Monday, September 24, 2012

Gone Fishing

My blog updates are pretty sporadic at the best of times, but I suspect they'll be slim-to-none until the middle of October; I'm on vacation with the Girlfriend in Cyprus, aka Russa on the Med.

Seriously, this place is awesome; probably a better place to meet Russian girls then Russia at this point, it's absolutely heaving with Russian tourists. In September of course it's a bit more tilted towards familes and old people than hot young university students, but there seem to be plenty of those, too. The weather is certainly nicer and it's even cheaper. Beer in a cafe for 2 euros? I haven't seen that in Russia since 2008.

Is the fact that I'm thinking about beer and university students a bad sign, since I came here to decide the future of my relationship with the Girlfriend?

I'll leave you on that cliffhanger note.

Friday, September 14, 2012

Russian Girl in America on Americans

I drove a few hours last week to visit a girl that I used to go out with in Vodkaberg.

She didn't make the final cut of my memoir of the same name, but she was actually around a lot in 2003 and 2004; she studied with the African students I knew at the engineering school.
Russia in 2004, back when people used home phones

She was notable among all the girls I knew as far as she was the only devout virgin. She was saving herself for marriage, not for religious reasons but because her mom had been a single mother at a young age from an older married guy and warned her daughter repeatedly not to make that mistake.

She ended up coming to America twice on a work-travel summer program; the second time she was here she got married.

Now she's a grad student and assistant teacher in an engineering program here in the Dirty South in a capital city that will remain nameless.

"Why didn't you marry me back in Russia and save me from my awful marriage?" she asked, rhetorically.

"I didn't know you were going to get married. I didn't even know you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye!"

"I was busy with a lot of things, as you can imagine."

"Well, me too. Mainly drunkenness."

"This is only my version of the story, of course, but I was working hard in three jobs and he was just taking money from his parents and sitting around playing video games. It was like having a room-mate, not a husband. That's not the way it should be."

"Yeah, I guess not."

"But even though he wasn't doing anything a husband should do, he started to get more and more jealous and possessive. It didn't end well."

We chatted about America, and I casually mentioned that she must be really popular in the U.S. She's a curvy little blonde.

"Actually it's really difficult for me! If you go to a nightclub, it's all blacks and Latins."

"You're still racist, I see."

"Well, I'm Russian. Their culture is very ... specific, to me. I like them but ..."

"What about at your university? Can't meet guys there?

"They're all Asians and Indians. In fact I had a boyfriend from the Middle East for a while. But it turned out he was married in his home country."

"Mmm, yeah, that happens."

"You know Russian girls like nightclubs. But most guys in America only sit around bars. And if you try to start a conversation! Either they're terribly rude, or they immediately want to have sex with you."


"Well, yes! They'll try to kiss you or grab your ass immediately. Sometimes I go out with some of my Russian friends to these lounges where mostly Russians go but it's very ... mercantile, there."

"Can't you talk to guys in the health club or whatever?"

"Well, it's the same thing. American men are terrible at conversation. Either too shy or too rude, and they all want to have sex five minutes later."

"We're not a patient society," I admitted.

So there you have it, boys, advice from the source: slow it down and be patient. And wait more than five minutes to ask for sex.

2004, back when Russian wallpaper was REAL Russian wallpaper

Sunday, September 09, 2012

Addicted to Fucking

Sex addiction.

Yeah, I know, right? Sign me up for that one! Meth addicts lose their teeth, go insane, and have heart attacks, and sex addicts get to fuck all the time!

So of course every would-be comedian makes jokes like that, and on the face of it does sound pretty ridiculous. "I wasn't aware that could be considered a problem," Kirk Douglas reportedly said when his son Michael Douglas went into rehab for it.

But you know, if the reality TV show era has taught us anything -- compulsive behavior is the problem, not the activity itself. You wouldn't think that collecting stuff would be a problem, either, but look at this poor slob on HOARDERS:

So basically, anything you do to excess can consume and ruin your life, even seemingly harmless shit. Drinking and drugs just have more extreme physical effects; fucking and gambling have more pronounced social effects.

I saw this move recently, SHAME, about a guy who's got a bit of a problem with the pussy. He's dealing with it fairly well -- he doesn't drink much and he's extremely successful at his corporate job -- we see him celebrating some vaguely-defined corporate success with his boss and he lives in what would be an enormously expensive apartment in Manhattan.

But it's all beginning to cost him -- he's seemingly cut himself off from normal relationships to the extent that he can't even perform when he goes out with a nice girl from the office. He's driven to spank it even at work, where his accessing porn sites has infected the company computer. In the movie of course it all comes to a grimy boil when his equally slutty and disturbed sister comes for a visit, and he bottoms out in what a lot of internet doofuses would probably describe as the most awesome night out ever.

(I made a tweet once speculating that the difference between a rock-bottom confession and a manosphere fratire funny story is usually just tone and marketing.)

If you check out the movie -- and I recommend it -- notice that it's not just the fucking that the guy is addicted to -- he needs random anonymous couplings and masturbation. It's like the old joke about how you pay a whore not to fuck you, but to leave afterwords. His solitude is as much of an addiction as the fucking. (This is somewhat actually to his credit -- at least he doesn't have a wife or girlfriend that he's constantly fucking around on, like all-too-many severe pussy hounds.)

Another good movie on the topic is AUTO FOCUS, about the life of actor Bob Crane, whose career was hampered (and life was probably ended) by relentless womanizing and early experiments with home sex tapes:

Kind of funny in this day and age though -- we've got people like Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton whose careers pretty much exist solely because of home sex tapes, and poor Bob Crane couldn't get work because of them, and ends up strangled in a hotel room with his skull caved in.

And of course, the problem with relentless fucking -- it's like all compulsions, it just escalates and you've got to do more and more extreme shit to capture the initial thrill. More dangerous women, more complicated and dominant scenarios, less sanitary acts.

And the end result of THAT of course is that, worst-case scenario, you might end up like somebody like Gary Heidnik:

So there you go. A public service announcement from English Teacher X. When you've got hookers locked up in the basement, it's time to admit you've got a problem.

Friday, September 07, 2012

The Me Report

So the girlfriend wanted until the end of August to decide if we were going to continue our relationship.

She decided she couldn't really decide, so we should go on a vacation together and try to work something out.

We're going to Cyprus. I've never been there before; it was one of the first easy destinations for Russians back in the day, though, so she decided she wanted to go there.

I wanted to go somewhere in South America or the Caribbean, but she didn't want to take a 20-hour flight. She rightly pointed out that I'm not working, so I could more easily handle a long flight. (But to that end, I'm staying for 3 weeks, whereas she's staying for 10 days -- if I'm flying for 20 hours, I'm taking an extended holiday.)

Some possible options, if we stay together, include: me returning to Vodkaberg; the two of us going to some as-of-yet undecided third country; getting married and starting paperwork for America (which can take anywhere from two months to a year.)

Possible options if we break up? Oh baby. Sky's the limit.

I've now been without a job for nearly three months; fortunately the income from the ebooks, and another writing project that will for now remain undisclosed, are more or less meeting my expenses. (So I don't really need to touch my fairly enormous savings from Saudi.)

So the path diverges, my American Dream, like so many, just broken fragments in the dirt.

Good thing anyway. I'm fucking bored with this place. Today I went to the library for a lunchtime presentation about identity theft, and then went into the backyard and threw throwing stars. My mother is beginning to wish I'd start blackout-drinking again, it'd be less pathetic.

I was even thinking about registering to vote, but anyway, fuck you too, America. You don't want me? Fine. I'm going.

Saturday, September 01, 2012

VODKABERG is Hot, Baby

After about 36 hours of availability, VODKABERG: NINE YEARS IN RUSSIA is . . .

#3 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Nonfiction > Travel > Asia > Russia (and was #1 for a while there)

#8 in Books > Travel > Asia > Russia > General
#41 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Nonfiction > Travel > Specialty Travel > Adventure

I'd say that speaks more to the generally poor state of the publishing industry than the amount of copies it has sold, however.



I wanted to include a lot of pictures in the book, but so far am having trouble with that because they take up too much space in the file. (The Amazon version has a few, Smashwords ony a couple.)

In lieu of that, here are a couple of remixes of the promo video: