Experimenting with Russian Ya'll.

I actually wrote this when I was still back in the States. It's a poem in Russian. That's right. I can barely write in the language so I decided to try my hand at poetry. So, em, those of you that don't read Russian, read no further. Sorry. I still love you though. Oh, and those of you that do read the language of the Bear, I know there's a line in there from the Pixies. Imitation is the highest form of flattery ya'll.

Also, I somehow managed to come up with this word combo for men in Russian:

Мужчины! Это тайна, обернутая в загадке, задушенной в умственно отсталом.

So here's the poem:

Старомоддия

Ох, это старо как кожа
Руки
Красные пятна, признаки греха
Проживание слишком хорошо
но где была забава в крике?
От любви прибывает мучительная смерть невинности
Она имеет бедра как Красная шапочка
но упала на ее лицо в тех ботинках на высоких каблуках.

Государство Осуществления
Государство Истощения
Граф Допамина и Наркотика
Навсегда преступник, вечно обвиняемый.

Волки все вокруг
потеряя шерсть овец
Показывают клыки
Зубы, которые хотят почву и хотят Море

Ах, любовь

Und here's another short one:

дорогую жемчужину в море нашла
отбросила штучку и дальше пошла
как будто она мне совсем не нужна
подумав " Зачем мне жемчужина одна?"

ведь еслиб было много
то можно продать,
а так, одинокая, не отдать, не понять.

Но встретила смерть домой по пути
И смерть мне сказала "ну где? Покажи."

Concert with Crazy and Joke Y'all!

So I had a fun concert with Crazy last Thursday night. Although, truth be told, I forgot to eat that day, and two pints of beer later that's all she wrote as they say. My memories of the show are, ahem, a bit skewered. These are just some pics from the concert.
Also, Here's a joke that I heard here recently, not sure if the translation works. Let me know:

On a cold dark winter night in Poland, in 1941, a tiny skinny girl in a torn coat with a yellow star sown on the sleeve is walking down the street.
A stately German officer in a great overcoat is walking directly towards her. As he approaches her, he looks her over and says
"Liitle gerl, you must be a jew."
The little girl looks up at him with her big brown eyes and says
"No motherfucker, I'm a Texas Ranger!"

Deep Thoughts by Plusha

Dear Friends,

Today's post is going to be about a new deep and profound understanding that I've recently gained about the country that I currently reside in.

I figured something out about Russia the other day. Being in Russia is a lot like being in a mental hospital. Those of you that have seen the inside of one of those will understand, but for those of you that haven't, I'll elaborate.

See, when you go, or get put, inside of a mental hospital, and you're only marginally off your rocker, it's actually a very therapeutic experience. Because there you are, walking on the outside, feeling all batshit crazy, and then you get into a mental institution and Bam! you get to see real crazy. If you have panic attacks, and you end up in a place where one dude is sure as shit that he is Napoleon, and there's a fat lady that tries to eat her own face on the regular, you start thinking "Hey, I'm not crazy. I'm really sane compared to these nutjobs." And it makes you feel a whole lot better about your own mental state and problems in general.

And as it turns out, Russia is very similar to this. The people in this country are so fucking nuts and okay with it, that me and my little panic attacks are nothing in comparison. I'm the Queen of Sane here.
Specifically, the words "blood pressure" seem to have a mystical effect on the populace in these lands. I think I could probably stab some motherfucker in the neck, and when the militsia show up, just say some shit about a sudden drop in my blood pressure at them, and they would probably nod understandingly and send me home after giving me a shot of cognac.
Sometimes, you see people on the street here, and they look drunk or ill, but it's really BLOOD PRESSURE problems. BLOOD PRESSURE can pretty much explain away any behavior. I love it!

There's nothing like this in the U.S. People in New York are really not into trying to understand other people's mental problems. And there's no acceptable excuse for those problems either. It's like an embarrassing secret that everybody has. I looked at the statistics ya'll. There's more anxiety sufferrers in America than most other countries in the world. And yet it's not okay to have it.

But here in Frozen Hell Crazy Land, they just call that shit "blood pressure" and it's all good. They also call hangovers "blood pressure". And everybody is really understanding about it.

As a result of all the understanding, my own personal crazy has practically evaporated. And for that, I thank you Mother Russia, shit climate not withstanding.

Well that's it for today.
P.S.
I think I just got dumped over the telephone. I feel a little bit sad about it. I swear, it just happened in the middle of writing this post. See? Crazy...

A Day in the Life of...

A picture says more than a thousand words, right?

So, here are my thousands of words:

Armenian Gentleman

Temple

Sibs

Beach Feet

Pillow

The beautiful architecture that the weather is supposedly worth enduring for.

Stray Dog

Another Stray Dog

Biological Male Parent at the Market

P.S.
Be back with the writing soon. There just isn't much to bitch and whine about lately other than the usual.

No it's Not!!!!!

Yeah, okay.
Sure it is.
It's fucking November here again ya'll. What the hell????