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райбан
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Post by райбан » Sun Dec 30, 2018 18:04

"Ungur"
что нибудь

... The yellow dim light of the room brought a lamp, illuminating the Desk with the keyboard in the deepening night.
Found the website and started the show the voice stream, so the results of the competition. Not so long ago sent to this contest for a short story, in hope to take any prize place among novice writers.
— By results of jury voting in the first place of our chart came out Victoria Paradise, with its new conception of the book — "the orgasm", written in the genre of the female detective. Follow her on instagram, do repost, and the first ten people will receive a hot copy of the book autographed by the author. And now, dear listeners, the broadcast is triggered by recording the first two just written chapters of this novel...
Okay, let's hear what it is so good, this book and author, I was a little sad that my work is unremarkable.
Put on the headphones, switching the main audio from the speakers on them.
Missed the start line, and the entry yet tinkered with the sound, and then the story captured me and I forgot everything.
The author wrote bright and juicy, nice easy style, relaxed there, there by creating expressive images of the characters, a twisted description of the action was pouring fresh river from the headphones.
Living language she, Victoria, was again and again described the explicit scenes, not hesitating, not being afraid to slip into vulgarity, and, nevertheless, avoiding sharp corners is too much of naturalism.
It was magical and fascinating, it was not clear how she reached to this depth and convexity of the characters of a detective, immersing readers (listeners) in the jungle of all relationships.
It is completely without the annoying flashbacks, no long remarks, so now it is fashionable adopted in the literary environment.
It's cool, just very cool.
Never captured written text, almost no one.
That was... that was very sad for me.
After all, can not at all desire to create such an ingenious thing.
I began to envy black envy.
The story itself was not new, and is almost beaten in every way, the usual female nonsense, but what is the presentation of the material was incredible, forcing to forget about over time.
He stretched with pleasure, flexing seacsea body to the crunch.
The speaker is a man, as I felt, and he was fascinated by the process, expressing emotions, reading chapters
The writer skillfully filed the description of the scenery, play on words and mental images, shone with subtle humour and mind in the twists and turns of the plot, noticing the fine details and nuances in the dynamics of the characters, especially in its dialogues.
She did it as if she was a witness present in the scene.
The recording heads over there said goodbye and said that the next day will be definitely a sequel, and unfortunately I took off the headphones.
The window is already dawn, the dusk faded to daytime hours.
Gotta eat a Breakfast, are you hungry, I wanted to eat.
But to the tea house, there was nothing and the fridge is completely empty, but it was not planned to fill it to capacity.
I have quite a bit of food, because two days to leave.
But you should eat these days as it is necessary, and Mats to get something made of meat. After the crisis at the hospital where I was pumped out by a cardiologist, perhaps making artificial respiration, was taken by ambulance to the hospital.
There is almost a day spent in intensive care under different IVS.
Then released, rather say, I firmly insisted on his liberation from the sterile walls of the hospital, signing the papers on the understanding of the process of removing any responsibility from doctors.
And here again, complete freedom of action.
When I heard the verdict of the cardiologist, to live a little, something changed in me, I don't know, I wanted to leave something behind.
And at that time took to writing texts.
First small and clumsy. Then became involved, along with running at night.
Running helped not to think, and to think about something important to me, for all the living. Came home and hastily recorded before the work of thought in the letters. The letter was in the files.
I had to go to the nearest supermarket for groceries.
The store was completely filled with people, buy different things for the new year.
Around the trading hall scurried concerned citizens, purchasing supplies complete trucks in their bottomless storage to the festivities.
Someone shouted loudly and joyfully over the hall — "happy new year" — somehow familiar, and swept nimble zip around, quickly hiding in the crowd buyers.
From the speakers blasting the whole store with the melody sounded bored song girls Shooter:
"... And the fireworks soar into the sky, approaching us a fabulous holiday."
Yeah, so in a fairy tale who tale, and who from the hole of the carrot.
After the entrance once housed trays of fruit.
And, too, must have thought at least a little in the fridge, pulling out an empty shopping cart from the stack.
Wow — and the mandarins are, and not as expensive, tore off a couple of bags, pastrevys uncomfortable cart for a set of oranges in a bag.
Unremarkable woman, a little ahead of me, while pondering how and where to recruit, became close to me, too quickly to choose fruit that its taste was better.
— I will not say hard whether mandarins?— asked an elderly woman approached the ranks.
— No, at the time, and, forgetting where I was, was something to speak aloud, in spite of the buyers.
"The orange balls fresh–colored tangerines lying full in a crystal vase gave off a festive mood..."
Quoting under the impression night vigil a few lines from a detective story.
— What is novel?— they heard under the ear of the young female voice.
— What?... Excuse me?
— And you my words from the new novel reproduced... explained next choose the tangerine woman, and the voice did not match her appearance colorless and inconspicuous clothes consisting of a black jacket similar to work jacket, thick tights and dark training cap, stretched before the eye, from under which did everything short flowing locks of blonde hair.
— Aah, this is... awkwardly repeated,— from the novel, a new work.
Ah Yes, now wait a minute, you are the same one...
Yes, probably the same.
"I see," and I was more looking at a random interviewee, in a random shop.
It became clear, why not pay attention to it, too ordinary and grey mouse. She suddenly raised her pale tired face from a pack of tangerines with a kind of childlike, somehow guilty at the same time mockingly looked at me grey bloodshot eyes.
Yes, eyes; they had something so secret knowledge and with a certain sadness, his eyes stood out from the General appearance, is a young and quite pretty girl, outlined with bluish circles, usually occurring from crying or from something unhealthy. (who knows, maybe kids, a job, a smashing husband)
Probably more from exhaustion and from lack of sleep at night, but not ridiculous clothes gave her youth.
She turned and went on, searching among the products.
In the bewilderment remained standing, not knowing what to do.
I could not believe my ears and eyes that met the genius in reality.
How so? why?— because it is the most common, walks among us, and something — something still not understood apparently in our lives.
She went far from me, choosing to at home from vegetables.
He followed her, stood next.
— And what will be the novel— repeated to her the same question.
I do not know. What happens, finally she chose a few fresh cucumbers, probably on salads Olivier, carelessly throwing them in the trash.
I don't like. And what will be the end, how to end the isolation?
I do not know. I think to do the kind of "Dorian gray". If you've read it, and you like the idea?
Yeah it sucks, quite suitable for tabloid fiction: the villains will be punished, and justice will prevail, as always. By the way, also I write sometimes. Recently started.
Boasted out of place, and then the tangerines she had bright clumps fell apart in the basket. She was confused, so I awkward.
— Do not worry, let me help.
— I congratulate you, then we are colleagues.
— Yeah, but not colleagues and competitors. I envy you — you write better. But not for long, tried to bite her harder.
From the speakers all sounded, or it was incorporated a second time in a row, a long song with a chorus about the story and the new year and what they are together:
"... We are next to a noisy table, today we are together, we are together, together, together..."
With whom?... with me or something, and what am I going to be happy until blue in the face?!
Will they be with me when the time comes, and at least morally.
Fuck it all, all the shit on you and everyone, just so the stupid songs they sing about "together".
I kept the basket, and Victoria was collected the scattered tangerines.
And why say that? You evil, person.
— There will be evil, if you soon must die.
She whispered very quietly, barely audible, squeezing his hand one last tangerine:
— I want to be in your place...
And how much is left,— and loudly asked, interested me.
— You live?
How to get: maybe a week, maybe two.
— It is a pity that we have not met before. I would write a novel about you .. and want to put the novel story, and the ending of another up? Want, it is possible to write your prototype?
— Why do you need? Th, inspiration is not enough?
— Yes, not enough! — she replied sharply, taking my game to "good and bad". Tightly tied bag of tangerines, looked at me, again confused, and apologetically added:
So, can I?
— And before you wrote? Is also spying on the heroes?
— No, worked out, from the head climbed. And now is not, and I don't know what to say in justification of her readers, she explained, finally stushevalas, and cringed like a whipped puppy husband rowdy.
Yes, I jumped again at the girl, turned against the entire female gender?! Why? and:
— Sorry, I really don't know how to help you, there's no time, leave in two days — far and forever.
She cringed even more.
Here I do not know how to behave with women, and do not learn.
Sorry, how to help — speak?
Whatever happened next, and our history better than death on a sandy beach. I was sweating from the heat of air conditioners, cold sweat oozing vengeance on the back. She was silent. Something thinking.
— Went on the road talk— offered it to her.
And this? Tangerines. Cucumbers.
— Yes throw. Then buy if that.
Setting an example, put the basket on the floor, and she too.
Passing through the fan exit, turned around and looked at them.
They also stray were.
These two lonely basket, among all the Christmas decorations.
As we are: an unexpected companion, her counterpart.
<

райбан
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Post by райбан » Sun Dec 30, 2018 18:07

Rel, don't you think it's "shaman games" is for wimps.
why admins can't make the rules for spoiler text?..

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Post by райбан » Sun Dec 30, 2018 19:41

Again, the rate of survival; the island of China, Hainan.
Money — the bare minimum. Only noodles and water.
To live in a tent, it was warm there and monkey around, or as necessary, quite on the streets.
Taxi to hell, he comes to the place of arrival.
Where is he?— this Sun City of the Enlightened Buddha, where everyone is happy, or I have to work six days, personally build for myself.
Settle your residents: streets, houses, restaurants, bridges, intersections, hotels, beaches, pools.
And again, the streets, the houses, the slums.
Ahh — I just yell what?
how am I going to survive there without anything?
and not knowing the language?
On the fingers or something.

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Post by райбан » Sun Dec 30, 2018 21:44

"Ungur"

[spoiler] whatever it is on, and the history of our death is better on the sandy beach. I was sweating from the heat of air conditioners, cold sweat oozing vengeance on the back. She was silent. Something thinking.
— Went on the road talk— offered it to her.
And this? Tangerines. Cucumbers.
— Yes throw. Then buy if that.
Setting an example, put the basket on the floor, and she too.
Passing through the fan exit, turned around and looked at them.
They also stray were.
These two lonely basket, among all the Christmas decorations.
As we are: an unexpected companion, her counterpart.
"... She cries and tells the new guy about his grief.
— And then what?
— And then the guy Fucks her real good.
Just fucking fry cook on his great shit size as the last bitch.
And all...
All that she was a bit well, and she was able to forget it...."
I told Vic the new scheme of the plot, was divided, so to speak, their experience on the road. On the way, and for urgent cases.
The Story Of Victoria.
Young woman with a degree, works at a scientific Institute.
It it is developing a new generation device that will allow you to heal female diseases, respectively intended for the fairer sex.
The first sample unit that is already assembled, begin testing on volunteers, that is on the girls.
And there is a side effect, more precisely, the device itself was not working as it was intended.
When a device is switched on, it emits radiation, and the girl suddenly gets an orgasm, besides, loses his head in only men.
Passes the second test, the third, the sixth... the effect repeats itself: experimental women fall into emotional and go crazy at the sight of the male technicians.
If they were under the influence of a potent aphrodisiac.
Suddenly the device suddenly disappears, start searching for him.
Then they start to be numerous corpses known as dead girls who were tested.
Under suspicion all the technicians and laboratory assistant, chief of the Institute, his unfaithful wife, the mistress of the chief, the chief's driver, the mistress of the driver, or academic...
You'll find out in a new detective Victoria Paradise.
Yes, all men dream, in principle, to get a fictional device in their hands: once turned on, directed radiation, and can sleep with any beautiful woman, even the most impregnable special, without any courtship, with a perfect result.
This in General stuff, not worse, "Ustinov".
And I needed to go to a travel Agency, there to finish the last problem.
To dot the "I".
To pay money for the voyage, to speak to Leah on the souls and the excuse is to give her things. The conversation we came quickly. Here it is again, "life Tour".
— Come on something.
I knew she relentlessly goes after and records my steps.
All my actions, on tape or in the mind.
I don't care. Even so, I don't know, how it to describe it.
What are the slippery steps here. I thought. Climbing to the top.
We are all here by mistake anyway.
And what is the meaning of all this.
Strange people.
Say that there is no magic, and they don't trust.
And when you show something they don't believe.
Life itself is Magic and Philosophy, which more than any and everything.
Probably for most people, life is too good thing.
And thinking about it pushed the office door.
Hello. You something to help?— ran over a young girl.
— Hello. You with the upcoming. And I have Lily to see...
— I do not know such employee, sorry, I'm new here. Let's ask a senior Manager, but she's busy right now. Wait a bit, she gestured at the armchairs.
Well wait. Sat down with Vic. She said
— Who is LILY?
— Just one chick.
— Don't lie to me, you love her.
— So what. I hurt her, and we parted. This is the end of my "love tour".
— Look, it's so important?! For you...
— When it doesn't matter. Not striving or effort.
However, no matter...— my face twitched with a nervous spasm, I wanted to cry from frustration.
— Stop a tantrum.
Wanted to pain, to horror, to once again sounded the same tune as last night.
— Do you have any French pop music?
— Like there, Vic started to delve into the phone— Yes they are...
Put on the track the song Dalida, of their past love.
She also knew about love and burned her at the time.
And the song was beautiful and sad.
— Listen — I care about you, your destiny.
— You don't understand. I'm tired of everything.
Little dark girl in a simple blouse, the vacant senior Manager from the client a solid man, came up to us:
Hello. You seem to Lilies? — I'm aware of. Your documents are ready. Will pay for the tour?
— Where is she?
— She was transferred to another office.
— Translated, or translated? Can phone to give?
— We are not obliged to disclose the details, and with the phone, I think it's a bad idea.
— Okay. Let's going to pay.
Okay. Here sit down. Here is your contract for the services of a travel Agency, your passport with visa.
What are you going to be sorry, moved to the client's place, began to get the wallet out of his pocket, counting the required amount on the table, and said:
— How much will that be?
— You have thirty-nine, five hundred rubles.
— Here, take it.
The Manager counted the money:
— Yes, all right. Now you airline tickets, a voucher for a tour — take it. This is the copy you made free. I recommend to bring a few dollars for food and shopping. On arrival in Phoenix airport of Sanya city, right there exchanged them for yuan at the exchange rate.
In addition, you enter share, free medical examination of the heart. Here you go, read this training manual.
— It is clear. Thanks for the advice and the action "doctors without borders".
— And thank you. Have a good trip.
I was carrying a bag of stuff left by Lily.
— Ah, Yes, here give her. In the case of.
— Okay, I will. Is that all? Do you need anything? Hello there...
— No, I guess that's all, and no greetings. Just tell her...
Put all the papers into the folder. Turned to Vic:
— Well, let's go?
When we left the office, she began questioning him, that have imposed on my sick little head another concern:
— Well, what did you do?
— What?
— You could pass something: a letter, a note of apology.
— Unless it would change Everything?!...
— Could try, anyway...
— Not in this life, Vic.
Bitch life presses and squeezes in a steel embrace, he was ready to suffocate by asphyxiation, compares with a bulldozer in the ground.
In my place not that "hard to live", generally God forbid anyone in the world.
Kolokoltsev bells struck a menacing alarm bell tower near the Church. Maybe this God will help, will save me from death.
Although it is unlikely. And don't worry, we all find ourselves in hell.
— you go — there you go. All! no questions without permission.
— where are we going?
— Yes hell knows. Where does that go nowhere .
Such a quest: to find something, like catching pokémon in red square.
— Listen, and come to the Bank, I nodded at logo banking company which owned a quarter of the world their on a tall building.
The night flowed with the headlights of cars blinding beam bystanders.
[/spoiler]<

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Post by rel » Mon Dec 31, 2018 4:28

райбан wrote:
Sun Dec 30, 2018 19:41
City of the Sun Enlightened Buddha, where everyone is happy
OOO..! sorrect)) Well, there's Balance in the Universe to be)
at that time, as traitors to this russsky Letters, everywhere it is not-to-spisyvayut,
there are those who keep the world from collapse, excessive E-tion) :ay
райбан wrote:
Sun Dec 30, 2018 18:07
Rel, don't you think it's "shaman games" is for wimps.
why admins can't make the rules for spoiler text?..
Well, here at the onion with garlic, if you look, more suitable for the weak: to complain, to point fingers, ask someone make shtoto instead shtop itself, non-rigid, able to change the airspace.. ;)

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Post by райбан » Mon Dec 31, 2018 17:10

"Ungur"

When we left the office, she began questioning him, that have imposed on my sick little head another concern:
— Well, what did you do?
— What?
— You could pass something: a letter, a note of apology.
— Unless it would change Everything?!...
— Could try, anyway...
— Not in this life, Vic.
Bitch life presses and squeezes in a steel embrace, he was ready to suffocate by asphyxiation, compares with a bulldozer in the ground.
In my place not that "hard to live", generally God forbid anyone in the world.
Kolokoltsev bells struck a menacing alarm bell tower near the Church. Maybe this God will help, will save me from death.
Although it is unlikely. And don't worry, we all find ourselves in hell.
— you go — there you go. All! no questions without permission.
— where are we going?
— Yes hell knows. Going somewhere, nowhere .
Such a quest: to find something, like catching pokémon in red square solving these strange places with a different meaning.
"And you want in Paris..."
Yes! want as there in Versailles Paris.
Take to the streets and barricades.
A ballet of white swans.
The war will be. What?!
We to it are not used to.
After all, everywhere here and so is
While secretly.
I guess I took the wick through all the circles of earthly life, much like Dante Alighieri's "divine Comedy".
Not only in Comedy and in drama.
— Listen, and come to the Bank, I nodded at logo banking company which owned a quarter of the world their on a tall building.
The night flowed with the headlights of cars blinding beam bystanders.

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Post by райбан » Sat Jan 05, 2019 19:46

"Ungur"

[spoiler = Ungur] "Airbus" — a great big cruise aircraft, gigaliner, dropped me off one night on a sandy shoal.
I asked someone in the plane:
— where to go, exactly?
— go straight along the path, where all will see,— it is not clear where showed a raised hand from the dark insides of the cargo Bay.
The plane flew, and I was alone.
Dark at first, nothing looks quiet everywhere.
Just wave the sound of the surf and wet sand crunches under boots, prompting the referral for hearing.
Then the land ran out, had to enter the water, she splashed under his feet.
Shallow water, reaching her ankles, long over.
I was hoping that everything will end soon, one way or another.
And place of arrival reaches, finally, it seems the city streets with roads and dry pavement, the people, everything.
The moon was out, illuminating with light the space, but nothing appeared on the horizon, at least some place similar to that inhabited the earth.
Around stretched the boundless waters of the ocean itself, and I'm in the middle of it. Brod was over, the water gradually reached to the waist, soaking winter jacket. With some surprise, glanced down at himself: all dressed in warm clothes: jacket, boots, jeans, hat.
So right, I remember, because I flew from snowy Russia, where the winter and cold in the airplane dressed before going out, I can't leave her there.
There was no fear. Nothing was felt, no water, no cold, no loneliness. I'm not alone, but with someone unconscious.
Only the desire to move forward, something drew me there in the vast distance.
Light in the ocean of true compass indicated the path of the Ford lunar silver path on the water surface.
Relying on him, with the assurance went on, but the water is already dokatyvayutsya to the chest, going became more difficult.
Threw potjazhelevshie jacket, she is a great hurt to move.
I wanted to turn still back to the landing site "of Airbasy", but realized with horror that there is no going back, the direction is lost and wasted leg went to a depth of not finding support in trying to return.
The darkness behind a black and terrible, the light is not creeping in there.
There darker than the blackest hole.
Now only forward, not to shout anyone not to call, or to call for help rescuers.
The sky flashed with light, lighted up from within the clouds and clouds
Strangely they moved, not as under the influence of air flow moved by themselves and was in a clear spot, and then in an unstable planetary view of the map.
Then the sky lit to the horizon with a fiery prominences, illuminating a giant on all the firmament mainland map of the planet.
It was a holographic picture, desert Mirage, in all the vastness and grandeur of the world's oceans.
The contours of the continents was pulsing, boiling, bright running lights, torn unseen laser illumination, showing the cosmic view.
In dimensionless cinema without walls and ceilings, with the included projector.
The spectacle was mesmerizing in its beauty, and rustling waves the whole ocean of all the world's symphonies, music of the sea contributed to such expressive effect.
So I go and I'm on track, I thought.
Went unnoticed for a swim, slowly, adjusting to the rhythm of the movements, rowing hands in front of him like the brass.
The mighty ocean, he showed his strength, but he was not evil to me.
Uniformly moving massive ogruznevshy continents meet nebolshimi waves with scallops bubble foam.
White transparent foam on the waves shining through the light on the horizon
the water was poured in my mouth and nose, blocking breathing.
Reasonable ocean tenderly breathed, he was alive, allowing me to swing at his chest.
By showing that I is negligible as a grain of sand.
And at the same time how to keep up with me, recognizing my strength and courage of the ancient gods.
How long do I have to swim to the horizon to the map?
How much time and distance?
And there will be enough power, but fatigue was not felt, as if under doping.
Or I will drown in the ocean?
Attack or man–eating sharks, loves to eat fresh meat.
To end my journey in the stomach of a murderous Ribisi.
Although this is better than to rot a few years in the ground, and almost cremation, digest fish to delight the creatures.
Before eating the fish, now they told me, everything is logical in the chain.
No, denied the idea of eating in a peaceful ocean can not be a priori predators.
Anxiety not, as the danger if returned home, where everything is calm and cozy.
If only to drown?— and ceased rowing completely, to test this theory.
But I stayed afloat, just made of wood.
Or perhaps ready to step, or more precisely the swim.
Whole life was a preparation for the event, and now I open all the gates of knowledge that you can imagine: science, magic, philosophical, historical.
Was actually Homer who wrote the Iliad, as there was in the authenticity of the Indian epic Mahabharata by Arjuna and Krishna...
Everything, absolutely everything.
Sometimes we don't know where to begin these difficult, critical days when the fate makes irreparable turn.
And there was nothing to indicate it, because all was well as everyone else.
As well as all people who live, live and then find out that they have cancer, or something irreparable, and the whole life itself turned upside down into a ditch.
We all make mistakes, and write your book of life, somewhere in the white pages of the novel the magical storyteller's mysterious worlds.
Nobody knows where to run the story, and will be then with its heroes. All so, I guess this is one facet of the meaning of life.
Because then our story will continue in other books, in other people
Probably my most special day was when I found out about his illness, or sometimes planned flight to China, maybe when Leah and I broke up — I don't know.
People's lives depend on a lot of accidents, happy or unsuccessful from the dropdown moments of fate.
People always something going on and sometimes over the precipice of the abyss.
This is yet another step ... and... the end... the end of everything.
This figurative comparison, almost right (inlet) to the moment of truth.

[/spoiler]<

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Post by райбан » Sat Jan 05, 2019 20:28

How can you believe in something that is not in the world...
"Put out" space from the entire total World.
This happens when a very strong man leads the group of people along with the part of the world and reality, and then leaves them in the lurch, saying I don't need you anymore, the big bosses upstairs.
Just betrays, by and large.
And the fate of this space is not very enviable, it off as unnecessary, together with its population.
Small or large, in a short time.

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Post by райбан » Sat Jan 05, 2019 21:17

"Ungur"

Shopping Mall, huge and big, located across the street, we passed.
Sliding door obediently opened in front of us.
Fluttered the warm air after a frosty street.
There is a Barber shop with a sign of courtly boys and girls directly from covers the model catwalk "of fashang Muse" together with Louis Witton
— come in?
— Are you going to get a haircut? — Invited companion. She refused for some reason.
After all, beauty requires care.
I sat down in a free chair.
The dancing gait of a titty bar came sexy girl in apron nurse porn.
— As you mow, let's you make a model a haircut.
(yeah, for a thousand rubles!)
— Yes is not necessary. Just cut clippers shorter. And bald. To make it inexpensive.
— Th I want to be like the monk from the monastery? I Hurt Vic.
— No, just so it will be convenient on the road.
— Do you have a dream, Vic?
I don't know how we didn't think, probably like everyone: become a famous writer like Agatha Christie, famous and all...
— It is clear. And I realized that I need to open the door in the Summer.
This is my dream.
This also has some meaning when you set yourself a certain goal to achieve them. Desires and Goals.
To overcome obstacles. Go straight, or meandering.
But the dream....
Dream she must be untouchable, distant, unattainable in ordinary life.
Then this is the dream.
Life loses its meaning, its intention and purpose.
In its flow.
Life is such a joke: if you want to do something it is necessary to do it now and without delay.
Otherwise it will be too late. The time lost. In all senses.
And the cat is too strange, Matilda: lived, lives, and simply lives, without any queries. Your cat's mustache is not blowing.
Will it be, to bear, to give birth Koshkin kittens.
A man in a jacket standing behind me at the cashier said
put the basket away, and then all become smart here
didn't want to get involved in the dispute and spoil the mood, although far too spoiled.
I removed mechassault the basket from the counter, so he could punch his drink.
So be it. Let them choke on my kindness.
I followed him from the store. He loomed near.
Maybe just to beat him? Or talk to him
Yes, of course he could break sickly, because I'm young and healthy.
Yes, easily, like the five fingers piss
Or do not know what anger is...
Humanity and the world — the debris and biodegradable waste: a shitting ground waste dumps and cemeteries, poisoned air, filthy water of rivers and seas — where it all slipped?!... why now all done through one place?
The people themselves create the problem: no one — neither God nor the devil.
Just themselves.
The dollar oil price, the application of different suits and ranks of politicians, hard — of impending sanctions, soft greetings, a new year's address.
Or what is the weight of the human soul?
According to the scientists twenty grams with a little.
Why do they, i.e. the people, all want to measure and weigh?
That is in the world.
People say they lost their loved ones mother or daughter, son, whatever, seem to hit the whole world to hell, and they never rise as before. And life goes on and they become as before.
But if I die, what then will...
She also continues? She will also be in the past, like all the other viewed life in planetary existence....
I do not know.
Or where is heaven and hell...
Right in the head and brain.
All of the sense of touch contained in the brain.
Sex, drugs, drive, high, elementary set released chemical endorphins that trigger a certain reaction of brain receptors.
Including meditation .
We specifically called the state to achieve bliss or enlightenment Taoist sages Smoking opium.
Nothing new in this world.
Life goes on...
Or not, and the world will not be like before.
Without me.<

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Post by райбан » Sat Jan 05, 2019 21:52

Life goes on...
Or not, and the world will not be like before.
Without me.
How many lives we live in one body...
How many times we die, again and again, in dreams and reality, to understand some truth unavailable to mere mortals...
Nobody knows.

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Post by Гуфест » Thu Jan 10, 2019 19:25


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Post by райбан » Sun Jan 20, 2019 17:54

"Ungur"
Ocean overcast rustled vague rumble, immense surging wavy surf on the darkened wet sand from the weather.
Squally wind drove not very welcome sky ragged clouds.
Down at the sloping shore already swarmed the figures of my new companions.
It's time, and I went down to them by steep and rugged path, the slope of the hill of the island.
On the coast, a lone bushy tree with sparse leaves, stood are flooding the chest of a tangible tide.
Around him swayed on the water downed waves in a tangled heap of seaweed and a few stains of indeterminate color such as pressurized air, the fallen sail.
But what is it?! The spots appeared over time propolene sea water uniforms from the military, and as if stretched on hangers–strut that had splashed in the surf.
And under the rags of uniforms were the skeletons of people, as became clear, coming closer, and the remains of rotten heads.
I have not seen grin with the eye sockets, they were somehow deliberately facing the ocean and are lifted above the water.
Sleeves outstretched, hiding the gnawed bones of the hands, wet rags were fluttering with the cuffs of the uniforms associated with cone sticks.
Out of short trousers were bleached femur.
If you do not know that the skeletons of the dead, that at a distance looked like a living sentinel in the old sailors uniforms are unsinkable in the waves and gaze into the distant horizon of the telescope.
Perhaps it's dumpy tree is like a guardian temple, a vantage point from another world, the living and the dead.
Didn't ask what it is and why they are here, guess she came.
Two of the trio unguru satellites, poles spore suggests floating skeletons skeletons, eyes towards the troubled ocean.
Where once I came, bursting through the wild dance of fire and water, through a film of hazy extraterrestrial doomsday.
Watched this strange occupation, and then wanted to go to alluring the vast water.
To touch, to join something inexplicable, and can just stand tired of.
Without undressing, just quickly took off his shoes, went in the foamy surf, a bit squeamish about moving away from the wondrous tree.
The dark water of the ocean is surprisingly pleasant–warm, took in his arms.
Waved his hands and jumped into the oncoming high waves.
Ocean and eccentric shaft with a hissing roar, as if playing catch-up, one slap threw me back to the tree.
A thick crest of a wave bend under him, and carried away to the bottom.
When he began to find a foothold, foot ran into something very hard and cold. It's something stone chills leg.
Probably just caught the stone, pushed away from him — damn, Yes all to hell.
And gray water near the tree rose, and rose up tons of rushing water. What the...? What kind of mother of God?!
Foam athinoula water seemed polimorfnaya face gigantic insect the size of a decent bull.
Behind her on the surface of the water broke a long torso, a huge centipede, which, it seems, kept on straightened long octopus legs, and it walked hard right at me.
Unguri useless poked awakened the beast with sticks, trying to distract the Keeper of the insect from me.<

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Post by райбан » Sun Jan 20, 2019 22:23

"Ungur"

Thoughts over thoughts and memories about the past too much without them.
Got to flats, from long walks.
Mug, boiling kettle on the stove, coffee pot.
With a spoon he scooped up a brown powder, threw in a mug and pour boiling water over.
The kitchen floated the life-giving aroma, awakening to action.
We gather in the way.
To put things in a backpack: tent, clothes, hygiene items, shoes.
And all within the allowed cargo in the plane.
Although a lot of things I don't need to be there.
After all, it's warm and sea, summer and the ocean.
Suddenly someone knocked on the door, interrupting cooking.
Mata asked to go out with approaching cats when I came in.
Maybe she want to let home, or maybe got the wrong door, and I wasn't expecting anyone to visit.
Double door, securely guarded from intruders.
And then the knocking was repeated.
And even more insistent.
Strange knocking.
If the conditional signal — going on the road.
Okay let's see who the hell brought:
— Who's there?— he asked coldly, opening the first inner door.
— Courier service,— said a young female voice outside, did not want the second door to unlock.
What, what, what, what the fuck is the service?
We left questionnaires to fill passport...
What? What questionnaires?
— To receive a free credit card...— the girl began to explain the pros of the card, which is almost capable of paying for itself.
— No, sorry, not interested— slammed the door, cutting off the unwanted conversation, that is because banking Remora and night from them no rest.
What feelings I was going to China?
Yes no not particularly motivated.
No feelings or remorse. Just like work, or business trip.
I know one will be tough. Snakes, spiders: business as usual there.
Local and visiting tourists know about it, and try to take refuge on the roofs of houses. Up there, in the dark put up tents and sleep.
Can charge they take for it — I don't know.
We'll see.
Still wondering why the Chinese eat with chopsticks?
All iron should be put together in one package.
Don't forget to bring your laptop to take a charge.
So, what else: money — the bare minimum, just for the noodles and drinking water.
To live in a tent, it was warm there and monkey around, or as necessary, quite on the streets. Taxi to hell, he comes to the place of arrival.
Where is he!!— this Sun City of the Enlightened Buddha, where everyone is happy!!!
Or I have to work six days, personally build for myself.
Settle your residents: streets, houses, restaurants, bridges, intersections, hotels, beaches, pools.
And again, the streets, the houses, the slums.
Just thought about it, and somehow felt a sense of oppressive confusion before the inevitable reality.
Was freaked out, just completely lost: — how?
How I'll survive the remaining days of life, there without anything?
And not knowing Chinese language? On the tips of the fingers or what?!
I conceived an unexpected escape from the country, from my country.
And it is anyway a heavy burden lies on the conscience, at least morally.
And it's time to learn how to commit treason, including myself.
Can cost to betray everyone, and become in some measure an apostate from all.
If the whole world goes to you war — time.
It is time to fight back everyone, no matter what.
So what else: all my winter clothes, what to do with it?
Crap: on arrival at the airport, throw it somewhere near the trash, let the homeless Chinese wears.
Let wear, I do not mind.
***
Said goodbye to the Wick near the bus, which brought to the airport.
Told her long for some reason, perhaps to reassure themselves and her, delaying separation:
"You'll have a cool book, you really will write it.
I am happy that met with you.
And I'll be sure to call through a fucking country, across the oceans, when will come the time on the beach. You remember, just remember that call.
I guess this will be my last request.
And I was just in the wrong place, which should be..."
She was silent, not interrupting the monologue: what words all so clear.
— Hey Vic, here's the keys to the house, take my cat to him.
She's good, really. And in China it will be gone, or the chinks will eat instead of a kebab.
— And yet: I'll write on the road in the Summer.
Like travel writing. I'll send you the file in the "in networks".
— Want to take them in his book. Then he'll publish. It would be great.
Suddenly it burst, it knocked his legs indifferent to the concrete, banged fists furiously at me on the chest:
— You're a fool! You're an idiot. This is my book!! I would have called you...
I would have called you, or you me... But you did nothing!
The fool. Fool... my only quietly gasped Victoria.
And the heroes of the book again spontaneously broke up with each other.
But we will not interfere, to do as they please.
It is their legitimate right.
The hero in my pocket was pretty battered pack of cigarettes.
He lit a cigarette with a white filter, no matter what, right on the runway in spite of all, and in spite of the evil fateful rock.
Exhaling smoke with bitter words and metaphors in the uneasy atmosphere of reality:
"... And a plane ticket with silvery wings, that is flying, leaves on the ground only a shadow..."<

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Post by райбан » Mon Jan 21, 2019 0:09

Said goodbye to the Wick near the bus, which brought to the airport.
Told her long for some reason, perhaps to reassure themselves and her, delaying separation:
"You'll have a cool book, you really will write it.
I am happy that met with you.
And I'll be sure to call through a fucking country, across the oceans, when will come the time on the beach. You remember, just remember that call.
I guess this will be my last request.
And I was just in the wrong place, which should be..."
She was silent, not interrupting the monologue: what words all so clear.
— Hey Vic, here's the keys to the house, take my cat to him.
She's good, really. And in China it will be gone, or the chinks will eat instead of a kebab.
— And yet: I'll write on the road in the Summer.
Like travel writing. I'll send you the file in the "in networks".
— Want to take them in his book. Then he'll publish. It would be great.
Suddenly it burst, it knocked his legs indifferent to the concrete, banged fists furiously at me on the chest:
— You're a fool! You're an idiot. This is my book!! I would have called you...
I would have called you, or you me... But you did nothing!
The fool. Fool... my only quietly gasped Victoria.
And the heroes of the book again spontaneously broke up with each other.
But we will not interfere, to do as they please.
It is their legitimate right.
The hero in my pocket was pretty battered pack of cigarettes.
He lit a cigarette with a white filter, no matter what, right on the runway in spite of all, and in spite of the evil fateful rock.
Exhaling smoke with bitter words and metaphors in the difficult atmosphere of harsh reality
Headlong ran to him threatening a menacing whistle of the security service of the airport. Do not care, got him all unsettled life
Here they are, the related guides in the last flight.
Got out, finally, from their slots.
They do not have time, or he will not have time — who knows.
Sing your song, play with the fate Russian roulette
Who knows what he was thinking at that moment.
"... And a plane ticket with silvery wings, that is flying, leaves on the ground only a shadow..."
Why he did it? Maybe the head is shifted?
Probably soldier, demobilization he in December.
And the hero of the book ran from the guards, slowly at first, tasting the treadmill of planes, and then faster and faster, trained setting the pace lagging behind the guards.
He ran a race, on a bet, who will win on the strip three kilometers.
Only laughter the wind and snow whipped across the open face with a short haircut.
"But where? Where's he running to?!"— Asked the guards.
As a veteran air traffic controller, watching the picture on the monitor said into the radio:
— I don't see the bad guy, even running, will soon pass.
... I was running free and easy. Putting himself in pain, despair, loss of all relationships, the fear of death.
In his last race on the runway, recently cleared to black concrete, yellow snowthrower.
— Give him a sedative. Two doses of.<

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Post by Гуфест » Mon Jan 21, 2019 21:54

Rayban that all cultural and beautiful it is, reality itself will adjust, don't blow this. CHE got don'T WRITE, don't IMPROVISE,go to the level of architect.

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Post by Гуфест » Tue Jan 22, 2019 0:15

Gag, this is a false reasoning, mental refleksivnye on the virtual stimuli of low quality. The level of creativity welcomes fantasy, imagination, notion,invention, raising the vibrational quality at a high level.

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Post by райбан » Wed Jan 23, 2019 17:12

+ made Guest.

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Post by райбан » Sat Jan 26, 2019 20:49

"Ungur"

Said goodbye to the Wick near the bus that took us to the airport and need to get her back to the city.
Soon break through the Christmas chimes: and I'll be there somewhere at altitude, and it is here on earth.
Told her long for some reason, perhaps to reassure themselves and her, delaying separation: "you'll Have a cool book, you really will write it.
I am happy that met with you. And we were all going through the fucking country, across the oceans, when will come the time on the beach.
You remember, just remember that call.
And I was just in the wrong place, which should be..."
She was silent, not interrupting the monologue: what words all so clear.
— Hey Vic, here's the keys to the house, take my cat to him.
She's good, really. And in China it will be gone, or the chinks will eat instead of a kebab. I guess this will be my last request.
I took the keys with remote out of his pocket, got her pen and put the keys in her palm.
— And yet: I'll write on the road in the Summer. Like travel writing. I'll send you the file in the "in networks". Want take them in my book. Then he'll publish. It would be great.
— I wrote you yesterday. Did you read?
— Did you see what he wrote. Saw that we have to meet up before leaving: address and time of flights. And the other then wiped immediately.
— Don't want to know what I wrote there at the end?
— No!
— As you know.
— Do it! You do what you wrote there, whatever it is!
— I can't do it — you cannot do it.
— Okay. Then forget...
— How is it? What do you mean?
Something — what not to say. Do you understand?!
Suddenly it burst, it knocked his legs indifferent to the concrete, banged fists furiously at me on the chest:
— You're a fool! You're an idiot. This is my book!! I would have called you...
I would have called you, or you me... But you did nothing!!
The fool! Fool... my only quietly gasped Victoria.
And the heroes of the book again spontaneously broke up with each other.
But we will not interfere, to do as they please.
It is their legitimate right.
The main character in the pocket was pretty battered pack of cigarettes.
He lit a cigarette with a white filter, no matter what, right on the runway against all evil, and in spite of the fateful year.
Exhaling smoke with bitter words and metaphors in the difficult atmosphere of harsh reality
Headlong ran up to him, threatening fearsome whistles of the security service of the airport.
Do not care, got him all unsettled life
Here they are, the related guides in the last flight.
Got out, finally, from their slots.
They do not have time, or he will not have time — who knows.
Sing your song, play with the fate Russian roulette losing.
Who knows what he was thinking at that moment.
As he has to speak, to show the disregard for life, their own and others'?!
Yes if he was a bird, he would have soared proudly to the sky, turned into a Mechanical Clockwork Cuckoo and soared over all of them in the songs of Tsoi.
"... And a plane ticket with silvery wings, that is flying, leaves on the ground only a shadow..."
The hero of the book ran from the guards, slowly at first, tasting the treadmill of planes, and then faster and faster, trained setting the pace lagging behind the guards.
He ran a race increasing the speed with every insight of the meter, on a bet, who will win on the strip three kilometers.
Only the mocking laughter of the demons was filled with bells, Yes, Blizzard winds and snow whipped it open face with a short haircut.
Luring the last temptation of the devil to leave reckless thing to escape from death: "You're strong: money, power is an illusion.
You can stay here — me and you..."
Why he did it? Maybe the head is shifted?
Probably soldier, demobilization he in December, see clipped.
"But where? Where's he running to?!" — Asked the guards, wondering everything.
A white-haired seasoned air traffic controller, watching the picture on the monitor, said service radio:
— I don't know that guy, let him run, will soon pass from him.
He, the Manager, with sadness and inescapable anguish remembered himself, that young not-yet-gray-haired guy like in those years — he also ran seeing no one around, on the runway of a military airfield with a frenzied cry when he crashed in a plane crash with his family.
They all perished under the rubble.
A thousand people doomed to an empty life routine that is profitable in the long run nothing this World is born a weirdo.
And when the thousand luxuriates in a warm bath with a glass of wine by candlelight, sitting in the restaurant sipping the sweet smoke from the hookah, well in terrariums offices, or throws yesterday's calories on a treadmill casually scanning the news on the plasma TV; — this fool is on the side of a long road with a Hiking backpack on his shoulders, and a voice to drivers of vehicles in wet sneakers.
This eccentric is very simple.
It does not need to take cunning, he will give all of himself for nothing.
He has a difficult job — to make the World a better place while he is alive.
The world — surrounded by thousands of parsecs mirror cubic meters of concrete, urbanized according to the latest word of engineering, pasteurized on the senses.
What motivates them?
Why his brain cells do not want to live in the cells of apartment buildings renouncing all and loving all at the same time.
Who knows who has more happiness: that thousands of normal people, or he's crazy, eccentric, mad moth flying into the fire.
Or the human world is all crazy, who knows.
To do that, hell, finally, a choice: die a free bird, or dry stale biscuit in a hospital bed.
If you want It — so reach out and Grab it.
So it will be easier without magic and without cheating.
Focus there, and that's the trick of fantasy focus.
... I ran free and simple rhythm along with the wind and the Blizzard.
Light winter sneakers was there to help.
And where is my hat?— whether tossed somewhere, or maybe she slipped.
God be with her.
Spreading himself in the pain, despair, loss of all relationships, the fear of death. In his last race on the runway, recently cleared to black concrete, yellow snowthrower.
Of course, I did. Soon, or not soon. Yes without a difference.
Hysterical choking in the web of hunting arms, and fought in convulsions mental — but let me go, let me go, I heard:
— Give him a sedative. Yes, two doses to be sure to sit on the Board.
***
From a sample of recent email messages from unidentified nickname to the recipient under the name Victoria Ray:
"... I do know that we'll meet again. Look into the distance over the ocean close to the horizon, say your name and see your face..."
***
Afterword.
Forcing us (tramps) to give up everything and the devil knows where to go and go.
I really don't know, but certainly not for the hype.
So live, so write for yourself and for all.
Perhaps it will need in the still unwritten History, when the characters the plot of the game put their backpacks, buy tickets and plane tickets to far travelled the World to find that which is sought...<

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Post by райбан » Thu Jan 31, 2019 1:28

Prana, or energy, as you like to call it.
Perturbatio, turbulence — the whole life of solid shit.
We are responsible for those who tamed
I was sitting at a folding student Desk, painted the colors of the mountain scenery.
The house worked radio.
Passed the staging of "the little Prince".
Only then I didn't have a little friend to tame
The drawing was very good.
Just why is it? If I have no other.
Poured, smeared paint the entire Desk .
And then tore the sheet of paper with a picture..
After all, parents wish I became a famous artist.
The second "Repin" or "Surikov".
I got great then belt and sneakers.
But I just wanted to have a little friend.
They are right, or I'm still.
It is clear that life is a bitch judge.
She made the decision that that did not seem enough.
Does it make sense this? Probably not.

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Post by райбан » Thu Jan 31, 2019 1:59

Black screen with white credits.
Which have been going on after watching anything, film or movie...
It remains only to hold the air for a long time–a long time — and then exhale, but not immediately, but eventually, with every moment, every cell releasing from a piece of precious life.
Exhale little by little slowly.
Drop by drop. Quietly, whether fearing to frighten someone, as if afraid not to have time to do something. In this very short life.
Exhale slowly, as the kisses on the lips before leaving the room, feeling a sweet taste on the tongue.
Although the air odorless
I will not return or will Not Return.
Why would I come back here, what's the point?
It's warm all year, and the sea.
And where life comes from, is born
In one door and out the other (figuratively speaking)

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Post by райбан » Mon Feb 04, 2019 22:06

If you want It — so reach out and Grab it.
So it will be easier without magic and without cheating.
Focus there, and that's the trick of fantasy focus.
(superconsciousness taxis)

The subconscious, the Superconscious mind, Yes I wanted to spit with a high steeple.
I'm on my own now without any consciousness.
Too hard thing this "super-consciousness".
Takes really a desire, but everyone has to pay anyway.
Like aggregor and like God.
I do not advise to play such games.
Need training to play on equal with this object.
I repeat: "it" asphalt roller pass on the fate of people without hesitation. What I wrote earlier was a mistake for me.
I myself am just an apostate.
Who wants to play with this, I warned you.

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Post by Гуфест » Wed Feb 20, 2019 17:50

Film on YouTube available, called Frequency 2013.the theme of the film, Luli with different frequencies, using a universal word for manipulation, music deactivator magic and other stories

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Post by райбан » Sun Feb 24, 2019 20:41

As a result of my fate: no work, no home, no family, no health either.
What is the balance?
When you touch the void, it doesn't matter that.
Well when you go somewhere very far away, and someone at home is waiting for you.
But if no one is waiting, at all.
It's probably bad.
So bad, so bad. It is necessary to accept.
But does it matter when you stand on the crossroads of the World.
Who are you? Constantly asked life with me.
Who are you? Ask passing people on the streets.
But who am I? I ask myself.
There is no answer. Difficult to answer really.
I'm a tramp, and we must somehow live with it.
Just like... how?
If there are all sorts of boundaries and taboos on all continents and Islands.
Time does not stop.
It goes on and around solstice.
I love the whole world.
In response, he also probably loves me, even though this will not guess.
Love of God or the Creator of the world.
To which he was not accustomed.
Love for a friend, because they, too, are not accustomed to.
I want to fall face down.
Forget the dream and forget this reality.

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Post by Гуфест » Tue Feb 26, 2019 12:44

OK I looked that is called in the volume, necessary method who will be better range, but not in this case, but the fact that it can transform and change, to swap, erase, delete at will.Someone prefers to hang on the events at work, home, relationships with family, friends, acquaintances, and so on. all this hologramy where everyone chooses where it is better to be in at this time. I do not advise you rayban to forget and dismiss what you saw in volume, so as you approached the threshold for transition to another world, and this technique of the operator, it is necessary to accept what the world gives to blend in, to accept, so much so that he became, Tolley, Tolley nothing, or what is not aplause, or all together at once, in General, accept, merge and immediately start to remove it, wash and then immediately start to imagine and build a new world, where we want to go in, wanting an important component, but that was the transition we need to see where you want to enter into a new, often it takes time to see something worthwhile.When all assembled, veshestva goes well.

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Post by Гуфест » Tue Feb 26, 2019 13:01

Come to work, and already there starts some sort of life, where all behave the same scheme from day to day, come in the store, and there is another life in the hologram, and also all the same, and so on. occasionally the hologram begins to throw challenges to all at once received his sight and began to look at volume.
Last edited by Гуфест on Tue Feb 26, 2019 13:18, edited 1 time in total.

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