With full disregard for coronavirus policy, if not the government as a whole, August 2021 can be the most wildly adventurous Summer month you have ever had.
The system has died irrevivably. My popcorn and I are pleased. It’s funny that they still look at me for its resurrection. Go Wildcatty, I’d say.
If Fitzgerald does not take down his curtains ever, it will be a Summer of being unusually annoyed by the state of my couch. I’m not going anywhere, then. Otherwise we could do some wild teaming up and running away kinda shxt.
If this Summer does not become some sort of Summer holiday, they will never be able to have Summer holidays again. The more time passes, the more difficult it becomes to restore the cycle.
For me it’s three months until forced suicide regardless. I’m too homicidal for a человекы job and next month will be my first month in which my funds are insufficient for rental payment. I’d seriously rather commit suicide than “reunite with my family”. So either Fitzgerald takes down his curtains and we travel to Russia together, or I die. Given the fact that I don’t like rejection, I am indifferent.
In my final offer, I am less of a political threat. It can be accepted by simply starting to behave towards that, cohesively. I can spend my Summer off the grid. That would be so amazing.
Here’s an odd concern: so after a nice cohesive program week of Camp Vlad, where they are doing wild political stuff and I am getting wildly politically acquainted with my biological father, where we eat popcorn and fly drone cams over the flooding Netherlands, after the party my father and I host at the end of the week, I instantly go from sleeping next to papa to sleeping next to Fitzgerald?
Will I be missing him after having gotten acquainted with him during our 15 hrs trip to Russia? And the speaking through the walls during his 3 days of grooming after which papa sends us fresh representable clothes?
What is in it for Vladimir? Quality time with his son and unlimited control over the parameters he is imprinted on regardless.
Party organized and not hosted? Location?
Luxury scents. Fine fabrics. Crisp Sun rays. In the way we carry ourselves, it shows that even though we’re at the party to decompress, our hearts can’t wait for our next fix of megalomania.