The Fare Game©

a biographical/philosophical/adventure novel in search of the Holy Grail Love

by

O

aka

Olinka

The Fare Game © copyright by Olga Valerivna Kovshanova 2005, all rights reserved

Chapter 01

“The Beginning of Start ”

.mmWell, why not? There are many diligent authors who try to wring out of themselves some interesting ideas and situations tho the richest source of adventures is the Fountain of Life. Hmm…the concept is not a discovery of a new planet. But even though so many volumes are written and speeches are given Man reveals for himself the depth of the World-age thoughts after knowing what they "feel" like. It's like having list of items of wisdom where Man during his life ticks those which turned out to be true.

Each human being is like an infinite cosmos of thoughts, aspirations and lusts covered with flesh and blood and this universe is oozing from the wide open eyes. Well, let's not to generalize… So my naive inner space brought up on the tales of chivalry crashed to The Fairy Game of Life. That was the point I had to check.

So gay, sweet, modest and candid Maid came to Poetry Discussion Club when her REAL multiplied fornicating with Life begun… What will she be when she leaves it?

The Show must go on …

***

Brisk, life-full-sprinkling Girl stately but quietly stepped in a big Baroque style hall of Mayakovski's Library in the Russian "Northern Venice" on June’s first Friday evening. The gust of radiating tenderness from her alluring smile flowed over the room. Her sprawling softness was pouring into the bright sunny rain banging through the open window. People sitting around pancake-shape table discussed some poem.

Where is He, the One for whom she flutter into here? She CAN'T find HIM (!!!), the ONE for whom she and most people at this polished table gathered! The ONE she is looking for so long and patiently, the ONE for whom she prepared herself several years…!! OOH!!! Here he is-the English Native Speaker!

It's not funny!!! Try to find a patient hero who will attentively listen to your slow as a torture, spattering and mistakable "speech" free of charge (in Russia even teetotalers drink if it's free of charge)!

“Write Productively – ADORING You All-ways! KPM”

Strange, usually people define the foreigner straight away like wolves sense a newcomer in their pack. But Marco's countenance posed as a west-wind-beaten face only when he opened his mouth. Professor Higgins would be proud to have in his collection such a great sample of cheerful and distinctive American accent rippling through his Hollywood style teeth. It's interesting how western residents comment on the dental situation in the Great Empire of Petrol dollars, “Russians have such terrible teeth and they even are not ashamed of it! Prominent actors, garrulous politicians openly show off their uneven yellow ‘the main tool of proletariats’ or sometimes its absence! I suppose out of esprit de corps to the working class?” Well, oil-greenbacks slip away through not only Russian fingers but teeth also!

So then after brainstorming the hidden meaning of ‘Nevermore’ and the enigma of Lenore the most intriguing part of the show began. The typically foreign-made white-teeth mouth asked people their reasons for coming to Poetry Round Table. Though the answer was quite obvious most participants sweat trying to find some threads connecting them to the Songs of Poets. What a carnival of creativity broke loose! There were some lazy-bones who had neither imagination nor desire to strain their grey cells told the simple truth. But such answers were considered primitive and lacking the flight of the imagination or any originality. In other words – missing poetic aura.

But mostly people aspired to find an artistic streak in their right legs’ left heels:

- “In my winter-season childhood I climbed up a windowsill and on the mist over pane sketched a handmade two-line rhyme”;

- “One of the cousins of my grandfather’s aunt was a great writer who published his story in his school teenage magazine”;

- “22 years ago my darling husband offered me his hand and soul. In order to excite all chambers and valves of my poor sensitive heart entirely he read me one of Pushkin’s love poems. I was so astounded that I said Yes!”

- “I adore reading metro ads fitted in verses!”

And after the luxury of all magnificent ideas Marco broke the idyll. “When did you read the last poem or buy a book filled with lyric lines?” The provoking question hung in mid-air… People were eagerly seeking for a Great Man who could give more or less a decent answer. Maybe somebody by chance (or mistake?) took the son’s school book of Literature or read a funny poem in the popular magazine Wow! I Can Read! or utilized a poem book for boss’s birthday party (and read some verses from there) because there was not enough place on book shelf to put a favorite women’s novel??? Nobody showed up. The cool fifth year of the third millennium breeze burst into the hall.

“OK, now a little bit about me,” Marco smiled. “I am a poet, photographer, world traveller and English teacher, who was born in the present-day Great Empire of Bush and Co. My main values are Freedom, Caring and Honesty. I have been living in St. Petersburg more than 14 years and love this city for its friendly people, sense of cultural, artistic and literary history and most beautiful Muses in the World! Where else on our Beautiful spacecraft Earth can one encounter another Earthling somewhere in a shop, café or just in a street and in an hour be splitting a bottle of Russian vodka (or whatever was sold in that container) with your new friend ardently and juicy smooching each other!”

After that Marco gave everyone a small “present”—a paper with his poem “Love Is …” and some info about himself. It’s difficult to say how many hundreds of people have read this article in the toilettes and then used this sheet to get rid of their shit; but certainly all political candidates I-will-make-your-life-a-dream envy Marco’s self-advertising company! Wherever Marco goes he keeps the cherished brochures in his shirt’s heart-pocket. Nurses who measure his blood pressure, salesgirls in shops, plumbers, waitresses and every second Beautiful SPB Nymph – everybody gets his “gift”.

BTW, about typical Russian toilettes… One guy who tried to find a unique theme for defending his dissertation proved that the quality of the only place where Emperors go alone on foot reflects the state’s economy situation. From that point of view Russia is still developing country which has not only the three eternal problems: drunks, broken roads and fools but also the lack of public toilets. Besides many cafés don’t let people from the street use their conveniences. But anyway canny Russians crawl into its Room-of-Dream (when your body needs to join to the natural world’s water circulation and you beg only about one thing)!

There is a famous joke in Russia:

On the highway between Moscow and St. Petersburg a bus stops because one of American tourists heard the call of nature. The naïve guy asked the driver:

“Where is the toilette?”

“Over there,” answered the driver and waved to the forest.

In an hour the tourist came back.

“I walked all over the forest and couldn’t find the john!”

The Russians find the toilettes free of charge everywhere – in the yards or next to the bushes in the city’s core!

The Poetry Round Club finished.

“Shit! Where is it? I don’t want to pay $2 for it! I lose something almost every day but mostly find the loss… Where is this stupid thing?”

I was upset but confident that the problem will be solved one way or another. In such situations I am used to letting things flow and the solution will swim out. Well, not exactly: I do all possible things I can and then with a clear conscience awaiting what will show up. Sometimes shit rises to the surface since this substance never sinks in the water. However, among all dirt of the World one can usually find a quite decent bargain/deal/solution/thing.

‘I am sorry I can’t find the cloakroom check. Maybe you forgot to give it to me?’ I asked the old babushka in a coatroom with appealing eyes of a dog looking at the moon.

‘Oops!! I took two tickets from the table, sorry, Olga’, said one of the PRT’s participants, an ash-hair senior citizen with a kind eyes and warm smile.

There is a whole generation taught by means of trials and mistakes to take whatever is given or lay without care. Not surprising that “conditioned response” was discovered in USSR!

I remember a story that happened to one of my relatives. My aunt cow-chicken-pig’s Queen went to Moscow, the beloved Russia’s Heart, in the days of the last shops’ agony with their empty shelves under Gorbachev’s governing. She went out for a walk and saw a long chain of people waiting to buy something. “The goods must be worth standing by for so many people are interested in them,” decided my aunt biding time to get her Golden Fleece for about two and a half hours. What a surprise! When her turn came she found out that such hullabaloo is for potato chips! No, she doesn’t like them, but to spent nine thousand precious minutes of your life and not to buy anything would be too dramatic / traumatic. So awaiting Hidden Treasure was accomplished with buying two packages of pepper chips!

So the Hole Trinity – Marco, my friend Irina and I – left the Warehouse of Knowledge and went along the Nevsky Prospect. Enlivened with the screams of the lately come Spring birds chirping in unison with Ira. Have you ever heard when ….

Hmm… I had an idea how to describe it but the thought knocked on the door of my mind and disappeared in the depth of my unconsciousness after discovering there was nobody home, probably forever… Remember: thoughts like guests drop in to your home more often when you are open to WelCome them! Don’t be afraid to greet them!!

Ah, yes, so have you ever lent your ear to the soaring of your thoughts? It’s incoherent flow of nouns and verbs connected only with intonation. Now you can imagine Ira’s ability to depict idea’s in English words!

`To Chapter 02

To The Fare Game main page

To O’s Homepage: http://www.olinka.info/

O’s e-mail: olinka@olinka.info

J

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