Letter from the U.S.-oct 4th ' 07

Those who forgot me would make a city, I remember how Joseph once said...must be the case with me, i believe...
Conversation was akward and blurry from now on...
She said how Gummi Schwester asked for additional thousand dollars per letter from now , although she admitted how she enjoyed correspondance very much....

My funds are reachable but certainly limited, ma'am ?
Funds are what your have in plan dear, but not what you already placed on your maximazer, right?
I do understand your meaning , ma'am...however...
However is not an option in this case, unless I am wasting my time... Am I?
Certainly not..ma'am...
Good..Now, for additional five hundred per letter I can possibly feed you with a solid substance and that is per letter , of course....
Oh...I will be honored, of course...but..
But what ?
I don't mean to be out of line , however I have to underline here once again, how my sources are not much...really...
Is there a solution ?
Is it ?
Gummi Schwester remained quiet here for a few...
I am sure there is always the exit strategy...
Oh, Schwester...anything..anything... no letter would kill me...
Write this number.... Call him in San Fran... he 'll do snuff with you...he will pay you...
Have a paper and pen ready ?....
Joe Broz stood on the entrance door of the aluminum scrape and steel factory in Whittier on monday four in the a.m.. looking good, looking even younger by day and an extra hour.. His first chance...put bread on the table, get nintendo, score mota in Lincoln Park, read Bukowski all day long, but is it gonna be days off ?
Who you... chubby fourty and somethish white guy approached him not fairly friendly...
Becky Mendez sent me...
You kid Joe ?...
Sure I am sure...
Stan, the guy stated looking straight into Jo, now don't get wise with me, ok...
I didn't...
Then don't sure me..ok.... and you skinny.. this place boils you up... you sure about this... go look at it...
Jo worked twenty two days straight before he got his first day off and it was a lousy monday...
They all go to work I sit home... Then he slammed another shot of hormone injection, first one that day... a slight bite surpressed his left shoulder..then it was gone...
Comedian, I gotta be a fucking comedian with all this...oh man...
Another two months passed and checks kept flowing in every thursday....Miserable amount but it was there... for his rented studio on wilcox and santa monica, it was always there and enough...
Then it came as an everyday thig all of a sudden...usually it would get him after lunch, around two or an hour later, somtimes earlier... and he even didn't notice right away...he spotted a whitish liquid substance spreading like a tenhand earthworm on his dusty steel joe...
then he ran...without asking, he ran to the restroom...screw the line, dudes, I,ll be back...they all looked at him...
so it became always on time and accurate like a metronome...
those who forgot me would be make a city..but who cares...he didn't...he didn't !!!! Jo Broz was milking !!!
Pretty boy, what's cooking ? James Patterson, black guy from Watts, who who's once to be a writer but wrote so bad......Pretty boy, happening....? Lebron Davis, black guy from Lennox... Being to Lennox, Pretty boy ? Gangbangers and laundry hangers...not much...would love that...Pretty Boy like you....oh....
Jo looked at Labron's tattooed muscle on the right upperhand...
by June, Jo had a situation.... His worked coat was covering milk drippings just fine plus he had a box of clenex and wet tissues anytime...
By august he was a C cup and around the same time his voice uncontrolablly high piched for a good half octave... Screw it...I,ll be advertasing... whatever... I,ll do street walking if neccessary, what else...screw work... Labron was living any minute after six, happy as friday... How bout them Raiders in Miami, huh.....Going nowere, you could here Patterson from behind... Jo, you for the Raiders ? Yeah, Jo almost whispered...he looked at the filthy, blackened tiled floor of the washroom..Patterson was gone....
You little girl, aren't ya... he couldn't believe Davis saying it....you little girl aren't you, Broz...Lebron grabbed Jo's left hand and now they both stood still...Fuck Joe, huh...fuck Joe...Davis was looking through his innerness now...Fuck Joe !!!
Lebron , please...stop it...Joe was fading quickly...
twohundredandsixtypounder held Jo's hand tight and firm...What is the girl's name ?
Then he decided to turn tables finally... At first, Coco wouldn't know even what to do... Davis told her how his pink bunny was suffering from thyroid and seven years from her birth weighted almost onehundredandfifty pounds... That's bad, Coco disapproved quietly...
Bad ? Davis stood frozen... that ain't bad, girl..that is a full force case of obesity..it affects her emotionally...And she don't congregate at all... she sees no one... Coco was still quiet...she was able to vomit and spit on Labron...she even shits the guy, but was she ready for sisterhood....
But Labron was almost right.... Lakisha ballooned up to onehundredand sixty by the end of the year.. She examined Coco's red latex short skirt but she didn't say anything... She barely noticed her shiny black overknee pair of boots, her silk gloves with couple of fake rock on four fingers, both hands two of each... Coco's enormous blonde and curly wig that was reaching her hip, fireish lips of red and layer of purple make up stacked by shovels...
You so skinny, Coco, I am so fat... yes you are Lakisha.... You are so skinny , Coco... And you are fat, Lakisha... You are skinny, Coco... Fat.... Fat no good, Lakisha... You are a new mom ?... You are fat, Lakisha...end of story....Fat Lakisha...
But gradually, they both overcame a simple form of a first time acquaintance glich...
Coco told her about her miserable childhood and her dreams of being an actress of some sort one day, Lakisha told Coco of her mom killed by Bloods in north long beach and how she met Mariah Carrey... You did ? You met Mariah ?.... Lakisha stayed quiet for a second, nah...I did not...Then Coco told her about Dzugashvili first runaway from Georgia, about Adi's try at the Munich art school... And about Koby's trip to Colorado, Lakisha added giggling...tremedenous, girl, Coco approved laughing louad now... Bravo... and guess what, Lakisha added right after... The world might be one day up another down... but sticky thing is always at my panties-drawer... And after nine in the p.m...when the girl was already asleep, Coco would finally get the chance of the day, to collared and dragged by Labron's dog leash drop her semen in panties-drawer... so the world was good to go up and down for another day now..
But instead of blaming herslef for this or that, this world would certainly grant a constante disturbance to Coco, no questions about that... Around one a.m. she would lay at the carpet floor with Labron leaving her urinated and bloody wounded around her lower lip, with his baton sticking out of her ass...Who the hell is now,she would wonder, but the phone kept ringing, died and kept coming back and seven times like that till she actually reaccumulate enough potency to get up her sore frame and pick up the damn thing...
Selam and thank to God you picked it up...
Oh...
I am leaving , girl.... I got accepted...huuuuh..yeaaaha... sorry, goood muslim should tolerate his accordance with Allah much better, sorry... But I can't !!!! I am in !!!....
Naguib...
Naguib, baby... God who else...
I can't believe they got you in...
Why not... I had everything...
But you are old and blind...You barely able to walk... Naguib...Coco almost cried...
Listen...All them russians care is , what..
Money ?...
Money... But as a muslim, I do hope that I 'll still be able to preserve my responsibilities.. I will fast..
In space?
No worries... My imam even encouraged me... he said, no worries Naguibson, Islam is lenient, if you can't fast in space, fast when you come back and do your dues, son...
huh...what's ya think, hanuma ?....He also gave me suggestions on how to pray...It is a zero-gravity around you so ...
Huh ???... Coco was astound...
You pray, but if you cannot stand up straight, you hunch....makes sense... Now, if you can't stand , you sit.You can't sit, let's say, You lie down..huh....
Naguib...it is... I don't know..it is dangerous...don't you think...
Oh shut up, will you for once..huh... I can die from a crazy radical, here in Egypt, how's for that?
It can kill you... a space suit weighs twohundredandeighty pounds itslef.. it can squash you seriously... you're old...need daily ingrediants in your system..
I can get it...
Nooooo.. carrots and celery must be eaten within in the first two days...
Oh, i,ll be fine.... Now, tell me , you.... You write lately...
Not since I read autumn quail...
Oh drop it, will you....
hahaha..sorry.. No...well, yes...some...I guess..
So you write..
I can put it that way...
With plot?
Naguib, I am going for my surgery next month.. You are departing upstairs...We might never see each other again... might never hear one another... tell me something nice...
and you'll jerk you cock ?
hmmm.. If you want me to...
Yes...The old man took a short pause which gave Coco to sense another emergency siren dying somewhere down on Melrose... Don't say of death my love, don't say of daying... I can relate to you any given day, you know that much by now, right ?... And your art of dropping your own sticky substance in Lakisha's panties-drawer is not less worth it then me jodding down those first mighty lines of Palace of Desire, or Walk, or Sugar... it is all of love and death and evil...
Other words in stanzas ?
Other words in steazas... No metter of what...
The heart, however grown savage, still beats for two
Every good boy deserves fingers to indicate
that beyond today is always a static to-
morrow, like subject's shadowy predicate....
Damn he was good...
Sure he was, hanuma...sure he was....
Good luck, Naguib
Good luck, Coco...

Letter to the U.S.-oct 3rd ' 07

I am definitely a lonesome hobo, am I? There is something in me being sarcastic ( sort of), reminds me questionable of Celine's North novel... The war is lost, type of the imprisonment is inevitable, thou still he has enough time left ( less talking of inspiration cause that kind of a talent don't need one, I think) to write something of that magnitude... But on the other hand my father would be less interesting from my exhibitionist view... Two of them ( him and Luis Ferdinand) had a notorious grudge, for what... oh, for what.... My mother was a dismissed nun out of Nagkanysha monastery in south Hungary... it took her the entire living to get by in the simpliest form of russian...the expression of an everyday kind... Zdrastvujte was the best she would ever get by with... From her prospective thou, the oblast where we lived in Nizny Novgorod was a most livable status for a daily action that she ever acquried.. according to my pops ( years after he was released from prison ) , the city was giving and waiting people to give to it as well.. Musician were scarce... however, our greatest Majka Rusia was never know to present lack of them writers, poets, losers of a different but pretty much same sort.. I still hear my father typing on old Olympia...how those days flew by me... the snow would come and go and on a good year, it would even stay... Now it is good to know before I start talking here how all them imprisoned fathers were eligable for a postcard or two to their families especially considering those remote faraways that our cared parents were dispatched for their counterattack on this great kominterna... However, we got the book... The book of more then fourhundred pages, even five.. I dug myself into it right away, that same instant.... even thou I was seven and let's be fair and admit, quite illiterate... Finally I gave up on ( pardon me for spacing out here ) must be, some fourteeth page or so... Later on, my mother read it and shaved her hair after reading it... Less for her severly attacked womanhood at that point, she bounded herself with marama and kept on visiting both prodavnica and apotek sort of a business as usual, I say... On the other hand I would go over next ten pages every, l say, three months , which is from this prospective one lousy and miserable pace, but I was seven, reminding you, too youg for Cancer Ward, most honestly... Now, dad was abolished around early 1983 and placed his living frame at the door early january of 1984... Him bearded and a skeleton skinny , me nicely rounded , overfed by koncentrat and napolitanka , we got to watch together the opening day of the Sarajevo Olympics... Him on spinach and milk, I myself tanking up my favorite keksi again , we all did good.. Even are tovarishi kicked but in biathlon, speed skating, Ice hockey,thou lost in figure skating which was fairly unusual... Meantime, I looked at my father and I wondered about that beard of his, whather he is going to shave it off or keep it growing...That was out of question, he replied, nothing but the grave will make a hunchback straight...
Now, that is tovarish Bordky, isn't it? He looked at me curiously...I am glad you recognize fine art at such an early age, Natalushka.... ten months later we moved to Palo Alto... I had a terrible time adjusting myslef to a completly different constellation that the original one where I was shot from... It was a real hussle, trust me... but my smartness gave a rich and unusual tool of mastering that ( looking from time now ) pretty much easy learning language with lack of cases and speech appendixes... Father became a regular at Stanford, meatime he received his late pansion from the swedish academy which waited for him since 1970 when he won the Nobel Prize... And here we are...all of a sudden rich and welcomed...even the old Soviet dominions fell apart and they all went for Glasnost..I did too... And as them all fine and well doing kids do at the certain age and in the certain state of california, my dad and mom's objections on my ethical dispute of a great school in Palo Alto became all of a sudden full of sense and with one moral and healthy motive...
Let it go, Ilona, now..let her be, my father finally admited...Mom's doubted and cried for some ten days , then submitted herself under the great patron's dicision....next day, I was at two bedroom rented apartment in Westwood Village, next door to the campus in UCLA...then next day I met Jade Von Sade... She was twenty one years my senior, age of my mother exactly... Fortunatlly in took her ten days to overcome a fascination by my father and transfer her geniusity to myself and stay focus for awhile... Other people were never able to accomplish that...why?... I don't know, but my assumption is, let's say ( cause we all know what the world wants), is that I was just not fully developed physically at that time...Other people would talk and talk about stuff I would be hearing since I was a kid... How Ivan Denisovich was much greater work then The Idiot... How Archipelago was a cornerstone of this world's modern knowladge and awerness... How this how that...well, you can only imagine... But it took less then ten days and Jade Von Sade told me how she scanned a great girl with even better background right away, That is the reason why I picked you at the first place...but, my dear, lously , lously style you have...for the moment it looked like you are still in Russia the way you are clothing yourself... I got instantly offended but she sensed that...Not a word, please, not one word...She took me to this store at Fairfax and Melrose...it was throught the roof for my budget cause dad was rather cautioned on how much he would strached me monthly..I went broke for another thristy days but what's more important , since then, not before, but since then, I am all rubber...On occasion I was still following french literature classes up on the campus, but less to conceal, I was learning much more by prostituting myself ...back then, pink bunnies were everywhere, rich houses less rich houses...People were sick up to their eyeballs no matter on their social or even emotional position... Jade was running the show while I was assisting... decades ago in Portland , she took classes, meant to become a registered nurse some day....she knew tricks of all sorts...it depended on price , of course, but she was skillful with drugs, shooting testosterone, artificially motivating hermaphrodism by the injection treatment... Bizarre area then of a surgically removed nipps and a late stage circumsations...Her advice at the same time was that my savings should be nothing but a full force investment which would be aiming for my redevelopment... Therefore, my first surgery took place in Scottsdale when I was nineteen...that was with 550 cca..then 750, then 1100, then 1300, then 1700. then 2000. then finally 2200...Now all of a sudden, I was the one running the show... I looked as a socially acceptable freak, sort of an occasion to enjoy but not to live daily...I was transported by limo, given three thousand just to appear and drop my turd or just plain, vomit ..I was selling urine samples and shipping used tampons by mail... Dear Jade, however, passed away of cancer and I put up the site on the internet...
So what to say... on this third of october I feel contempt that I can answer to you, you empty one and negligent of your position....less then five months ago I received an email...
Dear Natalia... My name is Grace Mayer, know as a turbulent churchizer. yes, that one, a national proportion one, my dear... Your site rather tranquilized my imagination and reopened my inner creativty which through this last decade had experienced a fair lack of boost, I guess taking to much for granted my twohundredandfiftypoundokietrashhousewives fromVictorville and Bishop in California...
let's do coffee?
Now..we did..what can I tell you....A clear and present saint who had a most gracious premonition riding on the amtrack through east st. louis back in the middle seventies on her way to cash one fraudulent money order endorsed for fifty dollars then.. and now, I am even part of a beautiful congregation ..part of Grace...so, feel free to see us... we so much pretend to stay out of crowd, which is hard , especially for her.... We had two fat women from knoxville checking in usually a day early, ironing her clothes and making sure all beds at the triple virtual suites are ready and soft... now yearly, Grace, she picks one most eligable pink bunny from her church academy in Joplin...No reason to hide anything, Grace once said, broken eggs make me grieve; the omlette, though, makes me vomit..( which I replied...oh dear Joseph, can you get any better).....It is a blessed ministry, the lord would surely grant it, she said then ... I guess he does...I guess he really does...and what I inherited from my great Jade was at least that rare and demanding skill of incouriging that middle and always an imagination tempting form of a parasex in that tiny human being, hermaphrodity...And one more thing I gathered by now... I'm good with pinpricks...Real good