Navalyayev. Non fictional stories

With a smile, he watches Amalie Appolinarevna open her mouth wide, but silently, in his direction. Kallistrat Ippolitovich did not doubt for the moment that he was not praised right now, but only a hefty slap on the back, made the "grief-composer" to get busy by cleaning the "children's" room.

And although the charm of Comrade Navalyaev was certainly in his indecisivenes, yet in places, he was a man of purpose. What proved the attitude to cotton balls, and not extracted for a moment from the auricles. By the way, suddenly the deafness that overpowered our hero came down on its bald head with a lot of disasters that included slaps in the back of his head by his mother, reprimand and ridicule at work, as well as significant inconveniences, you can even say the dangers in everyday life. One day, he almost got under the car, at Vladimirskaya street, near the museum of the Friend and Grandpa to all Soviet People Lenin. And on Thursday, the loader from the grocery store in the "House of Morozov" knocked Kallistrat Ippolitovich with a wheelbarrow littered with tar, as our hero was deaf to the abusive "Coming trough, watch out". Once, Navalyayev fell out of the tram without hearing the automatic door open. A lot of time was occupied by waiting for the elevator, because he did not hear if the elevator was moving or standing, which made it difficult to determine the moment for pressing the button. His trousers was thorn by the angry dog, who's threatening barking junior accountant did not catch.1000 and one disaster happened with him, not to mention that no melody came to his mind.

In such misadventures, a week passed, and if it were not for the mother's ultimatum position, it is not known what would have ended up. But capitulation did not happen, only the exchange of prisoners took place and the signing of a mutually beneficial cease-fire with mutual concessions. Kallistrat Ippolitovich agreed to extract cotton wool from ears, in exchange for monetary compensation, which allowed our hero to visit the building of the National Philharmonic. This legendary place, where the spirit and mood of many musicians and composers circled. After all, the concert hall was built in the distant year of 1882, and originally was called the hall of the Merchant Assembly and was given to the Russian Music Society in Kiev. After the Bolsheviks came to power, since 1919 there was the Proletarian House of Arts, then the House of Communist Education, since August 21, 1934 – the All-Ukrainian Radio Committee, and since October 8, 1934 – the Palace of Pioneers. During the German occupation in 1942 – 1943 – Deutsche Haus (Deutsche Haus – the German house). Only since 1945 the hall was returned to the Philharmonic. In 1962, on the day of the composer Nikolai Lysenko's 120th birthday and commemorating the 50th anniversary of his death, the column hall was given the name of the composer.

And so, in this temple of art, our "inspiration catcher" appeared, having understood even at the entrance – here, like nowhere else, one can face the muse in face to face. The blessing allocated by mother means, or more precisely three rubles, allowed to visit repeatedly, this is a wonderful place. Visiting Sundays, as if for mass or political information, to the Philharmonic, in Navalyaev's soul something started, as if striking not in the head or on the head with uneven sounds, in which he, sweating and grunting, tried to recognize the notes.

It's hard to say whether the philharmonic inspiration inspired the creator, but on long winter evenings, when listening to opuses, multiple symphonies, operas, oratorios, sonatas, nocturnes, preludes, he wrote something to a music notebook, and sometimes even started dancing. More precisely, a pitiful semblance of a cancan, something in between a tarantella and a polonaise. Less often he waltzed with the mutilated crocodile Benedict, occasionally venturing into strange dances, legs wide apart, and waving his arms awkwardly, awkward movements only in vain shaking the air of the "children's room."

Comrade Navalyaev's rather noisy predilection, soon enough, not to say at once, was appreciated by neighbors, categorically expressing, both Amalie Apollinarievna and the "madman himself", claims, in a crude ultimatum form, densely mixing diplomatic protests with the selective non-normative Vocabulary, demanding to move the music away, preferably on plein air. Neighbors put in an example of previes silent passions of Callistratus Ippolitovich, such as writing poems, cutting and pasting applications, cross stitching, coloring books of models and soldiers, collecting stamps, molding plasticine that did not provoke a protest among others. But this! No, they are not going to tolerate this any more.

But suddenly, quite unexpectedly, even for himself, our hero showed firmness of character and indestructibility of will. At the same time hiding his eyes, blushing and going to work so early that one of the neighbors does not catch it. He even changed leisurely meals on the kitchen table, to a meal in the "children's room." Hard times have come. In fact – the blockade. As they say in such cases, the Sicilian Mafiosi, when forced to hide by whole families – "went to the mattresses." But the besieged did not even come to mind "lay down their arms." Unbroken Kallistrat Ippolitovich, like a heavy, slow-moving, rattling symphony-cruiser, walked his course, day by day, working on creating a landmark work.

And so, when listening to and composing the melody in the dance was over, he finally entered plein air, literally finishing the stage, turning to the respected "Hohner". Throwing the straps of the musical instrument on his shoulders, Callistrat Ippolitovich glanced at the smooth rows of buttons, like the rows of soldiers, on the eve of the battle, waiting only for the drum beat, the bells ringing-the command of the Field Marshal, his Navalyaev team. To begin with, to stretch his fingers, long unaccustomed to the keys of the trophy, grandfather accordion, Navalyaev played an inconsistent fantasy, in which, with

The greatest excuse was a fragment from the opera "Tarar". This misunderstanding, splashed out

Outside of the loud but faked sounds of the old "Hohner", Callistrat Ippolitovich dedicated, moreover, sent in support of the slandered genius – Antonio Salieri, who once served as a court music conductor – one of the most important musical posts in Europe, and was the teacher of such talents as V. A. Mozart, L. van Beethoven, F. Schubert and F. List. By the way the last two he taught free of charge.

As the amiable reader remembers, the myth of his involvement in the death of Mozart became a curse of Mr. Salieri, which, despite constant refutations, spread in some countries mainly due to the "small tragedy" of Alexander Pushkin, despite the court that officially recognized Signora Antonio is not guilty of the death of a colleague. The fact of the absurd slander inspired the unjust injustice Navalyayev to the original rehabilitation of the Austro-Italian composer. But very soon the indomitable ardor, like the good intentions of Kallistratus Ippolitovich, broke about the complexity of the score of the great genius, which caused the inept accordionist to say goodbye to the impossible task, cutting off the cacophony at the very beginning of the overture to the first act. And yet, not wanting to give up, not by washing like a catapult, in memory of the great Salieri, he read a message written by Josef Weigl, one of the composer's pupils, on the grave of the maestro:

Ruh sanft! Vom Staub entblößt,

Wird Dir die Ewigkeit erblühen.

Ruh sanft! In ew’gen Harmonien

Ist nun Dein Geist gelöst.

Er sprach sich aus in zaubervollen Tönen,

Jetzt schwebt er hin zum unvergänglich Schönen.

Having satisfiedly nodding, Navalyaev solemnly installed his torn note notebook on the music stand, put on his glasses, and hit the keys…

It is difficult to overestimate the beauty of the stream of sounds, pouring out, as if from a sinking ship's hole, and tearing away the prosperity of a quiet evening in Kiev. It seemed that even the contraceptive cockroaches were hiding. From the rolls of eternity, Amalia Apollinarevna, in a cup of tea, fell a false jaw; Gesi Myasnikov's suspenders burst; Tolyan Krysiuk sobered up; And guest of the grandmother Varka, a taiga hunter from the Yamal-Nenets Autonomous District, threw up his gun. All the components of genius, like an intricate puzzle, formed in one moment.

Having connected the microphone, Callistrat Ippolitovich, with a trembling hand, pressed the "record" button, borrowed from the neighbor, a pre-prepared "Dnepr-9" reel recorder, as though launching a space ship. In one person the composer and the performer selflessly repeated into the microphone, a musical cry thrown into immortality. Having completed the most pleasant and responsible – a clean sound recording, which can be considered a precious fruit of a difficult and long work, Comrade Navalyaev, for the first time in six months, fell asleep to the heroic dream of a hero who accomplished the greatest feat.

The very evening of the next day, he decided not to rely on the case, personally went to the State Television and Radio, at Khreshchatyk 26, where the contest was held – "Anthem of the World". But to the great

Peace in the world! Cleansed from the dust

Let eternity shine upon you

Rest in peace! In eternal harmony

Your spirit is now liberated.

He expressed himself in magic sounds,

Now he is in eternal beauty.

The astonishment of our hero, he was not allowed to go inside, only taking a precious film from his hands, on a plastic reel, and also recorded the home address and telephone number of the "young" contestant. There was no limit to the joy of Kallistrat Ippolitovich. He even, on occasion, allowed himself to be treated to ice cream. "Vershkov" for 13 cents! Our composer, smeared with ice cream, patrician stepping home, already tried on the laurel wreath of a triumphant, who undoubtedly awaits him on the altar of musical glory. Comrade Navalyaev, no matter how strained, could not imagine what this altar looks like, persuading yourself only that it is a very worthy structure, stored in one of the bright halls of the majestic Gosteleradio, for special occasions. And what, if not the most striking example of this "special case", is his brilliant work, his brainchild, his masterpiece called "The Anthem of the World". This is just what justifies such, pomposity-filled rooms, since the genius creations, with their light touch, carry away to eternity all that they deign to touch.

The period of waning in the clouds ended quite soon, somewhere on the third, fourth day. Then came the time of doubt, which put our maestro to a standstill. Then struck a bitter hour of disappointment, throwing and hysterics of unrecognized genius. Navalyaev scurried around the corners of the "children's room", nervously picking his nose and biting his nails. He became a frequent visitor to the entrance of the Gosteleradio, where he was already unceremoniously driven into the neck, escorting kicks in the backside. Returning home from work, he, without noticing that, found himself on Khreshchatyk, in front of the building No.26, where cruel, soulless and insignificant people were hiding behind the windows, unable to distinguish the masterpiece from the mediocrity. All this, of course, Callistrat Ippolitovich wore, not daring to share even with his mother. But everyone, even the angelic patience comes to an end – the spring bursts, the dam breaks, the hay ignites, the bottom falls out, in other words it becomes simply unbearable. But here is the paradox. All these fears immediately disappear, it is only necessary to see the chimera. Which, in fact, happened to our hero.

Such an outlet, if you please saving the straw, for Navalyaev, was his first love – Lenochka Malinovskaya, who studied with Callistratus Ippolitovich to the fourth grade, after which, by some miracle, she managed to emigrate with her parents to Great Britain, where she settled. "That's who will appreciate! That's who will understand! "– thought Navalyayev, remembering the golden-haired fairy, the master of her own dreams.

Already at the end of March, without any doubts and delays, our bookkeeper-composer collected a parcel, where he carefully packed a plastic coil with a magnetic tape that concealed a musical masterpiece – "The Anthem of the World". He sealed the envelope and licked the pencil to write the letters and numbers that made up the address of the girl who lived in the city of London on Abby Road 5. But, perhaps, absentmindedly, perhaps with excitement, having not seen, Comrade Navalyayev confused the numbed figure "5", in an old notebook, with a troika, accidentally sending a message to Abby Road 3, where the famous recording studio Abby Road of the British media group EMI Group, where the legendary Beatles recorded their music, is located.

P.S. We do not know for sure what the musicians of the legendary Beatles experienced when they heard Navalyaev's Anthem of the World… but on April 10, the same year 1970, Paul McCartney announced the disbandment of the Beatles. True, Navalyayev learned about this event two months later. Since in the program "Time" this fact was considered not worthy of mention.

Chapter 3

“ICELANDIC MOSS OR COOLING SYSTEM”

The day before (this, even can be considered a prologue): On a fine summer evening, somewhere around five, at the front entrance of the grocary store one on the corner of Saksaganskogo and Stepan Khalturin streets, Kallistrat Ippolitovich Navalyaev collided with a drunken couple – a neighbor, Lyudmila Fedoseevna Kotovasenko, nicknamed Josephine, and Vladimir Stepanovich Kobelkovsky, a taxi driver from a neighboring house, who was Lyuskin's boyfriend.

By the way, it is possible that Josephine, Lyuska, was nicknamed because, like the wife of the great Napoleon, Josephine de Beauharnais, nee Marie Rose Joseph Taschet de la Pajéry, she was not particularly strict moral standards, although this ridiculous fact is unlikely Was known, and therefore had the opportunity to influence the choice of the local basotha, "christened" the citizen of Kotovasenko by this euphonious name. What to say, Lyuska was a famous slut. She "twisted the shenanigans" with many married and unmarried men, without fear of cursing and scorn. She was not embarrassed by the grandmother's gossiping at the entrance, seeing off the pretty girl with hissing and cross signs, imposed unceasingly, both on her own brow and after her fiancé. Nor were they threatened by the threats of the wives of the kobeliruyuschih personalities, that is, all those who wandered around Lyuska's skirt. About Josephine gossiped that, they say, it is worth it to slip, and the men at her feet can be stacked. All this is true, and yet, there was that one, about which she dreamed. That only Phoebus, who forever remained in the heart of the delightful Esmeralda. Yes, you did not misinterpret, the main subject of the adoration of the irresistible Josephine was the same citizen Kobelkovsky, whom we met at the grocery store. But the thirty-six-year-old Vovchik, as Lyusya called him, was married a long time and hopelessly, with three children at the same time. To tell the truth, all this economy, did not take away the passion for the cute and trouble-free, like the rifle of Berdan, Lyuska, whose incomparable appearance gave him no rest, forcing to meet with "beloved", in strict secrecy, behind the strong gates of his own garage No. 7. One of the narrow boxes of the auto cooperative "Barvinok", where the faithful steel horse Vovan was stored – three-speed, 35 horse-horse "Moskvich 402".

Fumbling with the drunken gaze of the baggy figure of Navalyaev, Josephine sniffed scornfully, smiled, calling to her neighbor.

– Well, dam defective, I found myself a woman?! Or are you going to be patient, do you look under skirts? Moron.

She burst out laughing.

Ludmila Fedoseyevna Kotovasenko, in fact, was not a vicious woman, and somewhere deep in her soul, even quite compassionate. But by the will of fate, being in the ranks of those individuals who are mad at the lack of order in life, the absence of a family, and for this reason deprived of motherhood, she sometimes wanted to seem like a soulless bitch, who made those around him take on a very hostile disposition. Navalyaev, unlike the overwhelmihttps://webmail.networksolutionsemail.com/interfaces/sso/login.php?user_domain=mail.vipstay.comng majority, of course, who was ill-wishers, understood perfectly the reason for Lyudmila's so ugly behavior, so he not only sympathized with the girl, but also respected her.

"Forgive me, Lyudmila Fedoseyevna, not exactly… but only… I'm not in a hurry. After all, as the amazing Albert Camus claimed – "Only one great love in a lifetime justifies the causeless bouts of despair that we are exposed to."

The confused Navalyaev mumbled, he did not teach any wrongdoing, especially to lie to women. Josephine stared at her neighbor with an unkind look.

– Whaat?!

– Come on, Luces…

Vovchik grinned crookedly, hiding a bottle of cognac under the floor of his jacket.

"… moved." Enough bazaar with fools. We'll have a nice rest…

He offered it voluptuously, embracing the "lady of the heart" by the shoulders. Laughing in the face of the awkward Navalyayev, even without a hint of embarrassment that might have been caused by an insult to an unfamiliar person, under the reprehensible looks of casual passers-by, a couple headed down the street. Already after a quarter of an hour, after a casual meeting at the door of the deli, Josephine and Vovchik approached the gates of box number 7, the garage cooperative Barvinok.

The Barvinok co-operative was a fenced-off area surrounded by concrete, sometimes asphalted, near the railway tracks, where more than four dozen numbered garages were crouched, adhered to the decrepit wall by half a brick. One of these walls, which survived after the Second World War, turning black like a thorn in the old wasteland, proved to be a compelling reason for it to be cloaked in garages in the early sixties and called the Barvinok co-operative. Subsequently, there was another wall, which means two more rows of boxes erected and squeezed into a tight space behind the concrete hedge.

It was here, to the gate under number 7, brought his girlfriend Vovchik Kobelkovsky. Looking around casually, the owner of the garage turned the key several times in the keyhole, hiding behind Josefina behind the metal door. Inside, everything was familiar and in advance, quite prudently prepared for drinking and debauchery – the usual pastime for those who were in a dark box, filled up with all sorts of rubbish.

At the same moment, when a couple penetrated into the dimness of the Amur cloister, two faceted glasses, not washed since May, and several green apples appeared on dust-covered metalworking table.

"Oh, Vovchik, green apples again?" Actually,with brandy goes lemon.

– Are you out of your mind?! Where can I possibly get lemons for you now?! It's not like it's a, New Year!

However, on this whim of the girls are over, and everything fell into place. At first the cognac was drunk, and then, under the unrestrained laughter of Josephine, Vovan dragged her into the close salon of the Moskvich. After a brief floundering between the "sofa" seats, which certainly would not have been approved not only by Venus but also by Aphrodite, the breathless and crumpled lovers got out. Having conceded to the chosen one a single chair, or rather to say what was left of him, Vovan, sitting down on an empty 20-liter canister, lit a cigarette.

– Hey you Kazanova, there is no more booz left!

With doomed voice asked Josephine, while lit a cigarette with a cigarette of her lover.

– You offending me Lyusyok, in the stash there is a bottle of brew.

"Shura's women?"

– Not Avdeevny.

"Oh, it's a nightmare, my had will burst!" From carbide, she makes it, or what?

"All right, do not worry… my princess.

Moonshine prompted the couple once again to get into the car salon, the field of which disheveled Josefina in an ultimatum form said.

– And now, I want champagne!

"Lyusyok, you fell asleep at the crown today?!" Where does champagne come from!?

The drunken girl sternly cocked her head.

"I do not care about your difficulties." Champagne come on and on!

– Listen, come on. One could call Lyubka Serduchka, from the "desk of orders", so she is on vacation. I went to Skadovsk…

"Do not mumble me here!" Go and find a woman asking for a kada!

Having pronounced the verdict, the strict Joseine was delayed with a cigarette butt. Doomed for pointless searches Vovan, he stuck to the gate. Opening the garage door with a key, as it was opened with the help of a key both from the outside and from the inside, Vovchik slammed the metal "gate" as if he had locked the lover forever.

"All right, snake…"

He whispered maliciously when suddenly a sober thought knocked on his head.

"But surely, the plum of Plum had a bottle of champagne!" Well, yes, I was. His Tonka hid her on her birthday.

The hope that struck Vovchik's temples allowed him to cheer up.

– So, and what is the number of days?

He scratched the back of his head.

– Yeah, so Tonka snejda in the night! There is a contact!

He exclaimed, rushing to the gates of the cooperative, to go to the godfather Sliva, who lived in the street of Arkady Gaidar.

When Vovan, staggering, had already reached the coveted street, anticipating quick luck, a truck jumped from behind the corner, and, hooking the drunken taxi driver with his starboard side, disappeared somewhere in the wilds of nearby houses.

* * *

After the Soviet government took away the faith of God from the people, discrediting the Almighty in the eyes of the illiterate masses, by debunking the greedy and drinking priests, as if to open an ulcer of church corruption, she decided not to stop at this. Having tightened the strong loop of the Comintern at the neck of the proletariat and the peasantry, the Bolsheviks dragged the "liberated" into the "Bright Future", first striking blows at the bottom of collectivization. Then, without too much hesitation, the Communists deprived the inhabitants of one-sixth of the land of free movement across the expanses of the globe. Then they banned the literary works of brilliant authors such as Bulgakov, Solzhenitsyn, Averchenko and many others, intending to forget their "Master and Margarita", "Gulag Archipelago", "Dozen knives in the back of the revolution". Then… however, we will not list, so as not to tire the respected reader, all that was done for the "good" of the people. Let's just say that no matter what the Soviet government does, they have not succeeded, even to approach the standard of living of the hated capitalist countries. And then, in order to defame a prosperous Europe, the CPSU turned to propaganda. Here, we should simply note that their "fair" exposure of the "decaying" capitalist society erected in an all-pervasive propaganda cult was not tolerated by discussions based solely on its own "Only Right" Opinion and on the views of the pro-Soviet, obedient pocket press from the Kremlin Peace, even if they were whales, like communists such as – "Unsere Zeit", "Morning Star", "l'Unità", "L'Humanité", "Daily World", "People's World". Who does not remember the excerpts from Pravda, Izvestia, Trud, tirelessly quoting pro-Soviet newspapers, discrediting lifestyles in bourgeois countries (in vain they paid?!), where the unfortunate oppressed journalists, nurtured by Kremlin money, the imperialist censorship closed their mouths, Thus encroaching on the sacred "Freedom of speech". Whether it is in Sovkoy – the rampant democracy and free-thinking. But, no matter how pressed, nor carried out the brain and do not hang noodles, it is difficult for many years to fool the multimillion population. It is impossible to force to think alike, because it is the same, it is possible only not to think, not to think and not to delve into.

And now, the own people, consisting, at that time, of the 441 million with the hack of individuals, the "happiest" country in the world, the party took up a business excluding all sorts of meditation, self-observation and observations harmful to the proletariat, placing the population in endless queues, Night duty with commemorations at shops, shuffling out, to crush, on carriages and salons of "comfortable" urban transport, driving out, more than a dozen times a year, to luxurious parades – pomp of pomposity and sabbath of militarism, to feel the herd, measuring step and throat at the mausoleum Its unity with the Party. The fight against the individual and personal, that's what was important for the ideologists of the communist regime – whether it's own house, boat, car, especially opinion.