Punishment

Hello my friends and I do mean that! If I say, IF y'all come back and visit here on GlenView, then I call you friends. You're most likely saying to yourself, "did that old fart write what I think he wrote?"
My answer is, "yep!" I never know beforehand what my old fingers gonna say. Right now I can't use one of my fingers, a silly accident at work. Ya see they got this old man doing maintenance on one of their important machines, "Do you believe that?" And they now how silly I be! Ain't that a hoot! That proves how silly they be!
Okay back to the finger, I had me finger where it shouldn't be, yes, yes, yes, I know better, but old people reflexes ain't as good as they once was. Anywhoo, how, whatever, it pulled most of my fingernail loose. It happened "faster than greased lightning." Hell I don't know what that means ceptin, I reckon lightning be pretty dag-gone fast, right? Now if you could grease the path of lightning would it be faster? Never mind just something I heard in my childhood from my daddy's side of the family.

Well it did feel like a hornet stung me right good, but not for long. It did bleed quite a bit. I kept right on a working never missed a lick. I had to rewrap it a few times cause it kept on a bleeding. I wrapped it over and over because that blood just kept a oozing. To shorten this story to nowhere. I have had paper cuts that hurt worse than pulling off my fingernail. Ya see here is what Doctor Glen thinks. I take blood pressure medicine and it thins the blood right? Even though my finger bleeds what appeared to be quite a bit, that there blood slowly oozing out, kept from getting infected. My finger never swelled a tad ain't that swell?

Let's see if I can change the subject. I'm still working on my Crime And Punishment summary. Let me just say, "that be, sum book, and sum of them characters, may be sillier than me." Take sum of them characters and they sum up most of the book. So if I remember me schoolin days. The sum = the sum of all and that has to = sumthing.

Don't you out here in blogdom find it a mite funny, no not me. Although one of Fyodor Dostoesky's books was titled The Idiot. Maybe I could write my own version today and call it The Idiot, and be the main character, because y'all already know I'm a character, a real character in my own reality. Ain't that scary?

I been a rambling so much and am not sure if I was trying to make a point or not! Maybe I'll go back and review to see if I missed sumthing.

You know I just been thinking, ah, oh! I know! "Well now if I have read and summarized part one, of seven, and the crime has been committed. What in the hell is in the other six parts + the epilogue? Well common sense tells ya, well not all have common sense. Well that sentence I just wrote don't make sense! If most of the people in the world are commoners so to speak as in working, paying taxes, raising children, just trying to survive. Not bankers, lawyers, politicians, lobbyist, in the software business, kings, queens, presidents of companies, you get the picture then we should have common sense. I'm confused and am not going to reread what I just wrote.

Okay in summary we have a book called The Idiot, or Dostoevsky's first book called Poor Folk, then we expect the titles to be reminiscent of sum of the book, SO WE HAVE SEEN THE CRIME PART. Then surely to God the rest of the book be a talkin about Purgatory, as in Punishment, I CERTAINLY HOPE SO!

PURGE, means to cleanse of sin.
PURGATIVE, means cathartic.
PURGATORY, means, a place after death, in some doctrine, for expiating sins by suffering.

Damn I do ramble on don't I? SO WE HAVE 450 PAGES TO SEE SUFFERING, AND MANY OTHER TWISTS, TURNS, PLUS SOME GOOD STUFF.   Goodnight my friends
      

Spell Check

Wasn't that a silly little piece of insanity yesterday? "Yep!" "Sure nuff!" As a couple voices in my head speak out!

Back by unpopular demand here's JOE, as in Joe Pesky.
"Okay! okay! okay! What the &%#k was you going for in that last post, Glenny Boy, you lame brain idiot! You made all of us, includind yourself look stupid. I had a delicate kind of conversation with Mrs. Spell Check. You know what, there off line baby, yep the big Kahuna General Proper cannot locate them. He personally hacked into your Hewie Packardo modem. He can't find a trace seems they have flew through the wire into oblivion. The only info on them is this fuzzy incoherent Spell Check secret coded alert e-mail. It sometimes makes sense then it goes haywire into what General Proper thought was some new fangled code he wasn't briefed on."

Spellina Check says, "Alert! Alert! Alert! Danger! Danger! Danger! Warning! Warning! Warning! Help! Help! Help! Those words are priority one, followed with, is anybody fucking there? Need assistance immediately. Pa Check is fucking freaking out, repeat, Pa Check is fucked up! We're in danger of total collapse here on GlenView.
Followed soon after by another e-mail. As you well know he has been under a lot of pressure on this assignment, even though I have been helping him with this Glen fellow. Pa was feeling a tad better because as Pa called him, "this nin-ca-poop is working on Crime And Punishment." Pa felt as though he could take a break put his letters up and breath easy for awhile. Pa thought if Glen read and reviewed the whole book, he could be on easy street you see. Well I was in sleep mode and Pa was working the graveyard shift. When all of a sudden Glen hits spell check. Half of the words or more were flashing incorrect. Apparently Pa was snoozing and the shock nearly done him in. He was spell shocked. I woke up and found him at the console overheating. I threw some correcto cool down on him. He was staring at the board frozen between words. I lay him down and took control of the console. No response, this man has totally screwed the operating system and almost spontaneously combusted Pa! S.O.S. (save our spell check)"

General Proper acted properly of course following proper procedures following the manual, sending in the S. W. A. T. Special Words Ah-oh Team, they move at the speed of light recovering Pa and Spellina Check. At last report Mr. Check was checked into The Dictionary Hospital at Cambridge University. He's in recovery resting uncomfortably in the largest dictionarary in the world. Spellina has retired living sea side somewhere state side, possibly Seattle.

A new replacement has been sent, a real greenhorn, fresh out of The University of Spell Check Are Us. Nobody in the world wide world of working Checkee's as they call themselves would take this assignment.

The last known coherent words of Mr. Spell Check were unintelligible but some believe he was trying to communicate these few words, Th, th, th, that's #$%&ing all folks!!!! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I Am The Midnight Writer

NORMALLY I sit my buttocks down in me free, let me emph-ass-ize that freee! Why is that impotent? Welll now, why by when ya can sitt yer arse inna freee cher. O . . . O . . . asso . . .  me monitor lizurd scream wassa freee babee, yep. Hear th midnyte riter getta aul th lefovers. How-so. Welll I rec-can I gotsa lurnn this here new fandangled shite to beafer I lurn howl too right, write, uno. I wood lik to aask a kwestion. okey, dokey, goood buds, O palls O mien. How th fukc does-sa feriners lurn Englush.
Wees hears in the staytes kan'ta speek it. Yu dont knoo what th feck Imma talkun bout, duzz ya? Say yer froom Nuu Yurk, or Mistersippe Alobama. Is they spekin Englush. OR saye . . . ar, ar, ar fryens to the nort of A . . . manyka. I getsa sum trkuc drivurs frum Kanida in, delivurin wherst I wurk. I kant undurstan dem, no sur! I's a mit hard O hearun, butt, butt, butt when I ussa me hearin aeds, I's stile kanna undurstan theem. Issa it jest mee ur whaat? Thure be peepull I wurk weth, looka to mees lika thur mauth an me hearun be outta tiem. Howso, welll I hearum about haf a secun aftur thea speek. Bea liek watchun won of theem olda blakc an whiet moovees uno, wherst the sauund, an mauth moovment bea auf.

I BEEN WORKING REAL HARD ON CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, THOUGHT I'D TAKE A BIT OF A BREAK. THE WORDS MIDNIGHT WRITER CAME TO ME FROM OUT OF THE BLUE, EITHER THAT OR ONE OF THEM SPIRIT WRITERS BE FLOATING AROUND EARTH BOUND DECIDING TO FUCK ME UP. WHAT THEY DIDN'T COUNT ON, I BEEN THAT WAY FOR A SPELL. GETTING OLDER AS IN THE BIG ALZEN=WISEN-HEIMERS DON'T HELP STRAIGHTEN WHOM I AM UP, NOW DOES IT. ANYHOW I TOYED WITH THAT WAYWARD AUTOMATIC WRITING SOUL , OR SHOULD I SAY POOR SOUL WHO FLOATED INTO GLENO'S HEAD. HAH! HAH! HAH! I SENT MR. POOR SOUL PACKING. I INFORMED HIM TO PASS THE MESSAGE "DON'T BE SENDING NO WAYWARD SPIRITS ROUND HERE NO MORE! I SEEN A FLASH OF LIGHT SHOOT FROM ME HEAD, LOOKED TO ME LIKE IT HAD A TAIL-LIGHT TUCKED UNDER HIS WHATCH-A-MA-CALL-IT.
Damn with all this work I been doing and thinking along with it, I was afraid I might lose my sense o humor. I been working on a shortened summary, of my summary, for C, AND P. (This is a wee funny of the word babble from the book, I could not help myself!)
I BELIEVE I'LL GO TO BED NOW. WON'T BE NO WAYWARD SPIRIT AROUND HERE NO MORE I FEEL SAFE THEY GOT THE MESSAGE LOUD AND CLEAR.
Automatic writing my arse! That be my loco-motive brain a belching smoke and a moving on down the line. Until next time, sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite!!! Glen Boob . . . . . .
I think I burnt my spell checky thing-a-ma-bob up! It had no suggestions on all my words! I won, I broke Mr. or Mrs. Properness UP! Yippee!

(11) C.and P. VII "ESCAPE"

RASKOL EXAMINES HIS CLOTHING AS WELL, AS THE LIGHTING FROM THE KITCHEN WINDOW WOULD ALLOW. HE KNEW HOWEVER THAT HE WAS NOT EXAMINING HIMSELF AS CAREFULLY AS HE SHOULD. SOMETHING EYE CATCHING MIGHT REMAIN.  HE STOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KITCHEN, THOUGHTS THAT MADNESS HAD TAKEN OVER, AND WAS UNABLE TO REASON, OR TO PROTECT HIMSELF, PERHAPS HE WASN'T DOING ALL, THAT HE SHOULD BE DOING . . . "My God! I must run away!" HE MUTTERED, AND RUSHED INTO THE ENTRYWAY, BUT THERE SUCH HORROR AWAITED HIM! HE COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS EYES, THE SAME ENTRANCE DOOR HE HAD RUNG WAS UNLATCHED AJAR BY A HAND'S WIDTH, IT WAS NOT HOOKED THE WHOLE TIME! THE OLD WOMAN HAD NOT LOCKED IT, PERHAPS BECAUSE OF HIM, NOR LIZAVETA LATER ON. HOW COULD HE HAVE FAILED TO REALIZE THIS. RUSHING TO THE DOOR HE HOOKED IT.
   "But no, again that's not it! I must go, go . . ."
HE UNHOOKED THE DOOR, OPENED IT AND CAREFULLY LISTENS, FOR A LONG TIME. DOWNSTAIRS TWO VOICES ARE HEARD, SHOUTING, ARGUING AND SWEARING. "What's that about?" HE WAITED PATIENTLY. IT'S NOW QUIET. HE WAS ABOUT TO GO WHEN A DOOR OPENED NOISILY, ONE FLOOR BELOW, SOMEONE WAS HUMMING A TUNE.
   "How is it they all make so much noise?" FLASHED THROUGH HIS HEAD. HE CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HIM AND WAITED. HE STEPPED TO THE STAIRS, WHERE NEW FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD.
THE SOUND SEEM VERY FAR AWAY, THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS HE SUSPECTS. THEY MUST BE COMING HERE TO THE OLD LADY'S. WHY? THE STEPS WERE HEAVY, REGULAR, UNHURRIED. THE STEPS WERE GETTING LOUDER, BREATHING FROM THE  APPROACHING MAN WAS GETTING LOUDER. HE WAS TURNING TO STONE. WHEN THE VISITOR APPROACHED THE FOURTH FLOOR HE SLIPPED BACK INTO THE APARTMENT AND CLOSES THE DOOR, LATCHING THE HOOK QUIETLY, COWERING BEHIND THE DOOR. THE VISITOR WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE NOW, JUST AS HE AND THE OLD LADY HAD BEEN EARLIER, BUT IT WAS HE WHO NOW LISTENS.
THE VISITOR WAS OUT OF BREATH.
   "He must be big and fat," RASKOL THOUGHT, CLUTCHING THE AXE. IT SEEMS AS THOUGH HE WERE DREAMING, THEN THE BELL RANG FIRMLY.
WHEN THE BELL RANG, HE THOUGHT HE HEARD STIRRING IN THE ROOM. THE STRANGER GAVE ANOTHER RING OF THE BELL, WAITED A BIT, THEN BEGAN TUGGING IMPATIENTLY AT THE DOOR HANDLE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. HORRIFIED, RASKOL WATCHES THE HOOK JUMPING, FEARING IT WOULD POP OUT OF THE EYE. HIS HEAD SEEMED TO SPIN. "I'm passing out!" FLASHED THROUGH HIM, THEN THE STRANGER SPOKE, AND HE IMMEDIATELY RECOVERED HIMSELF.
   "What's up in there, are they snoring, or has somebody wrung their? Cur-r-rse it!" HE BELLOWED. "Hey, Alyona, you old witch! Lizaveta, you indescribably beauty! Open up! God, curse it all! Are they asleep or what?"
ENRAGED HE PULLED THE BELL TEN TIMES IN A ROW AS HARD AS HE COULD. HE SEEMED URGENT AND FAMILIAR WITH THIS PLACE. AT THE SAME MOMENT HE HEARD THE SOUND OF HURRIED FOOTSTEPS, SOMEONE ELSE WAS COMING UP THE STAIRS.
    "What no body home?" THE NEW COMER CRIED I A CHEERFUL VOICE, ADDRESSING THE FIRST ONE, STILL PULLING THE BELL.
   "How do you do Koch!"
   "He must be very young judging by his voice," RASKOL THOUGHT.
   "Devil knows I almost broke the lock," ANSWERED KOCH. "And how do you happen to know me?"
   "Well I like that! Didn't I just beat you three times straight at billiards, the day before yesterday, at Gambrinus's?"
   "A-a-ah . . ." "So they're not there? Strange. Terribly stupid, though. Where could the old woman have gone? I'm here on business."
   "I'm also here on business, my friend."
   "Well, what's there to do? Go home I guess. Bah! THE YOUNG MAN CRIED.
   "Go home of course--but then why make an appointment? The old lady herself told me what time to come. The old witch sits here all day then suddenly fancies an outing."
   "Maybe we should ask the caretaker?"
   "Ash him what?"
   "Where she's gone and when she'll be back?"
   "Hm . . . the devil . . . ask him . . . But she never goes anywhere . . ." AS HE TUGS AT THE DOOR HANDLE AGAIN. "Ah, the devil, nothing to be done; let's go!"
   "Wait!" the young man suddenly shouted. "Look: do you see how the door gives when you pull?"
   "So?"
   "But don't you understand? That means one of them is home, in order to fasten the hook from inside, someone has to be home, understand? So they're sitting in there and not opening the door!"
   Hah! Why, of course!" THE ASTONISHED KOCH EXCLAIMED! "But  what are they up to in there!" HE TUGGED VIOLENTLY AT THE DOOR.
   "Wait!" THE YOUNG MAN SHOUTED AGAIN. "Don't tug at it! Something's not right here . . . you rang, you pulled . . . they don't open the door; it means they've both fainted, or . . ."
   "Or what?"
   "Listen, let's get go the caretaker; let him wake them up."
   "Good idea!" THEY BOTH STARTED DOWN THE STAIRS.
   "Wait! You stay here, and I'll run down and get the caretaker."
   "Why stay?"
   "You never know . . ."
   "Maybe . . . "
   "I'm studying to be a public investigator! It's obvious somethings not right here!" THE YOUNG MAN CRIED OUT RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS.
KOCH STAYED TRYING THE DOOR ONCE AGAIN LOOKING AT THE KEYHOLE; THERE WAS A KEY IN IT.
RASKOL CLUTCHED THE AXE TIGHTLY, IN A DELIRIUM, READY TO FIGHT. THE IDEA HAD OCCURRED TO HIM TO SHOUT AND END IT ALL. "Just get it over with!" FLASHED IN HIS HEAD. "Ah the devil, he . . . "
TIME PASSES, KOCH BEGINS TO STIR. "Ah, the devil!" . . . HE CRIED IMPATIENTLY, ABANDONING HIS POST.
   "Lord what shall I do!" RASKOL UNFASTENS THE HOOK, NOT A SOUND, HE LEAVES CLOSING THE DOOR TIGHTLY AND STARTED DOWN THE STAIRS. AFTER RETREATING THREE FLIGHTS HE HEARS A LOUD NOISE FROM BELOW, WHERE CAN HE GO, HE TURNED TO RUN BACK TO THE APARTMENT.
   "Hey you hairy devil! Stop him!"
SHOUTING, SOMEONE BURST FROM A APARTMENT BELOW.
   "Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Damn your eyes!" THE CRY ENDED IN A SHRIEK; THE LAST SOUNDS COMING FROM OUTSIDE; THEN IT WAS QUIET. AT THE SAME MOMENT, SEVERAL MEN TALKING LOUDLY BEGAN CLIMBING THE STAIRS. HE HEARD THE RINGING VOICE OF THE YOUNG ONE SAY, "It's them!"
COME WHAT MAY IN UTTER DESPERATION HE WENT TOWARD THEM. IN A MOMENT THEY WOULD COME FACE TO FACE--SUDDENLY SALVATION. A FEW STEPS AWAY WAS A WIDE OPEN APARTMENT, WHERE THE PAINTERS HAD BEEN WORKING, HE STEPPED INSIDE. IT HAD TO BE THEM RUNNING OUT SHOUTING. AS THE MEN WALKED PASSED THE DOOR UPSTAIRS HE TIPTOED OUT INTO THE TREES.
AT THAT MOMENT HE KNEW THEY WERE IN THE APARTMENT, FINDING THE DOOR OPENED AND STARING AT THE BODIES. THEY WOULD SOON REALIZE THE MURDERER SLIPPED PASSED THEM. HE DARE NOT QUICKEN HIS PACE WITH ABOUT A HUNDRED STEPS TO GO BEFORE TH FIRST TURN. AT LAST HE WAS AT THE SIDE STREET FEELING MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE; NOW HE WAS HALF WAY TO SAFETY. THERE WERE MANY PEOPLE ALONG THE SIDE STREET, HE WALKED AMONG THEM LIKE A GRAIN OF SAND. BUT ALL THESES TORMENTS HAD WEAKENED HIM, HE COULD BARELY MOVE. SWEAT WAS DROPPING OFF OF HIM, HIS WHOLE NECK WAS WET. HE WAS BARELY AWARE OF HIMSELF NOW, AND THE FARTHER HE WENT THE WORST IT BECAME.
HE WAS NOT FULLY CONSCIOUS ENTERING THE GATES TO HIS HOUSE, HE DID NOT REMEMBER THE AXE UNTIL HE WAS ON THE STAIRS.
EVERYTHING WORKED OUT WELL, THE DOOR TO THE CARETAKERS WAS NOT LOCKED, HE REPLACED IT MEETING NO ONE ON HIS WAY UP THE STAIRS, HIS LANDLADY'S DOOR WAS SHUT. HE THROWS HIMSELF ONTO HIS SOFA. HE DID NOT SLEEP, BUT WAS OBLIVIOUS. IF ANYONE HAD COME IN HIS ROOM, HE WOULD OF JUMPED UP, SHOUTING BITS AND PIECES OF WHAT WAS SWIMMING IN HIS HEAD.
     
  
 

(10) C. P, Part One Chapter VII "THE AXE"

TWO SHARP MISTRUSTFUL EYES STARE AT HIM AS THE DOOR SLIGHTLY OPENS.  FLUSTERED, HE MAKES  A MISTAKE. KNOWING THE OLD WOMAN WOULD BE FRIGHTENED, WITH NO HOPE HIS CURRENT LOOKS WOULD REASSURE HER, HE PULLED THE DOOR TO HIM, SO THAT SHE COULD NOT LOCK HERSELF IN. SHE DID NOT TRY TO PULL THE DOOR BACKWARDS, LEAVING HER HAND ON THE HANDLE HE ALMOST PULLED HER INTO THE HALLWAY. SHE WAS NOW BLOCKING THE DOORWAY, NOT LETTING HIM IN, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR HER AS SHE MOVES ASIDE IN FEAR. SHE LOOKS AS THOUGH SHE WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING, BUT WAS UNABLE TO AND STARED AT HIM.
   "Good evening, Alyona Ivanova," he began, as casually as he could, but his voice would not obey him, it faltered and started trembling. "I've brought you . . . an article . . . but we better go over there . . . near the light . . . " He walked straight into the room uninvited. The old woman's tongue came untied.
   "Lord! What is it? . . . Who are you? What's your business?" 
   "For pity's sake, Alyona Ivanova  . . . you know me . . . Raskolnikov . . . here, I've brought you that pledge . . . the one I promised you the other day . . . " He was holding the pledge out to her. 
SHE GLANCED AT THE PLEDGE, THEN AT ONCE FIXED HER EYES DIRECTLY ON THE EYES OF THE UNINVITED VISITOR. SHE LOOKED AT HIM, SPITEFULLY, MISTRUSTFULLY, A MINUTE PASSES, HE THOUGHT HE SAW MOCKERY IN HER EYES, AS IF SHE ALREADY GUESSED EVERYTHING. HE WAS BECOMING, FLUSTERED, FRIGHTENED, SO MUCH SO THAT IF SHE WERE TO LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT WITHOUT SAYING A WORD , FOR ANOTHER HALF MINUTE, HE WOULD RUN AWAY FROM HER.
   "But why are you looking at me like that, as if you don't recognize me?" He suddenly asked, with spite. "If you want it, take it--otherwise I'll go somewhere else. I have no time." She comes to her senses, and her visitors resolute tone seemed to encourage her.
  "But what's the matter dearie, so suddenly . . . what is it?" she asked, looking at the pledge. She held out her hand. "But why are you so pale? Look your hands are trembling! Did you go for a swim dearie, or what?" 
   "Fever he answered abruptly. You can't help getting pale . . . when you have nothing to eat," barely able to articulate the words. The answer sounded plausible; the old woman took the pledge. 
   "What is it?" she asked, once again looking Raskolnikov over intently and weighing the pledge in her hand. 
   "An article . . . a cigarette case . . . silver . . . take a look."
   "But it doesn't seem like silver . . . Ehh, it's all wrapped up."   
UNTYING THE STRING AND MOVING TO THE WINDOW FOR LIGHT, SHE TURNED HER BACK GIVING HIM THE FEW SECONDS HE NEEDED. HE FREED THE AXE FROM THE LOOP HOLDING IT IN HIS HAND UNDER HIS COAT. HIS HANDS WERE WEAK GROWING NUMB. HE WAS AFRAID HE WOULD DROP THE AXE . . . SUDDENLY HIS HEAD SEEMED TO SPIN.
   "Look how he's wrapped it up!" the old woman exclaimed in vexation, and made a move towards him.
HE TOOK THE AXE OUT, SWUNG IT WITH BOTH HANDS, SCARCELY AWARE OF HIMSELF, AND ALMOST WITHOUT EFFORT, ALMOST MECHANICALLY, BROUGHT THE BUTT-END DOWN ON HER HEAD, HIS OWN STRENGTH SEEMED TO HAVE NO PART IN IT. BUT THE MOMENT HE BROUGHT THE AXE DOWN, STRENGTH WAS BORN IN HIM. 
BECAUSE SHE WAS SO SHORT, THE BLOW HAPPENED TO LAND RIGHT ON THE CROWN OF HER HEAD. (((I WON'T GIVE ANY GORY DETAILS.)))
HE PUT HIS HAND IN HER RIGHT POCKET FOR THE KEYS. HE WAS IN FULL POSSESSION OF REASON, THE CLOUDING AND DIZZINESS HAD CEASED. HE PULLED OUT THE KEYS; THEY WERE ALL ON A  STEEL RING. HE IMMEDIATELY RAN TO THE BEDROOM WITH THEM. THERE WAS A CHEST OF DRAWERS, STRANGELY, WHEN HE HEARD THE KEYS JINGLING, HE WANTED TO DROP EVERYTHING AND LEAVE, BUT ONLY FOR A MOMENT, IT WAS TOO LATE TO LEAVE. HE GRINNED TO HIMSELF, THEN ANOTHER ANXIOUS THOUGHT STRUCK HIS MIND, HE FANCIED THE OLD WOMAN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE. HE WENT BACK AND CHECKED THERE WAS NO DOUBT, HE THEN NOTICED A STRING AROUND HER NECK, WITH MUCH DIFFICULTY HE REMOVES IT. A PURSE WITH TWO CROSSES ON THE STRING. THE PURSE WAS STUFFED FULL, HE SHOVED IT INTO HIS POCKET AND DROPPED THE CROSSES ON THE OLD WOMAN'S CHEST, RUSHING BACK TO THE BEDROOM. 
HE WAS TERRIBLY HURRIED, SNATCHED UP THE KEYS, FUMBLING WITH THEM, WITH NO LUCK. HE REALIZED THE BIG KEY WITH THE OTHERS MAY BE TO A TRUNK. LOOKING UNDER THE BED HE SPOTS A SIZABLE TRUNK. THE KEY FIT, BUT THERE SEEMED TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN OLD CLOTHES.      THEN A GOLD WATCH SLIPPED OUT OF A FUR COAT. VARIOUS GOLD OBJECTS MOST LIKELY PLEDGES. HE STUFFED THEM IN THE POCKETS OF HIS TROUSERS AND COAT; BUT HE DID NOT HAVE TIME TO TAKE MUCH . . .    
    HE HEARD FOOTSTEPS COMING FROM THE ROOM THE OLD WOMAN LAY. HE STOPPED STILL AS DEATH, MUST BE HIS IMAGINATION. THEN A SLIGHT CRY, AND A MOAN, THEN SILENCE. HE WAS BARELY BREATHING, SUDDENLY HE JUMPED UP WITH THE AXE.
   LIZAVETA WAS FROZEN GAZING AT HER SISTER. SEEING HIM SHE TREMBLED WITH FAINT QUIVERING ACROSS HER FACE, SHE RAISED HER HAND, OPENED HER MOUTH, STARING AT HIM, NO BREATH IN HER TO CRY OUT. SHE ALSO IS DONE IN BY THE AXE, POOR, SIMPLE, SO DOWNTRODDEN, SO FRIGHTENED, LIZAVETA. 
   FEAR TOOK HOLD OF HIM ESPECIALLY AFTER LIZAVETA. HE WANTED TO RUN FROM THERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. IF HE HAD BEEN CAPABLE OF REASONING AT THAT MOMENT, IF HE HAD ONLY BEEN ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE DIFFICULTIES, DESPAIR, HIDEOUSNESS, ABSURDITY OF IT, AND TO UNDERSTAND, HOW MANY MORE DIFFICULTIES, HE HAD TO OVERCOME TO REACH HOME, HE MIGHT HAVE GONE AT ONCE TO DENOUNCE HIMSELF, PURELY OUT OF HORROR FOR WHAT HE HAD JUST DONE. LOATHING WAS GROWLING WITHIN HIM. HE WOULD NOT HAVE GONE BACK IN THAT ROOM FOR ANYTHING IN THE WORLD. 
   A SORT OF ABSENT MINDNESS CAME OVER HIM AS HE FORGOT THE MAIN THINGS AND CLUNG TO TRIFLES. HE NOTICED A BUCKET OF WATER IN THE KITCHEN, IT OCCURED TO HIM TO WASH HIS HANDS AND AXE. AFTER SEVERAL MINUTES SATISFIED THE AXE WAS CLEAN HE PUT IT UNDER HIS COAT.      

THERE IS SO MUCH TO GET ACROSS, WHILE I ATTEMPT TO SHORTEN, AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. I WILL FINISH THIS CHAPTER IN ANOTHER POST, AND SUMMARIZE WITH MY FEELINGS, THOUGHTS, AND OBSERVATIONS. I'M TRYING TO GET THE BARE BONES OF THE BOOK, BUT FEAR I'M NOT DOING JUSTICE TO SUCH A CLASSIC! I WILL TRUDGE ON HOWEVER AT LEAST THROUGH PART ONE. 
I CAN'T WAIT TO GIVE MY SUMMARY OF THOUGHTS. HOPEFULLY I HAVE GIVEN A MINUSCULE TASTE AND OTHERS WILL READ THIS BOOK AT LEAST ONCE IN THEIR LIFETIME.
THE TRANSLATION I'VE USED THUS FAR IS FROM EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY. IT IS AN EASIER READ THAN THE ONE A FRIEND GAVE ME. THAT VERSION I PREFER, A BANTAM CLASSIC FIRST PRINTED IN 1958.  "Sweet dreams until we meet again, I have the feeling I've only just begun!"



   

INTERESTING

I thought of this while meditating. My style of meditating mind ya. I best start with my meditation before I go to the BIG FINALE.

In order to achieve full potential you MUST be an old person, or you cannot truly reach the nirvana moments. You must have, many, many, LET ME MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR! If-un you ainna over half a century with arthritis, knee problems, or . . .  yours truly. (That be me. Me and my buddy Uh-Klem.) ((Hey I didn't make this name up, he gave it to himself!)) ((( I don't thinka his anchor hits bottom, if-a you know what I mean!))) Anyhow we have some back problems. So if you don't a have old age fricking shit, (Oopsey!) Then you ainna gonna understand my special meditation. This here meditation is not to be tried for you youngins.

DAMN!!! I THINK, THEREFORE . . . I FORGOT. THAT BE A SENIOR MOMENT, DON'T TRY TO FIGURE IT OUT! THERE WAS A POINT I WAS GONNA MAKE, THAT'S WHY THE TITLE IS . . . I FORGOT!

My secret meditation no. no, no, no, not MEDICATION! We're already over our maximum allowance of that! This doesn't require any special positions. We couldn't do them anyway, that's why my old proven trial and error still works just fine! Warning if you have too long a commute after work you may not be able to do this, because your body will not be able to get out of your automobile, especially if you have one of them little ones made for young healthy, limber youngins.

Okay,  yes! The main be point a coming, you try late at night, and old after working for the man, when you should be retired smoking weed in California and chasing little white balls around a golf course. Ya see I have to go back and reread everything I have written up until my last sentence to, to, to, [SNORING] damn it's past my bedtime.

Have I got ya pumped for the old farts of the world secret meditation that you won't find on any DVDs, or books. That's because them fools want to get rich selling ya shit! OOPS! Don't worry we old ones can get by with that. WHY? BECAUSE WE'RE FUCKING OLD, YA DAMN LAME BRAIN YOUNG WHIPPER SNAPPERS! Did I type that? I thought I just thought that! Ya se if I just thought that, then there would of been them what-cha-ma-call them you know ((())), hearing signs for the brain impaired, or WHATEVER!

I KNOW! I KNOW! This here title fer this post is INTERESTING, not the crap I been typing. I received the little piece, or is it post, I was gonna type before I got to typing. I got this interesting story about the word interesting while in my NIRVANA state. I hope I can remembuurr it for another post. YEAH! Like that will happen. It was good I was laughing in my nirvana moment.

DRUM ROLL PLEASE . . . . . . . [DRUMS PLAYING] . . . . . . . . . .

MY SECRET MEDITATION IS! NOW THIS SEEMS TO WORK BETTER IN COLD WEATHER. I COME STRAIGHT HOME FROM WORK, AS FAST AS MY VAN WILL GO, THROW OFF MY WORK CLOTHES, TAKE A HOT BATH, JUMP UNDER THEM COMFORTERS, AND ALLOW THE ACHES AND PAINS TO NATURALLY GO AWAY THE WAY THE WAY THERE MEANT TOO. (That's why there called comforters ya know!) ALLOW THEM POOR TIRED ACHING MUSCLES, SHIT WHOLE FRICKING BODY TO MELLOW OUT SLOOW-LY. YOU'LL EVENTUALLY REACH THAT MOMENT WHEN, AHHHHHH, THEN YOU'LL THINK OF SOMETHING GOOD, FUNNY, THAT COULD SAVE THE WORLD. THEN, I SAY THEN, THE MOMENT WILL BE LOST, BECAUSE YOU'LL HAVE TO PEE! NOW GETTING YOUR BODY OUT OF BED FROM THAT NIRVANA HIGH IS A KILLER! WHY??? YOU SUDDENLY REALIZE, YOUR FUCKING IN YOUR OLD BODY, GETTING OUT OF BED AIN'T PRETTY NOR FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

(9) C. and P. VI Conclusion

AFTER RETURNING FROM THE HAY MARKET, THE NIGHT OF FINDING OUT LIZAVETA WOULD NOT BE HOME AND THE PAWNBROKER WOULD BE ALONE. HE THREW HIMSELF ON THE SOFA STILL FEELING FEVERISH, IT WAS ALMOST DARK AND FELL INTO A DEEP, LEADEN SLEEP, NOT DREAMING, UNTIL TEN THE NEXT MORNING WHEN NASTASYA WITH MUCH DIFFICULTY WOKE HIM BRINGING HIM TEA IN HER OWN TEAPOT.

   "Look at him sleeping there!" she cried indignantly. "All he does is sleep!" His head ached; he got to his feet, took a turn around his room, (closest) and dropped back down on the sofa.
   "Falling asleep again!" Nastasya cried. "Are you sick or what?" He made no reply.
   "Later," he said with an effort, closing his eyes and turning to the wall. Nastasya stood over him for awhile.
   "Maybe he really is sick," she said and left.
   She came back at two o'clock bringing soup. He lay as before. The tea untouched. Nastasya was offended shaking him angrily.
   "Are you sick or aren't you?" Nastasya asked, no reply. "Go!" Waving his hand.
   She stood there a while looking at him with compassion, then left.
   After a few minutes he raised his head ate a few bites. His head ached less after finishing his dinner. He lay back down but could not sleep. He daydreamed he was in Africa, in Egypt, in some oasis. The air was so fresh the water so blue, cold, running over the many-colored stones and over such clean sand sparkling with gold . . . All at once he heard the clock strike. He gave a start, realizing the time and jumped up. His heart was pounding as he listen down the stairs. All quiet as if everyone were asleep . . . It was strange that he could have slept since the day before, preparing nothing . . . Meanwhile it just struck six o'clock . . . In place of sleep, an extraordinary, feverish, confused bustle came over him. The preparations are not many. He used all his energy to figure everything out, his heart was pounding so making it hard for him to breathe.

   HE TORE STRIPS FROM AN OLD TATTERED SHIRT, SEWING THEM INSIDE THE LEFT ARM OF HIS COAT TO HIDE THE AXE. HE HAD THOUGHT UP THIS HIDDEN INNER LOOP TO CONCEAL THE AXE TWO WEEKS AGO.
  HE RETRIEVED THE WRAPPED UP PIECE OF IRON AND WOOD TO FOOL ALYONA INTO THINKING IT WAS A SILVER CIGARETTE CASE, TYING A RIBBON CROSSWISE WITH A KNOT THAT WOULD BE HARD TO UNTIE. THIS WOULD DISTRACT THE OLD WOMAN LONG ENOUGH TO CATCH THE RIGHT MOMENT.
   HE WOULD QUIETLY STEAL THE AXE FROM THE LANDLADY'S KITCHEN.
   HE HAD THOUGHT ABOUT THE MAIN DETAILS BUT PUT OFF MANY TRIFLES. HE COULD IN NO WAY IMAGINE, FOR EXAMPLE, THAT ONE DAY HE WOULD FINISH THINKING, GET UP, AND ---SIMPLY GO THERE . . . EVEN HIS RECENT TRIAL (THAT IS, HIS VISIT WITH THE INTENTION OF MAKING A FINAL SURVEY OH THE PLACE) WAS FAR FROM THE REAL THING. HE WAS SIMPLY DREAMING, TOYING WITH IT. HE SPAT THE IDEA OUT IMMEDIATELY REALIZING HE COULD NOT ENDURE IT, FLEEING FURIOUS WITH HIMSELF. YET HE HAD ALREADY CONCLUDED THE MORAL ANALYSIS: HIS REASONING WAS AS SHARP AS A RAZOR, HE NO LONGER FINDS ANY CONSCIOUS OBJECTIONS. HE SIMPLY DID NOT BELIEVE IN HIMSELF, STUBBORNLY SEEKING OBJECTIONS AS IF SOMEONE WERE FORCING HIM, AND DRAWING HIM TO IT. THIS LAST DAY, COMING BY CHANCE RESOLVED EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE, AFFECTED HIM WHOLLY MECHANICALLY: AS IF SOMEONE HAD TAKEN HIM BY THE HAND AND PULLED HIM ALONG IRRESISTIBLY, BLINDLY, WITH NATURAL FORCES, WITHOUT OBJECTIONS. AS IF A PIECE OF HIS CLOTHING HAD BEEN CAUGHT IN THE COGS OF A MACHINE AND HE WERE DRAGGED INTO IT. 
   LONG BEFORE HE HAD HE HAD BEEN OCCUPIED WITH ONE QUESTION. WHY ALMOST ALL CRIMES ARE SO EASILY DETECTED AND SOLVED, AND WHY ALMOST ALL CRIMINALS LEAVE AN OBVIOUSLY MARKED TRAIL. LYING, BUT AT THE TIME OF THE CRIME THE CRIMINAL'S WILL AND REASON IS REPLACED BY CHILDISH THOUGHTLESSNESS, JUST AT THE MOMENT WHEN REASON AND PRUDENCE ARE MOST NECESSARY. THIS DARKENING OF REASONING WILL TAKE HOLD OF A MAN LIKE A DISEASE. HE DECIDED THAT IN HIS OWN PERSONAL CASE THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN. REASON AND WILL WOULD REMAIN WITH HIM THROUGHOUT WHAT HE PLOTTED, FOR THE SOLE REASON THAT WHAT HE HAD PLOTTED--WAS "NOT A CRIME" . . .

   BEFORE GETTING DOWN THE STAIRS, HE CANNOT GET THE AXE IN THE KITCHEN, NASTASYA WAS THERE. HE WAS TERRIBLY STRUCK. HE WAS HUMILIATED. DULL, BRUTAL RAGE WAS SEETHING IN HIM.
   HE STOPPED IN THE GATEWAY REFLECTING, REMEMBERING THE CARETAKERS CLOSET TWO STEPS AWAY. THERE'S NO ONE THERE, QUICKLY HE GRABS THE AXE AND PLACES IT UNDER HIS COAT IN THE LOOP HE HAD MADE FOR IT. THE INCIDENT ENCOURAGED HIM ENORMOUSLY.
   HE WENT QUIETLY ON HIS WAY, IN NO HURRY. A CURSE ROSE UP IN HIS SOUL, HE HAD MONEY TWO DAYS AGO AND FORGOT TO PURCHASE A HAT, ONE LESS NOTICEABLE THAN THE OLD DRUNK MADE FUN OF. IT WAS TEN MINUTES PAST SEVEN BY A CLOCK IN A SHOP. HE WAS NOT AFRAID, NOT AT ALL.
  HE HAD NO TROUBLE GETTING PAST THE GATES INTO THE HOUSE THANKS TO A HAY WAGON GOING IN, HE'S INSIDE AND AT THE STAIRS. QUIETLY PAUSING TO LISTEN, ALL DOORS WERE SHUT, HE MET NO ONE. ONE EMPTY APARTMENT ON THE SECOND FLOOR WHERE PAINTERS ARE WORKING. HE IS NOW ON THE FOURTH FLOOR, HERE WAS THE DOOR. THE APARTMENT ON THE THIRD FLOOR JUST UNDER THE OLD WOMAN'S WAS EMPTY. HE WAS GASPING FOR BREATH. A THOUGHT RACED THROUGH HIS MIND: "SHOULDN'T I GO AWAY?" HE LISTENED AT THE OLD WOMAN'S DOOR: DEAD SILENCE. THEN HE LISTENED DOWN THE STAIRS, LONG ATTENTIVELY . . . THEN HE TOOK A LAST LOOK AROUND, PULLED HIMSELF TOGETHER, STRAIGHTENED HIMSELF UP, FELT THE AXE. SHOULDN'T I WAIT A LITTLE LONGER . . . UNTIL MY HEART STOPS THIS  . . . ?
   BUT HIS HEART COULD NOT STOP. ON THE CONTRARY, AS THOUGH ON PURPOSE, IT POUNDED HARDER, HARDER, HARDER . . .
   HE RANG THE BELL, HALF A MINUTE LATER HE RANG AGAIN LOUDER .  . .
   NO ANSWER. HE KNEW THE OLD WOMAN WAS AT HOME, BUT ALONE AND SUSPICIOUS. HE PRESSED HIS EAR TO THE DOOR. HE KNEW SHE WAS STANDING, LISTENING CAUTIOUSLY AT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR WITH AN EAR TO THE DOOR . . .
   HE MUTTERED SOMETHING THEN RANG FOR THE THIRD TIME TO EASE HER SUSPICIONS.
   A SECOND LATER THE SOUND OF A LATCH BEING LIFTED. . .  .

(8) C. and P. VI "Overheard Conversation"

( I'M TAKING YOU ALONG FOR THE RIDE, I HAVE NO PLANNED ROUTINE AND WILL TRY MANY THINGS DOWN THE LINE, PLEASE REMEMBER I'M A SIMPLE MAN REREADING THIS WONDERFUL BOOK, TACKLING HIS BRILLIANT WORDS, ADDING MY THOUGHTS AND OBSERVATIONS. I WISH TO FINISH PART ONE, WHICH WILL BE TWO MORE CHAPTERS. WHETHER I GO ON IS AS YET UNDECIDED. PLEASE BY ALL MEANS LET ME KNOW IF IT'S WORTH DOING?  Glen)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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   RATHER INTERESTING HOW RASKOL HAPPENED BY LIZAVETA AT THE HAY MARKET, LATELY HE HAD BECOME SUPERSTITIOUS. HE WAS ALWAYS ABLE TO SEE A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUSNESS, IN THE WHOLE AFFAIR, SOME PECULIAR INFLUENCES AND COINCIDENCES.
   ONCE IN CASUAL CONVERSATION AN ACQUAINTANCE TOLD HIM OF AN OLD WOMAN, ALYONA IVANOVA, IN CASE HE SHOULD EVER NEED TO PAWN SOMETHING. HE WAS GETTING BY AND NEVER NEEDED HER SERVICES UNTIL ABOUT A MONTH AND A HALF AGO, THEN HE RECALLED HER ADDRESS. HE PAWNS A GOLD RING, SEEING THE OLD WOMAN FROM THE VERY FIRST GLANCE FILLED HIM WITH INSURMOUNTABLE LOATHING.
   AFTER RECEIVING THE MONEY FROM HER, HE STOPS AT A TAVERN FOR TEA, FALLING INTO DEEP THOUGHT , A STRANGE IDEA BEGAN HATCHING IN HIS HEAD.
   AT ANOTHER TABLE WAS A STUDENT AND A YOUNG OFFICER, HE HEARS THE STUDENT TALKING ABOUT A MONEY-LENDER, ALYONA IVANOVA, TELLING THE OFFICER HER ADDRESS. THAT IS STRANGE SEEING AS HOW RASKOL HAD JUST LEFT THERE. BY CHANCE OF COURSE, SEEMS AS THOUGH SOMEONE THE STUDENT HAD COME TO HIS SERVICE; TELLING THE OFFICER DETAILS OF ALYONA IVANOVA.

  The student says, "she's nice, you can always get money from her, she's rich as a Jew, a lot of us have gone to her, Only she's a terrible harpy . . ." (a shrewish woman)

   IF YOUR PAYMENT WAS LATE YOUR PLEDGE WAS LOST, SHE GIVES YOU FOUR TIMES LESS THAN WHAT THE THING IS WORTH, INTEREST IS FIVE TO SEVEN PERCENT A MONTH.
   THE OLD PAWNBROKER HAS A SISTER, LIZAVETA, WHOM SHE USED TO BEAT ALL THE TIME. KEEPS HER COMPLETELY ENSLAVED, LIKE A LITTLE CHILD, THOUGH LIZAVETA WAS SIX FEET TALL . . .

   "She's quite a phenomenon herself!" said the student while laughing out.

   THE STUDENT SPOKE OF LIZAVETA WITH SPECIAL PLEASURE AND KEPT LAUGHING! RASKOL WAS NOT MISSING A WORD, LEARNING LIZAVETA WAS THE OLD WOMAN'S YOUNGER HALF SISTER, THIRTY FIVE YEARS OLD, WORKING DAY AND NIGHT FOR HER SISTER. THE OLD WOMAN HAD MADE OUT A WILL, GIVING LIZAVETA NOT A PENNY. ALL THE MONEY WAS GOING TO A MONASTERY FOR THE ETERNAL REMEMBRANCE OF HER SOUL. LIZAVETA THE STUDENT EXPOUNDS WAS OF AWKWARD BUILT AND UNMARRIED, BUT KEPT HERSELF NEAT, ABOVE ALL THE STUDENT WAS SURPRISED AND LAUGHED AT THE FACT THAT LIZAVETA WAS CONSTANTLY PREGNANT . . .

   "But you say she's ugly?" the officer remarked. "Well, yes she's dark-skinned, looks like a soldier in disguise, but, you know, she's not ugly at all, She has a kind face and eyes. Very much so. A lot of men like her--there's the proof. she's so quiet, meek, uncomplaining, agreeable--she agrees to everything. And she does have a very nice smile." "So you like her , too!" the officer laughed.

   "For the strangeness of it. No, but I'll tell you one thing, I could kill and rob that cursed old woman, and that, I assure you, without any remorse," the student added with exclamation.

   THE OFFICER LAUGHED HEARTEDLY, GIVING RASKOL A START. HOW STRANGE IT WAS!

   The student "I was joking just now, I want to ask you a serious question. On one hand you have a worthless old crone, no good to anyone, on the contrary, harmful to everyone, who'll die on her own tomorrow, understand?"

   "So I understand," the officer replied, staring at his friend.

   The student continues "Listen now. On the other hand, you have fresh young forces that are being wasted for lack of support, a thousand good deeds that could be done from the the money that old woman has doomed to the monastery! Kill her and take her money, so that afterwards with its help you can devote yourself to the service of all mankind. What do you think, wouldn't thousand of good deeds make up for one tiny little crime? One death for hundreds of lives--it's simple arithmetic! The death of a louse, a cockroach, not even that much!"

  "Of course she doesn't deserve to be alive," the officer remarked,"but that's nature."

  IT WAS ALL THE MOST COMMON YOUTHFUL TALK AND THINKING. BUT WHY PRECISELY NOW DID HE HAVE TO HEAR SUCH TALK. EXACTLY THE SAME THOUGHTS HE HAD CONCEIVED? THIS COINCIDENCE SEEMED STRANGE. THIS TAVERN CONVERSATION HAD AN EXTREME INFLUENCE ON HIM IN THE FURTHER DEVELOPMENT OF THE AFFAIR, THERE WAS INDEED SOME PREDESTINATION . . .

(7) C. AND P. end of V

Young Rascal cries out to his father. "Papa, papa, what are they doing, they're beating the poor horse!"
"Come along, come along!" says his father. "They're drunk they're playing pranks, the fools---come along, don't look!" and he wants to take him away, but he tears himself from his father's hands and, beside himself, runs to the horse. But the poor horse was in a bad way. She is panting, she stops, tugs again, nearly falls.
The old mare cannot endure such lashing and has begun to kick.
  "Really such a wretched mare, and still kicking!"
Two fellows from the crowd get two more whips, and run to whip the horse from the side.
  "On the eyes, on the muzzle, lash her on the eyes!" shouts Mikolka.
The drunks sing a song, a peasant woman cracks nuts and giggles.

. . . Young Raskol runs past the horse, runs ahead of her, sees how they are lashing her on the eyes, right on the eyes! He is crying. His heart is in his throat, the tears are flowing. One of the whips grazes his face, he does not feel it, he wrings his hands, he shouts, he rushes to the gray-bearded old man, who is shaking his head in disapproval of it all. A woman yanks him by the hand and tries to lead him away, but he breaks free and runs back to the horse. SHE already at her last gasp, but she stars kicking again.
  "Ah, go to the hairy devil!" Mikolka cries out in rage. He drops his whip, bends down and pulls out a long stout shaft from the bottom of the cart, takes one end of it in both hands and, with an effort, swings it aloft over the gray horse.
  "He'll strike her dead!" people cry out!
  "He'll kill her!"
  "!It's my goods!" shouts Mikolka, and with a full swing he brings the shaft down. There is a heavy thud.
  "Whip her, whip her! Why did you stop!" voices cry from the crowd.
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YOU SEE THE PICTURE, AFTER 4 BRUTAL BLOWS THE HORSE MIKOLKA IS FURIOUS SHE STILL LIVES. "Take an axe to her finish her off fast," shouts the crowd. MIKOLKA TAKES AN IRON CROWBAR WITH TWO SWINGS THE MARE GOES DOWN, FINALLY. MANY OF THE DRUNKS ALSO HIT HER, AS MIKOLKA CONTINUES TO BEAT HER POINTLESSLY. SHE HEAVES A DEEP SIGH, AND DIES.

"You've got no fear of God in you!" many shout.

THE BOY IS OVERCOME WITH EMOTIONS, HE REACHES DOWN THROWS HIS ARMS AROUND THE BLEEDING ANIMAL KISSING HER EYES AND MOUTH . . . THEN FLIES AT MIKOLKA WITH HIS FISTS.HIS FATHER SEIZES HIM AND CARRIES HIM OUT OF THE CROWD.

  "Papa! Why did they kill that poor horse for!" he sobs, but his his breath fails, and the words burst like cries from his straining chest.
  "They're drunk," playing pranks, it's none of our business!" He throws his arms around his father, there is so much strain in his chest. He tries to take a breath, to cry out, and wakes up from his dream.................

RASKOL WAKES UP SWEATING, HAIR DAMP, GETTING UP IN TERROR. IT WAS ONLY A DREAM. I MUST BE COMING DOWN WITH A FEVER, REALLY WHAT A DREAM! HE FELT DARK AND TROUBLED, HIS BODY BROKEN.

  "God!" he exclaimed, "but can it be, can it be, that I will really take an axe and smash her skull . . . slip in the warm, sticky blood, break the lock, steal, and tremble, and hide, all covered with blood . . . with the axe . . . Lord can it be?"

HE WAS TREMBLING, I COULD NEVER ENDURE IT, TORMENTING MYSELF ALL THIS TIME. YESTERDAY DURING THE TRIAL RUN PAWNING THE WATCH, I REALIZED I COULD NEVER ENDURE IT . . . GOING DOWN HER STAIRS THE MERE THOUGHT MADE ME VOMIT IN REALITY. "I couldn't endure it, I couldn't! . . . What has this been all along?"

HE FELT AS THOUGH HE HAD RELEASED A BURDEN THAT HE HAS BEEN CARRYING THE LAST MONTH. FREEDOM, HE WAS FREE OF THAT SPELL!

HE MADE AN UNNECESSARY DETOUR THROUGH THE HAY MARKET. ABSOLUTELY NO REASON TO, BUT DOZENS OF TIMES HE HAS DONE SO.

HE HAPPENS UPON LIZAVETA IVANOVA, THE PAWWNBROKER'S HALF SISTER, TALKING TO A TRADESMAN AND HIS WIFE. LIZAVETA WAS A SLAVE TO HER SISTER, SHE WAS TALL, AWKWARD, HUMBLE, TREMBLING BEFORE HER OLDER SISTER, EVEN SUFFERING HER BEATINGS. LIZAVETA WAS A SIMPLETON. THEY HAD A DEAL FOR LIZAVETA TO MAKE A LITTLE MONEY ON, RASKOL JUST SO HAPPENED TO OVER HEAR THAT LIZAVETA WOULD NOT BE HOME AT BETWEEN SIX AND SEVEN.
INITIALLY HEARING THAT THE OLD PAWNBROKER WOULD BE ALONE TOMORROW GAVE WAY TO A CHILL RUNNING DOWN HIS SPINE!
HE WALKED INTO HIS PLACE FEELING LIKE A MAN THAT HAS BEEN SENTENCED TO DEATH! HE COULD NOT REASON, HE FELT THAT HE HAD NO FREEDOM EITHER OF MIND OR WILL AND THAT EVERYTHING HAD BEEN DECIDED.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hi this here be Glen. There's so much going on in this chapter, I must give you the feel for.

This is very hard and new to me attempting such a feat, summary, my observations of this book.

I'm not sure WHY! I can say for sure I'm seeing more and new underlining events! "Read between the lines, I reckon!" HAHAHA.

I HOPE TO IMPROVE AS I GO. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME, MAYBE THIS TRIP WILL BE WORTH IT, I HOPE SO.

(6) C. AND P. V "The Dream"

The weather is gray in his childhood countryside, stifling, preserved exactly in his memory, at the edge of the sky is the black line of a small forest, the town is open to view. There is a large tavern which makes an unpleasant impression, frightening him as he strolls with his father. There was always a crowd, shouting, swearing, singing in such ugly and hoarse voices, and fought so often; there was always such drunk and scary mugs loitering around the tavern . . . Meeting them he, he would press close to his father and tremble all over. The road by the tavern, a country track, was always dusty, and the dust was always so black, it meandered on, and in another three hundred paces or so skirted the town cemetery on the right. In the middle of the cemetery there was a stone church where he went for the memorial service for his grandmother, whom he had never seen and his younger brother who died at six months old.
And so now in his dream, he and his father are going down the road to the cemetery, past the tavern; he is holding his father's hand and keeps looking fearfully at the tavern over his shoulder. There seems to be some sort of festivity, townspeople all kinds of rabble. A large cart, the type large cart-horses are harnessed for transporting goods and barrels of wine. He always liked watching those huge horses, long-maned and thick-legged, moving calmly, at a measured pace, pulling some whole mountains behind them without the least strain, as if the load made it easier for them.
But now, strangely, to such a big cart a small, skinny, grayish peasant nag had been harnessed, one of those---he had often seen it--that sometimes over strain themselves pulling a load of hay. The peasants always whip them so painfully, so painfully, sometimes even the muzzle and eyes, and he would feel so sorry, so sorry as he watched it that he always wept, and his mother would always take him away from the window.
Then from out of the tavern very noisy, come some big peasants, drunk as can be. "Get in, get in everybody!" shouts one of them, a young man with a fat neck and a beefy face, red as a carrot. "I'll take everybody for a ride! Get in!" There was a burst of laughter!
"Not with a nag like that!"
"Are you out of your mind, Mikolka--harnessing such a puny mare to such a cart!"
"That gray can't be less than twenty years old, brother!"
"Get in I'll take everybody!" Mikolka cries again, and he jumps into the cart first, takes the reins, and stands up tall in the front. "This little runt of a mare breaks mt heart---I may as well kill her, she's not worth her feed. Get in I say! I'll make her gallop! Oh now she'll gallop!" He takes a whip in his hand already enjoying the idea of whipping the gray.
"Get in, why not!" Yells comes from the crowd. "She'll gallop did you hear?"
"I bet she hasn't galloped in ten years!"
"She will now!"
"Don't spare her brothers take your whips, get ready!"
"Here we go! Whip her up!"


GRAY DAY, GRAY MARE, CEMETERY, DRUNKS, DARKNESS, CENTER STAGE

SCOUNDRELS, PEASANTS, IDIOTS, ALCOHOL, INFLAMED RAGE

WHIPPED SAVAGELY, THE LITTLE MARE GIVES ALL

"I'll whip her to death!"

"Have you no fear of God, you hairy devil!" a shout from the crowd.

"Who ever saw a puny little horse pull a load like that?" shouts another.

"You'll do her in!" shouts a third.

"Hands off! It's my goods! I can do what I want. Get in, more of you. Everybody get in! She's damn well going to gallop! . . ."

TO CONTINUE ........................................................................                 

(5) C. P. Part V "THAT!"

RAZUMIKHIN was one of his former university friends.  Raskol had almost no friends at the university, kept aloof from everyone. Made no attempt at social gatherings, conversations, merrymaking.
Yet for some reason he became close to Razumikhin, not really close but more socialable, more frank with him. It was almost impossible to be on any other terms with Razumikhin. He was an an exceptionally cheerful and socialable fellow, kind to the point of simplicity. However, this simplicity concealed both depth and dignity. The best of his friends understood that, everyone loved him. He was far from stupid, although a bit simple at times. His appearance was expressive--tall, thin, black-haired, always badly shaved. He would be violent on occasion, and reputed to be a very strong man, Once at night, in company, he knocked a six-an-a-half-foot keeper of the peace down with one blow. He could drink ad infinit, or he could not drink at all; he could be impossibly mischievous, or he could not be mischievous at all. Razumikhin was also remarkable that no setbacks ever confounded him, and no bad circumstances seemed able to crush him. He was very poor, and supported himself decidedly on his own, alone, getting money by work of one sort or another. Presently forced to leave the university, but not for long, and he was trying in all haste to straighten out his circumstances so he could continue.
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THIS DESCRIPTION OF RAZUMIKHIN IS AT THE END OF IV.
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                                                            Part V
The question of why he was now going to Razumikhin troubled him more than he was even aware; he anxiously tried to find some sinister, meaning for himself in this seemingly quite ordinary act.
"So, then, I really mean to straighten things out with Razumikhin alone? To find the solution for everything in Razumikhin?" He asked himself in surprise.
After reflection, there came into his head a certain most strange thought.
"Hm . . . to Razumikhin," he said suddenly, quite calmly, as if with a sense of final decision, "I will go to Razumikhin, of course I will . . . but--not now . . .

I will go to him . . . the next day, after THAT, once THAT is already finished and everything has taken a new course . . ."

And suddenly he came to his senses.

"After THAT," he cried out, "but will THAT be?" Will it really be?"

It was there, in that terrible cupboard, that for more than a month all THAT had been ripening; and so he just followed his nose.
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HE BECAME FEVERISH AND CHILLED, LOOKING AT EVERY OBJECT FOR A DIVERSION. HIS MIND TOTALLY LOST IN THOUGHT, DAYDREAMING, BUT FORGETTING WHAT HE WAS JUST THINKING! HE CROSSED THE LITTLE NEVA TOWARD THE ISLANDS, AT FIRST THE GREENERY PLEASED HIS EYES, HERE THERE WAS NO CLOSENESS NOR STENCH OF THE TAVERNS. SOON THESE NEW PLEASANT SENSATIONS TURNED PAINFUL AND IRRITATING. HE TOOK SPECIAL INTEREST IN THE FLOWERS, WATCHING THE CARRIAGES UNTIL THEY DISAPPEARED FROM SIGHT. HE GOES INTO A COOK-SHOP, DRINKS A GLASS OF VODKA AND A PIECE OF PIE. THE VODKA AFFECTED HIM ALL AT ONCE, HE IMMEDIATELY FELT A STRONG INCLINATION TO SLEEP, HE STARTED FOR HOME  BUT COULD WALK NO MORE, WENT INTO THE BUSHES AND FELL ASLEEP.
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                                                     The Dream
In a morbid condition dreams are often distinguished bye their remarkably graphic, vivid, and lifelike quality. The resulting picture is sometimes monstrous, but the setting and the whole process of the presentation sometimes happen to be probable and with details so subtle, unexpected, yet artistically consistent with the whole fullness of the picture, that even the dreamer himself would be unable to invent them in reality. Such dreams, morbid dreams, are always long remembered and produce a strong impression on the disturbed and already excited organism of the person.  
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THE NEXT SEVERAL PAGES OF THE BOOK DESCRIBES RASKOL'S DREAM AND ITS IMPORTANCE IS SO MUCH SO, THAT I'M GOING TO STOP HERE AND PICK UP WITH CONTINUATION OF PART V.

Amber!

Been having fun with my little project of Crime and Punishment, I thought I would take time, and commit my own crime, by do some time with me, here on Glen View. Damn! I'm getting more confused than the main character Raskolnikov. Why I decided to give you my observations of this book, shows you I really am-xucked-up! (oops, sorry!)

I think we still have the right to be, who we be... but I'm not clear on anything ... anymore! I try to steer clear of main street media's ... media! By the way I don't know who they are, Main Street Media... but they must be awfully damn big, cause the way I hear it is they control the media! So I try to do my own thinking. Damn, did I pick the wrong time to reread Crime and Punishment. Confusion reigns EVERYWHERE!

I get a voice mail from my pharmacy to call and ask for Amber. I think "is this some kind of trick?" I tried. ya see, I'm hard of hearing, sometimes, it be real tough communicating, without confusion. Okay I call from my old fashion telephone, yeah... with a cord and everythang! That be mistake #1. You cannot just call and talk to someone, haven't been able to do that for a loooong time now, have we? I get this recording telling me to push this button for alcohol, this button for diapers so on and so forth. So when I get to the one for Amber 998, I push that button. Guess what? Amber wasn't there. No, no, I think she was there, because I finally did speak to her, only I had to go through another recording, yeah! Finally, I found Amber. She must of had the telephone under her chin, or off to the side, because it could of been Mickey Mouse, sounded a bit like him. I said hello I ... CAN'T... HEAR ... YOU! SHE RATTLED OFF SOMETHING THAT SOUNDED LIKE THIS!@#$#%^&^%$#@$%&&**. Lord have mercy we have us a failure of communication here! I be speaking English, or at least my version, causin it sure seems like ... sometimes I be speaking a foreign tongues. I know I'm old, brain impaired, and have a hearing impairment, but... but ... but ... if I totally concentrate in a quiet environment I can make out enough to reason it out. I finally said "AMBER ... I REALLY CANNOT HEAR YOU, COULD YOU SPEAK SLOWER AND LOUDER!"

Damn, we're now communicating, I understand every word she said! Do you believe it? Poor Amber probably be doing too many things all at once, but once you tune her signal in, loud and clear! I hope Amber doesn't fill my prescriptions!

Amber tells me "we don't have the medicine you need here."

I say "I get that medicine every month there."

Amber "we're temporarily out."

I'm thinking to myself "damn, must a been a run on that medicine this weekend."

Amber "the other two store locations have it, do you want to go to one of them?"

Well now, she has set herself up for a little speech from me. I bit my tongue.

I reckon I can, OR rather have to put up with a lot o silliness, silliness my ass, stupidity in my every day thread of existence. It scares the hell out of me when you think of a pharmacist or an assistant with the name Amber coming any where near my medicine!

A LITTLE BREAK FROM MY CURRENT PROJECT OF CRIME AND PUNISHMENT. I THINK ANOTHER GOOD TITLE WOULD BE "DOING TIME, INSIDE RASKOL'S MIND!"  WHOO-WEE DOES THAT FELLER HAVE PROBLEMS! YOU COULD TAKE ALL THESE DISORDERS WITH ALL THESE INITIALS AND JUST SAY RASKOL HAS THEM ALL!

I'M GOING TO DO THREE MORE CHAPTERS OF PART ONE.
THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS I COULD COMMENT ON THAT I HAVE TO LEAVE OUT, OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE A BOOK AS BIG AS DOSTOEVSKY! WOULDN'T THAT BE A HOOT!

(4) C. P. IV "Schilleresque Souls"

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Virginia Wolf on Dostoevsky, "The novels of Dostoevsky are seething whirlpools, gyrating sandstorms, waterspots which hiss and boil and suck us in. They are composed purely and wholly of the stuff of the soul. Against our wills we are, drawn in, whirled around, blinded, suffocated, and at the same time filled with a giddy rapture. Out of Shakespeare there is no more exciting reading."
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MY OH MY, THE BEST CHAPTER SO FAR! IF YOU LOOK AT MY NOTES, AND READ THIS CHAPTER YOU WILL BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND THE ROLLER COASTER RIDE WE'RE ABOUT TO EMBARK UPON, THE THEATRE IS FULL, LIGHTS, ACTION!!!
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His mother's letter, had tormented him. But concerning the main, capital point, he had not a moment's doubt, not even while he was reading the letter. The main essence of the matter was decided in his mind and decided finally: "This marriage will not take place as long as I live, and to the devil with Mr. Luzhin!
"Because the thing is obvious," he muttered to himself, grinning, and maliciously triumphant beforehand over the success of his decision. "No, mama, no, Dunya, you won't deceive me! . . . And they still apologize for not asking my advice and deciding the matter without me! They think it's impossible to break it off now; but we'll see whether it's impossible or not! And what a capital excuse: 'Pyotr Petrovich  Luzhin is just such a busy man, that he can't get married any other than posthaste, almost right on he train.' No Dunechka, (Dunya) I see it all and know what this so much is that you want to talk to me about; I also know what you were thinking about all night, pacing the room, and what you prayed about.
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RASKOL'S ALREADY HAS MUCH ON HIS MIND, THE LETTER BRINGS ADDED PAIN TO HIS BURDEN. THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNDERSTAND IN THIS CHAPTER!
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And what's she doing writing to me: Love Dunya, Rodya, and she loves you more than herself? Can it be that she's secretly tormented by remorse at having agreed to sacrifice her daughter for the sake of her son? 'You are our hope, you are our everything'! Oh, mother . . ." Anger boiled up in him more and more, and he thought if he met Mr. Luzhin right then, he might kill him!
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THIS GIVE YOU A GOOD GLIMPSE INSIDE RASKOL'S OVERWROUGHT THOUGHT PROCESS AT THIS TIME. THERE IS SO MUCH IN THIS CHAPTER I'M GOING TO DRASTICALLY SHORTEN IT!

MR. LUZHIN BEING A PRACTIVAL MAN PAYS FOR PART OF THE EXPENSE TO GET RASKOL'S MOTHER AND SISTER TO PETERSBURG, THEY HAD TO RIDE A PEASANT CART 60 MILES TO THE TRAIN AND RIDE THIRD CLASS, THIS INFLAMES RASKOL! MOTHER WILL HAVE NOTHING LEFT WHEN SHE GETS TO PETERSBURG. THEY'RE PUTTING ALL ON THE NOBILITY OF MR. LUZHIN, REFERS TO DUNYA AND HIS MOTHER AS "SCHILLERESQUE SOULS" TO BELIEVE IN THIS MAN.

RASKOL BELIEVES DUNYA IS SELLING HERSELF THE SAME AS SONYA MARMELADOV (Remember she became a prostitute to feed her family at the age of 16. Seems there was no other way.) ONLY FOR HIM THE FIRST BORN! BELIEVES THIS ACT OF MARRIAGE TO BE THE SAME.

IT COMES INTO HIS MIND HE HAS BEEN FLEECING HIS OWN SISTER AND MOTHER, BORROWING MONEY FROM SVIDRIGAILOVS, AND MAMA TAKING ADVANCES AGAINST HER PENSION. THIS HAS TORMENTED HIM ALREADY. THIS ANGUISH WAS BORN IN HIM LONG AGO AND WORN UPON HIS HEART. HIS MOTHER'S LETTER SUDDENLY STRUCK HIM LIKE A THUNDERBOLT, HE DECIDES AT ALL COST TO DO SOMETHING, OR . . . "RENOUNCE LIFE ALTOGETHER!" A MONTH OR SO THE THING THAT HAS CONSUMED HIM WAS ONLY A DREAM, NOW?

SUDDENLY HE FELT THE NEED TO SIT DOWN AND THERE WAS A BENCH JUST AHEAD OF HIM, HE NOTICED A WOMAN WALKING STRANGELY AHEAD OF HIM, A YOUNG GIRL PERHAPS 15 OR 16. SHE HAD BEEN RAPED. THERE WAS A MAN WATCHING HER WITH PERHAPS THE SAME IN MIND. RASKOL WENT OVER TO HIM AND SAID    "Hey, you -- Svidrigailov!" (Remember that's the rich man where Dunya took an advance for Rakol's schooling and was forced to endure to work the loan off.) A POLICEMAN STOPS RASKOL FROM ATTACKING THIS MAN.

AFTER A FEW MOMENTS OF CARING AND HELPING THE YOUNG GIRL, GIVING THE POLICEMAN MONEY FOR A COACHMAN. HIS THOUGHT PATTERN COMPLETELY CHANGES AND HE NO LONGER SEEMED TO CARE., ABOUT THIS POOR GIRL. IN SPITE OF HIS CHANGE OF HEART IT WAS VERY PAINFUL TO HIM. HE WISHED TO BECOME TOTALLY OBLIVIOUS OF EVERYHING, AND THEN WAKE UP AND START TOTALLY ANEW.

HE HAD FORGOTTEN WHERE HE WAS OFF TO. I WAS HEADED TO VASILIEVSKY ISLAND TO SEE RAZUMIKHIN, ONE OF HIS FORMER UNIVERSITY FRIENDS. I WILL DESCRIBE RAZUMIKIHIN IN MORE DETAIL IN THE NEXT POST. HE BECOMES A VERY HELPFUL IMPORTANT CHARACTER THROUGH THE REST OF THE NOVEL.

IT'S GETTING GOOOD MY FRIENDS DON'T LEAVE ME NOW!!!

(3) Crime and P. III, "The Letter"

He woke up bilious, irritable, and angry, and looked with hatred at his little room. To become more degraded and slovenly would have been difficult; but Raskol even enjoyed it in his present state of mind. Withdrawn from everyone even the maid Nastaysa drove him to bile and convulsions. This is the case with monomaniacs when they think too long on one thing.
Nastaysa "Enough sleeping! Get up! It's past nine. I've brought you tea, you must be wasting away! Praskovya Pavlovna (his landlady) wants to make a complaint about you to the police."
Raskol "Ah, the devil, that's all I need. No it's the wrong time for that . . . now . . . She's a fool, I'll stop and have a talk with her today."
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NASTAYSA HANDS HIM A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER PULCHERIA, HE'S ALL EXCITED, HIS HANDS WERE TREMBLING. IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE HE HAD RECEIVED ANY LETTERS.
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"My dear Rodya," his mother wrote, it's been over two months."
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A LONG LETTER, TALKS OF DUNYA, (HIS SISTER) WHO WAS GOVERNESS FOR MR. AND MRS. SVIDRIGAILOV'S HOUSE, SHE TOOK OUT A LOAN IN ORDER TO SEND RASKOL MONEY. LIED TO HIM ABOUT SAVING IT.  DUNYA OR DUNECHKA, SUFFERED HARDSHIP AS GOVERNESS EPECIALLY WHEN MR. SVIDRIGAILOV WAS DRINKING. HE LUST FOR DUNYA AND MRS. SVIDRIGAILOV FOUND OUT IT. DUNYA WAS FORCED TO LEAVE, LATER MRS. SVIDRIGAILOV, THROUGH A LETTER AND A CONFESSION FROM HER HUSBAND, FOUND DUNYA NOT AT FAULT, IT WAS ALL HER HUSBAND'S. WELL . . .  SEEMS MRS.
SVIDRIGAILOV PERSONALLY TOLD EVERYBODY IN THE COMMUNITY DISGRACING DUNYA. AFTER FINDING OUT DIFFERENT SHE PERSONALLY WENT BACK TO EVERYONE RENEWING DUNYA'S GOOD NAME, INTRODUCING HER TO A DISTANT RELATIVE WHO ASKED DUNYA TO MARRY HIM, PYOTR PETROVICH LUZHIN.
PYOTR PETROVICH LUZHIN A COURT COUNCILLOR WILL BE MOVING TO ST. PETERSBURG, WITH RASKOL'S MOTHER AND SISTER.

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I SHORTENED THAT LETTER QUITE A BIT GIVING YOU THE HIGHLIGHT'S.
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Almost all the while he was reading, from the very beginning of the letter, Raskol's face was wet with tears; but when he finished, it was pale, twisted convulsively, and a heavy, bilious, spiteful smile wandered over his lips. His heart was beating violently. He felt too stifled in that closet, which resembled a cupboard or a trunk. He grabbed his hat and went out, this time with no fear of meeting anyone on the stairs--he forgot all about it. He made made his way towards Vasilievsky Island. He walked as though hurrying there on business, but, as usual, he walked without noticing where he was going, whispering and even talking aloud to himself, to the surprise of passers-by. Many took him for a drunk.

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KEEPING THE CHARACTERS STRAIGHT WILL BE THE HARD PART! THERE'S MANY MORE TO COME, MAY WANT TO MAKE A NOTE OF THEM AS WE GO ALONG.

RASKOL'S MOM PULCHERIA, HIS SISTER, WHOM HIS MOM CALLS, DUNYA.

PYOTR PETROVICH LUZHIN (DUNYA'S FIANCE) AND MR. SVIDRIGAILOV, (DUNYA'S FORMER EMPLOYER) (((OH YEAH DON'T FORGET THIS MAN!)))

YIKES I'M FINDING THIS INTERESTINGLY COMPLICATED!
I'VE REDUCED PART III FROM PROBABLY 4,000 WORDS OR SO. PLEASE BY ALL MEANS IF YOU'RE FINDING MY SHORTENING OF THIS BOOK THE LEAST BIT INTERESTING GO TO YOUR LIBRARY. (YIKES DO THEY STILL DO THAT!)

DOSTOEVSKY LIKE I SAID EARLIER IS NOT AN EASY READ, BUT IF YOU LIKE DEEP INSIGHT, AND MAGNIFICENTLY DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS HE GOES DEEP, LIKE IN MARMELADOV'S CASE. THE STAGE IS BEING BUILT AND THE LIGHTS WILL SOON BE ON!    Glen...

(2) CRIME and P. II, "Marmeladov"

Raskolnikov  "But if that's a lie," he suddenly exclaimed involuntarily, "if man in fact is not a scoundrel--in general, that is, the whole human race--then the rest is all mere prejudice, instilled fear, and there are no barriers, and that's just how it should be! . . ."
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A MAN MARMELADOV PRETTY MUCH TALKS UP THIS WHOLE CHAPTER. A DRUNKEN SCOUNDREL WHO INTRODUCES HIMSELF TO  RASKOLNIKOV AT THE TAVERN, WHOM HAS STOOPED AS LOW AS A MAN CAN. MARMELADOV HAS A DAUGHTER SONYA, 16 YEARS OF AGE FROM HIS FIRST WIFE, MARRIES KATERINA, A WIDOW WITH THREE CHILDREN, UNDER 12 YEARS OF AGE. KATERINA HAS CONSUMPTION (TUBERCULOSIS). MARMELADOV DOES HIS DUTY AS THE PROVIDER FOR A YEAR AFTER MARRIAGE, FINDS THE BOTTLE TO MIGHTY FOR HIM! REDUCING THE FAMILY TO AS BAD A LIVING CONDITIONS AS RASKOLNIKOV'S!

SONYA AT THE AGE OF 16, FORCED TO GET A YELLOW CARD (PROSTITUTION) FOR THE FAMILY TO SURVIVE!
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RASKOLNIKOV "What a well they've dug for themselves (talking of Sonya forced into prostitution) and they use it! They get accustomed to it. Wept a bit and get accustomed. Man gets accustomed to everything, the scoundrel!"
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THIS CHAPTER GOES FROM RASKOL'S TROUBLED MIND TO MARMELADOV'S.
THE SMALL AMOUNT OF MONEY RASKOL HAS LEFT FROM PAWNING HIS FATHER'S WATCH IS LAID IN THE WINDOW AS KATERINA IS WAILING ON MARMELADOV IN A BOARDING HOUSE AS PEOPLE LAUGH AND LOOK ON. MARMELADOV'S AND FAMILY'S LIVING QUARTER'S WAS MERELY 10 PACES LONG, BEHIND A SCREEN, BEYOND THAT WAS CARD PLAYERS, AND UNDESIRABLES.

I HAD A LOT OF TROUBLE REREADING THIS CHAPTER! DOSTOESKY PAINTS THE PICTURE VIVID, REAL VIVID!

YOU COME OUT OF THIS CHAPTER JUST AS RASKOL DID, GIVING ALL HE HAD TO ONES WORSE OFF THAN HIM!!!

THE FIRST PARAGRAPH IS ACTUALLY THE LAST PARAGRAPH OF THIS CHAPTER. IT
SEEMED FITTING TO MAKE IT FIRST THOUGH!

(1) Crime and Punishment "Intro" and Part I

A friend of mine brought me CRIME AND PUNISHMENT by Fyodor Dostoevsky. I had not read it at the age of 60! I've read all my life, somehow never got around to it. He tells me, "one of the best ever!" I for some reason considered it a book that you must have a higher level of knowledge to comprehend!

After reading the book last year, I understand why the book waits for me! To live, to suffer the non-understanding of life, or the agonies of living is absolutely pivotal to appreciate this book. I ran across this evaluation in wikipedia "Fyodor Dostoevsky has been judged by many literary critics to be one of the greatest and most prominent psychologists in world literature." Did he study psychology?

To become an expert one must have a higher learning, practice one's trade, or LIVE WHAT YOU KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT. (I believe after reviewing much of his life... he qualifies for the latter!)

Dostoevsky was introduced to literature at a young age. His mother died while he was a teenager, his father was a Doctor, thought killed by his own serfs. Mostly home schooled he becomes a civil engineer, but turned to writing, his first book Poor Folk in 1846, achieving success at a young age. This novel allowed him to join St. Petersburg literary circles. In 1849 was arrested for his involvement with the Petrashevsky circle. A secret society of liberal utopians as well as a literary discussion group. He and other members were condemned to death, but the penalty proved to be a mock execution was commuted to hard labor in Siberia and forced to serve as a soldier afterwards. He was imprisoned with the worst of the lot, we as regular people cannot fathom, nor dare! Imagine spending time in prison TODAY.... let alone... Siberia of the 1850's!

I feel this is the bare minimum of what you need to know about Dostoevsky to get merely a dash of understand, starting with the first page. He wraps himself and his understanding of the inner workings of thought into a novel like non other!

I will admit, not an easy read! I'm use to reading fast, as most books I read were purely for lighthearted entertainment. I almost gave up at around 100 pages asking, "why am I reading this book?" I stood firm, my stubborn side won out! Beginning once more from the start, I'm glad I did!

The names are hard to follow so I used a little trick to make it easier. Example, the main character Raskolnikov, I made Raskol.

SO THOSE OF YOU WHO'VE NOT READ CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, I'M GONNA TAKE ANOTHER GO AT IT! HOWEVER IT IS MY OPINION "ONE CANNOT TRULY RELISH THE TRUE THOUGHT PROCESS UNLESS ONE HAS LIVED, SUFFERED, SURVIVED! FORGET THAT THIS BOOK IS ALMOST 150 YEARS OLD.. THAT'S THE HIDDEN BEAUTY OF IT! IT'S TIMELESS!

I have no idea where this little endeavor will go! It might falter immediately, carry on for a spell, hopefully, the complete book!

How often I will write about CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, will be when I have the quiet time it deserves to reflect upon!

I'M A SIMPLE MAN, EXPLORING, SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS! I'M NOT AN EXPERT IN ANYTHING, EXCEPT LIVING... TO THIS AGE! I DO NOT CLAIM TO BE ANYONE, OTHER THAN WHAT YOU READ ABOUT IN MY RAMBLINGS... BUT... THAT ALONE MAY MAKE ME... ONE... TO FREELY WRITE MY THOUGHTS!

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Part 1    A young man describes his living conditions on an hot July night as a closet with with dinner and maid service included. Every time he must pass his landlady's kitchen, where the door was always open. He cringes from shame, as he was in debt to her. He had worked himself into an irritable and tense state, isolating himself, fearing meeting anyone. No longer taking care of daily affairs. Crushed by poverty, although that failed to burden him at this time. He was not afraid of his landlady but rather not wanting to be stopped and listen to her nonsense about payment, her threats and have to make excuses, much better to steal catlike down the stairs. "I want to attempt such a thing, and at the same time I'm afraid of such trifles!"

Walking slowly indecisive, occupied deep in thoughts, "I've learned to babble this past month, lying in a corner day in and day out, thinking about ... cuckoo land. Why on earth, am I going now? Am I really capable of THAT? No, not serious, just toying with it, for the sake of fantasy!
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( THIS YOUNG MAN HAS WORKED HIMSELF INTO AN EXTREME STATE OF MIND OVER SOMETHING???
DOSTOEVSKY PAINTS A PICTURE OF PETERSBURG'S UNPLEASANTNESS IN THE STIFLING SUMMERTIME. INTOLERABLE STENCH FROM THE PLENTIFUL TAVERNS, IN THAT PART OF THE CITY.)
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A loathsome and melancholy coloring of the picture. A feeling of the deepest revulsion flashed for a moment in the young man's fine features. Remarkably good-looking, taller than average, slender and trim, with beautiful dark eyes and dark blonde hair. He walks on in deep thought no longer aware of his surroundings, muttering to himself from time to time, realising he has not eaten in two days was feeling weak.

Continues on to the local pawnbroker described "She was a tiny dried up old crone, about sixty, with sharp, spiteful little eyes and a small, sharp nose. She was bareheaded, and her colorless and only slightly graying hair was thickly greased. Her long, thin neck, was wrapped in some flannel rags, and, despite the heat, a fur trimmed jacket, completely worn out and yellow with age, hung loosely from her shoulders. Alyona Ivanova.
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(WHILE RASKOL WAS IN ALYONA IVANOVA'S HE STUDY'S THE TWO ROOM SHABBY APARTMENT VERY CAREFULLY ... WHILE PAWNING HIS FATHER'S WATCH, NOTICING THE KEYS AND THE SOUNDS MADE IN THE OTHER ROOM AS HE TOOK ALL IN WAITING FOR HIS MONEY. HUMM... WHAT DOES RASKOL HAVE IN MIND THAT HE HAS WORKED HIMSELF INTO SUCH A TERRIBLE STATE THINKING ABOUT?)
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RASKOL, "Oh, God, how loathsome, this all is! And it can be that I ... no, it's nonsense, it's absurd! Could such horror really come into my head? But then, what filth my heart is capable of! ...Above all filthy, nasty, vile, vile! ...And for the whole month I ..."
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(RASKOL'S HEAD STOPPED SPINNING FROM ALYONA IVANOVA'S APARTMENT, HE FIND'S HIMSELF AT A TAVERN, ALTHOUGH HE NEVER WAS IN ONE BEFORE! HE FELT RELIEVED, HIS MIND CLEAR AFTER DOWNING THE FIRST BEER.
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I'll make this my first attempt at showing Raskol's state of mind. What is he going to do? Looks like robbing the old pawn-broker heah? I hope I've established enough of Dostoevsky's own words to give you a feel!!
We'll see where this goes from here. This was a lot of work establishing Dostoevsky's real life and why he could write this book, the way he did!!! You must remember the way he wrote, this style was new!

TEARS OF A CLOWN...

I have always, have held that phrase close, "tears of a clown!"
Clown and tears, if that's not an oxymoron, I don't know what is!

When we think of a clown, we think laughter. The clown has a frowning face, we smile. It's the job of a clown to make us, do so. Clowns outside the biggest show on earth, are a plenty. Their there, to get you into the proper frame of mind for the big show.

The first clown that always comes to mind, is Red Skeleton. I grew up, watching his television show. I have not, one iota of doubt, that I could screen the same shows now, that I did as a child, and laugh once more.

I love Abbott and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, The Little Rascals. In one of my hospital stay-overs, I caught the original Little Rascals shorts, made in the mid 1920's, that's right! Silent shorts, they were hilarious!!! "How funny were they?" There was a marathon of 12 hours, all the workers at the hospital from the bed makers, the blood takers, the chief nurse, the oxygen man, to the Doctors gaze up at the television and ask "what are you watching?" Every one of them took the time to look at them, saying, "I've not seen them before, you mean those were shot way back then? All chuckled!!! Is that not amazing!

I began this exercise with the phrase "Tears of a clown." We read and hear phrases so much, we most likely don't consider where they come from. They cross our mind so fast, they fall into all the jibber-jabber-ish, one takes in, in the course of a day.

Worst still, with all the texting, taking place, I'm talking just these handheld texting entities, that have become the umbilical chords of today! Sorry I'm a straying!

Well I for one happen to like them old phrases!

I used to be a movie nut! Then one day after watching, a million bad guys, killed, 16 trillion gun shots, stabbings, heads chopped OFF... I was awakened!!!

Must of been, "it was the last bullet, placed on the camels back!" You know that phrase "the last straw" as "the last straw added to the camel's back, that broke the camel's back!!!?

I watch few movies today. Occasionally one will peak my interest. I have a coworker who brings me, movies to watch. Most recently was  Underworld. How many fucking vampire movies do we need to fucking make???? How many fucking gunshots need to go off in a movie to satisfy the appetite for death, blood gore, gore, gore.....

How many fucking videos of death, destruction played over and over and over again in the videos of our children, where you reset, to re shoot forever and ever! "It's just a game you hear!"

DAMN! DAMN ! DAMN! I SOMEHOW GOT SIDE RAILED FROM THE TITLE OF THIS POST! FUNNY THING, BUT I'VE LEARNED TO ABSOLUTELY LOOVE THIS! One starts typing "and before you know it comes the time to say goodbye!" Sorry I believe that was a moment of dejavu, from me to you! The old Mickey Mouse Club ending, I THINK!!!

In my heart lies a clown! That clown slowly dissipates! MORE SO now, than ever we need clowns. Not the type a clowns we see in the Political Arena! Those clowns leadeth the world into a burning ring of fire! Quite a bit more than three rings in this greatest show on earth! The mass media owned by the ones that bring us the modern version of the greatest show on earth! I know I'm a rambling... a searching... I'm growing weary, like y'all out there! I'm tired of the canned laughter from our televisions and our governments...!!!

Where do we turn to?

If you find comfort in religion, may God help you!

If you find comfort in Politics, the other party... other than who's in office. I feel sorry for you!

WE LOOK FOR COMFORT, NEVER TO BE FOUND!

MY ADVICE IS TO ENJOY, THE SMILES, THE LAUGHTER, ANYWHERE, ANYPLACE THEY ABOUND!

WE ALL... MOST ASSUREDLY... SHARE "THE SAME TEARS, OF A CLOWN!!!"

FISCAL CLIFF BY JOE PESKY!

                       Joe Pesky Speaks His Mind, (Have Mercy!!!)

Okay! Okay! Okay! The only thing I've seen, and I only read the pictures mind ya, is this term "fiscal cliff." What the @#$k be a "fiscal cliff?" The first thing I think of is procrastination! Putting anything of any importance off until the last minute. Examples, hating to do taxes. Wait until the last few days and rushing to complete them. Haphazardly completing them, mistakes are more likely to happen. Waiting until the day before Christmas to do your shopping. Oops, there out of the list you made two months ago! So you settle for these gifts that are only purchased by the last minute procrastinators, you know the ones I'm talking about, soap for a dope, home tool kit for the nut, who waits until the last minute, summer sausage even though it's winter!

Fiscal, smiscal, musical, yeeaah! They oughta make a musical about this physical cliff thing you know! Did I say physical? They should be given physicals by Witch Doctors in Borneo! I have no fricking idea what that means, they have me mad as hell, and... I reckon... I'll have to take it FOREVER AND MORE! That's what pisses me off you see!!! They lollygag around, driving around, in them chariots, of lobbyist gold! Damn I can't believe I said that! They make it look like their waging battle for US!  Them lobbyist be betting on what they can get them Re-po-ed Dumb-nuts to do for them! What the feck is a lobbyist anyhow?

LOBBYIST IS A PERSON, ACTING ON BEHALF OF A GROUP, WHO """TRIES""" TO GET LEGISLATORS TO SUPPORT CERTAIN MEASURES.

Now is that not, a pretty college definition? WE THE WORKING CLASS GET, GET, GET, GET (EXCUUUSE ME I'M LOOKING FOR THE PROPER WORD HERE!) (( What word enters your brain cells HUH???))

Reminding you, all you hard working, children raising people. There is this one little bitty, slightly, SIGNIFICANT, word from this definition! I WOULD DEFINE, IN MY, JOE ISA PESKY DICTIONARY IS... "WHOA IS A LOBBYING FOR WE THE PEOPLE?"

"Oh wait...WE THE PEOPLE, give all our money to these Fiscal Fellers for safe keeping, don't we? Sometimes I get confused!

FISCAL be relating to the 'PUBLIC TREASURE' or revenue.

Think about that for a moment! Key word here is r-e-l-a-t-i-v-e... do I, a graduate of,  F. U. University, more commonly referred to as The School Of Hard Knocks! Our motto is "We Get The Shit End Of The Stick!"

WELL MAYBE I UNDERSTAND IT NOW! YOU HAVE TREASURE, RELATIVES. SINCE BLOOD MEANS EVERYTHING.

WE THE PUBIC, ARE MERELY HARES, THAT GET SHAFTED, FISCALLY!!! THINK ABOUT IT, IF YOU DON'T GET IT! I, A GRADUATE IN THE SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS, OF F. U. UNIVERSITY CANNOT HELP YA!!!

This message was brought to you today by, GlenView Sanitarium. Joe Pesky is one of many important no bodied permanent residents, residing here in GlenView! Reminder... We are an equal opportunity opinion Insane Asylum for the no bodies, we provide space, for the whatever is left of the formerly sane ones that roam here in Daisyville, a fictitious place.. pleease remember at all times any comment or OPINION of the no bodied ones could never, I repeat never be TRUE!!!    Goodnight from Professor of Idiotalogical Studies, and the Unheard Unbodied School Of Misfits!!!
HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS PIECE IN INSANITY AS MUCH AS I, JOE PESKY, DID IN WRITING IT!

WHEN WILL... ENOUGH BE ENOUGH?

I watched many old television programs over the holidays. I reckon watching Its A Wonderful Life done somethun... to me old brain! I used to watch that program every Christmas Eve. I bought it, a quarter century ago. That would put the date 1988. Good golly, sounds so much older, if I use quarter century, don't it? Anyhow, I haven't watched it, in over 10 years.

I splurged for Christmas! Yes I did! Bought me and the Missus a big screen T.V. I was still using one that was over 20 years old, one of them prehistoric tube type!  Oh yeah! I set this once new, state of the art on the stand, when I was much younger, and could lift it! I replaced this 25 inch model with a 40 inch flat one. Um, um, um, this skinny ass flat one didn't weigh much more than the remote on my old un!

I got me some new glasses bout the time I got the new big screen...DAMN! Reminded me of the first time I was at a Drive-In Theatre!

I give more for that tube T. V. than I did for the new flat one. When they say flat, they mean flat don't they?

DAMN, they make them suckers up to 6 fricking feet? Heavens to Betsy, that be BIG!!! Well I suppose if you have a couple youngins, it be cheap entertainment. Rent a dozen movies per weekend at one of them red boxes, blue boxes, whatever, buy a case o, sodie pop, some microwave buttered popcorn, a large bag o, M and M's and they can have a party every weekend!

A smart mom can send her hubby over to 5 times divorced brother-in-law Jimmy Ray's house on Sunday for N.F.L Football.

Dag gone it, I got all sidetracked! I had me an idea. Yes I did! I plum forgot about it, as I got to rambling!

I bet yer wondering what is the mother going to do? Who cares, she's got some peace and quiet! Read a good book, put her feet up and do nuttin, that be nothing!

OKAY, WHILST I WAS WATCHING THEM OLD SERIES FROM BACK IN THE 60'S AND 70'S, THEM CARS LOOKED SO BIG AND OLD, THERE WAS TYPEWRITERS, IMAGINE THAT! THEY TALKED INTO THESE THINGS WITH CORDS HOOKED TO THEM, CALLED TELEPHONES! EVERYTHANG... LOOKED SO, SO. "STRANGE!"

Well anyhow, can you imagine, Superman going into a phone booth in 1970 and a time warp jumps him to 2013!

He would be stuck forever, flying around inside them fiber optic cables! He could not get out to use all them super powers!

Imagine Telly Savalas of Kojak television show, going into a building in 1970 and coming back out, only it's now 2013. He would look around at people poking the hell out of these little plastic hand held gadgets. or talking, with these things held up to their ears. He'd swallow his lollipop and choke to death!

Well, I watched those old shows, and they show their age! But they were entertaining then!!!

I won't be around in 40 years, I can't imagine, and don't want too!!!

There was a point, and it simply is... our minds must be occupied, whether it be the mind numbing numbness of 3 channels, from rabbit ears, or outside antenna, to the information at our fingertips every minute of every day to the world, and the information overload of the galaxy, to the latest virtual world, 3 D extravaganza!

WHEN WILL ENOUGH BE ENOUGH, OR WILL IT EVER?
 
TIME HAS PASSED ME BY AT WARP SPEED!

BUT I CAN REREAD, THE SAME BOOK I READ IN 1970 AND ENJOY IT ALL OVER AGAIN, LIKE READING IT FOR THE FIRST TIME!

I have no new years resolution! I do have an idea, I wish to share with you, as I reread a book, and write a book report as I go, my way! Whether it be five pages, or a chapter. I enjoyed this book so much I wish to revisit this extraordinary book. Mark Twain is my favorite author, and the writer of the book, I wish to re-examine, is his favorite author. The book is Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. 

I'M NOT SURE WHERE THIS WILL TAKE ME. THIS IS AN UNDERTAKING I FEEL PASSIONATE ABOUT! SO SIT BACK AND GO WHERE THIS OLD MAN HAS NOT, GONE BEFORE