откладывал все на потом, а потом стало слишком поздно

последний раз играю на пианино в потсдаме

4 часа ночи, лежу в холодном поту умирая от food poisoning

похуй

ближайшая цель: не проебать пересадку

Зима, лето - год долой. Четыре пасхи - и домой.

я в москве.

(пишу из постели)

проебал телефонный номер за 150к рублей c 77777 на конце

Farewell to all that we know
All that we've left behind
All that we have let go
All we'll never find
All that we came to love
All that we let go wrong
Say farewell and adieu
Say so long
As we dance on
Dance on
Stumble on
Farewell to all that we know
As it slowly decays
Farewell folly of youth

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sigJdLMLyog

Free winds and no tyranny for you, Freddie, sailor of the seas. You pay no rent, free to go where you please. Then go, go to that landless latitude and good luck.

If you figure a way to live without serving a master, any master, then let the rest of us know, will you? For you'd be the first in the history of the world.

(c) The Master, 2012

захожу на семинар по русской философии с опозданием в 10 минут, семинаристка сходу удивленно спрашивает: "Здравствуйте, а вы кто?"

математический эскапизм зашел слишком далеко

убейте

> This is progress, but, of course we want more!

слейся лицом с обоями

В рубрике музыка на ночь:
Алексей Борисович Любимов исполняет «Fur Alina» Арво Пярта

https://youtu.be/gYCDlzXKY3E?feature=shared

Алексей Борисович

https://www.dw.com/ru/aleksej-lubimov-a-vsegda-vozil-v-rossiu-samoe-neobhodimoe/a-67017795

In the Puhtitsa Monastery, Estonia, “Have you thanked God for this failure already?” These unexpected words were said by a little girl. I remember exactly…it was July 25th, 1976. I was sitting in the monastery’s yard, on a bench in the shadow of the bushes with my notebook.

‘What are you doing? What are you writing there’, the girl who was around ten asked me. ‘I am trying to write music, but it is not turning out well’, I said. And then the unexpected words from her,

‘Have you thanked God for this failure already?’

The most sensitive musical instrument is the human soul. The next is the human voice. One must purify the soul until it begins to sound. A composer is a musical instrument and at the same time a performer on that instrument. The instrument has to be in order to produce sound. One must start with that, not with the music. Through the music the composer can check whether his instrument is tuned, and to what key it is tuned.

God knits man in his mother’s womb, slowly and wisely. Art should be born in a similar way. To be like a beggar when it comes to writing music, whatever, however, and whenever God gives. We shouldn’t’ grieve because of writing little and poorly, but because we pray little and poorly, and lukewarmly, and live in the wrong way. The criterion must be everywhere and only humility.

Music is my friend, ever-understanding. Compassionate. Forgiving. It’s a comforter, the handkerchief for drying my tears of sadness, the source of my tears of joy. My liberation and flight. But also, a painful thorn in my flesh and soul, that which makes me sober and teaches humility.

Thank you. Forgive me, please!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qh-kjp2hLCw