Christmas. Cold and clear. I spent the end of the month transcribing Seven, They Are Seven while in the grips of an engrossing new idea: Lina Collini mentioned offhandedly one day that she must leave Russia for America. Why, then, I thought, should I stick around in Russia myself? See more
I’m not pleased with myself, I’ve done very little. A draft of the Third Concert, planned out the finale. I started rewriting it clean: it was a lot of work to do, although it was nice and easy.
My state of mind. My attitudes to the unfolding events. A strange serenity. I somehow regarded it all as inevitable, as something that must boil over and run its course, and there somehow wasn’t anyone whose fate was a source of concern for me. Nina Meshcherskaya did cross my mind on several occasions, but she was now married. See more
The papers have shocked me: they paint things not at all as they did before. Bolshevik victories everywhere, not a word about Kerensky, and Moscow in the crossfire of rifles and handguns. See more
My concert took place yesterday. For the first time, I publicly played the 3rd Sonata and the “Transience”. Of course, the premiere should have been given in Petrograd, and not Kislovodsk, but I look at this performance as a rehearsal before the concert in the capital. See more
I had a fascinating walk with the most charming General Ruzsky, a man whom I admire not only as the most remarkable Russian commander of this war but also as a general who saved it. See more
My life ran as follows: I got up at half-past seven because the children next door started crying. However, I had nothing against getting up at such an early hour. I did Miller's gymnastics followed by cold showers until they began to affect my sleep. Then I started doing gymnastics every day, only took cold showers every other day. See more
I have been really busy with packing. Mom sent me a list of instructions—bring such and such, do such and such—of no fewer than fifty seven items. See more
My longstanding urge to try gymnastics has congealed into a decision to exercise regularly using the Miller system, which I have begun to study and apply in practice. I have taken to pouring cold water from my head to my toes carefully before an open window although it is hellish cold and there are frosts in the morning. See more
For me, the most important event of September was the composition “Seven, They Are Seven”. It’s something which I’d thought about a lot, something I’d been working towards for along time, and when I finally got down to it, I knew early that something exceptional would be born. On 17th September I finally got to work. I still didn’t write a thing. I didn’t record any music, but some general outlines, occasionally one voice part; I didn’t write notes, but I drew up some general sketches and orchestrations. I enjoyed myself to such an extent that as a reached the climax of my work I had to stop working and go for a walk to calm myself down, otherwise my heart would have burst out of my chest. I didn’t spend long working on “Seven, They Are Seven”, no more than half an hour or an hour per day, and not every day. I thought a great deal. My sketches were completed on 28th September, that’s to say 12 days, of which I only worked 7, and I didn’t writeon the other 5.
Imperceptibly August changed into September. And it was so cozy that I did not want to go anywhere from Zet. It rained at night, but the days were sunny. From the first day of the month, leaves began to gradually turn yellow, red and orange, while others remained fresh, green, contrasting with the sometimes bright red leaves and maple trees, which were bright yellow from top to bottom, thus creating a striking motley and magnificent outfit. See more
Horrible news. Riga is captured by Germans. A plated fist is looming over Petrograd. It's still far away, but we don't know if the revolutionary army is strong enough, and no one knows what would it look like when three million people start fleeing Petrograd.
You’re all asking me how I’m doing and where have I gone. In the night our belated train brought me to Petrograd. Well, it’s nice, although quite wet and dirty. The first face that I saw was Eleanor. See more
It is stuffy and dusty in Petrograd. I lived in a completely empty and dusty apartment, and was fed poorly and expensively at restaurants (lunch - eighteen roubles instead of four).
In the morning, I’ve heard on the phone, that it was quiet on the Nevsky: Bolsheviks, having demonstrated into the night, were resting. I decided to use their moment of rest and headed to Nevsky. Some stores were open. I bought English cigarettes, lobsters, a book by Kuno Fischer on Kant, and headed to the Nikolayevsky train station. I left at one, and at half past two the Bolsheviks woke up, and a lively fire fight started all along the Nevsky. See more