Гей Нуреев из России в Лондоне Nureyev Uri Runtu

2012 - Текст автора из книги РЮНТЮ, Юри Мэттью (1998) ОДНО-томник «Суперзвезда и рок-идол: РУДОЛЬФ НУРЕЕВ И ФРЭДДИ МЕРКЮРИ» КУЛЬТУРA : 111 libraries in RUSSIA + 35 КНИГ ЮРИ МЭТТЬЮ РЮНТЮ в 111 БИБЛИОТЕКАХ РОССИИ 

2017 - Георгий Георгиевич Ларин : " ... Ballet. Mercury Freddie and Nureyev Rudolf \ Балет. Меркьюри Фредди и Нуреев Рудольф /[http://proza.ru/2017/07/17/1237]/ :

Самое смехотворное в упомянутом мною прежде эпизоде с блогерским т.н. "советом", данным академику, заключается в том, что "блогер-фейкер-тролль" на голубом глазу отсылает к жёлтым Интернет-источникам именно того,

КТО в течение многих лет НЕПОСРЕДСТВЕННО участвовал в процессах регламентирования и синхронизации бурной творческой жизнедеятельности легендарного танцовщика и его возлюбленного друга рок-идола, составляя для них не только гастрольные, но также и годовые, полугодовые, квартальные, помесячные, еженедельные и ежедневные расписания и графики.

Как ЛИЧНЫЙ СЕКРЕТАРЬ РУДОЛЬФА НУРЕЕВА (и по совместительству - его душеприказчик), ЮРИ МЭТТЬЮ РЮНТЮ занимался не одними только расписаниями и графиками,но ещё и гармонизацией тех или иных протокольно-регламентных "несостыковок" - в случаях внезапно вспыхивавших "страстных порывов" у суперзвёзд мирового балета и рока... " : Георгий Георгиевич Ларин  - 2017



JOE
 
No, nobody loves me on this miserable world,” I think to myself as I pour another glass of wine.
 
My heavy body sat on the floor and my eyes stared out of the window.
 
The full moon clearly shined peacefully to all corners of my room.
Its white light filled the furniture with coolness and loneliness.
 
“Why is the planet so heartless? Is it really that the Little Prince has already left it, and his rose has shriveled up? Without a doubt only he an unmarried guy could write such a gruesome story. I see in it a prayer about grief and inevitable death. It’s not in vain that the war plane crashed after the publication... of that story.”
 
With all my strength I stood up and staggered to the bookshelf and quickly search for that French book, which started to get on my nerves.
 
“Yes, of course undoubtedly,” I flick through the pages with my clumsy fingers. “It’s about loneliness of the soul’s twilight rules and about nothing else. Look how light it is around, I’m even reading without the lamp,” I gasped in confusion. “That means that the moon isn’t really that cold,” I thought aloud.
 
The book flew to the lounge as I stretched jeans over my lightly chubby body.
 
“To be more exact my body engulfed my jeans,” I laughed at myself.
 
I slam the door and I’m outside.
 
The moon still ruled over everything here, just like in the house.
No clouds were visible in the sky.
The wind which was here a second ago blew away somewhere.
It’s so unusually quiet with no sounds or rustles.
 
Has time died and never to return... or maybe it’s stopped to kiss the Prince?
 
I don’t know why but my legs move in the direction of Central Park.
 
Joe was there waiting for her friend. She too went a little crazy from this maddening full moon.
 
“I’m sure that he will come today, as he usually does, even though it is rather late. Isn’t it close to two? So what of it? Come on .. come on and … don’t fret,” she encouragingly chirped and squeaked to herself when she thought about him.
 
Well here’s the park and I can see that fluffy possum hanging from the same tree. I know that it’s strange by some weird twist of fate, how such an animal can survive in the center of New York, or maybe it’s because nobody even guesses about her. Isn’t it in that which hides her secret of happiness?
 
“Last month I saw the body of a dead male. That means you’re the Widowed Queen of New York,” I greeted my new acquaintance. The possum imitated different sounds in reply, throwing me nutshell after already eating its core.
 
Now she runs along the lawn and starts to dig in the rubbish bin, then to the water for a drink.
She suddenly turns her head and restlessly dashes to the side.
 
Who could that be at such an hour? Oh, it’s the old homeless Darrel.
 
“Hi, Rudy!” I recognize his voice.
“Hi,” I reply. “I can’t sit still on a full moon lit night.”
 
”I haven’t seen you for exactly a month and missed you so terribly. What’s news, Mr. Ballerina? Can you imagine that I met a new partner and can you believe that he’s my neighbor? Did you know that I’ve fell in love again? You do believe me, don’t you Rudy?”
 
“Could it possibly be true?”
 
“Yes, I can’t get used to it myself, I think it’s serious!”
 
“What, again? You’re a lucky man!”
 
“Yes the same happened to me about 5 years ago. You do remember my love story before his funeral... last Christmas holidays. I don’t want to say the dead man’s name,” we wept together over such an unfair business.
 
“Yes, certainly, I remember everything, sorry,” my heart painfully choked. I felt as if somebody actually tipped a bucket of water over me as the tears poured from my eyes.
 
It reminded me of his misfortune. Sadness engulfed my memory; we both lost our friends simultaneously. I’m still grieving over their death. I’m so unlucky, which is exactly how Darrel my friend feels.
 
I’m as before alone. Is some type of luck waiting for me? Who knows? Yes and who has the gift to know what tomorrow will bring? Nobody has such gift. I smile and recover slightly from being slapped by a gust of icy wind.
 
“Why are you shivering, is it chilly?” Darrel starts to hug me.
“Yes, I’m a little shaken and of course because of your luck, but anyway don’t worry about my jealousy to you, Darrel!”
“I understand, but you know that I’ll always wish you luck, Rudy. Yes, and I agree that you know everything about me, which is very important. I’m not lying when I tell you that I love you and want for you all the best, Rudy!”
“Yes, I know, but what about this intolerable loneliness. Doesn’t fear live in such place? Is it really how the human’s heart was made, Darrel?”
“Yes, yes, but frankly I’m so frightened for you and I’m endlessly worried about myself. You don’t want to really put a spell on me, to destroy my good luck.”
“No, no I don’t want that,” I laughed. “Don’t you be scared, Darrel, I'm absolutely innocent. I love you like a good trustworthy friend. Yes, I’m jealous about you, but I don’t hate you and I don’t take my jealousy seriously. My jealousy isn’t that green, it’s has another color, it’s virgin white. Do you know how jealous I was about the froth on the surface of fresh country milk in my morning coffee? Believe me, mate, it’s maybe whiter than you can imagine, even as white as this blind moon.”
 
I start to notice that I’m talking shit to an old drunk and forgot what I really need to say. We start to stare peculiarly at the sky, as it’s magical light pours through the chestnut blossoms. The tops of the pines are concealed and it’s silver needles appear to vibrate. Everything resembles features of activating unfriendly presence.
 
The neighboring lilac bushes have blackened under the crowns of the towering skyscrapers. A cocktail of odors singed my nose and dried my lips. Is it grass, which the gardener mowed at dusk?
 
To complete the usual ritual we placed our hands on each other’s shoulders. Darrel and me tightly hug and our lips gently kissed, to seal our buddyhood.
 
“You know that I’m so happy about my Joe today, Rudy,” Darrel breathed.
 
“I’m so pleased for you,” silently I jump from the bench and try to run from here.
 
I can’t stand to hear the name of my departed boyfriend... Joe... My Joe! How can I explain my feelings to this dirty bastard? My boyfriend Joe is dead, but Darrel’s love matches with his sweet boy, Joe number 2, have the same names. One Joe is dead... and one Joe is alive and incredibly happy. My shivering exhausts feet, my hands and me tremble, and my eyes become cloudy. Gasps for breath become accelerated as if suffering from an allergy attack or hay fever, which has already happened to me before.
 
“What’s with you?” he whispers. “Is something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?” he added and placed his hands on my expanding chest.
“No, nothing! I just feel a little ill,” I pretended to cough in reply.
 
He turned away in shame. Then his voice murmured… “Forgive me Rudy, but my new friend has the same name as your deceased. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not to blame, it’ll soon pass,” I cut in and pushed him out of the way.
“Well I’ll go then,” he left as quietly as he came. His footsteps created mystical rustling in the bushes.
 
 The possum finally decided to respond to my loneliness.
 
I shifted my head to see her eyes joyously glitter in unison.
 
The animal clambered onto a clump of flowers and with great pleasure started to nibble at the tops of the flocks.
 
We surveyed each other without budging.
We had nothing to say to each other.
We had one and the same secret between us. Our lonely souls understood without words.
We attempted to talk in the language, which was familiar to us.
We were both hopeless, widows.
 
In our hearts lived death, it was the same death that settled here and lived cozily. I lost my love in a turn of fate.
 
She buried her beloved, but never accepted such loss. Everything happened in the same stupid year.

I’m still human and she’s the same animal, but we’re equal, both in mourning and grief that still surrounds us. We somehow existed after such tragedy occurred. Everyone including us completed their everyday routine. We ate and breathed and sometimes slept.
 
We often enjoyed happiness in the sunset. We aren’t staring at the sun with it’s fading light instead we listen to such a natural phenomenon by our ears, we even feel it’s reflections through glassy half dead pupils. I know that nobody understands me.
 
Did we have any kind sunsets?
No! Not one single one, and now there can’t be any.
We just tucked up into ourselves and believed in our own Gods.
 
I inquisitively took my eyes off her and started to concentrate my sight on a beetle which is carrying a dead fly on its back.
 
On noticing this, the possum stood on its hind haunches and sighed aloud, its sounds echoed among the tree’s branches. She twitched her whiskers, sneezed and ran straightforward to meet me. I was startled. But quickly overcome my shock and trustingly reached out my hand. Nobody moved under the bench. I felt heavy wheezing. It was similar to the snoring of my deceased friend.
 
“I’ll call you J,” I whispered, so softly, seeing Joe alive in this possum.
 
She jumped like an hour spring. “The possum’s frightened of my rough stern voice,” I thought. She whistled in a friendly tone in reply. My deep voice reminded her of her feminine place in family life.
She scratched her hind legs then she licked her paw, suddenly she scratched me painfully, to make blood pour from the wounds. I didn’t quiver or take away my hand. I accepted it as a gesture of friendship, like blood brothers. The scented drops splashed onto the grass. The animal sniffed my warm human flesh, and then whistled in satisfaction. The aroma of the clots proved to her my sexual preference. She was delighted that I was a real man. I wasn’t frightened or didn’t hit her for causing me pain. She understood that I was a strong personality.
I sit with closed eyes, like an unmoving sphinx. She hurriedly mixed the drops through the grass and waited for the wind to dry off the last traces of my blood. The possum also hopped in circles to sprinkle her urine and feminine odors around. She seems to calculate how many grass blades change color from green to red, and then she wipes her coat around my pants.
Now everything clicked into place. She looked at me as if I was her master. I understood and immediately forgot about my sorrows. For the first time I began to think about her... J and not about my Joe and that he died of AIDS.
I’ve lost all feelings of loneliness, which plagued me like a disease. I saw a secret warmth, which she gave me right now.
She went back to her business in the flowerbed.
Hasn’t it changed everything? It’s a blood brotherhood. An invisible miracle has faced me to the facts, that it couldn’t be named in the human or animal languages. That’s why it took his place... to live in her heart as her new family partner.
“J, come here,” I ordered impulsively and held out my bloodied hand to her little muzzle. She came irrefutably to my …commend. My tiny female sat curled up snugly in my lap and raised her tail in preparation to be mated.
I leant towards her to kiss her face; instead of kissing her I kissed my unwounded hand then caressed her delicate soft ears.
She became surprised, and then licked cravingly my nails. J stopped for a second, as if remembering something, then she searched frantically for my injured hand to lick clean my wounds.
She started to learn again how to please her new mate. She opened her mind to contact with an unknown world, Her new destiny began. Her body and soul created a competition against Mother Nature.
“Do you want to look after me?” I sobbed.
Immeasurable feelings of affection pour over me. I was over whelmed by such unexpectedness, like the burning pain, which she decorated me with on our first contact. She knew exactly what I needed. She obeyed ancient instincts, it rules her animal nature.
I reckoned out all the rules of life. She understood my human nature and me even though her species was evolved millions of years before mankind.
She needed my voice, my deep male tone and intonations, which caressed her like something familiar. Vibrations of my vocal chords revived inside her, former mate. Every time she thought about her dead husband, who still lived inside her, in her pregnancy. His flesh moved inside her in their children.
Suddenly I felt that... she... fell in love with me. She wanted me as her one and only, who she could trust her children to. I understood it by the expressions of her muzzle; it was an exhibition of happiness. She guessed that I comprehended, so she fluffed out her tail and pranced amusingly around. Springing leaps threw my little female higher and higher, until she disappeared among the branches of the crown, where only the wind could reach her. Her animal movements beamed out joy and freedom.
The puzzle had been solved. She was free from fear of life of her offspring, which could be born without a father. I began to read... and still read her instincts.
I didn’t look any longer in her direction, instead I reminisced about my Joe... J. Then I finally raised my vision.
The moon was sprinkled with freckles, exactly what Joe developed in spring. Its moon had lost its icy coating and became more similar to my broken heart. The temperature became warmer, even though the southern wind started to strengthen. A thick fog suddenly encircled my bench and could feel large drops of dew on my cheeks.
“No, no, it’s not true. My stupid mania is driving me crazy,” I claimed then stood up and left without looking back. I made up my mind; I mistrust the miracle, which just happened.
Love between a widow and widower is impossible. I don’t want to be in love with a creature. I can’t change myself. My sweetheart Joe can never return... now. Blood brotherhood with a semi-human possum can’t save me from my cosmic feral loneliness. I am a human and I don’t want to be anything else. A human is a human and humanity is a part of manhood.
I didn’t wave to my J who waited for me in the treetops. I didn’t scrape any specks of love from the bottom of my heart to this alien being. Cruelty is a part of... nature. Yes, it’s true! Nobody and nothing can change me. I believe in my Joe, I belong to him as his fatal property.
Those female eyes understood everything. Her love and heart started to decay, which pushed her to the brink. She wanted to and communicate and create a new life with a dead man.
 
When I vanished, Joe threw himself head first from the branches.
 
His human eyes and spongy brain smashed into a milky pulp on the asphalt.
 
An animalistic howl penetrated through me from behind my back.
 
“It’s clear that somebody close is breathing into my ear,” I whisper to myself.
“But, why am I so shy and un..p u s h…f u l in love?” I shook, feeling a little frozen.
 
I was frightened to raise my soul towards the sky and to God, the creator of our universe.
 
“You’re still blind?” the thunder asked.
“Joe lived inside of J... who rejected being reincarnated into such a female form.
 

2017 : Моя книга о Галине Улановой : страниц: 700 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/09/15/442 /
 2017 : Моя книга о Матильде Кшесинской : страниц: 1-692 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/09/16/461 /
 2017 : Моя книга о Лаурел Мартин : страниц: 1-689 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/09/28/894 /
 2017 : Моя книга о Марго Фонтейн : страниц: 1-687 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/09/29/228 /
 2017 : Моя книга о Тамаре Карсавиной : страниц: 1-690 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/09/25/1381 /
 2017 : Моя книга об Элизабет Тейлор : страниц: 1-701 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/09/26/1006 /
 2017 : Моя книга об Элтоне Джоне : страниц: 1-703 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/08/31/1159 /
 2016-2017: Моя книга о Фрэдди Меркьюри / Меркури : страниц: 1-603 /
 2016: Том-1 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/07/17/1261 / том-1 : страниц: 1-304 / +
 2017: Том-2 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/07/17/1237 / том-2 : страниц: 1-299 /
 2016 : Моя книга о Рудольфе Нурееве : страниц: 1-685 / http://www.proza.ru/2016/05/05/1124 /


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