, chased from their lands, their houses seized without compensation, their children forced out of school, harassed from morning to night, beaten by foreign armies armed to the teeth. Lanzmann sees Israelis as victims of the Holocaust. For him anyone who criticizes Israeli politics is anti-Semitic. Full stop.”

Sartre legitimizes “revengism” as a basis of popular justice, saying that “the idea of revenge is a moral idea.” He defends the North Korean dictator Kim-Il-sung, and blasts writers Edmond de Goncourt and Gustave Flaubert for not using their influence to criticize the repression of the 1871 French political Commune. “We should have killed them,” says Sartre, who accuses Goncourt and Flaubert of being complicit with the power in Versailles.

Interestingly enough, Sartre fails to mention the fact that he himself did not write against the German occupation. His 1945 text Paris Under the Occupation, in fact, shows more empathy for German officers – amiable enough to have “offered their seat in the metro to old women, they were moved by children to caress their cheeks” – than for the allied pilots who he said put the security of civilians in danger.

Gerassi’s conclusion to the interviews is the following: “Sartre is not only the most important moralist of our century. He is also its most important prophet.” No further comment is needed…

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

THE DIRTY WEEKEND


Discreet, distant and with no chance of soiling the marital sheets - The Dirty Weekend is the acceptable and a favorite stage of adultery and sex .
The logistics of a Dirty Weekend are quite simple: two people, a fun local and tons of sexual indulgence. Copious quantities of it! Oh, And there Has to be the element of Risk involved for it to pass for a genuine article.
Of course, this sort of carnal misbehaving requires a trustworthy partner - you don't want to be dealing with someone who has a discretion of Monika Lewinsky or Kapoostin. Mountain ski resorts like Vail, Aspen or Beaver Creek here in Colorado are doomed to be forever associated with the Dirty Weekend, though the cheap exotic Mexican beaches, Jamaica and even New York have for some time been well within weekend striking distance, if not the budjet.
Anyway, the essential element of risk and subterfuge that define a Dirty Weekend also mean excuses are needed. Getting away for a whole weekend usually demands a lie of epic proportions, and very careful thought. It should be something that will give room to maneuver if discovery is imminent and it should always have a back-up. If you happen to be the newly married English Royal , something like " I am going off to spend some time in a totally inaccessible Scottish Groft" is perfect. But for the regular dude - the most common excuse is - a weekend away with the boys ( fishing, skiing, hiking ) or business.
Once that hurdle is over - the Arena must be selected.
The grander the better. Room service is essential and a good view also sets the mood. I openly admit that a sight of strange double bed and a window full of mountain scenery does dramatic things to my romantic disposition. ..And then...and then comes the best part and what takes place is only up to the two of you, regardless of whether it takes place in a room with or without mirrored ceilings, sunken baths, Champagne or other accoutrements of sensual pleasure.
Carefull not to get greedy, cus The Dirty Weekend can give way to the Dirty Week, then The dirty Month and on and on till you've been away for a week-long "conference", a "seminar" even 'Summer long seminar"- all things that become impossible to explain to family. Keep it short, so that the only remnant of it is a smile on the face of two people - the two of you, and the memory of over-worked mucous membranes.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Salon Otto Dix


The Salon, 1921
Otto Dix

Марина коснулась мизинцем влажного блестящего кончика, сняв с него липкую прозрачную каплю.

Где-то в глубине Валентина ожил на короткое время приглушенный гобой. Валентин громко выпустил газы:

— Pardon...

— Хам... — тихо засмеялась Марина, отводя упавшую на лицо прядь.

— L’homme est faible...

— Не понятно, для кого ты это говоришь?

— Для истории.