Nikita Kapernaumov - 2019: The most obsessive diary of a rejected Martin Eden in agony

By the way, i much think on my freakish life (comparing photos of lars ulrich’s and all and the freakish photos of mine of my last few years), and i asked myself just now today, maybe it’s after all because i began to shit on camera and all and all my freakish things that she stopped messaging? But i first began to shit and masturbate in videos and then it was september 2017 and she replied and she even wrote for that photo of her herself, and then she replied cocnerning my determination to send her money. So no, it can’t be because of the freakishness. I had already been freakish and she still continued repliyng. She fucking stopped replyштп exactly because i am boring. This is what I’m raging over. I am boring, only i don’t use this word and term, i use the terms like non educated, not experienced in life, a little man, a trifler. This is what i cannnot put up with. She acknowledged me as such a one, stopped messaging me exactly because of that.

With the musicians networths the matter is this. I used to thing myself doing music for the same reasons as those musicians all. or rather, i thought they do it for the same reasons as i. but now i can see that they do it for their huge amounts of money. They do nat have anything to do with my reasons. I and my reasons are a separate universe, i am fucking alone. I wanted to be like they are, do music for the same reasons. But i do not get money. Why the fuck should i compose and record and fuck with all my songs.. dammit. I love my melodies, love the feeling of a song being recording and completed. But this feeling was relevant when i thought they have the same. But hey fucking don’t have it, at least not in the first place. And at once, once understanding it, i fucking see myself a child, a fucking child who hasnt played enogh, who continues to compose melodies like some youth of 14 who’s been given a guitar on his birthdays and so he plays and improvises and sees himself a perspective musician. I cannot unregard this, i fucking want to be grown up.

Touching growning up, or rather not growing up, which is in fact the theme of all my present neurosis, here’s another example. I fucking love my new monitor. I like its form and the price it came to me for, and its size, everything. It’s a childish feeling, that. I felt similar whenever i got a new toy. This feeling has command over me, i mean i would do things for this feeling, just to get it, to feel, because it’s pleasant. I of course can behave outwardly like a grown up, not to express happiness over a goddamned monitor or a cleaniness of my floors when i’ve washed (another thing i very much like, and it’s childhish and trivial and anti-dasha-like), which they ask of me (they – people who would now give me advice how i should fight childishness). But it won’t change anything except the outwardness. Within i would feel worse. I won; t be fucking grown up. Grown up means not to feel those feelings. I need to outlive the feelings, to be satiated by them, only thus can i get rid of them. And no even not so, even if i’ve had tons of these feelings i wouldn’t get rid of them, for, for instance, i had hundred times of clean floor. And i never stopped liking it anew everytime. I’ve read shaskeape, all these books and i still would rather watch tarzan then read.

I just cannot see how i can grow up, how i can get rid of childish feelings. They are stuck with me, they were with me from babyhood, i have a genetical predespondency to them. Dasha didn’t. Or she has (i remember her tweets), but she has so much «grown up’ options where to direct her attention that she won;’t have room for childishness.

I do not know whther to go to saratov this sumemr or not. But i know for sure, if i do not make at least a couple of albums by the summer (i stopped reading altogether and only make songs now, although catastrophically slowly) i won’t go anywhere. Two albums. One a good one, another of more simple songs. The first «waning bloom» i ll call, the secong as yet do not know. Probably «the whiner». Ay.

The first:

Padwit 4

Bshspb 6

Posput 7

Sfpsvg 6

Damn 5 in the nornign and dasha is online. What the fuck is the matter? She can’t have moved to any barcelona or england, just can’t, no

Даш, я уже месяц как удалил все свои страницы. Я больше не фрикую. Ну вернись.. ну расскажи хоть чтонибудь как живёшь

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27 01 19 four pm my morning – зависть музыкантам, сон с холма в окне даша

Damn even quorthon did his albums for money.. and i am here singing and making all these childish shouts at the microphone, like quorthon did when he was 20, and he did it for money and i do it just out of the same childish wish to be like them. Goddamit, it seems as if a new neurosis is onsetting these days.

A related thought came in the night before i went to sleep. I only watched conan a couple of times in my childhood. I even didn’t undertand what it was about, and had no time to see all the stupidity of it. I thought it was something great and deep. And when i afterwards listened to BOI and assosiated it with conan, i began to make up the conception of conan, not the true one. I mean i began to imagine as if conan and all that fantasy is something really very interesting and what i like, something which would be for me forever, something for a grown-up mind. Instead of rewatching (i didn’t have all these internet and youtube) i was just imagining and putting myself into wrong beliefs and conceptions. I thus formed the plan of doing this kind of music and lyrics which i thought would last, be relevant for the whole of my life. I should have rewatched conan, reread king arthur then and see all the stupidity of it and i should have understood THEN what sort of thing was happening to me. The last and the heaviest seizure of childishness happened to me. Which would ruin all my life, make me a freak.

Well, then i’d done gymnastics and i was in the chernishevskogo street where Crystal was, and there was those wealthy’s houses and i looked up on them, was sleepy but decided that i might as well go to dasha’s for one of my last times while i was in saratov. So i went, it was night but it was kind of a summer holiday, many people and children were in the courtyard (the courtyard of her house was like lva kassilya house’s, no those garages and sheds, but instead a grassy clearing), and they were staring at the starry sky, almost as illumious as the houses with their illuminuos Sunday evening’s windows in each of which light was on, in the opposite direction of the house, but i looked at the house, sought for her flat, then i saw it and there was light on in every of the three rooms, and no curtains, and dammit their flat was damn expensively decorated, everything was new in it, and in the bedroom i saw sergey, he was fumbling with some clothes like she had done when i saw her naked from that house, he had the same movements and was at the same wall, and in the kitchen was she, my love, for the hightness of their 8th floor i saw the top of her head moving, i needed to get higher, there as i said were many young people and childishness around and i thought it wouldn’t be strange among all this for me to climb onto the some mound which was in the clearing, i’d never seen it before accrding to sleep (and of course no found in reality), i ran towards it, it turned out to be encircled by a small moat, like hamlet’s castle, and i stepped on it unawares and got in water up my knee, and i feared that i might get attention of the people but it went smoothly, and so i mounted and straddled that little springy mound covered with moss. I saw her in that costly furnished kitchen of hers, she was cooking, she was doing all that damn lovely domestic chores, went to sergey to the bedroom and back up their corridor, i could see, how lovely, and it was a warm summer night, all the balconies were open and i saw to the right another flat, the balcony opened too and much ligh in it too and there was some girl too and doing chores too, and in all the other flats people were buisy, it was like sims, i very much wanted to get to them, from this damned mossy mound with my feet wet. The children around were still watching something in the sky, there were gypsies and all the other strange crowd from engels. then dasha was unpacking a big dried fish, all in that costly kitchen of theirs, and i realized that they well really a well to do family, had money. Dried fish is an expensive meal. So she was cooking and then they would eat, damn how lovely it all was! Only, dasha, see thou that thou cuttest not your finger as thou cooketh or eatest this fish, and chew thou better the lumps of it that no bone mayst get into thy throat, I can not be by and help thee.. For ever am i on the other side of the window. I awoke.

Блин ты можешь не отвечать, только не старей пожалуйста..

The last photo of hers was that one with a cat in a bag. Noveber, if i am right. Damn i need to see her. I’m getting worse without seeing her. damn if it werent for the songs that i must make i would go to saratov and live there nearby just to be able to see her. i probably will do it. I must make two albums then i’ll just take the equipment for making songs on, it’s not much and i’ll go there. It’s the last dream made me so dasha-sick, so bolshaya-kazachya-sick. I admit that what i love now is the rembrances connected with her, not her herself. It could have been normal if she had let me normally make friends with her, i would have of course fell in love with her all the same, but it wouldn’t be of such a sick nature. As it is it’s all of course absolutely sick and abnormal. Damn how it’s all bad. I so want to be back to where my memories stuck

A thought on why i made govnilium. One of the most hateful things to me is when i am taken for what i am not. At 16 that marina and others before they liked me, imagined me to be something i was not. I needed to show what i realy am, because i hate misconceptions, delusions

Fuck i even havent seen them with my eyes fuck, i remember how i fucking watched youtube and other videos just to fucking see the living girls «in life’ how they laugh talk and all, i fucking havent been with them in my youth where the fuck all of this now dammit i am getting gucking old and all having never done what i wanted in my youth and i do not want to see them with my fucking old eyes i want to fucking retunr back

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27 01 19 night – непрофессионал, зависть, мучения

God it’s completely fucked up shit, I’ve been watching chuck shuldiner he speaks at 24 better than i, i remembred the second mental clinic. All the days when i listened to his albums dammit, and now on relistening spfsvg i wondered whther what i sang «lest i fly in a rage’ is correct and i googled and it gave only fucking 4 pages. I fucking have to rerecord this fucker all over into a sliding «fly into a rage», and the piece is very touchy i guess i ll have to trecord the whole phrase and there are choirs too fuck with i am fucking sick fucking sick goddam this all fuck blyat

Im a fucking amateur at eveyrthin, goddamit, chuck doesn talk about this subject at all he’s conccerned wth completely different problems. And i am fucking sick of not being profsional. Why the fuck do i not play guitar good like he whi the fuck is this, i played guitar so many hours for the last 12 years why the fuck do i not play it like he dammit ( – на самом деле я прсото ныл, я знал почему – потому что у меня звук с задержкой изза звуковой карты или чегото там. у других дургая схема подключения электрогитары, но мне она не подходила – ). I’ve lost all the mood for reading scots grammar and doing anything at all. i will probably go and buy cigarets in the morning with food