Ничего себе! Вот это наглость! Я вышел к микрофону и высказал своё «фи» господину Книжникову. Мы, здесь собравшиеся, поэты и писатели, рождены, чтобы писать, а не читать! Это нас, заслуженных и удостоенных, великих орденоносцев и медалистов, победителей и лауреатов, обязаны изучать все остальные, те, кто не присутствует сейчас в этом зале! Ведь на заседания ЛИТО, выступления в библиотеках и школах, на концерты поэтов и литераторов в наши-то времена приходят лишь такие же, как и мы сами, поэты и литераторы! Читатели и простые слушатели уже лет сто как сидят дома!
Зал поддержал моё «фи» бурными аплодисментами и криками «браво!», но Книжников попытался возразить, что сегодня расплодилось невероятное количество Союзов писателей, поскольку каждый, имеющий страницу хотя бы в одной из соц. сетей и умеющий писать как минимум своё ФИО, считает себя писателем. А вот, судя по отчётам издателей, книги перестали покупать, а значит, и читать. Мол, именно поэтому, для поддержания интереса к книгам, он, Книжников, и решил создать первый и единственный в мире Союз Читателей.
Дискуссия грозила перерасти в острый конфликт. Я предложил Книжникову для начала прочитать мои книги и демонстративно покинул ЦДЛ. За мной проследовали и все остальные, кроме самого Книжникова.
Прошёл год. На очередном вечере в ЛИТО «Стишата-Кукушата» я узнал, что в Союз Читателей никто так и не вступил. Зато в соц. сетях появился очередной Союз Писателей!
И на этот раз Межгалактический!
О! Я возликовал: «Держись, Майя! Теперь ты просто обязана умереть от зависти!»
Мне сообщили адрес сайта, на котором я ознакомился с условиями приёма в Союз и со списком конкурсов на предстоящее десятилетие каждым годом заведовала своя Межгалактическая Комиссия, выдающая премии имени одной из планет Солнечной Системы, близлежащих к ней Созвездий, спутников и не только.
За ночь я подготовил подборку своих стихов, первым из которых, естественно, шёл «Непризнанный гений», и благополучно отправил Межгалактической Комиссии на рассмотрение. Одновременно подал заявку и на вступление в Союз.
Каково же было моё удивление, когда мне пришёл ответ, из которого следовало, что моим произведениям отказано даже в номинации на премию, а мне самому в приёме в Союз!
«Ну уж нет! Я этого так не оставлю!» решил я и вместо продолжения переписки отправился прямиком в офис Союза.
Секретарша вежливо выслушала моё требование личной встречи с самым главным в Межгалактическом Союзе и проводила меня в комнату для переговоров.
Через пару минут дверь распахнулась и в переговорную вошёл Книжников!
Вы?! удивился я.
Здравствуйте! спокойно произнёс Книжников. Какими судьбами?
Я передал ему распечатку своих произведений, начинающуюся с шедеврального «Непризнанного гения», и сказал, что мне отказали не только в получении премии имени Солнца, но и в самой номинации, как, впрочем, и в приёме в Межгалактический Союз.
По какому такому праву? Со мной! Так! воскликнул я в завершении. Вы сами-то читали мои стихи?!
Конечно, внезапно ответил Книжников. Я прочитал Вашу книгу. Ещё тогда, когда в ЦДЛ Вы предложили мне ознакомиться с Вашим творчеством.
И?! я ожидал восхищения.
Вы обычный графоман.
Да Вы в своём уме?! закричал я, вскочив из-за стола. Как Вы смеете меня оскорблять?! Мой «Непризнанный гений» получил миллиард премий всех существующих на сегодняшний день Союзов писателей!
Книжников взял распечатку «Непризнанного» и зачитал его вслух целиком:
«Я Евгений, непризнанный гений, отверженный всеми. Но клянусь я: вот-вот черёд мой придёт! И Солнце моё взойдёт! И я, любя, освещу им тебя!» Простите, но
СКОЛЬКО?! заорал я. Сколько мне Вам заплатить?!
Вы уже давно должны были понять, что я не коммерсант. Потерпев неудачу с Союзом Читателей, я создал Союз Писателей на радость собственной душе, а не ради взносов. Вы наверняка ознакомились на сайте с условиями вступления никаких денег здесь не требуется, поскольку мне интересно отделить зёрна от плевел, создать уникальное объединение действительно талантливых людей, которые сегодня теряются в толпе «гениев». Я хочу помочь им оставить свой след на память тем, кто придёт после нас.
Книжников положил распечатку на стол, вздохнул и удалился. Я не помню, как вернулся домой.
«Что делать? Что же теперь делать? Ведь на каждом углу, во всех ЛИТО, на всевозможных страницах в соц. сетях я уже анонсировал отправку заявки в Межгалактический Союз Писателей и стихи, поданные на конкурс имени Солнца! Меня затерроризировали поклонницы: когда же я блесну очередным уже межгалактическим орденом или медалью? Да и наверняка, все коллеги по перу, узнавшие о появлении Межгалактического, мгновенно отправили и свои собственные заявки! А если их примут?!»
Нет-нет-нет! На кону стояла целая жизнь! Да и что скажет Майя?! Мой межгалактический провал означал её окончательную победу! Сколько лет я потратил на восхождение? Сколько сил? Сколько денег, в конце-то концов! И пустить всё коту под хвост в шаге от Вечности лишь из-за откуда ни возьмись материализованного Книжникова? Да и кто он такой, чтобы решать судьбу моего «Непризнанного гения»?! Кто, как не я, достоин «памяти тех, кто придёт после нас»?..
Пришлось срочно воспользоваться служебным положением на тот момент я возглавлял Союз писателей-асфальтоукладчиков и ЧОП «Проблем нет!». Уже в пятницу я разместил очередной пост в соц. сетях о внезапном исчезновении Книжникова, а ещё через неделю с радостью возглавил Межгалактический Союз Писателей. Он до сих пор открыт для всех желающих. За взносы, разумеется. И да, простите, чуть не забыл: каждый член Союза должен знать моего «Непризнанного гения» наизусть! Но, согласитесь, его легко выучить, ведь краткость сестра таланта! Добро пожаловать!
20217. Intergalactic Union of Writers
The path to my glory was easy enough, since I was incredibly lucky!
However, it all started with the fact that I was born exceptionally ugly and short. My twin sister, Maya, on the contrary, turned out to be pretty, and short stature for a girl is more of a plus than a minus. Everyone liked Maya and turned up their noses at me. No matter how much I tried to please people, to get their attention, it was all in vain. Even heavy shoes with thick soles didnt add to my weight or height.
Thats the way I became a writer. I got myself a vest in the form of a diary, to which I trusted my intimate sufferings from non-reciprocity, but after the first rhyme that came to mind, I changed my shoes into a poet. Soon I discovered plenty of websites where one could post ones masterpieces. As a result, after painful swings between pros and cons, because at that time I wasnt sure yet of the excellence of my works, I nevertheless registered the profile, uploaded a picture of a handsome man and my first verse, the «Unrecognized Genius, or The Rejected».
Incredibly, I was instantly hit by a flurry of positive responses, including declarations of love from women of all ages, suits and calibers!
They began to invite me to events at literary associations and circles, to performances in museums, libraries, schools and even kindergartens, which at first I was naturally embarrassed, because the picture of a nameless handsome man, posted by me on the Internet, was radically different from my reflection in the mirror.
However, Pushkin, you know, was outwardly also for an amateur
So, I got onto stage! I was applauded by the arenas! Women asked for an autographed book, composed and sang songs based on my poems, snuggled up to me in collective photos and hinted in every possible way that they wouldnt mind getting to know me better. Anyway, there were no men in literary units, with the exception of a few pensioners and chronic alcoholics, against the background of which I looked like a fairy-tale prince. And yes, I enjoyed it! That was something quite different from being home, among relatives, or in the office at work
Soon, a retired lady in love with me gave me a recommendation to join the Union of Writers of the City, I printed two books of the chosen lyrics, submitted them with the recommendation, to the admission committee, and was accepted! Wow! Accepted! They said that my lyrics shocked them to the core, especially the poem «Unrecognized Genius».
However, the second old woman in love with me was jealous of the first one and invited me to join the City Union of Writers. You may ask, whats the difference between the Union of Writers of the City and the City Union of Writers? I still dont understand that myself, but the old lady said that the City Union of Writers was quoted higher. So I deserved the best!
Within five years, I was accepted into all the existing literary associations and Writers Unions, which headquarters were located in our city and on its outskirts, each of which considered itself much cooler than all the others put together.
I dutifully paid my annual dues. And more and more often, I received letters with nominations for numerous competitions, in which I always won! Traditionally, each selection of my poems for any competition began with the «Unrecognized Genius», already a 100% verified masterpiece, my calling card in contemporary poetry. And rather, in literature in general, what is there to hide, since my «Unrecognized Genius» was awarded not only the Alexander Pushkin Prize, but also won the Leo Tolstoy, Nikolai Gogol and Anton Pavlovich Chekhov competitions! Of course, I asked the organizers of the competitions to take into consideration for prose writers awards my diary prose instead of poetry, but I was immediately assured that my poetry was so large-scale and profound that the greatest prose masters of the world would have been happy to give me all their orders and medals!
And after these words, I finally discarded the last doubts in myself!
After five years of rotation in literary circles, there was no free space left on my jacket! It glistened with gold, pleasantly rang with glory and, like a magnet, attracted almost every literary woman without exception. And once I wore this jacket to an office party. And wow, yes! It was my minute of glory!
Only stupid Maya laughed at me! She considered my poems worthless in meaning and ugly in rhymes! She said that Tolstoy, Gogol and Chekhov, together with Pushkin and others like them, had long dreamed of meeting me in the Other World in order to send me to Hell for a frying pan, because all my awards were given not for the quality of works and not for me alone, but for money to everyone.
I tried to explain to my sister that we lived in a commercial society, the writers unions had not been funded by the state for a long time, so they were forced to encourage authors at the expense of the very same authors. Victories in national competitions and government awards were given only to «their own», and, for sure, they cost much more. However, Maya wasnt lazy to calculate how much money I had spent on my literary activities in five years, and assured me that a cottage by the sea in Europe cost much cheaper!
Europe Okay, Maya was right: it was time to conquer Europe, and then Asia, and the whole world! And unbelievable! I found out the Union of European Writers, and then the Union of Writers of Asia, the Union of Writers of Eurasia, and later the Union of Writers of North and South America, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Peru, Easter Island and the Fiji Islands, Papua and New Guinea, Antarctica and Arctic
I ended up reaching the North and South Poles in the next five years!
Yes! I became a world famous poet! The number of decorations as orders and medals didnt fit even on ten jackets, nothing to say about diplomas! I posted each new award on my pages in social networks and got more and more likes from other poets and writers, who, following me, conquered the peaks that I had already conquered. I felt like a pioneer! The first one! The commander of contemporary poetry and lets face it! the real God of the Literary Olympus.
At the same time, I was keeping track of my competitors diplomas and awards, and as soon as I found something new, I immediately sent the «Unrecognized Genius» to the next competition and won it!
The whole world lay at my verses!
At that time, I had already published more than a hundred books and continued to write more and more! Every day a few poems! Yes, inspiration had nothing to do with it! The Creator must create constantly, non-stop! Poetry is work! Daily. Persistent. Like the work of a miner or a teacher. Or a doctor. You dont want to write? You have to, my friend! Sit down and write! Thats your mission on Earth. Choose a time, for example, every day from 10:00 p.m. to midnight, and knock yourself out! «Not a day without a line!» thats the motto of a true poet and writer!
Maya was the only one who didnt recognize my greatness. She didnt even laugh anymore, she just stopped communicating with me Well, its a pity! Of course, envy is a bad feeling, but I forgave Maya in advance. She is my sister. Let her envy for health! Maya, however, bought herself a flat in Miami. Anyway, as for me, recognition is more important! Im a genius, and shes just Maya, and her name, by the way, in Sanskrit means «illusion»!
While I was thinking about where to go now, to conquer Mars or Venus, an event occurred in my life that I didnt attach any importance to it. At the next party in the Central House of Writers, where I had been invited to read poetry by two charming ladies of the literary association «Gods dandelion», a certain Ilya Bookfondoff appeared. He came to the microphone, introduced himself as the head of the Readers (!) Union just registered, and invited everyone to apply for membership. No dues were required to be paid, but the obligatory condition for a member of the Union was to read at least one book a year and write a review of no more than one page on it.
Wow! What the audacity! I went to the microphone and expressed my «boo» to Mr. Bookfondoff. We, poets and writers, gathered there, were born to write and not to read! While all the rest, not present in that hall people, must learn us, the honored and awarded, the greatest and decorated with orders and medals, the winners and laureates! After all, at literary unions meetings, performances in libraries and schools, at concerts of poets and writers in our times, there were only poets and writers like ourselves! Readers and ordinary listeners had been sitting at home for ages!
The audience supported my «boo» with thunderous applause and «Bravo!», but Mr. Bookfondoff tried to object that such an incredible number of Writers Unions had bred, since everyone who had a social network page and knew to write at least their full name, considered oneself a writer. However, judging by the reports of publishers, people had stopped buying books, and, therefore, reading them. That was why, in order to maintain interest in books, he, Mr. Bookfondoff, had decided to create the first and the only one in the world Union of Readers.
The discussion threatened to escalate into a sharp conflict. I offered Mr. Bookfondoff to read my books first and defiantly left the Central House of Writers. Everyone else followed me, except for Mr. Bookfondoff.
A year passed. At another evening at the «Lyrics of Cuckoos kids» Literary League, I learned that no one had joined the Readers Union, apart from Mr. Bookfondoff, meanwhile another Writers Union appeared in social networks!
And that time an Intergalactic one!
Wow! I rejoiced! «Hang on, Maya! Now you just have to die of envy!»