Book: iPhuck 10. Page 3

- Reproach of monotony. The book is said to be similar to each other.
'My darling,' I said, ' writers, so you know, there are two types. Those who life writing one book - and those who life says no. The second write reviews first, and not Vice versa. And blame them for review. But different parts of one and the same book will always be something similar. They are bound to be a cross-cutting theme.
- So you've been writing the same book?
I did a two second network shame.
- I would not say so... I would say that it is me as opposed to the literary mainstream collectively wrote one small book. All the texts appearing there, in essence, about one thing - they describe marred by the undeveloped state of mind, moving from infernal one paroxysm to another, and this misguided insanity is described as the entire observable universe, and without alternatives such as... Sometimes the value of such products trying to raise the claim that the author of "stylist and master of language", that is, has a habit abundantly to place on their virtual chests Kungur elephants, from which enjoy the heat from the philological mindless gossips who consider themselves curators of listprocess. But "sweenie Lira" does not add such texts values. It simply translates that the authors of the Dicks in the twat.

- The spectator and the reader is empathy. Even identification.
- Yeah, - I said. Hero cuts himself with a razor, and you frown and turn away, because mirror neurons are forced to go through this as happening to you. Identification - it's just an involuntary reaction that helped the monkeys to survive. Another falling coconut, and you know that you're under that palm tree is not necessary... If masscult and all that is reviewed in the media, is the mass culture - makes you "empathy", it means that your brains and heart to play soccer are the devils who a few seconds ago handed you EIFAC ten or a positive image EBanka.

- Then ask one General question. How do you think, Mara, someone's opinion about a particular subject linked to the lifestyle of this man, with his well-being and health, mental state and so on?
- Well, - said Mara. - Of course. What's this phallic?
- And here's what. A critic at the post-reading anything that comes out of a book like the Blowjob the station, which every day takes in a lot of different people - but not heart tendency, and at work. Her opinion about any of them, even quite sincere, will be distorted salt life experience, permanent protein intoxication, permanent station need to piss in the wind with other minetchitsa and, most importantly, an underlying resentment that record daily the swallow has quite funny by today's time money.
- Well, let's say.
- Even if not to consider that the citizen deliberately malicious, - I continued, - although I note parenthetically that some of the clients she has many years sucking violently and each time wordy complains the whole station that I almost choked... so, even if you do not consider it as deliberately malicious, it becomes clear that some properties of the reviewed objects can easily slip away from her. Simply because of the mental changes caused by such a lifestyle. However, after each watch it regularly climbs on the spire of the station and yells into the megaphone: "the one with the checkered bag! Did not feel the heat! And I do not understand where the pain points. And this, in velvet hat, when you washed the last time?"
"Whew," said Mara. A sketch of the life of svinukhov.
- And the city around the noise and blooming, - I continued, - people are engaged, and the cries of the station oral ever no one turns around. At the bottom they are not heard. But be sure to find a heart friend, the curator of the arts, which at first all of it will write on a piece of paper and then retell in detail in a personal meeting...
- Wait, - said Mara. - I understand where you're coming from. Mayakovsky's poem "Hymn to the criticism." The poet expressed much the same thing, but without the oral-phallic fixation. But the criticism has always been, is and will be, porphyry. The way of the world.
- About "was" I agree. And about "there will be" no. I don't know, kitty, know you or not, but no literary critics in our time left. There are bloggers.

I have noticed that people who spoke badly about my work, share one thing in common. All of them are shit, and only those that are completely deprived of its beneficial qualities.

She nodded, and her pupils flashed the old proud fire that lights up in the eyes of any woman when she feels that she is now going to fight males - and its very beat until.

- What would you say?
- As they say, a new hippie - I said, - let these nice people go peacefully into the good ***. I don't hold them no ill will. On the contrary, wish them happiness.

Many people, so many pots of stale brains. Each something smells for free. Why remove the cover?

Yesterday I spent the day reading your novels. No, don't worry, just old. And then criticism.
- Yes? - I asked.
Are you familiar with the criticism?
- A little. About what I write?
- Not about you personally. But your novels are mentioned several times. In a critical article, which examines algorithmic COP novel.
And as a criticism?
Criticize you, Porfiry. Clear. In such cases you need to decide how to respond - to take one human behavior or to tell the objective truth.
The human line about showing wounded interest, mimicking the arrogance. It requires more resources and needs constant rebounds to the network. Out of respect for the interlocutor it is better to behave that way, but today, too much effort was spent on whiskers and hair, and I was not sure that I can pull. Have probably to tell the truth.
- Let them criticize.

- I've never said that I dressed decently.
- To be honest - I added, quickly, - I like you better naked. This is your best clothes. You have no idea how you're good at it.
To flatter a woman, especially smart - have rudely and shamelessly, quickly cut one absurdity to another, and another third because at the time, until you click in her head dofaminovmi switches, her acute intelligence becomes dormant. Even if she understands this herself. Repeatedly verified by experience. Moreover, the folklore rightly argues that this approach makes it possible to tag directly in day of acquaintance.

Machine, machinery, traffic. The girl in the urban crowd. Endless streams of people struggling for a second and diverging forever. Again, the girl in the crowd. Passes boy with a smile, hitting her with a Daisy on the cheek, the girl turns, smiles in response. Fractional flash 3D shooting. Evening, the androgyne, augment glasses. Again guy beats a girl with a Daisy on the cheek - but now she lies next to him in the wilderness of flowers.
"And you don't even pay for the dinner!"
The critics of this video like the contrast between the lyrical imagery, after which all waiting for the usual androgynous "triple A" - "Love Anyone, Anytime, Anywhere!" and this cynical "save the dinner".

I finally decided to take a ride on the uber (no day without a line, as bequeathed to the titans). Fortunately, you can look for it for a long time is not required. "Vsamp" was a popular destination, especially among young girls. One such cutie in uber I got. She was seventeen years old (sixteen and ten months, he corrects me looking at her file the pedant, the name Natasha) and she was like on a barely blossoming flower with eyes on each petal. Wearing Natasha, however, was that in the place of parents I would specifically flogged. Don't even know how it's called - as if pulled on hands and feet on the noodle, and the rest is wrapped in transparent cellophane. In our time, this is not allowed.

Location services on her phone was off (a sure sign of a guilty conscience, will tell any interrogator).

Mara showed two keys on the ring. The keys looked unconvincing and seemed cardboard. However, now everything seems.

The void to simulate the easiest - he knows any spiritual professional.