anger management

i don't remember the last time i was so furious, infuriated by the misplaced spoken judgement of someone. maybe the fact that you are a friend of mine and are saying this to me makes it a lot worse.
so instead of talking to you, i am venting here, because in the past two weeks it has been literally impossible to find you.

cultures do define people - and while some of us manage to stay aside from the definition, most of us don't.  cultural identities exist, and they are beautiful and interesting. but also, small towns define some people. different mentalities are a fact, and mostly due to different backgrounds. cultural stereotypes exist for a reason. they are unhealthy, exaggerated, offensive, and mostly untrue, but something created them. my circle of friends does not abide by the majority of those stereotypes, but instead of being extremely offended, we try to learn from them. kudos to you for not being a part of the crowd. but the crowd exists.

and no, i don't have the monogamist heteronormative perspective. i am heterosexual and will never claim to understand people who are not, because i think that is extremely hypocritical, but that does not mean that i have ever been anything other than respectful towards people with different beliefs or inclinations. and i don't preach anything other than acceptance. i don't understand, however, why you claim that you accept all people, and still roll your eyes every time our opinions clash. the world does not solely consist of people like you; it consists of all sorts of people, and ignoring that is just like ignoring the existence of cultural differences.

I don't remember a thing

последните ми три дни в 4 минути.

An Evening of Russian Poetry

[...]
The conjurer collects his poor belongings –
the colored handkerchief, the magic rope,
the double-bottomed rhymes, the cage, the song.
You tell him of the passes you detect.
The mystery remains intact. The check
comes forward in the smiling envelope.

'How would you say "delightful talk" in Russian?
'How would you say "good night?" '

Oh, that would be:
Bessonitza, tvoy vzor oonyl I strashen;
lubov' moya, outsoopnika prostee.
(Insomnia, your stare is dull and ashen,
my love, forgive me this apostasy.)


Nabokov




който не може да пише, чете.
обичам, когато говоря за поезия с професорите си по математика.

още повече обичам факта, че Набоков е основал департамента по руски в колежа ми.