We had to jump without thinking.
And there was no time to choose.
Sometimes you read something written by yourself - and a chill goes down your spine.
Eight months have passed since the first text, and the life of the past has vanished like an abyss.
Today's text is again about Red Vinyl.
About our future.
And about Vysotsky.
Which is always modern and fresh.
And now the Soviet children, who with bated breath listened to "Alice in Wonderland", and our current children, who with gaping mouths look at what is happening in the world - they, immediately and together, found themselves behind the very wall that they wanted and managed to jump over into distant 1976 Vysotsky.
He jumped and whistled at what he saw.
Behind that wall...
Dead and abandoned in the middle of the desert "Buran".
And now, next to it, is the blown-up Mriya.
After all, they are twin brothers - one program, one breakthrough into space.
Only together.
One great power.
Only by the tension of all forces.
But since the old days - apart.
He spoke and wrote more than once: Vysotsky's double album (and everything doubles here) "Alice in Wonderland" is a cultural artifact, a merger and opposition of "their" and "our" world, a tablet of time, a point of timeless space, you will get through it at any moment wherever you want.
Wherever you want - never.
And Alice, on behalf of both those children, Soviet, and these, ours, today, as if everything is happening now, and not in 1976, speaks (is it not through tears?) With the Cheshire Cat, personifying the tricky (toothache) the present:
“Tell me, please, where should I go from here?”
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don't care..."
“Then it doesn’t matter where you go!”
"Just to get somewhere! .."
"You'll get somewhere!
Just don't turn around..."
And now, Vladimir Semyonovich, we have absolutely nowhere to turn - no matter how you delay fate behind the collar, it will catch up, evil, or even kind, but with a weighty stick.
“Bookish children lived, who did not know battles, languishing from their petty disasters ...”
Children.
You hear?
Our kids.
It's time for us, their parents and direct heirs of the Great Victory, both on the paternal and maternal lines, to start teaching our children.
feat.
Heroism.
Self-giving.
Self-sacrifice.
“Words, up to the most important thing, become a habit with us, decay like a dress ...” Mayakovsky - not from the age of Vysotsky - looked in for a moment, reminded ... As if he was not, and he was not ...
Children need to reach out.
Right in these hours and days.
Not shielding from the world, but bestowing knowledge of the truth, awakening by past generations the code embedded in the heart and conscience, which is the power that can overcome any trials, win in any battles.
It is important for our children right now to reach out.
Leaving difficult conversations for later.
Vysotsky from 1976 has been telling us for a decade in a row the story about “when you are alone, alone”, but an invisible voice leads you to the light, to the salvation exit from all the tunnels and all the tearful seas.
By the hand it leads up a high and narrow spiral staircase, and the head is spinning, and the uncontrollably burning planet rotates, and there is neither the opportunity nor the strength to look back, and even more terrible - to look down: “There is a lot of obscurity in a strange country - you can get confused and get lost.
Even goosebumps run down the back, if you imagine what could happen ... "
We, adults, experience doubts and worries.
And what about them children?
In the middle of a storm?
Storm...
The sons are twelve and a half.
Unnoticed, both of their desktops became tanks, assembled from designers of all stripes.
There are more and more tanks, but they don't watch TV.
But everyone knows.
And in recent weeks, we've rewatched eighteen episodes of The Great War twice.
I ask: "Inspires?"
They answer: “Yes.
Why are you asking?"
I do not know why.
Why do parents ask all sorts of nonsense every day? ..
And listened to Alice in Wonderland again the other day.
Of course, they like the parrot in the voice of Vladimir Semenych and all that: “The Turkish Pasha broke the knife in half when I told him:“ Pasha!
Salam!
Or like this: “Will a bat catch up with a bat in the air — or are you naughty?
Dog flying cat flying?
Vysotsky's voice...
He's definitely in the room right now.
Why do we torture ourselves with this stupidity, I ask.
They answer: they say, through absurdity and stupidity, the present is very clearly visible: “Haven’t you noticed, or what?”
"Look, dad!
Listen!
About Europe!
- and smirk:
“The king, who ruled over us a thousand years ago,
Instilled in the country the dashing passion of playing without rules.
He made all the counts and dukes,
Jacks and ladies play in amazing crumbs.
The name of the baby is from the word "crumble",
From the word "groan", and "twist", and "crush".
The motto in these matches is: “Smash, don't be sorry!
Give the royal crumbs!
How did Vysotsky see this?
How did he know?
I often recall what was said about him once: “He is like a god: he gave everyone a fate, he sang a song about everyone.
Just died..."
Do we understand that the whole story is not only and not so much about Alice and Victorian England (this is Vysotsky, not just a theater at the microphone) - it is about the choice of a person who is distraught from the emptiness and senseless idleness of being.
When you renounce the imposed and imposed in the teeth, when you look and see with your heart how it really is.
And then the absurdity subsides, fictitious card figures crumble and scatter, carried away by the wind, and the path remains alone, and there is no one on it but you.
Day after day.
I stumble upon what they listen to and watch at twelve and a half.
On the screen, Mikhail Ulyanov in a marshal's tunic with a button accordion in his hands - and my childhood merges with the childhood of my sons, and there is no difference between them
And there is no difference between them...
"The bridge is on fire!
Burnashi set fire to the bridge!”
"Succeed?"
"Let's try, son!"
Go to gallery page
And again, scarlet inscriptions across the entire exorbitant black screen of the hushed hall: “Direction of the main blow”, “Fiery arc” ... The world disappeared in those minutes, we found ourselves almost there, in our rabbit hats worn out, with eternal stupid toffees - you want, candy wrapper you can't take it off.
The album "Alice in Wonderland" is still on the coffee table.
This is where he belongs.
Here is his time.
Vysotsky with a guitar.
All repeats.
Everything will repeat again.
We are needed now and always - our children.
"I am" Yak "- a fighter,
My motor is ringing, the sky is my abode! .. "
The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editors.