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