Time. Sergey Semashko

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Time - Sergey Semashko

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of foreign languages is reduced to fluency in at least five languages. Do you think it’s that hard? Nothing like that. If you knew how many languages are mixed and how many words are repeated in them, the only difference is that they sound different. The military, by the way, should be taught in Africa – a very low-sounding language, well suited for forest cleaning. I mean, I still don’t understand where to apply the knowledge of foreign languages. Even if you work a lot abroad and conduct secret international negotiations, there are always professional translators. At least Russian, it is necessary to make exclusively literary language. Let all the peoples of the world read prose only in Russian – and not in any other. What? Did I make a linguistic revolution? On/go, I urgently required the woman, otherwise it can bring to God knows where. Once upon a time, I had a chance to talk with a great man. I won’t say his name. Because he’s so famous, a lot of people might think I’m being promoted by someone else’s name. Although, in the case of the epigram on Victor Pelevin, I was just doing it. Imagine that I was talking to John the Baptist himself – this is the most accurate personification of the person with whom I had the opportunity to participate in the dialogue. It was even a correspondence, not a direct conversation – we never met. Moreover, the correspondence was so unpleasant that I literally burned with shame for every word dropped. You could even say that I annoyed this man: he was nervous, trying to get rid of me as soon as possible; he led the conversation in this way, if he had a chance to talk to a crazy, inadequate and too Intrusive person; he even deceived me without feeling a drop of guilt. Well, of course, I was acting crazy. Insisted, or rather insisted on his attention that it demanded, annoyed. I behaved like a madman, like a fanatic – it was a terrible behavior. But it was a real act of psychotherapy, thanks to which I was able to reveal my literary talent. And not only that: I have learned to work with the audience, to be sincere and open in communicating with people. And he, in turn, after some time, began to write parables and stories on all sorts of philosophical topics. Maybe I’m too self-satisfied to think I had a literary influence on this highly educated, sophisticated man. But to correspond to me with him was terribly unpleasant. Probably to him, too. The process of learning, and especially the process of genuine psychotherapy – always terribly unpleasant. Frankly speaking, I do not understand people who want to get an education without effort, without pain, without effort. Many, I note, do not particularly need this very education. Many, for some reason, think, although unconsciously, that without it (education) can achieve significant success, not to mention to establish themselves in life and in the professional arena. Women just enough to get married. They’re women. But men have to fight for a place in the sun. And sometimes, this struggle takes on a tinge of mania, obsession, boredom. Often, in this fight suffer from nerves, suffers from the family, formed a hole in my pocket. The place under the sun is high and the price is high. However, not so as it may seem. The famous Einstein, as/it is said that the only thing that prevent him to learn – education. Well, he probably meant that he lacked intellectual freedom. He probably found that can see things that have not yet reached in the science. Or even science. And in fact, he was a harbinger of the theory of quantum mechanics. So it turns out: we learn, we learn, and constantly undergo painful metamorphoses. The spread of quality knowledge, the spread of education in society – on/truth sacred deal. “But wisdom and knowledge are not the same. Because wisdom is nothing but the application of knowledge in practice.”(in quotes, because this grain of truth blatantly spigen from the movie peaceful warrior). In short, I just wanted to say, or convey the message, the idea, the ideal, that only once learned to experience the pleasure of the process of self-knowledge and knowledge of the world, you will learn to experience the buzz, comparable to the action of opiates. And in addition, to quickly achieve success, or better to say – the desired, because “success” and “desired”, too, is not always the same. Sorry for the tautology. I didn’t tell her I loved her? Yeah, she just didn’t hear. Any action, any phrase, addressed to her, only about it and says. Strange, why women are so dependent on verbiage. This is a statement, not a question, because I have no doubt about it. The problem is, I don’t make a damn thing. Where I compete with those who just/that I give gifts to. And in love gifts are obligatory. What can you do, if you give nothing but idle words, and, pardon the expression, small pepmena. I made up the word. I’m always told I don’t work. That’s right – I’m working. And this, as you know, are completely different things. I never worked at all. I’ve never done anything for money. Well, maybe as an exception. Or, say, for a change. And I don’t work because I don’t feel the slightest satisfaction from it. People love the money, the consumer effect. I, on the contrary – look for meaning in everything. More precisely, if the expression, I am interested in the process, not the result. Maybe that’s why I still can’t stop in literature. Every time I finish one book, I think of ten more. In moments of creative crisis, I think that this is the end, that nothing more I will not write, that I said and expressed everything possible and conceivable. And then, of course, comes another brilliant idea that I can not ignore. Sometimes, I accelerate to such an extent that in my head the crown burns. The feeling is as if a magnet is inserted into the head, around which words and figurative expressions are worn. Burn, burn my blue brain. Burn the devil’s flame. Knock the blood vessel in your temples and cringe the sphincter. The last Magelan of literature. What I had planned to do, even J. Joyce would have appreciated it. Smug again. But – the Fig… I suddenly had a picture of what I’d be doing now a major star of the show/business. I know they work hard sometimes. Often with full dedication. But they miss too often. Some go crazy and go to Israel for treatment. In our/inside out the fact the walls are unlikely of stars treat. In the West, almost everyone has a drug problem. Probably, in Colombia and Afghanistan people do not use as much rubbish as they do in Europe and North America. Even Asian countries are wary of such things. For that I love rock stars? For their recklessness? However, their love and the sincerity of emotion in good music. I forgot the name of this… Kurt Cobain’s wife, who dragged her husband’s mistress by the hair in front of people and journalists. Although, can, this specifically rigged for public effect. And she is wildly dressed and fooling around with women. But her Tits are gorgeous! Even I couldn’t deny that. I especially liked the photo of what/it’s fashion, whether secular magazine, where she stands with the baby in her arms, in her panties and from under the gum look black thick hair. Wah! I love it when the woman from/look out any hairs. Smoked. It slowed them down, felt. It’s getting harder to scrape thoughts out of your mind. Dead men don’t tell stories – they tell myths. The generation of the twenty-first century is the generation of superhumans. Beings between God and animals. Posthumans. I wouldn’t be surprised if they learn to live a thousand years. And also the history will begin to be measured not by the age-old scale, but by the thousand-year one. Slow down, so to speak, the course of history. But that’s not the point… Trying to analyze the horoscope… I’m Leo and some of the qualities inherent in me, but not all. I’ve gone beyond what I know. I began to worry about the accuracy of predictions. And time, as times/??? and gives those the most omens, thanks to which these predictions can be exercise. Stumbling on the calendar on the fate of old/good of the Maya (this is the name of your own?), surprised that they used several calendars: one served for sowing and harvesting, the other – read the fate of people, the third – I do not remember… I Feel like fate brings us together again. She should have seen the scratched Wallpaper in the room. A masterpiece of abstract painting. It, probably, it would be ridiculous. Men – such caprices – such rags. Two days apart, and already hysterical on the verge of collapse. I’d like to cuddle up to her. Kiss. I’ve lost my appetite lately. I barely get out of bed to drink water. Taught myself to put a bottle by the bed. Why does love make a person weak, lifeless? And at the same time – hyperactive, self-confident. Obstinate. She was faithful to him until the last day. But she never did. Pity and guilt – that’s what made long years to be close to her husband, to indulge his whims and weaknesses, tolerate reproaches. She was his support in life. Many would have considered their Union is perfect. Almost perfect, if we talk about the fashion of the time, the customs of the time and other trifles. But it was a dead Alliance

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