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.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Punishment
Hello my friends and I do mean that! If I say, IF y'all come back and visit here on GlenView, then I call you friends. You're most likely saying to yourself, "did that old fart write what I think he wrote?"
My answer is, "yep!" I never know beforehand what my old fingers gonna say. Right now I can't use one of my fingers, a silly accident at work. Ya see they got this old man doing maintenance on one of their important machines, "Do you believe that?" And they now how silly I be! Ain't that a hoot! That proves how silly they be!
Okay back to the finger, I had me finger where it shouldn't be, yes, yes, yes, I know better, but old people reflexes ain't as good as they once was. Anywhoo, how, whatever, it pulled most of my fingernail loose. It happened "faster than greased lightning." Hell I don't know what that means ceptin, I reckon lightning be pretty dag-gone fast, right? Now if you could grease the path of lightning would it be faster? Never mind just something I heard in my childhood from my daddy's side of the family.
Well it did feel like a hornet stung me right good, but not for long. It did bleed quite a bit. I kept right on a working never missed a lick. I had to rewrap it a few times cause it kept on a bleeding. I wrapped it over and over because that blood just kept a oozing. To shorten this story to nowhere. I have had paper cuts that hurt worse than pulling off my fingernail. Ya see here is what Doctor Glen thinks. I take blood pressure medicine and it thins the blood right? Even though my finger bleeds what appeared to be quite a bit, that there blood slowly oozing out, kept from getting infected. My finger never swelled a tad ain't that swell?
Let's see if I can change the subject. I'm still working on my Crime And Punishment summary. Let me just say, "that be, sum book, and sum of them characters, may be sillier than me." Take sum of them characters and they sum up most of the book. So if I remember me schoolin days. The sum = the sum of all and that has to = sumthing.
Don't you out here in blogdom find it a mite funny, no not me. Although one of Fyodor Dostoesky's books was titled The Idiot. Maybe I could write my own version today and call it The Idiot, and be the main character, because y'all already know I'm a character, a real character in my own reality. Ain't that scary?
I been a rambling so much and am not sure if I was trying to make a point or not! Maybe I'll go back and review to see if I missed sumthing.
You know I just been thinking, ah, oh! I know! "Well now if I have read and summarized part one, of seven, and the crime has been committed. What in the hell is in the other six parts + the epilogue? Well common sense tells ya, well not all have common sense. Well that sentence I just wrote don't make sense! If most of the people in the world are commoners so to speak as in working, paying taxes, raising children, just trying to survive. Not bankers, lawyers, politicians, lobbyist, in the software business, kings, queens, presidents of companies, you get the picture then we should have common sense. I'm confused and am not going to reread what I just wrote.
Okay in summary we have a book called The Idiot, or Dostoevsky's first book called Poor Folk, then we expect the titles to be reminiscent of sum of the book, SO WE HAVE SEEN THE CRIME PART. Then surely to God the rest of the book be a talkin about Purgatory, as in Punishment, I CERTAINLY HOPE SO!
PURGE, means to cleanse of sin.
PURGATIVE, means cathartic.
PURGATORY, means, a place after death, in some doctrine, for expiating sins by suffering.
Damn I do ramble on don't I? SO WE HAVE 450 PAGES TO SEE SUFFERING, AND MANY OTHER TWISTS, TURNS, PLUS SOME GOOD STUFF. Goodnight my friends
My answer is, "yep!" I never know beforehand what my old fingers gonna say. Right now I can't use one of my fingers, a silly accident at work. Ya see they got this old man doing maintenance on one of their important machines, "Do you believe that?" And they now how silly I be! Ain't that a hoot! That proves how silly they be!
Okay back to the finger, I had me finger where it shouldn't be, yes, yes, yes, I know better, but old people reflexes ain't as good as they once was. Anywhoo, how, whatever, it pulled most of my fingernail loose. It happened "faster than greased lightning." Hell I don't know what that means ceptin, I reckon lightning be pretty dag-gone fast, right? Now if you could grease the path of lightning would it be faster? Never mind just something I heard in my childhood from my daddy's side of the family.
Well it did feel like a hornet stung me right good, but not for long. It did bleed quite a bit. I kept right on a working never missed a lick. I had to rewrap it a few times cause it kept on a bleeding. I wrapped it over and over because that blood just kept a oozing. To shorten this story to nowhere. I have had paper cuts that hurt worse than pulling off my fingernail. Ya see here is what Doctor Glen thinks. I take blood pressure medicine and it thins the blood right? Even though my finger bleeds what appeared to be quite a bit, that there blood slowly oozing out, kept from getting infected. My finger never swelled a tad ain't that swell?
Let's see if I can change the subject. I'm still working on my Crime And Punishment summary. Let me just say, "that be, sum book, and sum of them characters, may be sillier than me." Take sum of them characters and they sum up most of the book. So if I remember me schoolin days. The sum = the sum of all and that has to = sumthing.
Don't you out here in blogdom find it a mite funny, no not me. Although one of Fyodor Dostoesky's books was titled The Idiot. Maybe I could write my own version today and call it The Idiot, and be the main character, because y'all already know I'm a character, a real character in my own reality. Ain't that scary?
I been a rambling so much and am not sure if I was trying to make a point or not! Maybe I'll go back and review to see if I missed sumthing.
You know I just been thinking, ah, oh! I know! "Well now if I have read and summarized part one, of seven, and the crime has been committed. What in the hell is in the other six parts + the epilogue? Well common sense tells ya, well not all have common sense. Well that sentence I just wrote don't make sense! If most of the people in the world are commoners so to speak as in working, paying taxes, raising children, just trying to survive. Not bankers, lawyers, politicians, lobbyist, in the software business, kings, queens, presidents of companies, you get the picture then we should have common sense. I'm confused and am not going to reread what I just wrote.
Okay in summary we have a book called The Idiot, or Dostoevsky's first book called Poor Folk, then we expect the titles to be reminiscent of sum of the book, SO WE HAVE SEEN THE CRIME PART. Then surely to God the rest of the book be a talkin about Purgatory, as in Punishment, I CERTAINLY HOPE SO!
PURGE, means to cleanse of sin.
PURGATIVE, means cathartic.
PURGATORY, means, a place after death, in some doctrine, for expiating sins by suffering.
Damn I do ramble on don't I? SO WE HAVE 450 PAGES TO SEE SUFFERING, AND MANY OTHER TWISTS, TURNS, PLUS SOME GOOD STUFF. Goodnight my friends
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Spell Check
Wasn't that a silly little piece of insanity yesterday? "Yep!" "Sure nuff!" As a couple voices in my head speak out!
Back by unpopular demand here's JOE, as in Joe Pesky.
"Okay! okay! okay! What the &%#k was you going for in that last post, Glenny Boy, you lame brain idiot! You made all of us, includind yourself look stupid. I had a delicate kind of conversation with Mrs. Spell Check. You know what, there off line baby, yep the big Kahuna General Proper cannot locate them. He personally hacked into your Hewie Packardo modem. He can't find a trace seems they have flew through the wire into oblivion. The only info on them is this fuzzy incoherent Spell Check secret coded alert e-mail. It sometimes makes sense then it goes haywire into what General Proper thought was some new fangled code he wasn't briefed on."
Spellina Check says, "Alert! Alert! Alert! Danger! Danger! Danger! Warning! Warning! Warning! Help! Help! Help! Those words are priority one, followed with, is anybody fucking there? Need assistance immediately. Pa Check is fucking freaking out, repeat, Pa Check is fucked up! We're in danger of total collapse here on GlenView.
Followed soon after by another e-mail. As you well know he has been under a lot of pressure on this assignment, even though I have been helping him with this Glen fellow. Pa was feeling a tad better because as Pa called him, "this nin-ca-poop is working on Crime And Punishment." Pa felt as though he could take a break put his letters up and breath easy for awhile. Pa thought if Glen read and reviewed the whole book, he could be on easy street you see. Well I was in sleep mode and Pa was working the graveyard shift. When all of a sudden Glen hits spell check. Half of the words or more were flashing incorrect. Apparently Pa was snoozing and the shock nearly done him in. He was spell shocked. I woke up and found him at the console overheating. I threw some correcto cool down on him. He was staring at the board frozen between words. I lay him down and took control of the console. No response, this man has totally screwed the operating system and almost spontaneously combusted Pa! S.O.S. (save our spell check)"
General Proper acted properly of course following proper procedures following the manual, sending in the S. W. A. T. Special Words Ah-oh Team, they move at the speed of light recovering Pa and Spellina Check. At last report Mr. Check was checked into The Dictionary Hospital at Cambridge University. He's in recovery resting uncomfortably in the largest dictionarary in the world. Spellina has retired living sea side somewhere state side, possibly Seattle.
A new replacement has been sent, a real greenhorn, fresh out of The University of Spell Check Are Us. Nobody in the world wide world of working Checkee's as they call themselves would take this assignment.
The last known coherent words of Mr. Spell Check were unintelligible but some believe he was trying to communicate these few words, Th, th, th, that's #$%&ing all folks!!!! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Back by unpopular demand here's JOE, as in Joe Pesky.
"Okay! okay! okay! What the &%#k was you going for in that last post, Glenny Boy, you lame brain idiot! You made all of us, includind yourself look stupid. I had a delicate kind of conversation with Mrs. Spell Check. You know what, there off line baby, yep the big Kahuna General Proper cannot locate them. He personally hacked into your Hewie Packardo modem. He can't find a trace seems they have flew through the wire into oblivion. The only info on them is this fuzzy incoherent Spell Check secret coded alert e-mail. It sometimes makes sense then it goes haywire into what General Proper thought was some new fangled code he wasn't briefed on."
Spellina Check says, "Alert! Alert! Alert! Danger! Danger! Danger! Warning! Warning! Warning! Help! Help! Help! Those words are priority one, followed with, is anybody fucking there? Need assistance immediately. Pa Check is fucking freaking out, repeat, Pa Check is fucked up! We're in danger of total collapse here on GlenView.
Followed soon after by another e-mail. As you well know he has been under a lot of pressure on this assignment, even though I have been helping him with this Glen fellow. Pa was feeling a tad better because as Pa called him, "this nin-ca-poop is working on Crime And Punishment." Pa felt as though he could take a break put his letters up and breath easy for awhile. Pa thought if Glen read and reviewed the whole book, he could be on easy street you see. Well I was in sleep mode and Pa was working the graveyard shift. When all of a sudden Glen hits spell check. Half of the words or more were flashing incorrect. Apparently Pa was snoozing and the shock nearly done him in. He was spell shocked. I woke up and found him at the console overheating. I threw some correcto cool down on him. He was staring at the board frozen between words. I lay him down and took control of the console. No response, this man has totally screwed the operating system and almost spontaneously combusted Pa! S.O.S. (save our spell check)"
General Proper acted properly of course following proper procedures following the manual, sending in the S. W. A. T. Special Words Ah-oh Team, they move at the speed of light recovering Pa and Spellina Check. At last report Mr. Check was checked into The Dictionary Hospital at Cambridge University. He's in recovery resting uncomfortably in the largest dictionarary in the world. Spellina has retired living sea side somewhere state side, possibly Seattle.
A new replacement has been sent, a real greenhorn, fresh out of The University of Spell Check Are Us. Nobody in the world wide world of working Checkee's as they call themselves would take this assignment.
The last known coherent words of Mr. Spell Check were unintelligible but some believe he was trying to communicate these few words, Th, th, th, that's #$%&ing all folks!!!! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Monday, January 28, 2013
I Am The Midnight Writer
NORMALLY I sit my buttocks down in me free, let me emph-ass-ize that freee! Why is that impotent? Welll now, why by when ya can sitt yer arse inna freee cher. O . . . O . . . asso . . . me monitor lizurd scream wassa freee babee, yep. Hear th midnyte riter getta aul th lefovers. How-so. Welll I rec-can I gotsa lurnn this here new fandangled shite to beafer I lurn howl too right, write, uno. I wood lik to aask a kwestion. okey, dokey, goood buds, O palls O mien. How th fukc does-sa feriners lurn Englush.
Wees hears in the staytes kan'ta speek it. Yu dont knoo what th feck Imma talkun bout, duzz ya? Say yer froom Nuu Yurk, or Mistersippe Alobama. Is they spekin Englush. OR saye . . . ar, ar, ar fryens to the nort of A . . . manyka. I getsa sum trkuc drivurs frum Kanida in, delivurin wherst I wurk. I kant undurstan dem, no sur! I's a mit hard O hearun, butt, butt, butt when I ussa me hearin aeds, I's stile kanna undurstan theem. Issa it jest mee ur whaat? Thure be peepull I wurk weth, looka to mees lika thur mauth an me hearun be outta tiem. Howso, welll I hearum about haf a secun aftur thea speek. Bea liek watchun won of theem olda blakc an whiet moovees uno, wherst the sauund, an mauth moovment bea auf.
I BEEN WORKING REAL HARD ON CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, THOUGHT I'D TAKE A BIT OF A BREAK. THE WORDS MIDNIGHT WRITER CAME TO ME FROM OUT OF THE BLUE, EITHER THAT OR ONE OF THEM SPIRIT WRITERS BE FLOATING AROUND EARTH BOUND DECIDING TO FUCK ME UP. WHAT THEY DIDN'T COUNT ON, I BEEN THAT WAY FOR A SPELL. GETTING OLDER AS IN THE BIG ALZEN=WISEN-HEIMERS DON'T HELP STRAIGHTEN WHOM I AM UP, NOW DOES IT. ANYHOW I TOYED WITH THAT WAYWARD AUTOMATIC WRITING SOUL , OR SHOULD I SAY POOR SOUL WHO FLOATED INTO GLENO'S HEAD. HAH! HAH! HAH! I SENT MR. POOR SOUL PACKING. I INFORMED HIM TO PASS THE MESSAGE "DON'T BE SENDING NO WAYWARD SPIRITS ROUND HERE NO MORE! I SEEN A FLASH OF LIGHT SHOOT FROM ME HEAD, LOOKED TO ME LIKE IT HAD A TAIL-LIGHT TUCKED UNDER HIS WHATCH-A-MA-CALL-IT.
Damn with all this work I been doing and thinking along with it, I was afraid I might lose my sense o humor. I been working on a shortened summary, of my summary, for C, AND P. (This is a wee funny of the word babble from the book, I could not help myself!)
I BELIEVE I'LL GO TO BED NOW. WON'T BE NO WAYWARD SPIRIT AROUND HERE NO MORE I FEEL SAFE THEY GOT THE MESSAGE LOUD AND CLEAR.
Automatic writing my arse! That be my loco-motive brain a belching smoke and a moving on down the line. Until next time, sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite!!! Glen Boob . . . . . .
I think I burnt my spell checky thing-a-ma-bob up! It had no suggestions on all my words! I won, I broke Mr. or Mrs. Properness UP! Yippee!
Wees hears in the staytes kan'ta speek it. Yu dont knoo what th feck Imma talkun bout, duzz ya? Say yer froom Nuu Yurk, or Mistersippe Alobama. Is they spekin Englush. OR saye . . . ar, ar, ar fryens to the nort of A . . . manyka. I getsa sum trkuc drivurs frum Kanida in, delivurin wherst I wurk. I kant undurstan dem, no sur! I's a mit hard O hearun, butt, butt, butt when I ussa me hearin aeds, I's stile kanna undurstan theem. Issa it jest mee ur whaat? Thure be peepull I wurk weth, looka to mees lika thur mauth an me hearun be outta tiem. Howso, welll I hearum about haf a secun aftur thea speek. Bea liek watchun won of theem olda blakc an whiet moovees uno, wherst the sauund, an mauth moovment bea auf.
I BEEN WORKING REAL HARD ON CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, THOUGHT I'D TAKE A BIT OF A BREAK. THE WORDS MIDNIGHT WRITER CAME TO ME FROM OUT OF THE BLUE, EITHER THAT OR ONE OF THEM SPIRIT WRITERS BE FLOATING AROUND EARTH BOUND DECIDING TO FUCK ME UP. WHAT THEY DIDN'T COUNT ON, I BEEN THAT WAY FOR A SPELL. GETTING OLDER AS IN THE BIG ALZEN=WISEN-HEIMERS DON'T HELP STRAIGHTEN WHOM I AM UP, NOW DOES IT. ANYHOW I TOYED WITH THAT WAYWARD AUTOMATIC WRITING SOUL , OR SHOULD I SAY POOR SOUL WHO FLOATED INTO GLENO'S HEAD. HAH! HAH! HAH! I SENT MR. POOR SOUL PACKING. I INFORMED HIM TO PASS THE MESSAGE "DON'T BE SENDING NO WAYWARD SPIRITS ROUND HERE NO MORE! I SEEN A FLASH OF LIGHT SHOOT FROM ME HEAD, LOOKED TO ME LIKE IT HAD A TAIL-LIGHT TUCKED UNDER HIS WHATCH-A-MA-CALL-IT.
Damn with all this work I been doing and thinking along with it, I was afraid I might lose my sense o humor. I been working on a shortened summary, of my summary, for C, AND P. (This is a wee funny of the word babble from the book, I could not help myself!)
I BELIEVE I'LL GO TO BED NOW. WON'T BE NO WAYWARD SPIRIT AROUND HERE NO MORE I FEEL SAFE THEY GOT THE MESSAGE LOUD AND CLEAR.
Automatic writing my arse! That be my loco-motive brain a belching smoke and a moving on down the line. Until next time, sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite!!! Glen Boob . . . . . .
I think I burnt my spell checky thing-a-ma-bob up! It had no suggestions on all my words! I won, I broke Mr. or Mrs. Properness UP! Yippee!
Sunday, January 27, 2013
(11) C.and P. VII "ESCAPE"
RASKOL EXAMINES HIS CLOTHING AS WELL, AS THE LIGHTING FROM THE KITCHEN WINDOW WOULD ALLOW. HE KNEW HOWEVER THAT HE WAS NOT EXAMINING HIMSELF AS CAREFULLY AS HE SHOULD. SOMETHING EYE CATCHING MIGHT REMAIN. HE STOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE KITCHEN, THOUGHTS THAT MADNESS HAD TAKEN OVER, AND WAS UNABLE TO REASON, OR TO PROTECT HIMSELF, PERHAPS HE WASN'T DOING ALL, THAT HE SHOULD BE DOING . . . "My God! I must run away!" HE MUTTERED, AND RUSHED INTO THE ENTRYWAY, BUT THERE SUCH HORROR AWAITED HIM! HE COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS EYES, THE SAME ENTRANCE DOOR HE HAD RUNG WAS UNLATCHED AJAR BY A HAND'S WIDTH, IT WAS NOT HOOKED THE WHOLE TIME! THE OLD WOMAN HAD NOT LOCKED IT, PERHAPS BECAUSE OF HIM, NOR LIZAVETA LATER ON. HOW COULD HE HAVE FAILED TO REALIZE THIS. RUSHING TO THE DOOR HE HOOKED IT.
"But no, again that's not it! I must go, go . . ."
HE UNHOOKED THE DOOR, OPENED IT AND CAREFULLY LISTENS, FOR A LONG TIME. DOWNSTAIRS TWO VOICES ARE HEARD, SHOUTING, ARGUING AND SWEARING. "What's that about?" HE WAITED PATIENTLY. IT'S NOW QUIET. HE WAS ABOUT TO GO WHEN A DOOR OPENED NOISILY, ONE FLOOR BELOW, SOMEONE WAS HUMMING A TUNE.
"How is it they all make so much noise?" FLASHED THROUGH HIS HEAD. HE CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HIM AND WAITED. HE STEPPED TO THE STAIRS, WHERE NEW FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD.
THE SOUND SEEM VERY FAR AWAY, THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS HE SUSPECTS. THEY MUST BE COMING HERE TO THE OLD LADY'S. WHY? THE STEPS WERE HEAVY, REGULAR, UNHURRIED. THE STEPS WERE GETTING LOUDER, BREATHING FROM THE APPROACHING MAN WAS GETTING LOUDER. HE WAS TURNING TO STONE. WHEN THE VISITOR APPROACHED THE FOURTH FLOOR HE SLIPPED BACK INTO THE APARTMENT AND CLOSES THE DOOR, LATCHING THE HOOK QUIETLY, COWERING BEHIND THE DOOR. THE VISITOR WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE NOW, JUST AS HE AND THE OLD LADY HAD BEEN EARLIER, BUT IT WAS HE WHO NOW LISTENS.
THE VISITOR WAS OUT OF BREATH.
"He must be big and fat," RASKOL THOUGHT, CLUTCHING THE AXE. IT SEEMS AS THOUGH HE WERE DREAMING, THEN THE BELL RANG FIRMLY.
WHEN THE BELL RANG, HE THOUGHT HE HEARD STIRRING IN THE ROOM. THE STRANGER GAVE ANOTHER RING OF THE BELL, WAITED A BIT, THEN BEGAN TUGGING IMPATIENTLY AT THE DOOR HANDLE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. HORRIFIED, RASKOL WATCHES THE HOOK JUMPING, FEARING IT WOULD POP OUT OF THE EYE. HIS HEAD SEEMED TO SPIN. "I'm passing out!" FLASHED THROUGH HIM, THEN THE STRANGER SPOKE, AND HE IMMEDIATELY RECOVERED HIMSELF.
"What's up in there, are they snoring, or has somebody wrung their? Cur-r-rse it!" HE BELLOWED. "Hey, Alyona, you old witch! Lizaveta, you indescribably beauty! Open up! God, curse it all! Are they asleep or what?"
ENRAGED HE PULLED THE BELL TEN TIMES IN A ROW AS HARD AS HE COULD. HE SEEMED URGENT AND FAMILIAR WITH THIS PLACE. AT THE SAME MOMENT HE HEARD THE SOUND OF HURRIED FOOTSTEPS, SOMEONE ELSE WAS COMING UP THE STAIRS.
"What no body home?" THE NEW COMER CRIED I A CHEERFUL VOICE, ADDRESSING THE FIRST ONE, STILL PULLING THE BELL.
"How do you do Koch!"
"He must be very young judging by his voice," RASKOL THOUGHT.
"Devil knows I almost broke the lock," ANSWERED KOCH. "And how do you happen to know me?"
"Well I like that! Didn't I just beat you three times straight at billiards, the day before yesterday, at Gambrinus's?"
"A-a-ah . . ." "So they're not there? Strange. Terribly stupid, though. Where could the old woman have gone? I'm here on business."
"I'm also here on business, my friend."
"Well, what's there to do? Go home I guess. Bah! THE YOUNG MAN CRIED.
"Go home of course--but then why make an appointment? The old lady herself told me what time to come. The old witch sits here all day then suddenly fancies an outing."
"Maybe we should ask the caretaker?"
"Ash him what?"
"Where she's gone and when she'll be back?"
"Hm . . . the devil . . . ask him . . . But she never goes anywhere . . ." AS HE TUGS AT THE DOOR HANDLE AGAIN. "Ah, the devil, nothing to be done; let's go!"
"Wait!" the young man suddenly shouted. "Look: do you see how the door gives when you pull?"
"So?"
"But don't you understand? That means one of them is home, in order to fasten the hook from inside, someone has to be home, understand? So they're sitting in there and not opening the door!"
Hah! Why, of course!" THE ASTONISHED KOCH EXCLAIMED! "But what are they up to in there!" HE TUGGED VIOLENTLY AT THE DOOR.
"Wait!" THE YOUNG MAN SHOUTED AGAIN. "Don't tug at it! Something's not right here . . . you rang, you pulled . . . they don't open the door; it means they've both fainted, or . . ."
"Or what?"
"Listen, let's get go the caretaker; let him wake them up."
"Good idea!" THEY BOTH STARTED DOWN THE STAIRS.
"Wait! You stay here, and I'll run down and get the caretaker."
"Why stay?"
"You never know . . ."
"Maybe . . . "
"I'm studying to be a public investigator! It's obvious somethings not right here!" THE YOUNG MAN CRIED OUT RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS.
KOCH STAYED TRYING THE DOOR ONCE AGAIN LOOKING AT THE KEYHOLE; THERE WAS A KEY IN IT.
RASKOL CLUTCHED THE AXE TIGHTLY, IN A DELIRIUM, READY TO FIGHT. THE IDEA HAD OCCURRED TO HIM TO SHOUT AND END IT ALL. "Just get it over with!" FLASHED IN HIS HEAD. "Ah the devil, he . . . "
TIME PASSES, KOCH BEGINS TO STIR. "Ah, the devil!" . . . HE CRIED IMPATIENTLY, ABANDONING HIS POST.
"Lord what shall I do!" RASKOL UNFASTENS THE HOOK, NOT A SOUND, HE LEAVES CLOSING THE DOOR TIGHTLY AND STARTED DOWN THE STAIRS. AFTER RETREATING THREE FLIGHTS HE HEARS A LOUD NOISE FROM BELOW, WHERE CAN HE GO, HE TURNED TO RUN BACK TO THE APARTMENT.
"Hey you hairy devil! Stop him!"
SHOUTING, SOMEONE BURST FROM A APARTMENT BELOW.
"Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Damn your eyes!" THE CRY ENDED IN A SHRIEK; THE LAST SOUNDS COMING FROM OUTSIDE; THEN IT WAS QUIET. AT THE SAME MOMENT, SEVERAL MEN TALKING LOUDLY BEGAN CLIMBING THE STAIRS. HE HEARD THE RINGING VOICE OF THE YOUNG ONE SAY, "It's them!"
COME WHAT MAY IN UTTER DESPERATION HE WENT TOWARD THEM. IN A MOMENT THEY WOULD COME FACE TO FACE--SUDDENLY SALVATION. A FEW STEPS AWAY WAS A WIDE OPEN APARTMENT, WHERE THE PAINTERS HAD BEEN WORKING, HE STEPPED INSIDE. IT HAD TO BE THEM RUNNING OUT SHOUTING. AS THE MEN WALKED PASSED THE DOOR UPSTAIRS HE TIPTOED OUT INTO THE TREES.
AT THAT MOMENT HE KNEW THEY WERE IN THE APARTMENT, FINDING THE DOOR OPENED AND STARING AT THE BODIES. THEY WOULD SOON REALIZE THE MURDERER SLIPPED PASSED THEM. HE DARE NOT QUICKEN HIS PACE WITH ABOUT A HUNDRED STEPS TO GO BEFORE TH FIRST TURN. AT LAST HE WAS AT THE SIDE STREET FEELING MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE; NOW HE WAS HALF WAY TO SAFETY. THERE WERE MANY PEOPLE ALONG THE SIDE STREET, HE WALKED AMONG THEM LIKE A GRAIN OF SAND. BUT ALL THESES TORMENTS HAD WEAKENED HIM, HE COULD BARELY MOVE. SWEAT WAS DROPPING OFF OF HIM, HIS WHOLE NECK WAS WET. HE WAS BARELY AWARE OF HIMSELF NOW, AND THE FARTHER HE WENT THE WORST IT BECAME.
HE WAS NOT FULLY CONSCIOUS ENTERING THE GATES TO HIS HOUSE, HE DID NOT REMEMBER THE AXE UNTIL HE WAS ON THE STAIRS.
EVERYTHING WORKED OUT WELL, THE DOOR TO THE CARETAKERS WAS NOT LOCKED, HE REPLACED IT MEETING NO ONE ON HIS WAY UP THE STAIRS, HIS LANDLADY'S DOOR WAS SHUT. HE THROWS HIMSELF ONTO HIS SOFA. HE DID NOT SLEEP, BUT WAS OBLIVIOUS. IF ANYONE HAD COME IN HIS ROOM, HE WOULD OF JUMPED UP, SHOUTING BITS AND PIECES OF WHAT WAS SWIMMING IN HIS HEAD.
"But no, again that's not it! I must go, go . . ."
HE UNHOOKED THE DOOR, OPENED IT AND CAREFULLY LISTENS, FOR A LONG TIME. DOWNSTAIRS TWO VOICES ARE HEARD, SHOUTING, ARGUING AND SWEARING. "What's that about?" HE WAITED PATIENTLY. IT'S NOW QUIET. HE WAS ABOUT TO GO WHEN A DOOR OPENED NOISILY, ONE FLOOR BELOW, SOMEONE WAS HUMMING A TUNE.
"How is it they all make so much noise?" FLASHED THROUGH HIS HEAD. HE CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HIM AND WAITED. HE STEPPED TO THE STAIRS, WHERE NEW FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD.
THE SOUND SEEM VERY FAR AWAY, THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS HE SUSPECTS. THEY MUST BE COMING HERE TO THE OLD LADY'S. WHY? THE STEPS WERE HEAVY, REGULAR, UNHURRIED. THE STEPS WERE GETTING LOUDER, BREATHING FROM THE APPROACHING MAN WAS GETTING LOUDER. HE WAS TURNING TO STONE. WHEN THE VISITOR APPROACHED THE FOURTH FLOOR HE SLIPPED BACK INTO THE APARTMENT AND CLOSES THE DOOR, LATCHING THE HOOK QUIETLY, COWERING BEHIND THE DOOR. THE VISITOR WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE NOW, JUST AS HE AND THE OLD LADY HAD BEEN EARLIER, BUT IT WAS HE WHO NOW LISTENS.
THE VISITOR WAS OUT OF BREATH.
"He must be big and fat," RASKOL THOUGHT, CLUTCHING THE AXE. IT SEEMS AS THOUGH HE WERE DREAMING, THEN THE BELL RANG FIRMLY.
WHEN THE BELL RANG, HE THOUGHT HE HEARD STIRRING IN THE ROOM. THE STRANGER GAVE ANOTHER RING OF THE BELL, WAITED A BIT, THEN BEGAN TUGGING IMPATIENTLY AT THE DOOR HANDLE WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. HORRIFIED, RASKOL WATCHES THE HOOK JUMPING, FEARING IT WOULD POP OUT OF THE EYE. HIS HEAD SEEMED TO SPIN. "I'm passing out!" FLASHED THROUGH HIM, THEN THE STRANGER SPOKE, AND HE IMMEDIATELY RECOVERED HIMSELF.
"What's up in there, are they snoring, or has somebody wrung their? Cur-r-rse it!" HE BELLOWED. "Hey, Alyona, you old witch! Lizaveta, you indescribably beauty! Open up! God, curse it all! Are they asleep or what?"
ENRAGED HE PULLED THE BELL TEN TIMES IN A ROW AS HARD AS HE COULD. HE SEEMED URGENT AND FAMILIAR WITH THIS PLACE. AT THE SAME MOMENT HE HEARD THE SOUND OF HURRIED FOOTSTEPS, SOMEONE ELSE WAS COMING UP THE STAIRS.
"What no body home?" THE NEW COMER CRIED I A CHEERFUL VOICE, ADDRESSING THE FIRST ONE, STILL PULLING THE BELL.
"How do you do Koch!"
"He must be very young judging by his voice," RASKOL THOUGHT.
"Devil knows I almost broke the lock," ANSWERED KOCH. "And how do you happen to know me?"
"Well I like that! Didn't I just beat you three times straight at billiards, the day before yesterday, at Gambrinus's?"
"A-a-ah . . ." "So they're not there? Strange. Terribly stupid, though. Where could the old woman have gone? I'm here on business."
"I'm also here on business, my friend."
"Well, what's there to do? Go home I guess. Bah! THE YOUNG MAN CRIED.
"Go home of course--but then why make an appointment? The old lady herself told me what time to come. The old witch sits here all day then suddenly fancies an outing."
"Maybe we should ask the caretaker?"
"Ash him what?"
"Where she's gone and when she'll be back?"
"Hm . . . the devil . . . ask him . . . But she never goes anywhere . . ." AS HE TUGS AT THE DOOR HANDLE AGAIN. "Ah, the devil, nothing to be done; let's go!"
"Wait!" the young man suddenly shouted. "Look: do you see how the door gives when you pull?"
"So?"
"But don't you understand? That means one of them is home, in order to fasten the hook from inside, someone has to be home, understand? So they're sitting in there and not opening the door!"
Hah! Why, of course!" THE ASTONISHED KOCH EXCLAIMED! "But what are they up to in there!" HE TUGGED VIOLENTLY AT THE DOOR.
"Wait!" THE YOUNG MAN SHOUTED AGAIN. "Don't tug at it! Something's not right here . . . you rang, you pulled . . . they don't open the door; it means they've both fainted, or . . ."
"Or what?"
"Listen, let's get go the caretaker; let him wake them up."
"Good idea!" THEY BOTH STARTED DOWN THE STAIRS.
"Wait! You stay here, and I'll run down and get the caretaker."
"Why stay?"
"You never know . . ."
"Maybe . . . "
"I'm studying to be a public investigator! It's obvious somethings not right here!" THE YOUNG MAN CRIED OUT RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS.
KOCH STAYED TRYING THE DOOR ONCE AGAIN LOOKING AT THE KEYHOLE; THERE WAS A KEY IN IT.
RASKOL CLUTCHED THE AXE TIGHTLY, IN A DELIRIUM, READY TO FIGHT. THE IDEA HAD OCCURRED TO HIM TO SHOUT AND END IT ALL. "Just get it over with!" FLASHED IN HIS HEAD. "Ah the devil, he . . . "
TIME PASSES, KOCH BEGINS TO STIR. "Ah, the devil!" . . . HE CRIED IMPATIENTLY, ABANDONING HIS POST.
"Lord what shall I do!" RASKOL UNFASTENS THE HOOK, NOT A SOUND, HE LEAVES CLOSING THE DOOR TIGHTLY AND STARTED DOWN THE STAIRS. AFTER RETREATING THREE FLIGHTS HE HEARS A LOUD NOISE FROM BELOW, WHERE CAN HE GO, HE TURNED TO RUN BACK TO THE APARTMENT.
"Hey you hairy devil! Stop him!"
SHOUTING, SOMEONE BURST FROM A APARTMENT BELOW.
"Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Damn your eyes!" THE CRY ENDED IN A SHRIEK; THE LAST SOUNDS COMING FROM OUTSIDE; THEN IT WAS QUIET. AT THE SAME MOMENT, SEVERAL MEN TALKING LOUDLY BEGAN CLIMBING THE STAIRS. HE HEARD THE RINGING VOICE OF THE YOUNG ONE SAY, "It's them!"
COME WHAT MAY IN UTTER DESPERATION HE WENT TOWARD THEM. IN A MOMENT THEY WOULD COME FACE TO FACE--SUDDENLY SALVATION. A FEW STEPS AWAY WAS A WIDE OPEN APARTMENT, WHERE THE PAINTERS HAD BEEN WORKING, HE STEPPED INSIDE. IT HAD TO BE THEM RUNNING OUT SHOUTING. AS THE MEN WALKED PASSED THE DOOR UPSTAIRS HE TIPTOED OUT INTO THE TREES.
AT THAT MOMENT HE KNEW THEY WERE IN THE APARTMENT, FINDING THE DOOR OPENED AND STARING AT THE BODIES. THEY WOULD SOON REALIZE THE MURDERER SLIPPED PASSED THEM. HE DARE NOT QUICKEN HIS PACE WITH ABOUT A HUNDRED STEPS TO GO BEFORE TH FIRST TURN. AT LAST HE WAS AT THE SIDE STREET FEELING MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE; NOW HE WAS HALF WAY TO SAFETY. THERE WERE MANY PEOPLE ALONG THE SIDE STREET, HE WALKED AMONG THEM LIKE A GRAIN OF SAND. BUT ALL THESES TORMENTS HAD WEAKENED HIM, HE COULD BARELY MOVE. SWEAT WAS DROPPING OFF OF HIM, HIS WHOLE NECK WAS WET. HE WAS BARELY AWARE OF HIMSELF NOW, AND THE FARTHER HE WENT THE WORST IT BECAME.
HE WAS NOT FULLY CONSCIOUS ENTERING THE GATES TO HIS HOUSE, HE DID NOT REMEMBER THE AXE UNTIL HE WAS ON THE STAIRS.
EVERYTHING WORKED OUT WELL, THE DOOR TO THE CARETAKERS WAS NOT LOCKED, HE REPLACED IT MEETING NO ONE ON HIS WAY UP THE STAIRS, HIS LANDLADY'S DOOR WAS SHUT. HE THROWS HIMSELF ONTO HIS SOFA. HE DID NOT SLEEP, BUT WAS OBLIVIOUS. IF ANYONE HAD COME IN HIS ROOM, HE WOULD OF JUMPED UP, SHOUTING BITS AND PIECES OF WHAT WAS SWIMMING IN HIS HEAD.
Friday, January 25, 2013
(10) C. P, Part One Chapter VII "THE AXE"
TWO SHARP MISTRUSTFUL EYES STARE AT HIM AS THE DOOR SLIGHTLY OPENS. FLUSTERED, HE MAKES A MISTAKE. KNOWING THE OLD WOMAN WOULD BE FRIGHTENED, WITH NO HOPE HIS CURRENT LOOKS WOULD REASSURE HER, HE PULLED THE DOOR TO HIM, SO THAT SHE COULD NOT LOCK HERSELF IN. SHE DID NOT TRY TO PULL THE DOOR BACKWARDS, LEAVING HER HAND ON THE HANDLE HE ALMOST PULLED HER INTO THE HALLWAY. SHE WAS NOW BLOCKING THE DOORWAY, NOT LETTING HIM IN, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR HER AS SHE MOVES ASIDE IN FEAR. SHE LOOKS AS THOUGH SHE WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING, BUT WAS UNABLE TO AND STARED AT HIM.
"Good evening, Alyona Ivanova," he began, as casually as he could, but his voice would not obey him, it faltered and started trembling. "I've brought you . . . an article . . . but we better go over there . . . near the light . . . " He walked straight into the room uninvited. The old woman's tongue came untied.
"Lord! What is it? . . . Who are you? What's your business?"
"For pity's sake, Alyona Ivanova . . . you know me . . . Raskolnikov . . . here, I've brought you that pledge . . . the one I promised you the other day . . . " He was holding the pledge out to her.
SHE GLANCED AT THE PLEDGE, THEN AT ONCE FIXED HER EYES DIRECTLY ON THE EYES OF THE UNINVITED VISITOR. SHE LOOKED AT HIM, SPITEFULLY, MISTRUSTFULLY, A MINUTE PASSES, HE THOUGHT HE SAW MOCKERY IN HER EYES, AS IF SHE ALREADY GUESSED EVERYTHING. HE WAS BECOMING, FLUSTERED, FRIGHTENED, SO MUCH SO THAT IF SHE WERE TO LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT WITHOUT SAYING A WORD , FOR ANOTHER HALF MINUTE, HE WOULD RUN AWAY FROM HER.
"But why are you looking at me like that, as if you don't recognize me?" He suddenly asked, with spite. "If you want it, take it--otherwise I'll go somewhere else. I have no time." She comes to her senses, and her visitors resolute tone seemed to encourage her.
"But what's the matter dearie, so suddenly . . . what is it?" she asked, looking at the pledge. She held out her hand. "But why are you so pale? Look your hands are trembling! Did you go for a swim dearie, or what?"
"Fever he answered abruptly. You can't help getting pale . . . when you have nothing to eat," barely able to articulate the words. The answer sounded plausible; the old woman took the pledge.
"What is it?" she asked, once again looking Raskolnikov over intently and weighing the pledge in her hand.
"An article . . . a cigarette case . . . silver . . . take a look."
"But it doesn't seem like silver . . . Ehh, it's all wrapped up."
UNTYING THE STRING AND MOVING TO THE WINDOW FOR LIGHT, SHE TURNED HER BACK GIVING HIM THE FEW SECONDS HE NEEDED. HE FREED THE AXE FROM THE LOOP HOLDING IT IN HIS HAND UNDER HIS COAT. HIS HANDS WERE WEAK GROWING NUMB. HE WAS AFRAID HE WOULD DROP THE AXE . . . SUDDENLY HIS HEAD SEEMED TO SPIN.
"Look how he's wrapped it up!" the old woman exclaimed in vexation, and made a move towards him.
HE TOOK THE AXE OUT, SWUNG IT WITH BOTH HANDS, SCARCELY AWARE OF HIMSELF, AND ALMOST WITHOUT EFFORT, ALMOST MECHANICALLY, BROUGHT THE BUTT-END DOWN ON HER HEAD, HIS OWN STRENGTH SEEMED TO HAVE NO PART IN IT. BUT THE MOMENT HE BROUGHT THE AXE DOWN, STRENGTH WAS BORN IN HIM.
BECAUSE SHE WAS SO SHORT, THE BLOW HAPPENED TO LAND RIGHT ON THE CROWN OF HER HEAD. (((I WON'T GIVE ANY GORY DETAILS.)))
HE PUT HIS HAND IN HER RIGHT POCKET FOR THE KEYS. HE WAS IN FULL POSSESSION OF REASON, THE CLOUDING AND DIZZINESS HAD CEASED. HE PULLED OUT THE KEYS; THEY WERE ALL ON A STEEL RING. HE IMMEDIATELY RAN TO THE BEDROOM WITH THEM. THERE WAS A CHEST OF DRAWERS, STRANGELY, WHEN HE HEARD THE KEYS JINGLING, HE WANTED TO DROP EVERYTHING AND LEAVE, BUT ONLY FOR A MOMENT, IT WAS TOO LATE TO LEAVE. HE GRINNED TO HIMSELF, THEN ANOTHER ANXIOUS THOUGHT STRUCK HIS MIND, HE FANCIED THE OLD WOMAN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE. HE WENT BACK AND CHECKED THERE WAS NO DOUBT, HE THEN NOTICED A STRING AROUND HER NECK, WITH MUCH DIFFICULTY HE REMOVES IT. A PURSE WITH TWO CROSSES ON THE STRING. THE PURSE WAS STUFFED FULL, HE SHOVED IT INTO HIS POCKET AND DROPPED THE CROSSES ON THE OLD WOMAN'S CHEST, RUSHING BACK TO THE BEDROOM.
HE WAS TERRIBLY HURRIED, SNATCHED UP THE KEYS, FUMBLING WITH THEM, WITH NO LUCK. HE REALIZED THE BIG KEY WITH THE OTHERS MAY BE TO A TRUNK. LOOKING UNDER THE BED HE SPOTS A SIZABLE TRUNK. THE KEY FIT, BUT THERE SEEMED TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN OLD CLOTHES. THEN A GOLD WATCH SLIPPED OUT OF A FUR COAT. VARIOUS GOLD OBJECTS MOST LIKELY PLEDGES. HE STUFFED THEM IN THE POCKETS OF HIS TROUSERS AND COAT; BUT HE DID NOT HAVE TIME TO TAKE MUCH . . .
HE HEARD FOOTSTEPS COMING FROM THE ROOM THE OLD WOMAN LAY. HE STOPPED STILL AS DEATH, MUST BE HIS IMAGINATION. THEN A SLIGHT CRY, AND A MOAN, THEN SILENCE. HE WAS BARELY BREATHING, SUDDENLY HE JUMPED UP WITH THE AXE.
LIZAVETA WAS FROZEN GAZING AT HER SISTER. SEEING HIM SHE TREMBLED WITH FAINT QUIVERING ACROSS HER FACE, SHE RAISED HER HAND, OPENED HER MOUTH, STARING AT HIM, NO BREATH IN HER TO CRY OUT. SHE ALSO IS DONE IN BY THE AXE, POOR, SIMPLE, SO DOWNTRODDEN, SO FRIGHTENED, LIZAVETA.
FEAR TOOK HOLD OF HIM ESPECIALLY AFTER LIZAVETA. HE WANTED TO RUN FROM THERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. IF HE HAD BEEN CAPABLE OF REASONING AT THAT MOMENT, IF HE HAD ONLY BEEN ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE DIFFICULTIES, DESPAIR, HIDEOUSNESS, ABSURDITY OF IT, AND TO UNDERSTAND, HOW MANY MORE DIFFICULTIES, HE HAD TO OVERCOME TO REACH HOME, HE MIGHT HAVE GONE AT ONCE TO DENOUNCE HIMSELF, PURELY OUT OF HORROR FOR WHAT HE HAD JUST DONE. LOATHING WAS GROWLING WITHIN HIM. HE WOULD NOT HAVE GONE BACK IN THAT ROOM FOR ANYTHING IN THE WORLD.
A SORT OF ABSENT MINDNESS CAME OVER HIM AS HE FORGOT THE MAIN THINGS AND CLUNG TO TRIFLES. HE NOTICED A BUCKET OF WATER IN THE KITCHEN, IT OCCURED TO HIM TO WASH HIS HANDS AND AXE. AFTER SEVERAL MINUTES SATISFIED THE AXE WAS CLEAN HE PUT IT UNDER HIS COAT.
THERE IS SO MUCH TO GET ACROSS, WHILE I ATTEMPT TO SHORTEN, AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. I WILL FINISH THIS CHAPTER IN ANOTHER POST, AND SUMMARIZE WITH MY FEELINGS, THOUGHTS, AND OBSERVATIONS. I'M TRYING TO GET THE BARE BONES OF THE BOOK, BUT FEAR I'M NOT DOING JUSTICE TO SUCH A CLASSIC! I WILL TRUDGE ON HOWEVER AT LEAST THROUGH PART ONE.
I CAN'T WAIT TO GIVE MY SUMMARY OF THOUGHTS. HOPEFULLY I HAVE GIVEN A MINUSCULE TASTE AND OTHERS WILL READ THIS BOOK AT LEAST ONCE IN THEIR LIFETIME.
THE TRANSLATION I'VE USED THUS FAR IS FROM EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY. IT IS AN EASIER READ THAN THE ONE A FRIEND GAVE ME. THAT VERSION I PREFER, A BANTAM CLASSIC FIRST PRINTED IN 1958. "Sweet dreams until we meet again, I have the feeling I've only just begun!"
"Good evening, Alyona Ivanova," he began, as casually as he could, but his voice would not obey him, it faltered and started trembling. "I've brought you . . . an article . . . but we better go over there . . . near the light . . . " He walked straight into the room uninvited. The old woman's tongue came untied.
"Lord! What is it? . . . Who are you? What's your business?"
"For pity's sake, Alyona Ivanova . . . you know me . . . Raskolnikov . . . here, I've brought you that pledge . . . the one I promised you the other day . . . " He was holding the pledge out to her.
SHE GLANCED AT THE PLEDGE, THEN AT ONCE FIXED HER EYES DIRECTLY ON THE EYES OF THE UNINVITED VISITOR. SHE LOOKED AT HIM, SPITEFULLY, MISTRUSTFULLY, A MINUTE PASSES, HE THOUGHT HE SAW MOCKERY IN HER EYES, AS IF SHE ALREADY GUESSED EVERYTHING. HE WAS BECOMING, FLUSTERED, FRIGHTENED, SO MUCH SO THAT IF SHE WERE TO LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT WITHOUT SAYING A WORD , FOR ANOTHER HALF MINUTE, HE WOULD RUN AWAY FROM HER.
"But why are you looking at me like that, as if you don't recognize me?" He suddenly asked, with spite. "If you want it, take it--otherwise I'll go somewhere else. I have no time." She comes to her senses, and her visitors resolute tone seemed to encourage her.
"But what's the matter dearie, so suddenly . . . what is it?" she asked, looking at the pledge. She held out her hand. "But why are you so pale? Look your hands are trembling! Did you go for a swim dearie, or what?"
"Fever he answered abruptly. You can't help getting pale . . . when you have nothing to eat," barely able to articulate the words. The answer sounded plausible; the old woman took the pledge.
"What is it?" she asked, once again looking Raskolnikov over intently and weighing the pledge in her hand.
"An article . . . a cigarette case . . . silver . . . take a look."
"But it doesn't seem like silver . . . Ehh, it's all wrapped up."
UNTYING THE STRING AND MOVING TO THE WINDOW FOR LIGHT, SHE TURNED HER BACK GIVING HIM THE FEW SECONDS HE NEEDED. HE FREED THE AXE FROM THE LOOP HOLDING IT IN HIS HAND UNDER HIS COAT. HIS HANDS WERE WEAK GROWING NUMB. HE WAS AFRAID HE WOULD DROP THE AXE . . . SUDDENLY HIS HEAD SEEMED TO SPIN.
"Look how he's wrapped it up!" the old woman exclaimed in vexation, and made a move towards him.
HE TOOK THE AXE OUT, SWUNG IT WITH BOTH HANDS, SCARCELY AWARE OF HIMSELF, AND ALMOST WITHOUT EFFORT, ALMOST MECHANICALLY, BROUGHT THE BUTT-END DOWN ON HER HEAD, HIS OWN STRENGTH SEEMED TO HAVE NO PART IN IT. BUT THE MOMENT HE BROUGHT THE AXE DOWN, STRENGTH WAS BORN IN HIM.
BECAUSE SHE WAS SO SHORT, THE BLOW HAPPENED TO LAND RIGHT ON THE CROWN OF HER HEAD. (((I WON'T GIVE ANY GORY DETAILS.)))
HE PUT HIS HAND IN HER RIGHT POCKET FOR THE KEYS. HE WAS IN FULL POSSESSION OF REASON, THE CLOUDING AND DIZZINESS HAD CEASED. HE PULLED OUT THE KEYS; THEY WERE ALL ON A STEEL RING. HE IMMEDIATELY RAN TO THE BEDROOM WITH THEM. THERE WAS A CHEST OF DRAWERS, STRANGELY, WHEN HE HEARD THE KEYS JINGLING, HE WANTED TO DROP EVERYTHING AND LEAVE, BUT ONLY FOR A MOMENT, IT WAS TOO LATE TO LEAVE. HE GRINNED TO HIMSELF, THEN ANOTHER ANXIOUS THOUGHT STRUCK HIS MIND, HE FANCIED THE OLD WOMAN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE. HE WENT BACK AND CHECKED THERE WAS NO DOUBT, HE THEN NOTICED A STRING AROUND HER NECK, WITH MUCH DIFFICULTY HE REMOVES IT. A PURSE WITH TWO CROSSES ON THE STRING. THE PURSE WAS STUFFED FULL, HE SHOVED IT INTO HIS POCKET AND DROPPED THE CROSSES ON THE OLD WOMAN'S CHEST, RUSHING BACK TO THE BEDROOM.
HE WAS TERRIBLY HURRIED, SNATCHED UP THE KEYS, FUMBLING WITH THEM, WITH NO LUCK. HE REALIZED THE BIG KEY WITH THE OTHERS MAY BE TO A TRUNK. LOOKING UNDER THE BED HE SPOTS A SIZABLE TRUNK. THE KEY FIT, BUT THERE SEEMED TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN OLD CLOTHES. THEN A GOLD WATCH SLIPPED OUT OF A FUR COAT. VARIOUS GOLD OBJECTS MOST LIKELY PLEDGES. HE STUFFED THEM IN THE POCKETS OF HIS TROUSERS AND COAT; BUT HE DID NOT HAVE TIME TO TAKE MUCH . . .
HE HEARD FOOTSTEPS COMING FROM THE ROOM THE OLD WOMAN LAY. HE STOPPED STILL AS DEATH, MUST BE HIS IMAGINATION. THEN A SLIGHT CRY, AND A MOAN, THEN SILENCE. HE WAS BARELY BREATHING, SUDDENLY HE JUMPED UP WITH THE AXE.
LIZAVETA WAS FROZEN GAZING AT HER SISTER. SEEING HIM SHE TREMBLED WITH FAINT QUIVERING ACROSS HER FACE, SHE RAISED HER HAND, OPENED HER MOUTH, STARING AT HIM, NO BREATH IN HER TO CRY OUT. SHE ALSO IS DONE IN BY THE AXE, POOR, SIMPLE, SO DOWNTRODDEN, SO FRIGHTENED, LIZAVETA.
FEAR TOOK HOLD OF HIM ESPECIALLY AFTER LIZAVETA. HE WANTED TO RUN FROM THERE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. IF HE HAD BEEN CAPABLE OF REASONING AT THAT MOMENT, IF HE HAD ONLY BEEN ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THE DIFFICULTIES, DESPAIR, HIDEOUSNESS, ABSURDITY OF IT, AND TO UNDERSTAND, HOW MANY MORE DIFFICULTIES, HE HAD TO OVERCOME TO REACH HOME, HE MIGHT HAVE GONE AT ONCE TO DENOUNCE HIMSELF, PURELY OUT OF HORROR FOR WHAT HE HAD JUST DONE. LOATHING WAS GROWLING WITHIN HIM. HE WOULD NOT HAVE GONE BACK IN THAT ROOM FOR ANYTHING IN THE WORLD.
A SORT OF ABSENT MINDNESS CAME OVER HIM AS HE FORGOT THE MAIN THINGS AND CLUNG TO TRIFLES. HE NOTICED A BUCKET OF WATER IN THE KITCHEN, IT OCCURED TO HIM TO WASH HIS HANDS AND AXE. AFTER SEVERAL MINUTES SATISFIED THE AXE WAS CLEAN HE PUT IT UNDER HIS COAT.
THERE IS SO MUCH TO GET ACROSS, WHILE I ATTEMPT TO SHORTEN, AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. I WILL FINISH THIS CHAPTER IN ANOTHER POST, AND SUMMARIZE WITH MY FEELINGS, THOUGHTS, AND OBSERVATIONS. I'M TRYING TO GET THE BARE BONES OF THE BOOK, BUT FEAR I'M NOT DOING JUSTICE TO SUCH A CLASSIC! I WILL TRUDGE ON HOWEVER AT LEAST THROUGH PART ONE.
I CAN'T WAIT TO GIVE MY SUMMARY OF THOUGHTS. HOPEFULLY I HAVE GIVEN A MINUSCULE TASTE AND OTHERS WILL READ THIS BOOK AT LEAST ONCE IN THEIR LIFETIME.
THE TRANSLATION I'VE USED THUS FAR IS FROM EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY. IT IS AN EASIER READ THAN THE ONE A FRIEND GAVE ME. THAT VERSION I PREFER, A BANTAM CLASSIC FIRST PRINTED IN 1958. "Sweet dreams until we meet again, I have the feeling I've only just begun!"
Thursday, January 24, 2013
INTERESTING
I thought of this while meditating. My style of meditating mind ya. I best start with my meditation before I go to the BIG FINALE.
In order to achieve full potential you MUST be an old person, or you cannot truly reach the nirvana moments. You must have, many, many, LET ME MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR! If-un you ainna over half a century with arthritis, knee problems, or . . . yours truly. (That be me. Me and my buddy Uh-Klem.) ((Hey I didn't make this name up, he gave it to himself!)) ((( I don't thinka his anchor hits bottom, if-a you know what I mean!))) Anyhow we have some back problems. So if you don't a have old age fricking shit, (Oopsey!) Then you ainna gonna understand my special meditation. This here meditation is not to be tried for you youngins.
DAMN!!! I THINK, THEREFORE . . . I FORGOT. THAT BE A SENIOR MOMENT, DON'T TRY TO FIGURE IT OUT! THERE WAS A POINT I WAS GONNA MAKE, THAT'S WHY THE TITLE IS . . . I FORGOT!
My secret meditation no. no, no, no, not MEDICATION! We're already over our maximum allowance of that! This doesn't require any special positions. We couldn't do them anyway, that's why my old proven trial and error still works just fine! Warning if you have too long a commute after work you may not be able to do this, because your body will not be able to get out of your automobile, especially if you have one of them little ones made for young healthy, limber youngins.
Okay, yes! The main be point a coming, you try late at night, and old after working for the man, when you should be retired smoking weed in California and chasing little white balls around a golf course. Ya see I have to go back and reread everything I have written up until my last sentence to, to, to, [SNORING] damn it's past my bedtime.
Have I got ya pumped for the old farts of the world secret meditation that you won't find on any DVDs, or books. That's because them fools want to get rich selling ya shit! OOPS! Don't worry we old ones can get by with that. WHY? BECAUSE WE'RE FUCKING OLD, YA DAMN LAME BRAIN YOUNG WHIPPER SNAPPERS! Did I type that? I thought I just thought that! Ya se if I just thought that, then there would of been them what-cha-ma-call them you know ((())), hearing signs for the brain impaired, or WHATEVER!
I KNOW! I KNOW! This here title fer this post is INTERESTING, not the crap I been typing. I received the little piece, or is it post, I was gonna type before I got to typing. I got this interesting story about the word interesting while in my NIRVANA state. I hope I can remembuurr it for another post. YEAH! Like that will happen. It was good I was laughing in my nirvana moment.
DRUM ROLL PLEASE . . . . . . . [DRUMS PLAYING] . . . . . . . . . .
MY SECRET MEDITATION IS! NOW THIS SEEMS TO WORK BETTER IN COLD WEATHER. I COME STRAIGHT HOME FROM WORK, AS FAST AS MY VAN WILL GO, THROW OFF MY WORK CLOTHES, TAKE A HOT BATH, JUMP UNDER THEM COMFORTERS, AND ALLOW THE ACHES AND PAINS TO NATURALLY GO AWAY THE WAY THE WAY THERE MEANT TOO. (That's why there called comforters ya know!) ALLOW THEM POOR TIRED ACHING MUSCLES, SHIT WHOLE FRICKING BODY TO MELLOW OUT SLOOW-LY. YOU'LL EVENTUALLY REACH THAT MOMENT WHEN, AHHHHHH, THEN YOU'LL THINK OF SOMETHING GOOD, FUNNY, THAT COULD SAVE THE WORLD. THEN, I SAY THEN, THE MOMENT WILL BE LOST, BECAUSE YOU'LL HAVE TO PEE! NOW GETTING YOUR BODY OUT OF BED FROM THAT NIRVANA HIGH IS A KILLER! WHY??? YOU SUDDENLY REALIZE, YOUR FUCKING IN YOUR OLD BODY, GETTING OUT OF BED AIN'T PRETTY NOR FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In order to achieve full potential you MUST be an old person, or you cannot truly reach the nirvana moments. You must have, many, many, LET ME MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR! If-un you ainna over half a century with arthritis, knee problems, or . . . yours truly. (That be me. Me and my buddy Uh-Klem.) ((Hey I didn't make this name up, he gave it to himself!)) ((( I don't thinka his anchor hits bottom, if-a you know what I mean!))) Anyhow we have some back problems. So if you don't a have old age fricking shit, (Oopsey!) Then you ainna gonna understand my special meditation. This here meditation is not to be tried for you youngins.
DAMN!!! I THINK, THEREFORE . . . I FORGOT. THAT BE A SENIOR MOMENT, DON'T TRY TO FIGURE IT OUT! THERE WAS A POINT I WAS GONNA MAKE, THAT'S WHY THE TITLE IS . . . I FORGOT!
My secret meditation no. no, no, no, not MEDICATION! We're already over our maximum allowance of that! This doesn't require any special positions. We couldn't do them anyway, that's why my old proven trial and error still works just fine! Warning if you have too long a commute after work you may not be able to do this, because your body will not be able to get out of your automobile, especially if you have one of them little ones made for young healthy, limber youngins.
Okay, yes! The main be point a coming, you try late at night, and old after working for the man, when you should be retired smoking weed in California and chasing little white balls around a golf course. Ya see I have to go back and reread everything I have written up until my last sentence to, to, to, [SNORING] damn it's past my bedtime.
Have I got ya pumped for the old farts of the world secret meditation that you won't find on any DVDs, or books. That's because them fools want to get rich selling ya shit! OOPS! Don't worry we old ones can get by with that. WHY? BECAUSE WE'RE FUCKING OLD, YA DAMN LAME BRAIN YOUNG WHIPPER SNAPPERS! Did I type that? I thought I just thought that! Ya se if I just thought that, then there would of been them what-cha-ma-call them you know ((())), hearing signs for the brain impaired, or WHATEVER!
I KNOW! I KNOW! This here title fer this post is INTERESTING, not the crap I been typing. I received the little piece, or is it post, I was gonna type before I got to typing. I got this interesting story about the word interesting while in my NIRVANA state. I hope I can remembuurr it for another post. YEAH! Like that will happen. It was good I was laughing in my nirvana moment.
DRUM ROLL PLEASE . . . . . . . [DRUMS PLAYING] . . . . . . . . . .
MY SECRET MEDITATION IS! NOW THIS SEEMS TO WORK BETTER IN COLD WEATHER. I COME STRAIGHT HOME FROM WORK, AS FAST AS MY VAN WILL GO, THROW OFF MY WORK CLOTHES, TAKE A HOT BATH, JUMP UNDER THEM COMFORTERS, AND ALLOW THE ACHES AND PAINS TO NATURALLY GO AWAY THE WAY THE WAY THERE MEANT TOO. (That's why there called comforters ya know!) ALLOW THEM POOR TIRED ACHING MUSCLES, SHIT WHOLE FRICKING BODY TO MELLOW OUT SLOOW-LY. YOU'LL EVENTUALLY REACH THAT MOMENT WHEN, AHHHHHH, THEN YOU'LL THINK OF SOMETHING GOOD, FUNNY, THAT COULD SAVE THE WORLD. THEN, I SAY THEN, THE MOMENT WILL BE LOST, BECAUSE YOU'LL HAVE TO PEE! NOW GETTING YOUR BODY OUT OF BED FROM THAT NIRVANA HIGH IS A KILLER! WHY??? YOU SUDDENLY REALIZE, YOUR FUCKING IN YOUR OLD BODY, GETTING OUT OF BED AIN'T PRETTY NOR FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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