This is going to be my English improving routine first off all. Frankly, I don't expect it to be a long thread, I just have loads of free time and eager to use my time somehow productive. There will be short stories, thoughts, interesting facts, mmm, maybe some conversations. I hope for conversations most of all, honestly. So everybody is extremely welcomed to ask questions, to share opinions, to make fun of my mistakes, whatever. Also, I'm up for any job opportunity wors more than $1/ hour. Let's get started!
I was in a cinema last Sunday. My wife cried there and the audience applauded at the end of the movie which was quite unusual as for a cinema. I mean applauds not the tears. It was "Loving Vincent". Though today's post doesn't suppose to be about the movie but about CARS, I must say, that you'll find out who killed Van Gogh if you haven't seen the movie yet.
We had booked tickets for 7 PM and had left our place at 3 PM with intention to buy some warm clothing and to have a dinner before the seans. It took us around 50 minutes to get there by trolleybus and it took 25 minutes for the same route on our way back home at 10 PM. The difference is about a traffic obviously. So I have come to a conclusion - personal cars must be forbidden. Car owners must be assessed with big taxes at the beginning to provide for electric public transport developing.
Not only due to saving our time. I failed to discover how many people have died in car accidents since the beginning of cars, maybe you could share some researchers on the topic. Google says 1.5 million people died in car accidents last year. I believe at least 10 million have lost their health forever. In a year. My wild guess is 30 million dead bodies, 150 million injured without a chance for recovery since the beginning of the madness. More than any war, any epidemic have taken out off us through the entire history of humanity. Do we need to measure the damages caused by cars, car industry, fuel to the environment?
Tell me please why do you need a car? What's above sounds "not English"? Feel free to ask any questions. I will really appreciate it. And you know... I love you.
Today's post was supposed to be about a perception of time. I had a phone call with my old friend who was sentenced to 15 years in the penitentiary with no possibility to leave it earlier. I watched some YouTube on the future of codding and the probable life length of the today's youth. Have made some connection and came up with the topic which I'd liked to write down. But saw the next and had felt like I just can't help myself:
"Dr. Rodchenkov told The Times last year that he had recorded the details of his work in Moscow somewhat mindfully, and not on a computer — as his friend Nikita Kamayev, Russia’s former antidoping chief who died suddenly in 2016, had done. It was Mr. Kamayev who gave Dr. Rodchenkov the black and gold Waterman pen he used for his diaries.
Dr. Rodchenkov attributed Mr. Kamayev’s sudden death to his announcement that he was writing a book, from which Dr. Rodchenkov said he tried to dissuade him.
“I told him, I’m not writing with a computer,” Dr. Rodchenkov said in May 2016. “I’m writing with your pen.” "
Do you know how have they called it in Russia? Absolutely right - fake news. Do you know how did the USSR's media name the report of Swedish Environmental Protection Agency about the abnormal level of radiation back in April 1986 and all the subsequent reports from other countries about the radioactive threat that was coming from the USSR's territory? Absolutely - fake news. It was just another poor misinformation attack on soviet people. That what they said.
Two step forward one step back, that's how things go in history. No worries. Love you.
I'm not running out of steam. Not yet. Not that fast. This writing is my little secret. Though I've been always honest with my wife and sincerely hope she does so, I don't want her to see it. Why is that? Weekends are English free.
It's appeared you use ON with months and it's better to put "developing" before "electric transport". Also, it's OK to write am/pm with small letters. Can't find any more mistakes above so far. It's sort of inspiring and warning on the other hand. Need some proofreading. You are still very welcome. Also, I must admit it's a bit bugging to reread my own writing. There is a couple of my diaries laying in my parent's flat, waiting for their time along with a pair of 12 oz boxing gloves. The diaries were promised to future me to make future me feel shy. The gloves were promised to my coach to make some young head suffer less. My coach. He used to smoke at least 10 cigarets in a 3 hours training session. Сigarets were replaced with sunflower's seeds later in my last year there. Hope he is well now.
Going to pay a visit to the gym, got to take those gloves and buy a pair of smaller one for kids. How were you doing all that years? Got a present for you! I've been there 5 days a week, 3 hours a day at least, for years. Need some incomes. Going to read those diaries. I think the time lag is big enough to make some fun now.
I have a story to tell. It's going to be a little unbelievable fact from my experience. But I want to shut down the previous post first. Mr. Medvedev called Dr. Rodchenkov an insane man last Friday. So did the president of Russians Biathlon Federation. No trust to a deranged man, you know. No more a letter on politics here (loads of doubts about it). Only actions matter. Still loving you.
Have you ever tried to catch a bird with your bare hands? I used to have a little green budgie. His name was Kesha, he knew how to pronounce at least 10 words, could bark like a dog and scream a guenea-pig's hungry scream. The little bastard had all chains broken and had flown out of my flat somewhere in his first spring. He was a pain in the ass anyway, all sort of pets are. The thing is that I had a cell remained.
Can't remember how old I was at that time precisely, but it was the time to find my confession. I never found one though. I've been reading Illusions by Richard Bach. Had his Seagull done before. (Just in case you don't know - R.Bach is one of these guys from 60's-70's who were doing lots of brave experiments with drugs I believe. You could find their writing sort of inspiring, especially if you are under your eighteen or do ****tons of drugs. You must be dumb as a ****ing oyster for sure. ) So there was me, the book and the cell. Me was staring at the empty cell after me had read another portion of the dumb book. I've been staring at the empty blue cell with an intention to materialize another instance of a budgie with a power of my mind for 10-15 minutes. Who cares? I wouldn't tell anybody.
A week or two later I felt a gentle punch into my chest on a street. I had grabbed the thing instinctively with my hands to find out that it was a little, blue, young budgie (**** me!) ...
True story, has it's ending I guess. I'm about to make a moral of it the next time or even later. Got to go now. It's almost 5am now. I have found myself in a trouble with meeting sunlight last weeks. Must hate winter. It is always dark outside when I'm awake. Want to see Lomancheko's fight that is going to be at 6am on Sunday by the local clocks. Having a sorrow for all the vulgar words. I've been watching too many of nevertheless funny gigs recently.
Loma did well. Looking for Mike Garcia the next year. Let's hope the Mexican would be challenging.
My charmed parakeet was buried in a dumpster 10 meters away from the place it had appeared first. I'd caught it in a sheer reflex and had broken its tinny neck accidentally. Like a car crash - boom! your beloved body dead. Kidding you.
The poor, warm, soft living budgie was taken to my home, inserted into the blue cell. Had its place cleaned and was fed quite right all the way to its sepulture. It was strange though. Never left it's cell and would always scream hard being touched by a human. Actually, his fear of being touched had killed him/it. I prefer he. Somehow he got a sort of fungus on his beak and when "the doctor" tried to heal the threat he cried so hard that a red balloon appeared on him. Huge bloody-pink hernia and the fungus covering his break making it hard to take a breath made him look aliens like. I put him in the dumpster after had found the ugly, cold body on the floor of the blue cell a week or two later, a skip 10 meters afar from the point he had appeared first.
The little creature appeared for no reason, from nowhere, led the poor life, felt no love and died in terrible fits. I'm not ready to come up with a moral yet.
Got to go to meet a sunshine approximately at 9 am today. Just in case you have forgotten, I'd like to say there is no time, there is no space. There are you measuring your limits and me loving you.
Many thanks, mate, many thanks for the reply. Though it's kind of unfriendly, because it must be a no-brainer call I do not belong to Russia, you still made it much easier for me. I have nothing to say if you meant he's strong speaker, he is indeed, but he's really weak-kneed.
You know, it's not a game when things are that cloth to you. I had reasons to hate Putin personally alone with the whole army of his supporters. I do not. I was full of outrage every time I heard a different lie from media or people around me. The kind of outrage makes your hand trembling. Until one night, when I had another Monika Belucci dream.
I was frantically running from an angry crowd in the dream. Evil kids, aged women, men, youngsters. There were plenty of them. Faces, faces, known and unknown faces, all around me, with no place for me to hide. I was scared. They shouted at me, wanted to punish me in the name of Putin. They wanted me dead. Suddenly, I had thought to myself if I could fight. I'd turned around and had hit a body cloth to me. It'd appeared easy to fight them. The body felt down and I had looked down at it. What I saw has changed my attitude complete in a blink of an eye. I had seen a boy. He had one leg only. His second leg was made of plastic laid by him and was broken by me. He was horrified, all the people who were hunting me frozen in shock. Scared, weak still people. What have I done?
I like to run, road running is my fitness. But I prefer to fly in my dreams. Remeber you can trust me on one thing. I love you.
I've changed my Avatar for the sake of different frames. The previous one made me sound "strong", "assertive" and so on, which I didn't like in most cases. Here is a link to a short documentary about the guy. I haven't seen it yet, but in case you'll find the personality interesting, I would recommend you the most truthful in terms of a history book about him. http://autonomies.org/2017/03/the-st...-through-film/
My current Ava suits my state of mind way better. I'm happy about seen some grammar mistakes above, unnoticeable before. Also, I'm happy about winter is departing. Nothing last forever, but my love to you.
Am I dying? On the point of death, gradually ceasing, about to disappear, creeping down the stairs? or up?
There are two more questions on my mind currently. I need to find out how did ancient greeks treat the Appolon. I know, food, some wine and blood of course, but how exactly? Step by step instruction. And the second question is how much time they used to work back then? I bet three times less than they want us to work... Steve Jobs, you know, working ethics! I mean free men, not slaves of course.