Author Archive for boris kislitsin

In passage

In a strangest of places, dishelved, misfortuned, abandon by all gods but unknown, tattered from a long pointless journey, he sat, all but certain about what path will be taking him into unknown, yet so foreseeble future; future that deemed to be so clear, and was yet so elusive.Random thoughts served with stale beer and luke-warm french fries -loneless at its best, a classical case of being lost: a useless coin found in a pocket of trousers not worn for aeons; old fat woman, covered with layers of heavy make-up sleeping, head on a checkered laundry bag, a Chinese fortune cookie prophecy in a language he could not read properly, but only figure out vague meanings out of characters, spelling - “danger!”, oh, no, rather “a calm see doesn’t make a skilled sailor”: whatever.Long hours of sleepless nights, and most colorless weeks of his life taking their toll; sinking in the madness, trying to get hold of something, just about anything;  simply trying to make it simple again, figure out way out of this mess, desperately trying to reconnect himself with… what?Dropping things in the middle, and taking them on again just to abandon later - no matter, how good you are at juggling, it’s only a matter of time when the ball falls; it’s only a matter of time, of course, when we all fall - heroes and villains, nameless Syziphs of endless days, we all fall in vain, and you will, no matter how hard you try. And he tried, yes, he did, over and over again, changing places for no apparent reason, leaving lovers, like unfinished books, haunted by sadness, a life without purpose, and out of need for one. To be precise, it happened in an airport cafe, with over 20 hours of waiting for the connecting flight, half of them through.

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Parallel Kapa

So I am writing a novel. As a friend of mine, Nadya, put it, a sober-punk fiction. One of the main characters in this story named after my friend, Ivan Nikitin. It’s easier to write for me, when I think about someone real. It’s already enough of nonsense there, as everything in this story is a messed up and mixed up patchwork of memories, dotted by black holes of imagination, warping what is left. So I have to keep some references to sanity, adding some actual details. One of the chapters starts from a dream, in which Nikitin is talking to a cat, called Kapa, which, according to the story, he kept in the past (in reality Kapa was a cat I had in Bangkok before he ran away).

When I was done with the first draft, I had sent it to Ivan to read.  It turned out that he has a dog now, dachshund or what is the name of the breed - I am not into dogs really; anyway, a dog called Kapa started to live with him about the time I lost my cat and added this episode in the story.

None of us, as we live 10000 or so km and few years apart didn’t know about our pets, both called Kapa in retrospect. Well, our Kapa was called after Japanese Kapa - sort of elf or mythical creature, who likes to make jokes on people. Nikitin’s Kapa got the name short from Kapsula - or capsule in Russian, because his dog reminds him one.

Weird, isn’t it? Surely, Kapa lived up his name, making all kinds of jokes - such as biting my nose when I’m asleep or hiding fish under the blanket. His last one is still puzzling me.

Boris Kislitsin

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The secret energy

Yesterday I took Tai - my 3 yrs. old son to park. I was busy doing something, and he gone quiet for a minute or so. When I looked up, he was standing with hand stretched to a nearby tree, with a palm open. It puzzled me. What was he doing?

- I am supporting the tree by sending my energy.

- Why do you need to support it?

- So it’s not going to fall down.

- Why would it fall down all of sudden? - I continued. I know, adults are boring… nevertheless, I was curious. The tree looked perfectly fine.

- Because trees don’t have secret energy which you and I have.

- And what can we do with this secret energy?

- Send it to stars or put in the water, - without hesitation answered he, as it was an obvious thing.

He talks about secret energy often. Today he explained, what all of us have a little bit of it, which we can use every day, because we can recharge it when we sleep.

Interesting indeed.

Boris Kislitsin

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Sorekara Jesus

You know what time capsule is. You’d write a message for yourself, put it in a bottle, dig a hole, put it there and forget about it for a while.

Sometimes you forget about it completely. I remember the day of my graduation from school. My mates and I wrote what we will be and what we will have in 10 years time, and decided to meet at the place 10 years later to dig it out. I never came back to my hometown. I do not know what happened to it, probably it’s still there. A friend of mine (where are you now, Katya?), when I told her this story said she also made such a capsule once. She was around 7 years old at that time. She put there her most prized possessions: some marbles, and favorite doll, other things. To make it a real treasure box, she filled that metal cookie box with mother’s jewelry. When her mother recognized that her beloved necklace is missing, my friend told about the treasure box. Her father and grandfather were dispatched with spades to dig it out. Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember where she put it exactly, and they spent a whole day digging around garden in vane. It was never found again.

Right, those things are just staff. I think there are time capsules of other kind, hidden from ourselves treasures exist. This is my explanation of deja vu. Continue reading ‘Sorekara Jesus’

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