never came across my mug
    in no hard copy's back cover?
  neither did I, yet – relax!
this here autograph tells more
         than a pic no one cares for...

The Ficuses in the Open

:from the personal
a graphomanic


head header

January 28

Dreams bring no relief.

... war and pitch black darkness full of stampeding crowds and endless water-carrying ...

At times it's hard to say dreaming from reality to discern their border-line and see where I am at a given moment.

In the morning I went to the Club. The red cone of the firefighting-bucket has commenced another slug journey from the end in the pawn line towards the Three Taps.

The diesel fuel—solarka—effectually competes with cash now. Sahtik told a story of a woman wanting abortion. "OK," said they, "bring three liters of solarka to put the power generator in action." For three days she couldn't manage to find it even for ready money.

At the Club I had a chat with Araic only. The rest of the clubmen played truant, presumably, because of the three missile series at about 10 am.

However, after an hour of calm they gathered and opted for immediate closing the Club and leaving. I had to scrape up my Azimov-job because a minor boss was all too eager to lock the entrance door of the Editorial House.

On coming out into the street, I saw Rita standing among the others on the sidewalk. Taking risks to arouse choler of the minor boss with the key, I double backed to the Renderers' and brought out THE LOVER OF LADY CHATTERLY for her in Russian.

She grabbed the book with both hands and catching the word LOVER in the title spasmodically pressed the volume to her raincoat's breast to conceal it from the colleagues (there were only males around).

One page from ULYSSES after lunch.

Then I went over to the Underground. Arto and I collected about a dozen of maverick block stones in and around Underground. I borrowed a sack from him and went to our Site. There I poured two pailfuls of cement into the sack, put it on the sledge, and shipped the cement to the Underground.

When leaving the Site, I had a talk with Goorgan, the neighbor. PhedayeesPHEDAYEE —
     (Armenian borrowing from Greek) "freedom fighter".
had taken his KRAZ-truck from the state-owned firm.

(...who is in power here and now?.)

Back in the Underground, I laid the collected block stones to stop two huge openings in the room's partitions dividing it from the trunk corridor and the next door compartment. The operation drastically improved thermo- and sonic isolation of the room. Sahtik helped me wash my head afterwards and then I talked to her pleading not to yell so much at Roozahna. After all it was not the girl to start this fire and making her an outlet for one's bitter feelings wasn't a fair play at all.


Then I accompanied Sahtik and the kids to the Underground. The mother-in-law was already there.

They say, phedayeesPHEDAYEE —
     (Armenian borrowing from Greek) "freedom fighter".
have shot down a helicopter with a pack of Azeri and Russian big shots on board. All feel scared at the prospect of possible retaliation by rocketing and shelling at the town. The Underground is filled up.

The door of the shelter room down there stood ajar – to let out the excessive heat from the woodburner.


Now I'm leaving for the water-walk. So – Good night.

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