I have a little something, something, I wish to talk about and it ain't gonna be pretty! Fun yes, least'wise that's the plan.
What in hell does least'wise mean? I have never used least'wise before, another first here on GlenView.
Seems somewhat self explanatory to me. And you know me!
Least'wise means, at least; anyway; also. Uh huh, seems to me like the dictionary don't know!
Damn ya know, I just hate it when I have to explain the meaning in the dictionary, or least'wise, or least-ways interpret to myself!
Least means, at any rate; in any event--not in the least, not at all; not in the smallest degree.
I can see here's another fine mess I've gotten myself into!
Wise, well we all know what wise means, but seeing how my post is going, or where it's headed as in "down the crapper" I least'wise check.
Wise, well now let me tell ya, there be many definitions of wise in my dictionary, least of which is what I'm most certainly not feeling like, at this moment. Underneath wise, is wise-acre, then wise-ass, wise-crack, wise guy, then wisenheimer.
Wise means, per this here smart-ass dictionary, having or showing good judgment. (Definitely what I'm not showing!)
Also prompted by wisdom. (Not on this here blog!)
Another meaning, having information. (Yeah! Like this dick-headed dictionary from hell!)
(ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?)
Learned, (Huh!)
Shrewd; crafty; cunning. (Enough, enough, enough!!! We're still on the first wise and there's four more to go after this. I CAN'T TAKE NOO MORE!)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOW BACK TO THE IRREGULAR, UNSCHEDULED, UNDIGNIFIED, FORMAT.
You know how they tap into maple trees for that good maple syrup? I use to love pancakes with maple syrup. Yummy, yummy, yummy, I loved that maple syrup in my tummy. Don't eat pancakes no more too many calories ya know!
Where am I going with this? Just a warning, it all goes downhill from here just like maple syrup coming from maple trees, Ya know like Mr. Fig Newton's gravity something, or the other about an apples. Scientific crap you know. Well it's been a spell since most of us older folks have been to school and if it's not on these gadgets these kids today use to fry their brains then most likely none know. Oh shit! What have I got myself into now!
The key word that originally started this post a running is SNOT. Yep! I know I'll talk about anything!
(I DO NEED A BREAK FROM THE SERIOUSNESS OF CRIME AND PUNISHMENT. THIS IS MY WAY OF??? HELL I DON'T KNOW, PERHAPS I'M RE-CHARGING MY BATTERIES. NOW THAT'S A SCARY THOUGHT! I'M AFRAID I'LL LOSE MY SENSE OF HUMOR IN THE SERIOUSNESS. DON'T WANT TO DO THAT!)
Here goes nothing, just like all the words before these!
Back in October of last year, I had a sinus infection from hell. Headache, dizziness, the whole bit. Well for about the last eight weeks now, my head is like the finest maple syrup producing tree that's ever been!!!!!
I'vegot to be the snottiest, snot producing kid EVER! Goodnight
Monday, February 11, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
(14) C. and P. Conclusion of Part one, (VII)
Two mistrustful eyes peer at him from the darkness.
He almost pulled the old woman into the hallway, afraid she would lock herself in and rushed past her as she was blocking the doorway.
"Good evening, Alyona Ivanova," his voice disobeyed him, it faltered and started trembling. "I've brought you . . . an article . . . but we better go over there . . . near the light . . . "
"Lord what is it? . . . Who are you? What's your business?"
"For pity's sake, Alyona Ivanova . . . you know me . . . Raskolnikov . . . " He was holding the pledge out to her.
She looks at the pledge, then fixed her eyes on the eyes of her uninvited visitor, looking at him with mistrust.
"But why are you looking at me like that? If you want it take it, otherwise I'll go elsewhere."
"But what's the matter, dearie, so suddenly . . . what is it?" she asked. "Why are you so pale? Look your hands are trembling!"
"Fever," he answered abruptly. "You can't help getting pale . . . when you have nothing to eat."
Taking the pledge she asked "what is it? Ehh, it's all wrapped up."
She goes over to the window trying to untie the string, turning her back to him. He freed the axe holding it under his coat with his right hand. His hands were terribly weak; they were growing numb. He was afraid he was going to drop the axe . . . suddenly his head seemed to spin.
"Look how he's wrapped it up!" the old woman exclaimed in annoyance, and made a move towards him.
He took the axe out, swung it with both hands, scarcely aware of himself, 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.
(I FIND THAT LAST SENTENCE FASCINATING AS IF SOMETHING . . . TAKES CONTROL!)
He was in full possession of his mind, the clouding and dizziness had ceased, but his hands were still trembling. He immediately pulls the keys out of her pocket. He tries the many keys to the chest of drawers, upon hearing their jingling he suddenly wants to drop everything and leave. Another thought comes to him, what if the old lady is still alive? He checks, discovering a string around her neck, a purse stuffed full. Two crosses one of cypress, one of brass, he took the purse dropping the crosses on the old woman's chest, taking the axe with him back to the bedroom. He was fumbling with the keys without luck. There was one big key that looked to be for a trunk. He found one under the bed filled with old clothes, then a gold watch fell out. Many gold objects were between the clothes. He stuffed the pledges into his trousers and coat pockets.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps in the other room, then a slight but distinct cry, he grabbed the axe and ran out. Lizaveta stood frozen, as white as a sheet, unable to utter a cry. Poor childlike, simple, Lizaveta was backing up as the axe came down.
(I CHOOSE TO NOT GO INTO THE GORY DETAILS OF THE TWO MURDERS. I WILL ADMIT TO NOT FEELING MUCH COMPASSION FOR THE OLD WOMAN. IT'S THE TOTAL OPPOSITE FOR LIZAVETA.)
Fear was taking hold of him after this second quite unexpected murder.
Then a sort of absentmindness took possession of him, seeing a bucket of water in the kitchen he washes his hands, the axe and checked himself for blood, spending about three minutes doing so.
A tormenting feeling takes over him. "My God! I must run away!" He rushed to the door where horror awaited him. The door was unlatched standing open a hands width. The old woman had not locked it after he rushed in, nor had Lizaveta, when she entered. He rushed to the door and locked it. "But no, I must go, go . . ." He unhooked the door, opened it, listening carefully for a long time. Voices were heard, arguing, shouting, these voices went away, then someone was humming a tune, he waited patiently. He had stepped out to the stairs when footsteps were heard coming from far away from the bottom of the stairs. Somehow he knew they were coming to the fourth floor to the old woman's apartment. As the visitor started climbing the fourth floor he quietly slipped back into the apartment latching the door. He now was on the opposite side of the door just as the old woman was earlier, only now it was he who was doing the listening.
It was as if he were dreaming as the visitor rang the bell. He rang it again then becoming impatient tugging at the door handle.
"What's up in there, are they snoring, or has somebody wrung their necks Cur-r-rse it!" He bellowed.
Another set of footsteps was heard, someone else is coming up. The newcomer addresses Koch "what nobody home."
The newcomer suggest they go get the caretaker, because the door is hooked not locked so someone has to be home. Something's not right he goes to get the caretaker, recommending Koch to stay there at the door.
Time passes Koch gets impatient and leaves, giving Raskolnikov the opening he needs. He starts down the stairs as three or four footsteps are heard coming up. Luckily there was an empty apartment below him as he stepped inside as the men slipped by him. He leaves just as the men were entering the apartment.
Torments had weakened him so much he could barely walk, sweat rolled off him in drops.
He was nearing collapse as he entered the gates of his house, forgetting the axe until he was already on the stairs. He then returns the axe back to the caretakers shed.
He went into his room and threw himself onto the sofa. He did not sleep, he was lost in oblivion. If anyone had come into his room then, he would have jumped up and shouted. Bits and pieces of various thoughts kept swarming in his head; but he could not grasp any one of them, could not rest on anyone, hard as he tried . . .
He almost pulled the old woman into the hallway, afraid she would lock herself in and rushed past her as she was blocking the doorway.
"Good evening, Alyona Ivanova," his voice disobeyed him, it faltered and started trembling. "I've brought you . . . an article . . . but we better go over there . . . near the light . . . "
"Lord what is it? . . . Who are you? What's your business?"
"For pity's sake, Alyona Ivanova . . . you know me . . . Raskolnikov . . . " He was holding the pledge out to her.
She looks at the pledge, then fixed her eyes on the eyes of her uninvited visitor, looking at him with mistrust.
"But why are you looking at me like that? If you want it take it, otherwise I'll go elsewhere."
"But what's the matter, dearie, so suddenly . . . what is it?" she asked. "Why are you so pale? Look your hands are trembling!"
"Fever," he answered abruptly. "You can't help getting pale . . . when you have nothing to eat."
Taking the pledge she asked "what is it? Ehh, it's all wrapped up."
She goes over to the window trying to untie the string, turning her back to him. He freed the axe holding it under his coat with his right hand. His hands were terribly weak; they were growing numb. He was afraid he was going to drop the axe . . . suddenly his head seemed to spin.
"Look how he's wrapped it up!" the old woman exclaimed in annoyance, and made a move towards him.
He took the axe out, swung it with both hands, scarcely aware of himself, 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.
(I FIND THAT LAST SENTENCE FASCINATING AS IF SOMETHING . . . TAKES CONTROL!)
He was in full possession of his mind, the clouding and dizziness had ceased, but his hands were still trembling. He immediately pulls the keys out of her pocket. He tries the many keys to the chest of drawers, upon hearing their jingling he suddenly wants to drop everything and leave. Another thought comes to him, what if the old lady is still alive? He checks, discovering a string around her neck, a purse stuffed full. Two crosses one of cypress, one of brass, he took the purse dropping the crosses on the old woman's chest, taking the axe with him back to the bedroom. He was fumbling with the keys without luck. There was one big key that looked to be for a trunk. He found one under the bed filled with old clothes, then a gold watch fell out. Many gold objects were between the clothes. He stuffed the pledges into his trousers and coat pockets.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps in the other room, then a slight but distinct cry, he grabbed the axe and ran out. Lizaveta stood frozen, as white as a sheet, unable to utter a cry. Poor childlike, simple, Lizaveta was backing up as the axe came down.
(I CHOOSE TO NOT GO INTO THE GORY DETAILS OF THE TWO MURDERS. I WILL ADMIT TO NOT FEELING MUCH COMPASSION FOR THE OLD WOMAN. IT'S THE TOTAL OPPOSITE FOR LIZAVETA.)
Fear was taking hold of him after this second quite unexpected murder.
Then a sort of absentmindness took possession of him, seeing a bucket of water in the kitchen he washes his hands, the axe and checked himself for blood, spending about three minutes doing so.
A tormenting feeling takes over him. "My God! I must run away!" He rushed to the door where horror awaited him. The door was unlatched standing open a hands width. The old woman had not locked it after he rushed in, nor had Lizaveta, when she entered. He rushed to the door and locked it. "But no, I must go, go . . ." He unhooked the door, opened it, listening carefully for a long time. Voices were heard, arguing, shouting, these voices went away, then someone was humming a tune, he waited patiently. He had stepped out to the stairs when footsteps were heard coming from far away from the bottom of the stairs. Somehow he knew they were coming to the fourth floor to the old woman's apartment. As the visitor started climbing the fourth floor he quietly slipped back into the apartment latching the door. He now was on the opposite side of the door just as the old woman was earlier, only now it was he who was doing the listening.
It was as if he were dreaming as the visitor rang the bell. He rang it again then becoming impatient tugging at the door handle.
"What's up in there, are they snoring, or has somebody wrung their necks Cur-r-rse it!" He bellowed.
Another set of footsteps was heard, someone else is coming up. The newcomer addresses Koch "what nobody home."
The newcomer suggest they go get the caretaker, because the door is hooked not locked so someone has to be home. Something's not right he goes to get the caretaker, recommending Koch to stay there at the door.
Time passes Koch gets impatient and leaves, giving Raskolnikov the opening he needs. He starts down the stairs as three or four footsteps are heard coming up. Luckily there was an empty apartment below him as he stepped inside as the men slipped by him. He leaves just as the men were entering the apartment.
Torments had weakened him so much he could barely walk, sweat rolled off him in drops.
He was nearing collapse as he entered the gates of his house, forgetting the axe until he was already on the stairs. He then returns the axe back to the caretakers shed.
He went into his room and threw himself onto the sofa. He did not sleep, he was lost in oblivion. If anyone had come into his room then, he would have jumped up and shouted. Bits and pieces of various thoughts kept swarming in his head; but he could not grasp any one of them, could not rest on anyone, hard as he tried . . .
Saturday, February 9, 2013
(13) Summary C. and P. (Part One) VI
Raskolnikov has become superstitious, he views a certain strangeness, a mysteriousness in this whole affair, the presence of some peculiar influences and coincidences.
The previous winter a student told him about the old pawnbroker in case he ever needed money. At that time he was getting by giving lessons. When he fell on hard times he has two things of value to pawn, his father's silver watch and a ring given to him by his sister. From the first moment he saw the old woman he was filled with insurmountable loathesome, he took two "little bills" from her for his ring, stopping at a wretched tavern afterwards. While drinking tea he fell into deep thought. A strange idea was hatching in his head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(PLEASE REMEMBER THE STRANGE IDEA HATCHING IN RASKOLNIKOV'S HEAD AND THE FOLLOWING OVERHEARD CONVERSATION AT THE TAVERN BETWEEN A STUDENT AND A OFFICER, HAPPENED SIX WEEKS EARLIER, THAN HIS DREAM AND CHANCE MEETING OF LIZAVETA AT THE HAYMARKET AT THE END OF CHAPTER FIVE.)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
At a table next to him sat a student and a young officer, he heard the student talking of a money lender Alyona Ivanova. That in itself seemed strange to Raskolnikov" he had just left her. By chance, of course; but just then, when he could not rid himself of a certain quite extraordinary impression, it was as if someone had come to his service: the student gave details about Alyona Ivanova. How wicked, how she gives four times less than the thing being pawned is worth. Telling about how the hag beats Lizaveta her younger, simple, half sister.
The student speaks about Lizaveta with some special pleasure saying "she's quite a phenomenon herself!" Lizaveta was a slave to her sister and that Alyona Ivanova had made out a will giving all her money to a monastery, for the eternal remembrance of her soul. Lizaveta would be given the movable property, chairs and so forth.
(ALL ALYONA IVANOVA'S MONEY TO A MONASTERY "FOR THE ETERNAL REMEMBRANCE OF HER SOUL.) ((ISN'T THAT SOMETHING? SORRY I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF THINKING ABOUT THAT ONE!))
Lizaveta was a tradeswoman, not of official rank; she was unmarried and of terribly awkward built, remarkably tall, with long, somehow twisted legs, always wore down-at-heel goatskin shoes, but kept herself neat. Above all the student was surprised and laughed at the fact that Lizaveta was constantly pregnate . . .
"But you say she's ugly?" the officer remarked.
"Well, yes, she's dark-skinned, looks like a soldier in disguise, but she's not ugly at all. She has such 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 nice smile."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Another book's Bantam Classic's first printed in 1958 describes Lizaveta.
The student spoke about Lizaveta with a peculiar relish and was continually laughing. The officer listened with great interest, asking the student to send Lizaveta to do some mending for him. Lizaveta worked day and night for her sister, giving her all. Lizaveta was of lower rank than her sister, unmarried and awfully uncouthed in appearance, remarkably tall with long feet that look as if they were bent outwards. She always wore battered goatskin shoes and was clean in person. What the student expressed most surprise and amusement about was the fact that Lizaveta was continually with child.
"But you say she is hideous?" observed the officer.
"Yes, she is so dark-skinned and looks like a soldier dressed up, but you know she is not at all hideous. She has such a good-natured face and eyes. Strikingly so. And the proof if it is that lots of people are attracted by her. She is such a gentle creature, ready to put up with anything, always willing, willing to do anything. And her smile is really very sweet."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Ah, 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 hotly.
The officer guffawed, and Raskolnikov was startled. How strange it was!
The student talks philosophically expressing thoughts like many of the students of the new generation.
"You have a worthless old crone, no good to anyone, on the contrary harmful to everyone, who doesn't know why herself she's alive. On the other hand you have fresh young forces that are being wasted for lack of support monentarily and that old woman has doomed to the monastery! Just think of the amount of lives that could be helped, all from her money. Kill her and take her money, afterwards devote yourself to the service of all mankind! Would not a thousand good deeds make up for one tiny little crime? One death for hundreds of lives--it's simple arithmetic! And what does the life of this stupid, consumptive, and wicked old crone mean in the balence of the general balence? No more than the life of a louse, a cockroach, and not even that much, because this old crone is harmful. She's eating up someone else's life" the other day she got so angry that she bit Lizaveta's finger; they almost had to cut it off!"
"Of course, she doesn't deserve to be alive," the officer remarked, "but that's nature."
"Eh, brother, but nature has to be corrected and guided, otherwise we'd all drown in prejudices.Without that there wouldn't be even a single great man. "Duty, conscience," they say--I'm not going to speak against duty and conscience, but do we really undersatand them? Wait I'll ask you one more question. Listen!"
"No, you wait. I'll ask you a question!"
"Well?"
"You're talking and making speeches now, but tell me: would you YOURSELF kill the old woman, or not?"
"Of course not! It's for the sake of justice that I . . . I'm not the point here . . ."
" Well, in my opinion, if you yourself don't dare, then there's no justice in it at all! Let's shoot another round of billiards!"
Raskolnikov was greatly agitated. It was the youthful talk and way of the times, he had heard it many times before, only in different forms and on different subjects. But why precisely now did he have to hear precisely such talk and thinking . . . when EXACTLY THE SAME THOUGHTS had been conceived in his own head? And why precisely now, as he was coming from the old woman bearing the germ of his thought, should he chance upon a conversation about the same old woman? . . . Coincidence . . . this tavern conversation had an extreme influence on him in the further development of the affair; as though there was indeed some predestination, some indication in it . . .
(THE CONVERSTION ABOVE HAS MUCH TO DO WITH THE REST OF THE BOOK.)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After returning from the Haymarket he threw himself on the sofa, soon a leaden sleep took over. It was ten the next morning when Nstasysa woke him, bringing him tea, he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. She came back at two o'clock, he lay as before. He ate a few bites and stretched back out on the sofa.
He stretched back out on the sofa daydreaming, suddenly he heard the clock strike six realizing the time. He had sleep away the day, luckily the preparations were not many having having planned them out beforehand. He sewed a loop under his coat to conceal the axe, holding it in place with his left hand.
He was running later than planned, there was some problem with getting the axe from his landlady's kitchen so with some difficuty borrowed the caretaker's for the deed.
Raskolnikov makes it to the old lady's apartment ringing the bell, no answer. He knew she was home alone standing at the door but was suspicious. He purposely mutters something aloud, then hears the sound of the latch being lifted.
I PURPOSELY SHORTENED THE END OF CHAPTER SIX, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ IN MORE DETAIL PLEASE GO TO MY EARLIER SUMMARY. I LEAVE YOU WITH THE MAIN POINT. THE IDEA THAT WAS HATCHING IN RASKOLNIKOV'S MIND AFTER THE FIRST VISIT WAS THE IDEAS OF THE NEW GENERATION HE WAS ABOUT TO CARRY THROUGH, BECOMING REALITY! Glen
The previous winter a student told him about the old pawnbroker in case he ever needed money. At that time he was getting by giving lessons. When he fell on hard times he has two things of value to pawn, his father's silver watch and a ring given to him by his sister. From the first moment he saw the old woman he was filled with insurmountable loathesome, he took two "little bills" from her for his ring, stopping at a wretched tavern afterwards. While drinking tea he fell into deep thought. A strange idea was hatching in his head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(PLEASE REMEMBER THE STRANGE IDEA HATCHING IN RASKOLNIKOV'S HEAD AND THE FOLLOWING OVERHEARD CONVERSATION AT THE TAVERN BETWEEN A STUDENT AND A OFFICER, HAPPENED SIX WEEKS EARLIER, THAN HIS DREAM AND CHANCE MEETING OF LIZAVETA AT THE HAYMARKET AT THE END OF CHAPTER FIVE.)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
At a table next to him sat a student and a young officer, he heard the student talking of a money lender Alyona Ivanova. That in itself seemed strange to Raskolnikov" he had just left her. By chance, of course; but just then, when he could not rid himself of a certain quite extraordinary impression, it was as if someone had come to his service: the student gave details about Alyona Ivanova. How wicked, how she gives four times less than the thing being pawned is worth. Telling about how the hag beats Lizaveta her younger, simple, half sister.
The student speaks about Lizaveta with some special pleasure saying "she's quite a phenomenon herself!" Lizaveta was a slave to her sister and that Alyona Ivanova had made out a will giving all her money to a monastery, for the eternal remembrance of her soul. Lizaveta would be given the movable property, chairs and so forth.
(ALL ALYONA IVANOVA'S MONEY TO A MONASTERY "FOR THE ETERNAL REMEMBRANCE OF HER SOUL.) ((ISN'T THAT SOMETHING? SORRY I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF THINKING ABOUT THAT ONE!))
Lizaveta was a tradeswoman, not of official rank; she was unmarried and of terribly awkward built, remarkably tall, with long, somehow twisted legs, always wore down-at-heel goatskin shoes, but kept herself neat. Above all the student was surprised and laughed at the fact that Lizaveta was constantly pregnate . . .
"But you say she's ugly?" the officer remarked.
"Well, yes, she's dark-skinned, looks like a soldier in disguise, but she's not ugly at all. She has such 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 nice smile."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Another book's Bantam Classic's first printed in 1958 describes Lizaveta.
The student spoke about Lizaveta with a peculiar relish and was continually laughing. The officer listened with great interest, asking the student to send Lizaveta to do some mending for him. Lizaveta worked day and night for her sister, giving her all. Lizaveta was of lower rank than her sister, unmarried and awfully uncouthed in appearance, remarkably tall with long feet that look as if they were bent outwards. She always wore battered goatskin shoes and was clean in person. What the student expressed most surprise and amusement about was the fact that Lizaveta was continually with child.
"But you say she is hideous?" observed the officer.
"Yes, she is so dark-skinned and looks like a soldier dressed up, but you know she is not at all hideous. She has such a good-natured face and eyes. Strikingly so. And the proof if it is that lots of people are attracted by her. She is such a gentle creature, ready to put up with anything, always willing, willing to do anything. And her smile is really very sweet."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Ah, 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 hotly.
The officer guffawed, and Raskolnikov was startled. How strange it was!
The student talks philosophically expressing thoughts like many of the students of the new generation.
"You have a worthless old crone, no good to anyone, on the contrary harmful to everyone, who doesn't know why herself she's alive. On the other hand you have fresh young forces that are being wasted for lack of support monentarily and that old woman has doomed to the monastery! Just think of the amount of lives that could be helped, all from her money. Kill her and take her money, afterwards devote yourself to the service of all mankind! Would not a thousand good deeds make up for one tiny little crime? One death for hundreds of lives--it's simple arithmetic! And what does the life of this stupid, consumptive, and wicked old crone mean in the balence of the general balence? No more than the life of a louse, a cockroach, and not even that much, because this old crone is harmful. She's eating up someone else's life" the other day she got so angry that she bit Lizaveta's finger; they almost had to cut it off!"
"Of course, she doesn't deserve to be alive," the officer remarked, "but that's nature."
"Eh, brother, but nature has to be corrected and guided, otherwise we'd all drown in prejudices.Without that there wouldn't be even a single great man. "Duty, conscience," they say--I'm not going to speak against duty and conscience, but do we really undersatand them? Wait I'll ask you one more question. Listen!"
"No, you wait. I'll ask you a question!"
"Well?"
"You're talking and making speeches now, but tell me: would you YOURSELF kill the old woman, or not?"
"Of course not! It's for the sake of justice that I . . . I'm not the point here . . ."
" Well, in my opinion, if you yourself don't dare, then there's no justice in it at all! Let's shoot another round of billiards!"
Raskolnikov was greatly agitated. It was the youthful talk and way of the times, he had heard it many times before, only in different forms and on different subjects. But why precisely now did he have to hear precisely such talk and thinking . . . when EXACTLY THE SAME THOUGHTS had been conceived in his own head? And why precisely now, as he was coming from the old woman bearing the germ of his thought, should he chance upon a conversation about the same old woman? . . . Coincidence . . . this tavern conversation had an extreme influence on him in the further development of the affair; as though there was indeed some predestination, some indication in it . . .
(THE CONVERSTION ABOVE HAS MUCH TO DO WITH THE REST OF THE BOOK.)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After returning from the Haymarket he threw himself on the sofa, soon a leaden sleep took over. It was ten the next morning when Nstasysa woke him, bringing him tea, he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. She came back at two o'clock, he lay as before. He ate a few bites and stretched back out on the sofa.
He stretched back out on the sofa daydreaming, suddenly he heard the clock strike six realizing the time. He had sleep away the day, luckily the preparations were not many having having planned them out beforehand. He sewed a loop under his coat to conceal the axe, holding it in place with his left hand.
He was running later than planned, there was some problem with getting the axe from his landlady's kitchen so with some difficuty borrowed the caretaker's for the deed.
Raskolnikov makes it to the old lady's apartment ringing the bell, no answer. He knew she was home alone standing at the door but was suspicious. He purposely mutters something aloud, then hears the sound of the latch being lifted.
I PURPOSELY SHORTENED THE END OF CHAPTER SIX, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ IN MORE DETAIL PLEASE GO TO MY EARLIER SUMMARY. I LEAVE YOU WITH THE MAIN POINT. THE IDEA THAT WAS HATCHING IN RASKOLNIKOV'S MIND AFTER THE FIRST VISIT WAS THE IDEAS OF THE NEW GENERATION HE WAS ABOUT TO CARRY THROUGH, BECOMING REALITY! Glen
Thursday, February 7, 2013
To Write, Or Not To Write?
To write or not to write, that be the question before me tonight? Whether it's smarter to just forget it and go to bed, such a quandry puzzling old Glen tonight. I be tired! "How tired?" I be soo tired my mind can't describe it. Oh my! I must be critical if I can't bescribe it. I like to work and get that adrenalin flowing, time goes soo fast!
I be a going faster than a snail, moving up a step at a turtle's speed, vrroom, vrroom, watch them short little legs a moving. I know your thinking that's not fast! Well if your 18 years old in the prime of your life, hell no! But if your getting old it might be considered fast. Hell if you live long enough and go from walking normal to arthritis, to a cane, then a walker. Ever watch a snail move? When I was an inquisitive wittle Glenny I watched everything, I still remember how fascinated I was at seeing my first snail. I'm no longer fascinated but it was a fun remembrance that has stuck with me. I had a couple pet turtles and enjoyed watching and playing with them.
Well we all remember the story about the turtle and the hare, don't we? Maybe not if your as tired as I. Still I find this to be the most relaxing enjoyable time of my day. You know I have had numerous hobbies in my life, but to find something like this writing hobby/escapade/escape is quite frankly mind boggling! "How so" ask my friend Sue? (Hi Sue!)
I've never had that stick-to-it-iveness! When things got too challenging I gave up. The easy way out I suppose.
The more I challenge myself the more fun I'm having. I hope I'm making some sense that's about the best I can explain it at this time. It's relaxingly fun!
How did this Crime And Punishment summary/evaluation/thoughts/opinions post come about?
"THE HELL IF I KNOW!"
I enjoyed reading it for the first time a year ago, but as time passed I realized I had unanswered questions, seems bits and pieces would pop up in my mind from time to time, and I wanted to understand it more than the obvious story line. So I decided to challenge myself by reading it once more and posting the story as I go. Sheesh seems I'm being too windy but hope to cover more of the un-obviuos bits and pieces, that easily can be overlooked. It may just be me but I find it a challengingly rewarding read. That's precisely why I must re-examine Fyodor Dostoevsky's brillant Crime And Punishment. I decided to try posting the first part which is seven chapters approximately 80 pages.
Others apparently are enjoying it along with me because my hits have gone up significantly and I thank you!
I can ramble a bit most any night, but takes me considerable time to get away from my normal silliness, comedy, fun style I write most nights. I must slow down read and think when working on C. And P. IMAGINE THAT!
ANYHOW I HOPE TO KEEP MY SNOW SHOES ON AS I TRUDGE THROUGH THE WILDERNESS IN SEARCH OF MEANING FOR PART TWO. PLEASE REMEMBER I'M ATTEMPTING TO GIVE THE FEEL OF HIS WRITING AND ADD MY THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS. I HOPE TO SUMMARIZE IT DOWN MUCH MORE. WE'LL SEE AS I'M A WORKS IN PROGRESS. I HOPE YOU CONTIMUE TO ENJOY AS MUCH AS I AM. IT WILL TAKE ME THE REST OF THE YEAR TO COMPLETE. I WILL TAKE BREAKS BY WRITING MY RAMBLING SILLINESS IN BETWEEN THE SERIOUS SIDE. KEEP IT SPONTANEOUS AND FUN . . YEAH BABY! Goodnight to all my friends from around the world, you warm an old man's heart! GLEN
I be a going faster than a snail, moving up a step at a turtle's speed, vrroom, vrroom, watch them short little legs a moving. I know your thinking that's not fast! Well if your 18 years old in the prime of your life, hell no! But if your getting old it might be considered fast. Hell if you live long enough and go from walking normal to arthritis, to a cane, then a walker. Ever watch a snail move? When I was an inquisitive wittle Glenny I watched everything, I still remember how fascinated I was at seeing my first snail. I'm no longer fascinated but it was a fun remembrance that has stuck with me. I had a couple pet turtles and enjoyed watching and playing with them.
Well we all remember the story about the turtle and the hare, don't we? Maybe not if your as tired as I. Still I find this to be the most relaxing enjoyable time of my day. You know I have had numerous hobbies in my life, but to find something like this writing hobby/escapade/escape is quite frankly mind boggling! "How so" ask my friend Sue? (Hi Sue!)
I've never had that stick-to-it-iveness! When things got too challenging I gave up. The easy way out I suppose.
The more I challenge myself the more fun I'm having. I hope I'm making some sense that's about the best I can explain it at this time. It's relaxingly fun!
How did this Crime And Punishment summary/evaluation/thoughts/opinions post come about?
"THE HELL IF I KNOW!"
I enjoyed reading it for the first time a year ago, but as time passed I realized I had unanswered questions, seems bits and pieces would pop up in my mind from time to time, and I wanted to understand it more than the obvious story line. So I decided to challenge myself by reading it once more and posting the story as I go. Sheesh seems I'm being too windy but hope to cover more of the un-obviuos bits and pieces, that easily can be overlooked. It may just be me but I find it a challengingly rewarding read. That's precisely why I must re-examine Fyodor Dostoevsky's brillant Crime And Punishment. I decided to try posting the first part which is seven chapters approximately 80 pages.
Others apparently are enjoying it along with me because my hits have gone up significantly and I thank you!
I can ramble a bit most any night, but takes me considerable time to get away from my normal silliness, comedy, fun style I write most nights. I must slow down read and think when working on C. And P. IMAGINE THAT!
ANYHOW I HOPE TO KEEP MY SNOW SHOES ON AS I TRUDGE THROUGH THE WILDERNESS IN SEARCH OF MEANING FOR PART TWO. PLEASE REMEMBER I'M ATTEMPTING TO GIVE THE FEEL OF HIS WRITING AND ADD MY THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS. I HOPE TO SUMMARIZE IT DOWN MUCH MORE. WE'LL SEE AS I'M A WORKS IN PROGRESS. I HOPE YOU CONTIMUE TO ENJOY AS MUCH AS I AM. IT WILL TAKE ME THE REST OF THE YEAR TO COMPLETE. I WILL TAKE BREAKS BY WRITING MY RAMBLING SILLINESS IN BETWEEN THE SERIOUS SIDE. KEEP IT SPONTANEOUS AND FUN . . YEAH BABY! Goodnight to all my friends from around the world, you warm an old man's heart! GLEN
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Neighborhood Things
Many things been been going on in Glen's neighborhood. As far as the follow up to the post Snookered.
Once again I'm now working the evening shift. Been doing maintenance on a machine made in 1979. Ya see I have been a good boy. Can't lie to my friends. I have been a good old man. I begin work a few minutes early and a man older than me said, "can you take my place so I can eat my lunch. "Sure" I said. First mistake. The product was coming out to me and I made the mistake of looking at them. They didn't look okay to me, so being the numskull I be, I ask, "are these good?" Apparently WRONG question!
Well seems I rocked the boat a tad, more than a tad. Hey seemed like a logical thing to ask if I questioned the product good or not, right if unsure, ASK! That's called communication in my book, oopsey post. Well Psycho Sam in the other department had a hissy fit. He gets all carried away telling my boss !@#$%^&**&^%$#@ and so on and so forth! The next thing I know the Production Manager, my Boss and Psycho Sam are in my space. Seems Physho Sam said the wrong thing to my Boss in the wrong tone of voice, and his Boss Mr. Production didn't like the way Psycho Sam was making his point!
All the time these Bosses was discussing Bossing business old Glen be doing his job. Old Glen been there a long time, he knows his job ya see! Come to find out Psycho Sam got all bent out of shape fer nuthin! Me and Sam go back a spell. He got all bent out of shape at me the very first day I worked there. I went Psycho Glen right back, I notta gonna take his shit, ya see! Well long story short he has never liked me. Glen don't care, he gonna do his job!
Sam got his "tit in the wringer," (One of them old sayings.) his Boss let him know, you don't talk like that. Mr. Production who is relatively new, said "I''ve never seen him talk like that!" Me and my Boss fill him in on Sam.
So I got snookered into taking this older than me old man and, sha-zam! I cause a heap O trouble, not fer me though.
THOUGHT! WHAT IN THE WORLD HAS IT COME TO WHEN DOING YOUR JOB GETS PEOPLE IN TROUBLE FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
Two nights ago this old man (ME) be doing his fixing on the old 1979 model machine, getting ready for lunch. Umm! Umm! Hungry I'd reckon! The Production Manager wants to talk to me in his office. I'm thinking "Psycho Sam be at it again," then I realise, nope he done flew the coop and drinking Budweiser at home. Seems I walked into a hornet's nest, uh huh! Damn I can't get away from trouble! I've had my head, feet, ass in the old machine, greasing, repairing, how the @$%k can I be in TROUBLE! Don't they know I'm fixing this old machine using more than duct tape!
I use to have a reputation mind ya! I made the mistakes of tellin ones that need tellin, "Hey Goober you ain't doing worth a shit, or you're the laziest person I've ever seen!" You know little pointers to help them do their job so this old man don't have to do it! Seems in the modern world you're suppose to kiss ass. Well I don't kiss ass, ya see! (I've come to a conclusion everybody must be CHALLENGED!) Them Bosses too namsy-pamsy to evaluate, and straighten them out, so Grandpa here tried! After a few write ups, no, no, no, not the lazy asses, ME! I was rewarded with a three day vacation for UN-SPORTSMAN LIKE BEHAVIOUR! That means I got three days off without pay. I ask my Boss "how often can I tell some lazy ass? Their a lazy ass, so I can get three days off, I enjoyed the extra time off!" Apparently I wasn't supposed to! It was punishment of some kind, I never did figure where the punishment come in!
Rambling once again, imagine that! Well Mr. Production be having some trouble and he come to me. I told him the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help my old 1979 machine, I been giving a new shot at life with grease compressions. (Little joke!) I draw the line at mouth to pipes! Sheesh don't know what may be in them old air lines!
They be having some lazy people problems, and he was seeking a crazy old man's counsel! I explain to him everything the way I see it, I had me an audience fer a spell, I was in heaven! Here's what I think is going to happen, now dealing with people ya never can be sure you know!
Some people too lazy to sit on their arse and drive a Toyota Pick-up (I mean lift.) to put up stock, fill out the required information, and enter it into a computer. Okay now tell me . . . HOW LAZY IS THAT?
We got plenty of people that I'm 100% totally convinced that their lift's don't go all the way to the top!!!
So guess what, instead of working doing 4 Hours of production work, I'll be given the REALLY SUPER hard job of sitting on my arse, putting stock away, wow! Ain't life so fricking complicated, you just want to eat gummy bears and read Crime And Punishment!!! Glen
Once again I'm now working the evening shift. Been doing maintenance on a machine made in 1979. Ya see I have been a good boy. Can't lie to my friends. I have been a good old man. I begin work a few minutes early and a man older than me said, "can you take my place so I can eat my lunch. "Sure" I said. First mistake. The product was coming out to me and I made the mistake of looking at them. They didn't look okay to me, so being the numskull I be, I ask, "are these good?" Apparently WRONG question!
Well seems I rocked the boat a tad, more than a tad. Hey seemed like a logical thing to ask if I questioned the product good or not, right if unsure, ASK! That's called communication in my book, oopsey post. Well Psycho Sam in the other department had a hissy fit. He gets all carried away telling my boss !@#$%^&**&^%$#@ and so on and so forth! The next thing I know the Production Manager, my Boss and Psycho Sam are in my space. Seems Physho Sam said the wrong thing to my Boss in the wrong tone of voice, and his Boss Mr. Production didn't like the way Psycho Sam was making his point!
All the time these Bosses was discussing Bossing business old Glen be doing his job. Old Glen been there a long time, he knows his job ya see! Come to find out Psycho Sam got all bent out of shape fer nuthin! Me and Sam go back a spell. He got all bent out of shape at me the very first day I worked there. I went Psycho Glen right back, I notta gonna take his shit, ya see! Well long story short he has never liked me. Glen don't care, he gonna do his job!
Sam got his "tit in the wringer," (One of them old sayings.) his Boss let him know, you don't talk like that. Mr. Production who is relatively new, said "I''ve never seen him talk like that!" Me and my Boss fill him in on Sam.
So I got snookered into taking this older than me old man and, sha-zam! I cause a heap O trouble, not fer me though.
THOUGHT! WHAT IN THE WORLD HAS IT COME TO WHEN DOING YOUR JOB GETS PEOPLE IN TROUBLE FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
Two nights ago this old man (ME) be doing his fixing on the old 1979 model machine, getting ready for lunch. Umm! Umm! Hungry I'd reckon! The Production Manager wants to talk to me in his office. I'm thinking "Psycho Sam be at it again," then I realise, nope he done flew the coop and drinking Budweiser at home. Seems I walked into a hornet's nest, uh huh! Damn I can't get away from trouble! I've had my head, feet, ass in the old machine, greasing, repairing, how the @$%k can I be in TROUBLE! Don't they know I'm fixing this old machine using more than duct tape!
I use to have a reputation mind ya! I made the mistakes of tellin ones that need tellin, "Hey Goober you ain't doing worth a shit, or you're the laziest person I've ever seen!" You know little pointers to help them do their job so this old man don't have to do it! Seems in the modern world you're suppose to kiss ass. Well I don't kiss ass, ya see! (I've come to a conclusion everybody must be CHALLENGED!) Them Bosses too namsy-pamsy to evaluate, and straighten them out, so Grandpa here tried! After a few write ups, no, no, no, not the lazy asses, ME! I was rewarded with a three day vacation for UN-SPORTSMAN LIKE BEHAVIOUR! That means I got three days off without pay. I ask my Boss "how often can I tell some lazy ass? Their a lazy ass, so I can get three days off, I enjoyed the extra time off!" Apparently I wasn't supposed to! It was punishment of some kind, I never did figure where the punishment come in!
Rambling once again, imagine that! Well Mr. Production be having some trouble and he come to me. I told him the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help my old 1979 machine, I been giving a new shot at life with grease compressions. (Little joke!) I draw the line at mouth to pipes! Sheesh don't know what may be in them old air lines!
They be having some lazy people problems, and he was seeking a crazy old man's counsel! I explain to him everything the way I see it, I had me an audience fer a spell, I was in heaven! Here's what I think is going to happen, now dealing with people ya never can be sure you know!
Some people too lazy to sit on their arse and drive a Toyota Pick-up (I mean lift.) to put up stock, fill out the required information, and enter it into a computer. Okay now tell me . . . HOW LAZY IS THAT?
We got plenty of people that I'm 100% totally convinced that their lift's don't go all the way to the top!!!
So guess what, instead of working doing 4 Hours of production work, I'll be given the REALLY SUPER hard job of sitting on my arse, putting stock away, wow! Ain't life so fricking complicated, you just want to eat gummy bears and read Crime And Punishment!!! Glen
Sunday, February 3, 2013
(12) Summary, Thoughts, C. and P. Part One (I thru V)
I FEAR MANY DO NOT READ THIS BOOK BECAUSE IT'S DEFINITELY, NOT AN EASY READ. I'M OF AVERAGE INTELLIGENCE, NO HIGHER LEARNING OTHER THAN LIVING A SPELL. HELL! THAT'S LEARNING . . . FOR SURE! I'VE SUMMARIZED SEVEN CHAPTERS, PART ONE. THERE'S A HEAPING HELPING LEFT, AS IN 470 PAGES. I'VE ONLY BEGUN, THE TITLE OF THIS NOVEL IS . . . "CRIME .. . AND . . . PUNISHMENT.
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"He was as dark and dramatic as the great novels he wrote.
His prison experiences coupled with his conversion to a conservative and profound religious philosophy formed the basis for his great novels. But it was his fortitous marriage to Anna Snitkina, following a period of utter destitution brought about by his compulsive gambling, that gave Dostoevsky the emotional stability to complete Crime and Punishment." Peter Frank
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[[CHAPTER ONE]]
Raskolnikov a former student has been reduced to poverty, laying about for several weeks. He is in a very agitated state, unwilling to talk about money, not afraid of his landlady just not interested in listening to such trivial matters. Wondering to himself, "What are people most afraid of? A new step, their own new world, that's what they're most afraid of . . . I babble too much, however. That's why I don't do anything, because I babble. However, maybe it's like this: I babble because I don't do anything. I've learned to babble over this past month, lying in a corner day in and day out, thinking about cuckoo . . . land
(I THINK THE LAST FEW SENTENCES SET UP THE START OF THE BOOK NICELY.)
Stench from the many taverns in Petersburg does not help his troubled mind. He's off to see the pawnbroker Alyona Ivanova, dressed in clothes that others would not venture out in.
(I ABSOLUTELY MUST GIVE THE DESCRIPTION OF THIS WOMAN.)
"She was a tiny dried up crone, about sixty, with sharp, spiteful little eyes and a small, sharp nose. She was bareheaded, and her colorless and slightly graying hair was thickly greased. Her long, thin neck, which resembled a chicken's leg, was wrapped in some flannel rags, despite the heat, a fur-trimmed jacket, completely worn out, and yellowed with age, hung loosely from the shoulders. The old woman coughed and groaned all the time."
While pawning his father's watch, Raskolinov studies the apartment. After leaving he was troubled, he exclaimed:
" Oh God, how loathsome this all is! And can it be, can it be that I . . . no it's nonsense, it's absurd!" he added resolutely. "Could such horror really come into my head? But then, what filth my heart is capable of! . . . Above all, filth, nasty, vile, vile! . . . And for the whole month I . . ."
[[CHAPTER TWO]]
He goes into a tavern, after one drink his his mind clears.
Here Raskolinov encounters a man who looks possibly to be a retired official in his fifties, with some gray in his hair and a large bald spot, with a yellow, even greenish, face, swollen from constant drinking, his eyes shone, tiny as slits, but lively. Dressed in an old, completely ragged black frock coat. There was something very strange in him; HIS EYES SEEMED TO BE LIT WITH RAPTURE--perhaps there were sense and reason as well, but at the same time there seemed also to be A FLICKER OF MADNESS IN THEM. He looks at Raskolnikov and said loud and firmly:
"May I venture my dear sir, to engage you in a conversation of decency? My experience distinguishes in you an educated man, unaccustomed to drink. I am a titular councillor, (titular is the lowest grade of civil service.) Marmeladov--such is my name.
He sat down catercorner to him. He was drunk, but spoke loquaciously (very talkative) and glibly (smoothly) sometimes getting a bit confused. Seemed to Raskolnikov as though he had not talked to anyone for quite sometime.
Marmeladov talks on about everything pretty much this whole chapter. (Dostoevsky knows well about drunks. His father was one, thought killed by his own servants.) Marmeladov's addiction to drink ruins, his whole family. Not holding a job brings such poverty and hardships to Sonya his eldest daughter from his first wife, his second wife is dying of consumption (tuberculosis) and has three children from her previous marriage. (Dostoevsky paints a brilliant in depth picture of alcoholism's destruction to a family. Doestoesvsky's own wife died of consumption gives his first hand knowledge to the character Katerina Marmeladov.) The saddest part of this family is that Sonya Marmeladov at the age of 16 has to get a yellow card (showing her a prostitute) to feed her step mother as well and children, plus her drunken father. There seemed to be no other way for the destitute family to live because of Marmrladov's addiction. She's now forced to find lodgings elsewhere from shame. SHE'S FORCED INTO BEING THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB AS RASKOLNIKOV SEES IT. (PLEASE REMEMBER THAT.)
[[CHAPTER THREE]]
This chapter is about a letter from Raskolnikov's mother. She writes, "You are all Dunya (his sister) and I have. We were heartbroken to learn that you had left the university for lack of funds. The money I sent you four months ago was borrowed against my pension. I could not send you more until the debt was paid. Good fortune may allow me to send you more soon. Your sister has been living with me now for a month and a half, and in the future we shall not part again.
Dunya took a job as governess taking a years pay in advance, she suffered much in Mr. and Mrs.Svidrigailov's house. Dunya could not leave until the debt was paid. We deceived you last year, we wrote saying the money we sent you was from money Dunya had saved, but that was not so, now I am telling you the whole truth, so that you will know how much Dunya loves you. She took this position mainly in order to send you money which you so desperately needed then, now everything, by God's will, has suddenly changed for the better, and so that you will know how Dunya loves you, and what a precious heart she has."
(MR. SVIDGRIGAIL IS A MOST IMPORTANT ONE TO REMEMBER.)
(I'll shorten the letter from Pulcheria Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov's mother. I'll give you a taste of a rather lengthly letter.)
While under the influence of drink, Mr. Svidrigailov treated Dunya rudely, concealing his passion for her. He could not restrain himself and offered Dunya a proposition. He would abandon everything and go away with her. By chance Mrs. Svidrigailov overheard this discussion, misinterpreting everything laid the whole blame on Dunya, even striking Dunya! Dunya was dismissed.
Mrs. Svidrigailov ruined Dunya's name in the town, then Mr. Svidrigailov set the record straight with proof Dunya was innocent in a letter written before the overheard conversation in the garden, Mrs. Svidrigailov was so touched by the truth of the letter she went out of her way to make amends.She restores Dunya's honor and lay all the blame all on Mr, Svidrigailov.
A distant relative of Mrs, Svidrigailov has asked Dunya to marry him, a court councillor, Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin. A man of fourty five much older than Dunya who will soon move to Petersburg. The wedding is more of a consensual arrangement.
The overall tone of the letter disagrees terribly with Raskolnikov. Seems as though his mother and sister is betting their future on this man. Not discussing this matter with him is unacceptable. Dunya will not marry Pyotr Luzhin and the matter is closed as far as he is concerned. HIS THOUGHTS ARE THAT DUNYA HAS BECOME THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB FOR HER FAMILY GUARANTEEING HIS FUTURE FOR HIM AND HE WILL NOT HAVE IT! JUST AS SONYA MARMELADOV DID IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER!
While reading the letter Raskolnikov's face was wet with tears; in finishing, it was, pale, twisted convulsively, and a heavy, bilious, spiteful smile wandered over his lips. His heart was beating wildly, and the thoughts surged violently, he felt stifled, craving space, he left talking, whispering, to himself. Passers-by took him for drunk, making his way towards Vasilievsky Island.
I HAVE DRASTICALLY CURTAILED THIS CHAPTER, BUT HOPEFULLY KEPT ENOUGH OF THE MAIN POINTS. IF I CAN'T I'LL NEVER FINISH. I'M A WORKS IN PROCESS ATTEMPTING SOMETHING POSSIBLY, IMPOSSIBLE. I HOWEVER ENJOY A CHALLENGE! IF YOU HANG TOUGH WITH ME, WE'LL GET THROUGH IT. BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THE BEST IS YET TO COME!!!! Glen......... My hope is to get you the readers who have tried to read this complicated book to maybe, read along with me! That surely would tickle the cockles of my heart!
I WILL READ THE BOOK AND SHORTEN IT AS MUCH AS I CAN WITHOUT DESTROYING. (There is however little happenings that carry much meaning going on in between the main story line.)
IF I FEEL LIKE I CAN'T GET THERE WELL . . WE'LL HAVE TO SEE!
[[CHAPTER FOUR]]
Raskolinov, "This marriage will not take place as long as I live, and to the devil with Mr. Luzhin!
Anger boiled within, and the more he thought that if he met Mr. Luzhin, right then he might kill him! A whirlwind of thoughts were spinning. Dunya is selling herself for her brother and her mother's security that is clear, she'll sell herself, her moral feelings, freedom, peace of mind, even her conscience for her beloved family. Do you know, Dunya, that Sonya Marmeladov is no way worse than yours with Mr, Luzhin?"
He tormented himself with these thoughts. They had tortured him long ago and his present anguish ripened recently and become concentrated, taking the form of a horrible, wild, and fantastic question that tormented his heart and mind, demanding resolution.
A sudden realization hits him, forbid the marriage, what can he do? He has been fleecing them! The money borrowed from Svidrigailovs where Dunya had to endure so much . . . for him! He's in no position to help, old torments concerning these questions had long ago worn out his heart. Long, long ago this present anguish was born within. It's now ripened from growth, taking the form of a horribly wild and fantastic question that tormented his heart and mind, demanding resolution. His mother's letter struck him like a thunderbolt, he must do something without fail, quickly at all cost, or . . . "Or renounce life altogether!" he cried out. "Accept fate obediently as it is, once and for all, and stifle myself everything in myself, renouncing any right to act, to live, to love!"
"Do you understand, my dear sir, what it means when there is no place left to go?" He suddenly recalled Marmeladov's question from yesterday. "For it is necessary that every man have at least somewhere to go."
A thought "race through his head," but the difference was that a month ago, even yesterday, it was only a dream, but now . . . now it suddenly is not a dream, but in a new menacing, unfamiliar form. It hit him and everything went dark before his eyes. He wanted to sit down, and was looking for a bench.
There was a bench about a hundred steps ahead, he then spots a woman about twenty steps away, and notices something strange about this womam, and so striking that he became riveted on her--reluntantly at first, and then with annoyance. He wanted to understand what was so strange about her. She was very young and bareheaded, no parasol, no gloves, swinging her arms rediculously. Her dress was oddly put on, and torn behind at the waist, near the top of the skirt a whole strip had come away and hanging loosely. She was walking unsteady, reeling this way and that. The encounter aroused all of Raskolinov's attention. He caught up with her at the bench just as she collapsed on it at one end, apparently from extreme fatigue. She was drunk, how strange. She was young about sixteen, maybe fifteen, small, fair, pretty, but all flushed as if swollen. The girl seemed to understand very little, by all appearances unaware she was in the street.
Raskolnikov did not sit, and did not want to go away, he stood perplexed in front of her. The street was deserted from the heat of the day except for one gentlemen who had stopped, by all evidence would like to approach the girl with certain intentions! Raskolinov was hindering the man from approaching the girl and was looking at him angrily, waiting his turn. This was clear, Raskolnikov suddenly becomes terribly angry, he left the girl for moment to insult the fat dandy.
"Hey, you, what do you want here! "he shouted, clenching his teeth and laughing, foaming with spite. While arguing a policeman steps in between them. Raskolnikov takes the policeman to the bench, showing him the poor girl. The policeman understood all at once, "ah what a pity!" he said, shaking his head. "Seems quite a child still. Deceived, that's what it is. Listen, miss," he began calling her, "tell me, where you live?" She could not respond and simply waved her hand. "Miss, eh, miss?" the policeman tried again. Raskolnikov reached into his pocket handing the the policeman money for a coachman to take her home. "Shoo! . . . pests! . . ." she muttered, and again waved her hand,.
"Ah what a shame we've got in the world now! Lord! Such an ordinary young girl, she's been deceived, what depravity we've got nowadays! We've got many like that nowadays, she looks like one of the pampered ones, like a young lady, look at how her little dress is torn!" as the policeman looks at her.
"The main thing is to keep that scoundrel over there somehow, you can see what he wants of her!"
"Prevent him we can, sir, " the policeman replied assuredly. He tries once more to find her address.
"Pah! Shameless . . . pests!" she said, waving her arms once again, She rose from the bench, staggering in the direction she had come from.
"Don't worry, I won't let him sir, what depravity we've got nowadays!" the policeman said.
At that moment Raskolnikov mind made an about turn. "Forget it let the fat dandy have fun. What is it to you?"
(Important to show how Raskolnikov's mind can change from one moment to another.)
No matter what he just said it pained him terribly! He wished he could become totally oblivious of everything, and then wake up and start totally anew . .
"And where am I going?" Too see Razumikhin as if he just now understood where he was going.
Razumikhin a former university friend. Raskolnikov had almost no friends while at the university. He kept away from everyone, so they turned away from him. He was a zealous student, respected for it but no one liked him. He was poor, proud and unsocialable. Many fellow students felt as though he looked upon them as children, from above, as though he were ahead of them all in development, knowledge and in convictions, and that he regarded their convictions and interest as somrthing inferior.
Yet for some reason he became close with Razumikhin--that is, not really close, more socialable, more frank with him.
Razumikhin was an exceptionally cheerful, socialable fellow, kind to the point of simplicity. However this simplicity concealed both depth and dignity. His friends understood that; everyone loved him. His appearance was expressive--tall, thin, black-haired, always badly shaved. He could be violent on occasion and was a very strong man. Once he knocked down a six-and-a-half-foot policeman with one blow. Razumikhin was remarkable in that no setbacks ever stopped him, and no bad circumstances seemed able to crush him. He was very poor, supporting himself on his own, getting money by work of one sort or another. At present he too, had been forced to leave the university. Raskolnikov has not seen Razumikhin in four months. Two months ago they had chanced to meet in the street, but Raskolnikov turned away crossing to the other side of the street as not to be noticed. Razumikhin did notice, passed by, not wishing to trouble a fiend. (RAZUMIKHIN IS IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER.)
[[CHAPTER FIVE]]
Why he was going to see 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 did I really mean to have Razumikhin help me straighten everything out?" he asked in surprise.
After much reflection almost by chance he comes to the realization, "I will go to Razumikhin after THAT, once THAT is already finished and everything has taken a new course . . . " And suddenly he comes to his senses. "After THAT, " he cried out, "but will THAT be?"
He was about to go back home, but suddenly it seemed terribly disgusting; it was there where THAT had been so he just followed his nose.
His nervous trembling turned into some sort of feverishness; he began shivering; in such heat he was getting a chill. He kept walking unaware of where he was going, finding himself free of the stench and taverns.
Raskolnikov was quite out of touch. He found the greenness and freshness pleased him, soon the pleasant sensations turned painful and irritating. He went into an eating-house and drank a glass of vodka and ate a piece of pie. He had not drunk vodka for a long time, suddenly his feet become heavy, and he had a strong inclination to sleep. He started for home but stopped in complete exhaustion, left the road, went into the bushes, collapsed on the grass, and in a moment was asleep.
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Morbid dreams, are always long remembered and produce a long impression on the disturbed and the already excited organism of the person.
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(((THIS IS WHAT I WISH TO SAY ABOUT DREAMS. MANY PEOPLE SAY THEY DON'T REMEMBER THEIR DREAMS. I MOST CERTAINLY DREAM A LOT AND REMEMBER THE MOST ASTOUNDING ONES THAT LEAVE AN EVERLASTING INPRINT. WHEN I AWAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THESE DREAMS THE EMOTIONS ARE REAL!
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RASKOLNIKOV'S DREAM GOES ON THE BETTER PART OF SIX PAGES. I CANNOT SHORTEN AND DO IT JUSTICE. PLEASE VISIT CHAPTER FIVE OF MY POST "THE DREAM," OR IF YOU HAVE THE BOOK PLEASE READ IT YOU WON'T BE SORRY!
Raskolnikov wakes from the dream all in a sweat, his hair was damp, stands up filled with terror.
"Thank God it was only a dream!" he said while leaning back against a tree, drawing a deep breath. "But what's wrong? Am I coming down with a fever? Such a hideous dream!"
His whole body was as if broken; his soul was dark and troubled. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rest his chin in both hands.
"God!" he exclaimed, "but can it be, can it be, that that I will really take an axe and hit her on the head and smash her skull . . . slip in the sticky warm blood, break the lock, steal, and tremble, and hide all covered with blood . . . with the axe . . . Lord can it be?"
He was trembling like a leaf as he said it.
"I wouldn't dare! I couldn't endure it, I couldn't! . . . What has this been all along? . . ."
He was pale, exhausted, but he suddenly seemed to breath more easy as he walked toward home wondering how he got there. He felt he had thrown off the terrible burden that had weighed him down for so long, and his soul become light and peaceful. "Lord!" he pleaded, "show me my way; I renounce this cursed . . . dream of mine!"
He was now free of that spell as he walks along unaware of his fatigue as though an absess in his heart had been forming all month had suddenly burst.
Something is about to happen that predetermines his fate. Why did he returned home the longest way through the Haymarket where he had no need to go? An accidental encounter happens in the Haymarket comes at such an hour and such moment in his life to produce the most decisive and final effect on his entire fate? As if it had been waiting for him there on purpose!
It was late as he walked through the Haymarket, the merchants were locking up, removing their tables packing away their wares. Raskolnikov liked these places near the taverns, his ragged clothing attracted no attention. He happens upon a tradesman and his wife discussing business with Lizaveta Ivanova, the younger sister of the same old woman, Alyona Ivanova, the pawnbroker. Upon seeing Lizaveta deep amazement overcomes him. He overhears them telling Lizaveta to return between six and seven tomorrow to claose a sales.She often buys and sales for a small commission.
Raskolnikov's amazement upon hearing the conversation gave way to horror, a chill was running down his spine. He had learned all at once that the old woman WOULD BE LEFT AT HOME ALONE.
He was not far from his place. He walked in like a man condemned to deah. He was totally unable to reason; but he suddenly felt with his whole being that he no longer had any freedom either of mind or of will, and that everything had been suddenly and finally decided.
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"He was as dark and dramatic as the great novels he wrote.
His prison experiences coupled with his conversion to a conservative and profound religious philosophy formed the basis for his great novels. But it was his fortitous marriage to Anna Snitkina, following a period of utter destitution brought about by his compulsive gambling, that gave Dostoevsky the emotional stability to complete Crime and Punishment." Peter Frank
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[[CHAPTER ONE]]
Raskolnikov a former student has been reduced to poverty, laying about for several weeks. He is in a very agitated state, unwilling to talk about money, not afraid of his landlady just not interested in listening to such trivial matters. Wondering to himself, "What are people most afraid of? A new step, their own new world, that's what they're most afraid of . . . I babble too much, however. That's why I don't do anything, because I babble. However, maybe it's like this: I babble because I don't do anything. I've learned to babble over this past month, lying in a corner day in and day out, thinking about cuckoo . . . land
(I THINK THE LAST FEW SENTENCES SET UP THE START OF THE BOOK NICELY.)
Stench from the many taverns in Petersburg does not help his troubled mind. He's off to see the pawnbroker Alyona Ivanova, dressed in clothes that others would not venture out in.
(I ABSOLUTELY MUST GIVE THE DESCRIPTION OF THIS WOMAN.)
"She was a tiny dried up crone, about sixty, with sharp, spiteful little eyes and a small, sharp nose. She was bareheaded, and her colorless and slightly graying hair was thickly greased. Her long, thin neck, which resembled a chicken's leg, was wrapped in some flannel rags, despite the heat, a fur-trimmed jacket, completely worn out, and yellowed with age, hung loosely from the shoulders. The old woman coughed and groaned all the time."
While pawning his father's watch, Raskolinov studies the apartment. After leaving he was troubled, he exclaimed:
" Oh God, how loathsome this all is! And can it be, can it be that I . . . no it's nonsense, it's absurd!" he added resolutely. "Could such horror really come into my head? But then, what filth my heart is capable of! . . . Above all, filth, nasty, vile, vile! . . . And for the whole month I . . ."
[[CHAPTER TWO]]
He goes into a tavern, after one drink his his mind clears.
Here Raskolinov encounters a man who looks possibly to be a retired official in his fifties, with some gray in his hair and a large bald spot, with a yellow, even greenish, face, swollen from constant drinking, his eyes shone, tiny as slits, but lively. Dressed in an old, completely ragged black frock coat. There was something very strange in him; HIS EYES SEEMED TO BE LIT WITH RAPTURE--perhaps there were sense and reason as well, but at the same time there seemed also to be A FLICKER OF MADNESS IN THEM. He looks at Raskolnikov and said loud and firmly:
"May I venture my dear sir, to engage you in a conversation of decency? My experience distinguishes in you an educated man, unaccustomed to drink. I am a titular councillor, (titular is the lowest grade of civil service.) Marmeladov--such is my name.
He sat down catercorner to him. He was drunk, but spoke loquaciously (very talkative) and glibly (smoothly) sometimes getting a bit confused. Seemed to Raskolnikov as though he had not talked to anyone for quite sometime.
Marmeladov talks on about everything pretty much this whole chapter. (Dostoevsky knows well about drunks. His father was one, thought killed by his own servants.) Marmeladov's addiction to drink ruins, his whole family. Not holding a job brings such poverty and hardships to Sonya his eldest daughter from his first wife, his second wife is dying of consumption (tuberculosis) and has three children from her previous marriage. (Dostoevsky paints a brilliant in depth picture of alcoholism's destruction to a family. Doestoesvsky's own wife died of consumption gives his first hand knowledge to the character Katerina Marmeladov.) The saddest part of this family is that Sonya Marmeladov at the age of 16 has to get a yellow card (showing her a prostitute) to feed her step mother as well and children, plus her drunken father. There seemed to be no other way for the destitute family to live because of Marmrladov's addiction. She's now forced to find lodgings elsewhere from shame. SHE'S FORCED INTO BEING THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB AS RASKOLNIKOV SEES IT. (PLEASE REMEMBER THAT.)
[[CHAPTER THREE]]
This chapter is about a letter from Raskolnikov's mother. She writes, "You are all Dunya (his sister) and I have. We were heartbroken to learn that you had left the university for lack of funds. The money I sent you four months ago was borrowed against my pension. I could not send you more until the debt was paid. Good fortune may allow me to send you more soon. Your sister has been living with me now for a month and a half, and in the future we shall not part again.
Dunya took a job as governess taking a years pay in advance, she suffered much in Mr. and Mrs.Svidrigailov's house. Dunya could not leave until the debt was paid. We deceived you last year, we wrote saying the money we sent you was from money Dunya had saved, but that was not so, now I am telling you the whole truth, so that you will know how much Dunya loves you. She took this position mainly in order to send you money which you so desperately needed then, now everything, by God's will, has suddenly changed for the better, and so that you will know how Dunya loves you, and what a precious heart she has."
(MR. SVIDGRIGAIL IS A MOST IMPORTANT ONE TO REMEMBER.)
(I'll shorten the letter from Pulcheria Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov's mother. I'll give you a taste of a rather lengthly letter.)
While under the influence of drink, Mr. Svidrigailov treated Dunya rudely, concealing his passion for her. He could not restrain himself and offered Dunya a proposition. He would abandon everything and go away with her. By chance Mrs. Svidrigailov overheard this discussion, misinterpreting everything laid the whole blame on Dunya, even striking Dunya! Dunya was dismissed.
Mrs. Svidrigailov ruined Dunya's name in the town, then Mr. Svidrigailov set the record straight with proof Dunya was innocent in a letter written before the overheard conversation in the garden, Mrs. Svidrigailov was so touched by the truth of the letter she went out of her way to make amends.She restores Dunya's honor and lay all the blame all on Mr, Svidrigailov.
A distant relative of Mrs, Svidrigailov has asked Dunya to marry him, a court councillor, Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin. A man of fourty five much older than Dunya who will soon move to Petersburg. The wedding is more of a consensual arrangement.
The overall tone of the letter disagrees terribly with Raskolnikov. Seems as though his mother and sister is betting their future on this man. Not discussing this matter with him is unacceptable. Dunya will not marry Pyotr Luzhin and the matter is closed as far as he is concerned. HIS THOUGHTS ARE THAT DUNYA HAS BECOME THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB FOR HER FAMILY GUARANTEEING HIS FUTURE FOR HIM AND HE WILL NOT HAVE IT! JUST AS SONYA MARMELADOV DID IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER!
While reading the letter Raskolnikov's face was wet with tears; in finishing, it was, pale, twisted convulsively, and a heavy, bilious, spiteful smile wandered over his lips. His heart was beating wildly, and the thoughts surged violently, he felt stifled, craving space, he left talking, whispering, to himself. Passers-by took him for drunk, making his way towards Vasilievsky Island.
I HAVE DRASTICALLY CURTAILED THIS CHAPTER, BUT HOPEFULLY KEPT ENOUGH OF THE MAIN POINTS. IF I CAN'T I'LL NEVER FINISH. I'M A WORKS IN PROCESS ATTEMPTING SOMETHING POSSIBLY, IMPOSSIBLE. I HOWEVER ENJOY A CHALLENGE! IF YOU HANG TOUGH WITH ME, WE'LL GET THROUGH IT. BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THE BEST IS YET TO COME!!!! Glen......... My hope is to get you the readers who have tried to read this complicated book to maybe, read along with me! That surely would tickle the cockles of my heart!
I WILL READ THE BOOK AND SHORTEN IT AS MUCH AS I CAN WITHOUT DESTROYING. (There is however little happenings that carry much meaning going on in between the main story line.)
IF I FEEL LIKE I CAN'T GET THERE WELL . . WE'LL HAVE TO SEE!
[[CHAPTER FOUR]]
Raskolinov, "This marriage will not take place as long as I live, and to the devil with Mr. Luzhin!
Anger boiled within, and the more he thought that if he met Mr. Luzhin, right then he might kill him! A whirlwind of thoughts were spinning. Dunya is selling herself for her brother and her mother's security that is clear, she'll sell herself, her moral feelings, freedom, peace of mind, even her conscience for her beloved family. Do you know, Dunya, that Sonya Marmeladov is no way worse than yours with Mr, Luzhin?"
He tormented himself with these thoughts. They had tortured him long ago and his present anguish ripened recently and become concentrated, taking the form of a horrible, wild, and fantastic question that tormented his heart and mind, demanding resolution.
A sudden realization hits him, forbid the marriage, what can he do? He has been fleecing them! The money borrowed from Svidrigailovs where Dunya had to endure so much . . . for him! He's in no position to help, old torments concerning these questions had long ago worn out his heart. Long, long ago this present anguish was born within. It's now ripened from growth, taking the form of a horribly wild and fantastic question that tormented his heart and mind, demanding resolution. His mother's letter struck him like a thunderbolt, he must do something without fail, quickly at all cost, or . . . "Or renounce life altogether!" he cried out. "Accept fate obediently as it is, once and for all, and stifle myself everything in myself, renouncing any right to act, to live, to love!"
"Do you understand, my dear sir, what it means when there is no place left to go?" He suddenly recalled Marmeladov's question from yesterday. "For it is necessary that every man have at least somewhere to go."
A thought "race through his head," but the difference was that a month ago, even yesterday, it was only a dream, but now . . . now it suddenly is not a dream, but in a new menacing, unfamiliar form. It hit him and everything went dark before his eyes. He wanted to sit down, and was looking for a bench.
There was a bench about a hundred steps ahead, he then spots a woman about twenty steps away, and notices something strange about this womam, and so striking that he became riveted on her--reluntantly at first, and then with annoyance. He wanted to understand what was so strange about her. She was very young and bareheaded, no parasol, no gloves, swinging her arms rediculously. Her dress was oddly put on, and torn behind at the waist, near the top of the skirt a whole strip had come away and hanging loosely. She was walking unsteady, reeling this way and that. The encounter aroused all of Raskolinov's attention. He caught up with her at the bench just as she collapsed on it at one end, apparently from extreme fatigue. She was drunk, how strange. She was young about sixteen, maybe fifteen, small, fair, pretty, but all flushed as if swollen. The girl seemed to understand very little, by all appearances unaware she was in the street.
Raskolnikov did not sit, and did not want to go away, he stood perplexed in front of her. The street was deserted from the heat of the day except for one gentlemen who had stopped, by all evidence would like to approach the girl with certain intentions! Raskolinov was hindering the man from approaching the girl and was looking at him angrily, waiting his turn. This was clear, Raskolnikov suddenly becomes terribly angry, he left the girl for moment to insult the fat dandy.
"Hey, you, what do you want here! "he shouted, clenching his teeth and laughing, foaming with spite. While arguing a policeman steps in between them. Raskolnikov takes the policeman to the bench, showing him the poor girl. The policeman understood all at once, "ah what a pity!" he said, shaking his head. "Seems quite a child still. Deceived, that's what it is. Listen, miss," he began calling her, "tell me, where you live?" She could not respond and simply waved her hand. "Miss, eh, miss?" the policeman tried again. Raskolnikov reached into his pocket handing the the policeman money for a coachman to take her home. "Shoo! . . . pests! . . ." she muttered, and again waved her hand,.
"Ah what a shame we've got in the world now! Lord! Such an ordinary young girl, she's been deceived, what depravity we've got nowadays! We've got many like that nowadays, she looks like one of the pampered ones, like a young lady, look at how her little dress is torn!" as the policeman looks at her.
"The main thing is to keep that scoundrel over there somehow, you can see what he wants of her!"
"Prevent him we can, sir, " the policeman replied assuredly. He tries once more to find her address.
"Pah! Shameless . . . pests!" she said, waving her arms once again, She rose from the bench, staggering in the direction she had come from.
"Don't worry, I won't let him sir, what depravity we've got nowadays!" the policeman said.
At that moment Raskolnikov mind made an about turn. "Forget it let the fat dandy have fun. What is it to you?"
(Important to show how Raskolnikov's mind can change from one moment to another.)
No matter what he just said it pained him terribly! He wished he could become totally oblivious of everything, and then wake up and start totally anew . .
"And where am I going?" Too see Razumikhin as if he just now understood where he was going.
Razumikhin a former university friend. Raskolnikov had almost no friends while at the university. He kept away from everyone, so they turned away from him. He was a zealous student, respected for it but no one liked him. He was poor, proud and unsocialable. Many fellow students felt as though he looked upon them as children, from above, as though he were ahead of them all in development, knowledge and in convictions, and that he regarded their convictions and interest as somrthing inferior.
Yet for some reason he became close with Razumikhin--that is, not really close, more socialable, more frank with him.
Razumikhin was an exceptionally cheerful, socialable fellow, kind to the point of simplicity. However this simplicity concealed both depth and dignity. His friends understood that; everyone loved him. His appearance was expressive--tall, thin, black-haired, always badly shaved. He could be violent on occasion and was a very strong man. Once he knocked down a six-and-a-half-foot policeman with one blow. Razumikhin was remarkable in that no setbacks ever stopped him, and no bad circumstances seemed able to crush him. He was very poor, supporting himself on his own, getting money by work of one sort or another. At present he too, had been forced to leave the university. Raskolnikov has not seen Razumikhin in four months. Two months ago they had chanced to meet in the street, but Raskolnikov turned away crossing to the other side of the street as not to be noticed. Razumikhin did notice, passed by, not wishing to trouble a fiend. (RAZUMIKHIN IS IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER.)
[[CHAPTER FIVE]]
Why he was going to see 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 did I really mean to have Razumikhin help me straighten everything out?" he asked in surprise.
After much reflection almost by chance he comes to the realization, "I will go to Razumikhin after THAT, once THAT is already finished and everything has taken a new course . . . " And suddenly he comes to his senses. "After THAT, " he cried out, "but will THAT be?"
He was about to go back home, but suddenly it seemed terribly disgusting; it was there where THAT had been so he just followed his nose.
His nervous trembling turned into some sort of feverishness; he began shivering; in such heat he was getting a chill. He kept walking unaware of where he was going, finding himself free of the stench and taverns.
Raskolnikov was quite out of touch. He found the greenness and freshness pleased him, soon the pleasant sensations turned painful and irritating. He went into an eating-house and drank a glass of vodka and ate a piece of pie. He had not drunk vodka for a long time, suddenly his feet become heavy, and he had a strong inclination to sleep. He started for home but stopped in complete exhaustion, left the road, went into the bushes, collapsed on the grass, and in a moment was asleep.
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Morbid dreams, are always long remembered and produce a long impression on the disturbed and the already excited organism of the person.
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(((THIS IS WHAT I WISH TO SAY ABOUT DREAMS. MANY PEOPLE SAY THEY DON'T REMEMBER THEIR DREAMS. I MOST CERTAINLY DREAM A LOT AND REMEMBER THE MOST ASTOUNDING ONES THAT LEAVE AN EVERLASTING INPRINT. WHEN I AWAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THESE DREAMS THE EMOTIONS ARE REAL!
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RASKOLNIKOV'S DREAM GOES ON THE BETTER PART OF SIX PAGES. I CANNOT SHORTEN AND DO IT JUSTICE. PLEASE VISIT CHAPTER FIVE OF MY POST "THE DREAM," OR IF YOU HAVE THE BOOK PLEASE READ IT YOU WON'T BE SORRY!
Raskolnikov wakes from the dream all in a sweat, his hair was damp, stands up filled with terror.
"Thank God it was only a dream!" he said while leaning back against a tree, drawing a deep breath. "But what's wrong? Am I coming down with a fever? Such a hideous dream!"
His whole body was as if broken; his soul was dark and troubled. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rest his chin in both hands.
"God!" he exclaimed, "but can it be, can it be, that that I will really take an axe and hit her on the head and smash her skull . . . slip in the sticky warm blood, break the lock, steal, and tremble, and hide all covered with blood . . . with the axe . . . Lord can it be?"
He was trembling like a leaf as he said it.
"I wouldn't dare! I couldn't endure it, I couldn't! . . . What has this been all along? . . ."
He was pale, exhausted, but he suddenly seemed to breath more easy as he walked toward home wondering how he got there. He felt he had thrown off the terrible burden that had weighed him down for so long, and his soul become light and peaceful. "Lord!" he pleaded, "show me my way; I renounce this cursed . . . dream of mine!"
He was now free of that spell as he walks along unaware of his fatigue as though an absess in his heart had been forming all month had suddenly burst.
Something is about to happen that predetermines his fate. Why did he returned home the longest way through the Haymarket where he had no need to go? An accidental encounter happens in the Haymarket comes at such an hour and such moment in his life to produce the most decisive and final effect on his entire fate? As if it had been waiting for him there on purpose!
It was late as he walked through the Haymarket, the merchants were locking up, removing their tables packing away their wares. Raskolnikov liked these places near the taverns, his ragged clothing attracted no attention. He happens upon a tradesman and his wife discussing business with Lizaveta Ivanova, the younger sister of the same old woman, Alyona Ivanova, the pawnbroker. Upon seeing Lizaveta deep amazement overcomes him. He overhears them telling Lizaveta to return between six and seven tomorrow to claose a sales.She often buys and sales for a small commission.
Raskolnikov's amazement upon hearing the conversation gave way to horror, a chill was running down his spine. He had learned all at once that the old woman WOULD BE LEFT AT HOME ALONE.
He was not far from his place. He walked in like a man condemned to deah. He was totally unable to reason; but he suddenly felt with his whole being that he no longer had any freedom either of mind or of will, and that everything had been suddenly and finally decided.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Snookered
SNOOKERED, oopsey no snookered in my small dictionary. I found SNOOKER, which is a variety of the game of pool. Well that does me no good, I don't play pool. [Slang] to deceive
Mercy sakes, there has to be more meanings than that, I'll try in my bigger dictionary. SNOOKER, a variety of the game of pool played with fifteen red balls and six other balls. Behind definition number two is, to thwart or defeat. Number three is that [Slang] deceive
We're a learning now, ain't we? I like to go one definition above the word to, to, to, just have fun.
SNOOK, the gesture in thumbing one's nose in defiance or derision.
THAT SOUNDS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE HOLDING UP YOUR MIDDLE FINGER GESTURE, YOU KNOW.
Chiefly in COCK A SNOOK AT to indicate contempt by this gesture. Damn! Ain't we a learning now boys and girls?
PLEASE TELL ME IT AIN'T JUST ME "COCK A SNOOK" IS RIGHT FUNNY!
I must WARN you sometimes I get A tad outta control from old-fashion hand-held dictionary, always have it was a game to me as a kid, you see my eyes would lock in on some mighty unusual words for a young-in, they still do. Please try to stay with me now, as I show you my little late night game. It's important to remember I call myself "The Midnight Rider, (whoops) Writer."
So I'm playing aRoUnD (Gotcha didn't I.) with snook typing boys and girls, well now being the clut I am at the keyboard, I type giel for girl, So I say to myself, "reckon there is a word, GIEL?" I look for GIEL, while looking for GIEL I see DHOLE at the top of my dictionary.
DHOLE, a red-colored wild dog of central and E Asia (I've not seen the word E ASIA before maybe I should look that up, oh, oh, oh, never mind East Asia, well why didn't they say so then #%&*ing dick headed dictionary pisses me off sometimes!)
Lookee here, above DHOLE is DHOBI. Dhobi, shining white, in India means a person who does laundry.
Please tell me now, are you gonna run across brains like mine anywhere else late night? "I'm The Midnight Writer."
THIS-SA ISSA STARTING TO GET GOOOD OR CUCKOOO SEEMS TO BE PLAYING OVER AND OVER!
"WHERE ELSE YA GONNA COME ACROSS SUCH UN-PERTINENT (is that even a word?) INFORMATION? REMEMBURR YOU'RE ON GLENVIEW. ( I think!)
I know I got you on the ropes now, I'm working you hard for ten rounds, so when you fall to sleep while reading this you can thank "The Midnight Writer." Better than sleeping pills. I remember a movie but I can't at this second remember the title, hopefully it'll cross my memory or perhaps not! Any way Will Smith and his sidekick the brains of the outfit (Not like me!) mosey on up in an alien spacecraft and download, or would it be upload since they went up? Damn! Damn! Damn! They placed an un-answerable equation into the alien computer. It fucked them up but good!
Now where I be? I know you no longer care! I have a hankering (I know, cute word!) to check out that word GIEL, boys and girls, or should I say co-horts or enemies, bout now!
HEY I DON'T PLAN THIS SHIT!!! I JUST LET IT FLY!
DO YOU REALLY THINK THIS CAN BE ORCHESTRATED? CAN'T YOU IMAGINE WHAT THE CONDUCTOR/WHATEVER WOULD LOOK LIKE? OH YEAH, I HAVE A SKETCH OF HIM ON MY SIDEBAR TAKEN AROUND ???? REMEMBER THE MOVIE "STAYING ALIVE." THE BEE GEES HAD THE HOTTEST ALBUM, THERE WAS THIS MUSIC CALLED DISCO. THAT WAS A NICE LITTLE TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE! WELL ADD SOME WEIGHT, REAL SHORT GRAY HAIR, AND THAT BE ME TODAY. I'M NOT AS SCARY LOOKING AS I WRITE!
As close to GIEL I could is GIE. Gied, or gae, gien, (At first glance I thought it said glen, because I didn't have my bifocals tuned in. I got all happy fer nuthin!) or gieing [Scot. or North Eng.] to give.
WE'RE SURE A LEARNING HISTORY TONIGHT AREN'T WE BUOYS AND GIELS? (TYPO'S BUT I LIKE 'EM .
SOO, I'MMA FORCED TO GO TO ME COMPUTER FOR CLARIFICATION ABOUT THIS HERE SNOOKERING THING. I COME ACROSS SOMETHING CALLED "URBAN DICTIONARY?"
SNOOKERED, to be exhausted (Yep I am!) ((Correction I reckon, I could also be known bout now as "The Exhauster.")) or in a bad situation, snookered is a broadly used term with a variety of meanings. A common definition of snookered is commonly used in the phrase "fucking snookered," (absolutely fucked") another and a personal favorite of yours truly, "UP SHIT CREEK, WITHOUT A PADDLE!" Others but not quite as, as, as, colorful are fooled, tipsy, drunk, inebriated.
Damn I be windy tonight! I done all this rambling and never got around to the true story at work that started all this meandering madness.
I no longer work the graveyard shift, I work the almost dead shift as in evening shift. (haha) I work enough hours on days to throw a monkey wrench in their finely oiled machine. (Place big HA! HA! HERE.)
IF ANYBODY BE INTERESTED IN THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY WHERE I GOT SNOOKERED AND CAUSED A BIG UPROAR ON DAY SHIFT, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.
Mercy sakes, there has to be more meanings than that, I'll try in my bigger dictionary. SNOOKER, a variety of the game of pool played with fifteen red balls and six other balls. Behind definition number two is, to thwart or defeat. Number three is that [Slang] deceive
We're a learning now, ain't we? I like to go one definition above the word to, to, to, just have fun.
SNOOK, the gesture in thumbing one's nose in defiance or derision.
THAT SOUNDS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE HOLDING UP YOUR MIDDLE FINGER GESTURE, YOU KNOW.
Chiefly in COCK A SNOOK AT to indicate contempt by this gesture. Damn! Ain't we a learning now boys and girls?
PLEASE TELL ME IT AIN'T JUST ME "COCK A SNOOK" IS RIGHT FUNNY!
I must WARN you sometimes I get A tad outta control from old-fashion hand-held dictionary, always have it was a game to me as a kid, you see my eyes would lock in on some mighty unusual words for a young-in, they still do. Please try to stay with me now, as I show you my little late night game. It's important to remember I call myself "The Midnight Rider, (whoops) Writer."
So I'm playing aRoUnD (Gotcha didn't I.) with snook typing boys and girls, well now being the clut I am at the keyboard, I type giel for girl, So I say to myself, "reckon there is a word, GIEL?" I look for GIEL, while looking for GIEL I see DHOLE at the top of my dictionary.
DHOLE, a red-colored wild dog of central and E Asia (I've not seen the word E ASIA before maybe I should look that up, oh, oh, oh, never mind East Asia, well why didn't they say so then #%&*ing dick headed dictionary pisses me off sometimes!)
Lookee here, above DHOLE is DHOBI. Dhobi, shining white, in India means a person who does laundry.
Please tell me now, are you gonna run across brains like mine anywhere else late night? "I'm The Midnight Writer."
THIS-SA ISSA STARTING TO GET GOOOD OR CUCKOOO SEEMS TO BE PLAYING OVER AND OVER!
"WHERE ELSE YA GONNA COME ACROSS SUCH UN-PERTINENT (is that even a word?) INFORMATION? REMEMBURR YOU'RE ON GLENVIEW. ( I think!)
I know I got you on the ropes now, I'm working you hard for ten rounds, so when you fall to sleep while reading this you can thank "The Midnight Writer." Better than sleeping pills. I remember a movie but I can't at this second remember the title, hopefully it'll cross my memory or perhaps not! Any way Will Smith and his sidekick the brains of the outfit (Not like me!) mosey on up in an alien spacecraft and download, or would it be upload since they went up? Damn! Damn! Damn! They placed an un-answerable equation into the alien computer. It fucked them up but good!
Now where I be? I know you no longer care! I have a hankering (I know, cute word!) to check out that word GIEL, boys and girls, or should I say co-horts or enemies, bout now!
HEY I DON'T PLAN THIS SHIT!!! I JUST LET IT FLY!
DO YOU REALLY THINK THIS CAN BE ORCHESTRATED? CAN'T YOU IMAGINE WHAT THE CONDUCTOR/WHATEVER WOULD LOOK LIKE? OH YEAH, I HAVE A SKETCH OF HIM ON MY SIDEBAR TAKEN AROUND ???? REMEMBER THE MOVIE "STAYING ALIVE." THE BEE GEES HAD THE HOTTEST ALBUM, THERE WAS THIS MUSIC CALLED DISCO. THAT WAS A NICE LITTLE TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE! WELL ADD SOME WEIGHT, REAL SHORT GRAY HAIR, AND THAT BE ME TODAY. I'M NOT AS SCARY LOOKING AS I WRITE!
As close to GIEL I could is GIE. Gied, or gae, gien, (At first glance I thought it said glen, because I didn't have my bifocals tuned in. I got all happy fer nuthin!) or gieing [Scot. or North Eng.] to give.
WE'RE SURE A LEARNING HISTORY TONIGHT AREN'T WE BUOYS AND GIELS? (TYPO'S BUT I LIKE 'EM .
SOO, I'MMA FORCED TO GO TO ME COMPUTER FOR CLARIFICATION ABOUT THIS HERE SNOOKERING THING. I COME ACROSS SOMETHING CALLED "URBAN DICTIONARY?"
SNOOKERED, to be exhausted (Yep I am!) ((Correction I reckon, I could also be known bout now as "The Exhauster.")) or in a bad situation, snookered is a broadly used term with a variety of meanings. A common definition of snookered is commonly used in the phrase "fucking snookered," (absolutely fucked") another and a personal favorite of yours truly, "UP SHIT CREEK, WITHOUT A PADDLE!" Others but not quite as, as, as, colorful are fooled, tipsy, drunk, inebriated.
Damn I be windy tonight! I done all this rambling and never got around to the true story at work that started all this meandering madness.
I no longer work the graveyard shift, I work the almost dead shift as in evening shift. (haha) I work enough hours on days to throw a monkey wrench in their finely oiled machine. (Place big HA! HA! HERE.)
IF ANYBODY BE INTERESTED IN THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY WHERE I GOT SNOOKERED AND CAUSED A BIG UPROAR ON DAY SHIFT, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.
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