American

The fate of the truth -seeker Tyzhka, every empty one will tell you this: we were laid on the feast of a fool, our main symbol is the first of April, so that, therefore, to stay more fun.

But then new sorrows happened: none of them knew about the anniversary! They really read us all! They combed the Russian steam, they were afraid of too stormy the finale ... And the fact that I was writing something there, against the background of the “new” they were not worried: poetry and prose-God would be with it! But I, as the eggs are connected by “Renova”, forever connected nowhere to closely with my “new” liver sitting in my liver. One historian, a true eccentric, the treasured tried to say the word: “Tell the patriarch ...” - “Yes, but how?! He only accepts Solovyov! " -"Can't be. The "new" has moves. He has become similar to the incisiter, tell them! " (Well, what they are firm-so in faith, as if we can something).

And so, going to the Chicago tavern, it circled in a cozy and clean, I think: “Yes,“ new ”. But how insanely she annoyed me, and annoying, by the way, still! "Bend Sinister", as Nabokov said. They don’t see her visual, convex vices here! And this is not the first time for her for the first time. Our journalistic pool is already biased, and I sometimes love the “new” that I would definitely closed, if I were Putin.

Sectarianism. Pathos. A lot of extra fights. She could be much stricter. Meanwhile, without her, I in no way, as without a my favorite, but my favorite woman. From the side you look - hell and shame: screams, sobs, rudely run into! It is easy to get away from the one that lies and flatters. You can’t leave the one that is annoying.

Oh, hatred-love is familiar to me, on it my life and the temper is mixed up densely ... Sometimes I'm afraid that some in the Kremlin have just such feelings for us. I will not go anywhere from you, my sister, ally, land, colleague, fool, clever, star born on the first of April.

I drink in a tavern as a shameful Calvados, giving tribute to the batter and delirium. Here is the answer to your frequent question - why don't I leave everything from there? What, they are not called? The name is, the name, dude, there are a lot of good places in America - however, from the country that infuriates like that, I can’t leave, you know? I hate it, but we store it. The whistling scope of its stripped - such a universal pseudonym of everything that the brain takes out in this life! Sometimes, in March, somehow I wake up, look out the window, with rage,-there is snow, longing and anger. And you say: "Rus'!" - And it is necessary for "life". After all, this is such a life! And life, and death, and will, and peace - without the locality of all the correctness of shitty - are present in their homeland in such a terrible concentration as in the "new". Frankly, I'm trudging from this. Capabilities of the car, the emotions of the fan. After all, a person strives for the strength of feelings, and not to good, as Weller would say. And this anger, nonsense and cold, as well as their replacing slurry, I before sometimes hate that I will never go anywhere.