Sober Blog

I admire before ЖЖ, it is constantly possible to find something such. Here one more to volume the proof (the story how the pianist-boozer from a bar has decided to stop to drink, an ending the truth not especially was pleasant):

Симбирцев has stopped to drink, because has suddenly understood, that the life has started to escape it as a morning dream because walls in its apartment were narrowed, having transformed rooms in stuffy close cases because the women often jamming as small fishes, in its networks, became more senior and разнузданнее and after the several nights washed away in its memory, disappeared and any more did not call and if called brought it to white heat the jealousy and requirements to transform «relations in something more serious», corroding as though sulfuric acid, its free nature.

He has stopped to drink, while in mind, not thinking of consequences, about the friends-musicians ready to a wine-glass at any time, about cheerful wine parties with girls whom always turned in a bar, and which rushed in Симбирцева the underwear after certain quantity of the drunk wine much.

He has stopped to drink, выпотрошив from the apartment all that concerned to green змию - pocket corkscrews, flat nominal flasks for the cognac, accurately entering into an internal pocket of a jacket, a collection of bottle stoppers and labels from the tried strong drinks from all planet. It has distributed all remained untouched bottles to the to the neighbour-trumpeter which, dying of laughter, took all it kindly and has invited to itself on next «пьянку with women».

He has stopped to drink, because has ceased to get to keys of the piano (it sometimes accompanied in a bar grown old, but still brisk певичкам a cabaret.) the keyboard to fork now began often in his eyes, and it missed fingers, skilfully disguising this, the unsuccessful note, following, as though specially delayed. Not too tempted public perceived its stumbling game, as something modern. The pianist was the general favourite - visitors liked its long lean figure, the early grey hair contrasting with a young face, and magnificent, all right sewed suits carelessly fitting harmoniously cut out and strong sewed body. He knew inconceivable quantity of jokes, constantly updating and filling up the repertoire.

The owner of a bar Ariel looked at it the last some months, and, at last, has decided, that the pianist becomes an inveterate drunkard. Ariel has caused it for work before, during that key moment of day, when not in time yet опохмелиться the pianist thought only of being reserved by the favourite gin for all long night at the piano.

Conversation has found Симбирцева unawares, and the verdict which has been taken out by Ariel has appeared unexpectedly severe - or-or … First time in a life the pianist has understood, that weigh its easy way of life it can be replaced in a flash not in the best party, to stop on red light and long to stand there, not suspecting that the traffic light is broken. Симбирцев possessed ability clearly to represent in the imagination to them the composed metaphors. Red light at a crossroads symbolised an inevitable stop, heavy meditations about meaning of the life and bitter sobering up.

After conversation with Ariel it by inertia has come into shop and, manoeuvring between the shelves filled built, as on parade, bottles, has approached to the favourite gin. It took it in hands - a bottle with readiness булькнула and has reflected Симбирцева in a glossy surface of glass. He has suddenly seen the pale face and the released sight from the party, his hands have small begun to shake, and it has dropped a vessel with «fiery water». The liquid has blurred on a floor, splinters were piled up by icebergs in a pool; the cat laying in a corner has jumped up from unexpectedness and has occupied a fighting rack, having curved by an arch and loudly having hissed. Then, probably, having learnt Симбирцева which often brought to it the fish tails and played with it the piece of the newspaper tied up on a thread, only has strictly looked at it and, having straightened a backbone, has curled up on the same laying. Симбирцев has thought, that it is a special sign. It has apologised before the owner of shop - its old friend, has paid off for the broken bottle and when one more has been offered it, even on credit, he has hasty refused. Before leaving it has told to the seller a joke.

The contrabass player beats the son. The neighbour asks: «What for the son you beat?» And the bass player also answers: «That is why that it has upset one string». «So its spirit», - is advised by the neighbour. «And he, the bastard, does not speak what».

Симбирцев has come into the bar, has sat down to the piano and has inspected visitors. He with simplification has sighed, because there was no of habitues with which he always drank, - Симбирцеву the company was always necessary, it for the present did not belong to a category drinking alone. He has asked Полину - the harmonous waitress with the magnificent bust, dreaming to become the actress, to bring to it cold tea, but not in a tea mug, and, say, in a glass for wine. Полина has made the big eyes and has asked: «That, has drunk too much yesterday?!» It has waved away from it, not wishing to go into details, and when it was developed and has gone between tables he has habitually waited for that moment when it will pass by the big lantern - during this moment its long skirt always appeared through, and it was possible to consider distinctly "pause" (on expression of one familiar trumpeter) between her feet. It has played, pianissimo, hardly concerning keys only to create intimacy atmosphere, not interrupting nobody's conversations, not insisting on the, passing from one melody to another, skilfully improvising, but not being beyond harmony as "blue" notes were perceived by the majority present as importunate mosquitoes.

… In break Симбирцев left on street, the blessing, there was a July - to smoke and chat with Додиком from next «Коньячной». They have agreed to do breaks at a time. Симбирцеву all was pleasant in Додике which looked at a life with philosophical ease, is continuous каламбурил and took a great interest in women, losing a head, as the boy, and erecting them on the highest pedestal.

- How are you doing, Дод?
- Katya has left from me. Well, let Slides.
- ?!
- You know, how Ancient Greek philosopher Geraklit «spoke All flows, all from me …» Tomorrow I surrender to the doctor - analyses, pills and house arrest on couple of weeks. Hard in treatment, but it is easy in a coffin.
- Than I can help you?
- Do not read me notations about a healthy way of life.
- Well. I will not be … - he has kept silent a little and has then told, - I stop to drink, Дод.
- With me?
- In general. It is serious. The owner was going to dismiss me if I do not descend from a glass.
- Here констерва what!
- Yes, it is time to me. I play, as a hen a paw. Ariel says, that yesterday I played half an hour only black keys. There in a corner Japanese sat, can, therefore I have wanted to play something such, пентатоническое. I do not remember it. Sometimes in the mornings I do not remember as call my girlfriend.
- If you remember, what is your name, that still everything is all right. How you will do it?
- The Prohibition.
- I do not envy, but I respect.

Бэллочка approached to a bar, hardly keeping on huge heels-hairpins. It again had a new hair colour - constant change of wigs was for it original sports (she bought their dozens and changed each two hours). Симбирцев could not recollect, what colour there were its presents, native hair. It has radiantly begun to smile, passing between musicians and закачала hips, simulating gait of the model. Friends reflex зацокали languages in admiration.

- How today, there is a cabbage? - She has asked Симбирцева.
- While is not present, Бэллочка, but you, for certain, will make the kind to us on a bread and butter, and, can, and with black caviar.

It liked to work with it - it had strong music education, excellent vocal data and hot, though and not in its taste, a kind.

They with Bella have taken the places at the piano, and it has started singing, завздыхала, has begun to rustle … Men were developed from a bar rack, and the streamlet of money which Симбирцев collected in a ceramic pot standing at it underfoot for colours has soon begun to flow. He прихлёбывал the tea and yet did not notice desires to alcohol.

In doors has appeared three jobless musicians (the big club where they worked about five years, was suddenly closed because the owner have arrested for non-payment of taxes). The Trinity obviously intended to get drunk before «carrying out of bodies». Passing by Симбирцева, one of them has asked:

- Already you make sour cognac, the old man? Glasses?
Симбирцев it is pleased has nodded to the help:
- Yes.

For all evening he has drunk six glasses of cold tea and, that is surprising, felt a little tipsy; it is everything, that it was necessary for it that music arose itself, instead of was squeezed out, as from a pipette. It lifted the glass for a toast, clinked glasses with it, screwed up the face from ostensibly unduly strong drink, loudly laughed to jokes, and was a part general пьянки.
In four mornings when all visitors have parted, dispatch, have crept away, Симбирцев, at last, the smog sums up the непития and put into words that opening which it has made between the fifth and sixth glass of tea. Chemical dependence on alcohol was not so is strong, as bent for to concourses, to feeling of fraternisation, to unexpectedly deep conversations on a life which never would arise in the sober company, to thoughtless rude humour, by that speed from which people revealed was strong, dumping as the snake skin, all alluvial - etiquette, behaviour rules, complexes or snobbery and all that, on what they spent all life, trying it is as much as possible to deform itself to be a high-grade member of a society.

Симбирцев left on street and has decided to walk on foot. Feet have brought it on a beach, he at all has not noticed, that there has passed the whole hour since that moment as it has left a bar. In it energy bubbled, and it seemed to it, that it can go infinitely, tirelessly. Further to walk there was no place - it stood at water. Симбирцев has sat down on a stone and, having removed boots, has dipped feet into sea water. Immediately, as by request, the sun edge as if Симбирцев has superseded it from water the ступнями has seemed. It has become covered мурашками and has recollected, that last time he saw rising in the deep childhood when the father took it with itself on night fishing. Симбирцев has turned to the little boy and with a horror and delight mix looked at the leaving sun. To it burnt down eyes, but he tried not to blink, playing game - if he will not blink in a rising current its desire to have a new bicycle will come true. The sun has filled each cage of its body, has warmed his soul and has bewitched. He has embraced him and has thrown in air, as a ball. It was pasted to a firmament and has begun the ascension. «Where I was earlier? Why it did not see? All truly fine passed by me the party», - he thought.

Симбирцев has risen and has started wandering away from water - the sun has kissed him on top and it, having felt it, has smiled and, not looking back, has walked faster to wine shop.