I attend a lot of events. The “New Year's Eve of the Futurists” took place in the Polytechnic. There was a crowd there, as there might have been at a Soviet demonstration. Towards the start of the evening, it became clear that of the four men advertised on the poster Burliuka, Kamenskii wouldn’t show up, and Goldschmidt was refusing. As for myself, well I was fiddling with my pen. It is awful to remember it.
We need to welcome the new authorities and get in touch with them.
When all the fences became plastered with election lists from the extremely various parties that had suddenly announced their ambition to participate in this country’s leadership, the most dominant ones were still the old parties, the ones whose names had long been popular. But now the Cadets and the Renovationists and the Anarchists and the Chefs’ Union and who knows who else have been posted up there with them. See more
The revolution didn’t change anything for us, the bohemians. It might as well have never happened. Some new cafes opened, “Pitersk” on Kyznetsky St and the “Poets’ Cafe” on Nastas’insky St. By then we’d stopped wearing yellow jackets, but, as always, continued to think up oddball ideas. Not that anyone was really paying attention. See more
I can't remember who introduced me to Mayakovsky; at first we were sitting in a cafe and discussing cinema; then he invited me over - to a small room at "Saint-Remo" in Saltykovsky lane, near Petrovka street. See more
Mayakovsky is extremely talented, a young half-giant infected with an ebullient energy, and in whose eyes you sense direction; upwards and to the left.
I met with the futurist Mayakovsky, who initially gave me a bit of fright with his rude impulsiveness, but who then made a very direct announcement of his intention to come and have a serious chat with me, as I write wonderful music but to terrible texts, of outmoded bourgeois types and e.t.c. He promised to introduce me to “real contemporary poetry”. See more