Shaimardanov Rakhmet Biography

Share 1 for comparison a small diary about the Irkutsk poetic week of another participant in the festival of the poet Arkady Perevova: other intonations, a different, more spiritual look of the diary of the festival. Arkady Portov on July 18, I rise to the anniversary. Drunk youth comes out of the kiosk. Taxi drivers go. The prospect of hills is also moisturized by blue.

I returned to my homeland. We are sitting with Simferopol poets Victoria Anfimova and Marina Matveeva. A conversation about how poets survive in the country of the post -Soviet space. Kabanov paces under the windows. Apparently, he writes poetry. He gave Batman Sagaidachny. It turns out that Sasha served in connection, like me. I swim in the pool. There are one hundred and twenty rubles on Risepshene.

Heated water, trampoline, swing on iron chains. Angela Pynzaru and Anton Nechaev.

Curious guys and collections are sympathetic and readable. We quote Antokha, his "boy with reinforced concrete eggs." I walk with the Irkutsk poets Oleg Kuzminsky and Anatoly Sobennikov. We are talking about Mayakovsky. Without physiology and excellent degree. I praise the Irkutian Zhuravsky for the collection .. A real work of art. As I understand it, it was formalized by the husband of Lyubov Sukharevskaya.

In foliage, I buy gifts to my relatives. On the shore with Sveta Mikheeva. We are talking about the prospects of the Siberian comprehensive community. After all, she did not fly to Moscow and works and thinks about future forms of existence. In the evening at Efimych. I kiss Bakhyta in the head, promising to write off. Everyone is suitable, hugged. Tears are strangling. We kiss with Amelin.

Andrei Sizykh gives his collections of our entire Buryat delegation. Andrei at the festival showed endurance and wisdom. I have never broken, although, I think, there were plenty of emotional hurricanes. We go out at significant stops, swim with Vasilenko. Sveta tells that she swam in Sevan and there the water was much colder. We have common friends. Absolutely not a pathos woman and a sense of humor on top.

I read the yellowish collection in fragments. Vasilenko is a poet of my circle. White verse and unbearable loneliness. Tatyana Zhilkina's magazine "Class" shout all the way an idiotic slogan - Buryatia steers! She still feels like a girl and scolds when she is photographed. It is revived by memories of work in Buryatia. According to her, all the Buryats were struck by her beauty and stacks fell at her feet.

Damn, I want to be the same vein and beauty in old age. Time is vague. We sing songs by the fire. He is kindled by a special man in the captain's cap. Only now the nearby birch was scorched. Ivan Kleinova and Artem Mors are buried under the guitar of Dima. Joins Andrey Korovin and Natasha Elizarova. All rock and roll of Russian lead. We are talking about Leonardo DiCaprio with fruit drinks.

For all his superiority, Leo is an actor from God. In particular, Artem cited the film “Complete Eclipse”. Wonderful Vanya Klinova, loves music very much. Although, as I have no voice or hearing. Following musical innovations. Excursion to the ethnographic complex of Taltsy. Glass dolls. Quite alive and mocking. A puppet boy has a bird in his hands. School black-clone desks, beds with a mountain of pillows, patchwork blanks.

Iron slippers and a soaring jug. Buryat yurts with a green turf on the roofs. Bulat takes off with a netbook. The camera is trembling. He apparently feels Fassbinder. Directing the screen to the steep grass. I swim at the windows whitened by the wind. Eyes to heaven. Carefully bypass the master's side. On the way back with Ztudin Lesha. We are talking about our attachments in literature.

Kataev and Voznesensky, Nikolai Nosov. Gives sensible advice on the publication of the collection and its further promotion. Recalls years of study in literary. Makhalovki with Azerbaijanis and other charms of dormitory life. In the evening in the German cafe. I'm talking to Yula. Of course about art. Awesome ragged Rubinstein. Bakhyt - Wise Goodwin - gleams glasses of glasses.

The mask of the lion is thrown aside, now he is a Virgin-fish. He will be in the Fire Sun in his New York. Vera Pavlova reads the childish and herself as a girlfriend is playful and erotic. Stephen, a great man, gave some healthy soap for advancement in staff collections. Respect Man and Respect! I read Vera's verse of my daughter Dasha “Fire”. She, happy, laughs. I shoot on video, fotay and draw with pastel.

Yula looks ironically. Yes, I myself understand that this is show -off.