English / 05.03.2020 / 1212
Tanya wasn't stupid; she just used her intellectual power sparingly 
- She's like a bunny... energizer, damn it... except there's nothing to talk about with her," the men said to each other. They weren't right. Tatyana had various subjects that she’d talk about:
“Honey, I was in an accident!” “Sweetheart, I wasn't accepted to university!” “Dear, I got expelled!”
The girl believed in the division of duties. Her job was to take care of her appearance and gossip with her friends, while the man’s task was to solve her many problems. Few have done it.
“That foolish girl is driving me insane! Yesterday, she almost got me killed. She made eyes at some Caucasians at a cafe, and then she called me, saying, ‘Honey, save me, I could get raped...’ And today I have to go to the dean's office to decide on her expulsion... That's it. I can't," said another knight who never became king, giving up halfway through.
Tanya wasn't worried about the disappearance of her lovers. The spot next to her was never empty. The girl was more afraid of the quality of the candidates. No one could meet her needs. Not sexual, but financial. Until he showed up. Or how she liked to write - He...
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— I remember myself from the age of three...
— But I have memories since I was two.
Friends were arguing about who had the earliest memories. And I realized that I don’t remember myself in childhood... Not that I don’t remember anything at all. I don’t remember winter. I only remember summer and the moment when that summer of my childhood ended.
Dentist's Spartakiade. Or the life of Spartacus
— I used to run like a wolf! I looked at everything in a skirt. And now?.. — says Sparta-cus — a strong man in his 60s.
— The computer is frozen — I can't do an X-ray. Let's go for a smoke, — Spartacus is the dentist of dreams. Even in the middle of treatment, he can offer a smoke break on his balcony, the way to which is through the hallway with a shelving unit. On the shelves are Soviet books on dentistry with new-fashioned magazines...
The story of the clubber-programmer, kinesiologist-cyberneticist, and writer-investment banker
— I need to self-determine myself! — our interlocutor started with a banality. Ilya and I experienced a toothache. From the depths of memory rose the shadows of businessmen who had lost their lives in attempts to determine themselves, or rather to put a label on themselves. In the meantime, our vis-a-vis was throwing the names of the great ones on the table:
— Nassim Taleb — this is the second writer after Nikolai Mokhov (Nikolai Mokhov's ego is growing like the bitcoin exchange rate during a hype), John (well, of course, Grinder, co-founder of NLP), Castaneda (no wonder our interlocutor practiced tensegrity)...
And then he told his story. And his story refuted the theories of many respected authors, including those mentioned. I would write this story down with a pen, roll up the paper, and put it in a bottle, go out to sea on a yacht, and throw it into deep waters. But I don't have a yacht, and I don't have a pen, so read the letters electronically...
