In the past, when actively involved with the literary life, working versions evaluating the Young A

In the past, when actively involved with the literary life, working versions evaluating the Young Authors' Workshop Entries, re-read the manuscript in immense bales, strengthened belief in me that there are two types of poor authors. The first are those who sincerely trying, but they just can not. Second - who are trying to be noticed, and poetry or prose writing is just another opportunity for self-affirmation crystal serenity of their excited ego who asserts himself while in sport, art club, and environmental protection activities, such as the fight against breast cancer.
The first always seemed sympathetic because, oh god, not everyone born of the outstanding writers and poets, it suffices to her passion and sincerity, which, nerealizējusies literature, find yourself a good and valid use one of the other areas of human activity. Often, crystal serenity these enthusiastic despite the murderous criticism, however, continue to write, but it has to remain in their drawers and conscience of responsibility, in the worst case, they may only disturb your neighbors at night when the article writing and listening to loud music.
While the former leads to sympathy, the latter always wanted to ask - why are you doing it at all? Possible answers are usually no more than one - I can not write. If the harassment continues with the uncomfortable question, why neizkopt its sparkle when it glows so brightly, so why neglect the gift of God, why, ultimately, refuse to learn to write, once without it can never answer again is usually one - texts not at fault, guilty of being a reader who does not know how they are read correctly. And then you do not work to argue that, although I do not like Proust, I do not deny his obvious talent, but equally dispassionate objectivity to me difficult to maintain against the author, who is a subjective passions offends me cietpaurīgā unwillingness to understand her. Maybe I have a certain stubbornness, because I do not want to believe, who do not believe the author himself. crystal serenity
So, for example, do not believe, if the capital of the 21st century 'cream of society' party queen and TV Personality, whose daily lives are spent over an infinite gallery showcases and club traucoties from presentation to presentation, in between running into the studio grab your spot in front of the camera, wrote the following lines:
And again, dual sensations. If I see the lines of this, with anonymous, probably heavily intoxicated author iešņāptas hand on your stairway wall, I nopriecātos, but it is a cold city kid who, soaking in the radiators are not thought to rob old ladies were, but absorbed in memories of paradise lost. Completely different feelings after reading these lines in 2012 to publish a book about the authors crystal serenity so far have only discern that her job is to get each photo coverage of celebrity parties and sometimes pretend to be a fashion crystal serenity and style experts, telling the tram ride is not stylish and just do not buy stylish clothes in the market or sekondhendā as self-respecting people crystal serenity shop at the same market you can buy Chinese-made pouch pays five times more expensive. Become cietpaurīgi nesaprotošs and tongue itch to ask: Kamon, babe, do you believe crystal serenity the same of what you just wrote? When did you last time you heard that beats the well bucket, birch groves rustles?
Okay, the failure to find a path back home, I still believe if the author had itself tried to do something a little confidence for the benefit of yourself and write better-known trails and attributes that make up her daily reality. I suspect that the author simply unaware that there is to write about stylish birch groves, wells and buckets, I assume that she knew that writing poetry is the coolest, than to use public transport. At the same time admit that she did not know that about the wells and buckets vārsmojuši poets who themselves crystal serenity from these wells drunk, written on the tracks, of which even the fighters knew each of those times happened to wander.
Unfortunately, I can not ask all the same poet, in my not crossed paths with those wading homeward journey can not find the book "Stihiya" author Maija Silova. Fashion and style expert to train intuition pačukstējusi down in front of May that I will make to refer the following question to answer because in the preface to the book: "Not everyone is close to the language of poetry. Poetry is always waiting for the right moment, it is the interlocutor who is willing to listen to the submissive, allowing people himself to find answers to questions. "
Clearly, the author shyly stood aside, allowing his place to talk poetry and to answer questions. Autoresprāt definitely crystal serenity belong to those who are not close to poetic language, and therefore do not understand himself to blame. I do not know whether a