If you are reading me here, I know it may sound like the end is near. But even if it is a whole lot more has happened and you can read about all of it over at the HOMEPAGE.
You know the thing is, I had gotten even a few new readers.
Anyway, what happened? That’s a hard question to answer for several reasons. One of which is whether or not I wish to make the nuts and bolts of this public before we even get started. But yea: deportation. That as of this moment is what it is all about.
However, whereas I thought that I was going to have a meeting with the cops at three, my guy decided not to show up on time and I have got to go back after 40 minutes or so. Time enough to run to the internet and get off this blog. Yes I need the internet because my computer is still down.
And I have been off line in general because have been out t the dacha these last few days doing what it is that village people do. That’s right? Hat, did I ever say that i do not drink? No I did not. I mean, I don’t drink like the locals. I am not a fish. But I do tipple occasionally, especially when MY WHOLE FUCKING WORLD GETS RIPPED OUT FROM UNDER ME!
And besides, if I am not here, they are going to have to sell that place, and of this is the case, I also started to get the cabin in order, painting the kitchen and tidying up. And, as it still functions, I have been working to get the land set up for this years potatoes as well.
And I know, I know, I had been in the middle of a really good dacha story and all. I am really sorry about that. In fact i have been thiniuing of how to deal with that. It is a tough choice. I mean I could just blurt out what happened last Tuesday after we had out little confrontation with Yevgeny in the street; about how the shit smells coming off the cart (sweet) or how heavy it is to toss by pitchfork (very). Or how we only did two wagonloads before I had to run to get to the bus and how Andre promised he would finish the work himself the next day (he didn't- do I have to tell you why?). And finally I could have waxed philosophical about how it felt when, as I was waiting for my second wagonload to come, I found some carrots I had missed last year which had grown large over the winter. And about how it felt to shove my bare hands into the soft, cold wet earth, digging the sweet orange cones; cleaning them in well water and eating them as the first food of the year to be given my by God and my land… Or rather, what will henceforth will most probably be referred to as what was my land.
Yes it is a catastrophe for me of a magnitude I cannot describe. But then again, it was I suppose inevitable. And when I start spilling details you will understand why. And no, I did not make this happen just to give the new book a fucking ending!
But excuse me, it is now four and I have but a half-hour to get back to the police station to discuss or find out the details of my no oh-so-short future here.
Yes, (I think) there will be more soon. And yes, I want letters at
But no, I will not give details as of this moment even if you do write. Let's see what happens first.
More probably by the weekend. Sorry for the gaps, but stay tuned anyway… please.