Habibullo-Eugene Kiselev

A Synopsis of my Life
2017-11-18 22:59:00 (UTC)

November 18th, 2017, Saturday, 10:59:00 p.m.

Yekaterinburg, Russia. GMT 05:00
I woke up at about 07:00 a.m. today and having had breakfast headed for the “Dom Knigi” bookstore to take back “A White Raven” for thy said they would not sell my book there.
After that, I went to the Library, which is in Lenina Avenue, 70 to participate in the meeting of “The Ural Ark”. When I came in, I met Galina Titova in the lobby. We said “hello”, and I went to the readers’ hall, where I took a seat at the back row. Shortly after, Eugene Lobanov came. Galina Titova invited him so that he could provide some criticism on different poems by “The Ural Ark” participants. To tell the truth, the overall level sucked. All the more so, Galina Titova invited Basil Zhuravlëv, an outspoken hack writer and scribbler, whose poems are more of a children’s babble on a subject of religion. Eugene Lobanov and I were sitting at the back row giggling at all imperfections and failures of the so-called “poets”, who were taking the floor in turns. However, there were some good authors there, too. For example, Anatoly Lebedev (Russian: Анатолий Лебедев), the winner of the Yesenin prize. His poems were good; however they lacked “spirit” according to my Teacher’s words.
Later, Natalia Fedorchenko came and took her place beside Lobanov and me. Then the three of us began a warm and loud discussion. When Eugene Lobanov was invited to take the place of the hostess of this soirée, the two of us, Natalia Fedorchenko and I, began to chatter. Natalia asked me why I had dropped out of the Yuri Kazarin seminar and other things like that. She is still there. I said, “Eugene Lobanov is my Teacher, and I not at all find those meetings useful to me”. Natalia retorted, “You just didn’t find yourself there!” “Okay” – I replied. I shared my current problems with Natalia Fedorchenko, namely, depression, apathy and so forth. She tried to cheer me up. Ah – ha – ha! She also chaffed my copy of the latest issue of “The Urals”, where a lot of preposterous poems were published.
When we were reading our poetry “in a circle”, I read my “Retrospektsiya” in Russian. Also, Galina Titiva gave me a notebook and a green pen as my belated Birthday present. Having had some refreshments, we left. I was sort of contended with what I had experienced today.




Ad: