Since I’m still waiting for my manuscript to return from editing, I’m now reading a very interesting book, “The Orientalist,” by Tom Reiss. Wouldn’t you be intrigued iIf you read the following sentence on the inside front jacket? “Lev Nussimbaum was a Jew who transformed himself into a Muslim prince and became a bestselling author in Nazi Germany.” I think I mentioned a few blogs ago the enjoyment I get in reading about other cultures and other countries and past histories. In “The Orientalist,” I’m learning about the Czars in Russia in the late 1800s and of Stalin and Lenin and the Bolshevik’s revolution. It starts in Baku, Azerbaijan, a town considered to be like the “Wild West” because of its oil fields and lawlessness. There’s one character so far that I’d really like someone to write a screenplay. Her name is Sofya Perovskaya, “…a rich kid with a grudge.” She becomes involved with the ‘People’s Will” a terrorist group who planned to bomb the Czar with nitroglycerin grenades on a route he was to take in a few month’s time. She and her gang bought a building, had a small business in front of it and tunneled under the building into the street to waylay the Czar when he passed. The Czar’s security changed the carriage route, but the terrorists caught up to him all the same and attacked and killed him in the name of people’s reform. Ironically, just that morning the Czar signed reform bills; the new Czar dropped the hammer and revoked all the previous Czar’s good intentions. Sofya was hunted down and hung in front of 80,000 (stadium crowd). I checked the InterNet and there was a Russian movie made of her life in 1968, but there are no specific details. Also, Sofya was the first woman in charge of a terrorist gang. If you enjoyed the historical mystery style of the “DaVinci Code,” by Dan Brown, you may enjoy “The Orientalist.” This week’s topic: Miscellaneous writing. These past two weeks, I’ve heard the words “letter of recommendations” several times. In case you have to generate one for students or employees, composing the letter is not that difficult. If you have business letterhead paper, you’re good to go. If not, type your name, address and telephone. Next the date. Next the address of the organization if you know it; if you don’t, then “To Whom it May Concern” is acceptable. The body of the letter should be a minimum of two paragraphs. First sentence would be how you came to associate with the individual and how long you’ve known the person. The next sentence would be about what type of job or duties the individual had; if the person is a student, then describe what classes, clubs or sports, you and the student were involved with. Third sentence should describe what made her/him stand out over other individuals. And fourth sentence, the ABCD—above and beyond the call of duty—would comment on something truly remarkable the individual did (i.e., raised money, saved the company money, developed a time-saving device, saved your butt big time?). For the second paragraph, the motivation is directors towards the reader’s thoughts. Don’t we all want an employee or student who is responsible, a self-starter, and understands directions quickly and doesn’t have to be spoon-fed? Second sentence is where you’d want to get across the passion and goals for the individual. And the closing sentence would be how you foresee this individual as successful in his/her future endeavors. Close with a simple “Sincerely,” your name and title. This week’s tip: Pick a time and place and read a book about a historical person or event. Not only will you expose yourself to new countries and types of people, you’ll realize that life was just as screwed up back then as it is now. I don’t want to sound 100-percent pessimistic, but if people got through those though times back then without access to drugs, Dr. Phil and Oprah, then we should be able to get through our tough times, too.
*** Uh-oh! Someone’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. For first-time viewers, please jump to blog dated 7/5/09, Chapter One, Page One.***
…Dying, right.
I mouthed, “Bitch.” She giggled, which threw off my calculations of the likelihood of me obtaining freedom. Her weight also prevented me from pushing her off. Plus, my aching shoulders still dug into the rug, which meant I couldn’t rock to my side and topple her over.
This was so unfair.
“So tell me, Mr. Montgomery Davis.” Her Levi-blue eyes twinkled. “Why are you here?”
I had to lie. “This is my place.”
Her full-body snicker vibrated over our groin areas, which felt pretty darn good for a few seconds. For me anyways; I couldn’t speak for her. Her behavior was unpredictable. I bet she was amped up on drugs for courage to attack and carry out atrocities to her favorite celebrities. I tried not to imagine her future feats of villainy because, let’s face it, it ain’t gonna be pleasant.
“I’ll repeat myself again,” she slowly said. “Why are you here?”
“The owner let me stay.”
“But you have your own house.”
If this kook finds out that Lydia and I are lovers…I meant, “were” lovers, she’ll become more psycho and damage me worse than she originally planned.
Psychochick again smiled sweetly and lightly tickled my rug-burned tender chin. Strangely, that simple gesture heightened my panic and threw off my concentration to overpower her.
“What did you ask me?” I asked.
“Why are you here?”
“Oh. My house is not suitable at the moment.”
“Your beach house?” She casually asked.
“Ah…yeah.” The hairs on the back of my neck rose as if they were clinging to a balloon. This madwoman knew where I lived! My God! She really was Lydia’s stalker and broke in today to harm Lydia, but she’ll attain more status by kidnapping the Number One Box Office Star in the World…me!
Wait…hold on! How did she know there wasn’t any toilet paper?
Because….because after Lydia left for Africa, Toilet Paper Psychochick snuck into the condo. She was like some kind of super kinky freak who was compelled to do her dirty business in other people’s bathrooms…just like animals marking their territory. Wow! Those hours watching National Geographic weren’t a complete waste of time.
She smiled as she caressed my neck. I gulped like a fool. Maybe she wasn’t Lydia’s stalker but actually Monty Davis’ stalker? I prayed to God not to let me experience that horror again.
When I first became famous, it was a blast to read my fan mail, but not so much anymore. When I reached major celebrity status, I received freaky letters from pathological fans. They ghoulishly described sick, twisted perversions they wanted to do with me when I was alive, but creeped me out with their unique descriptions of the horrendous atrocities they planned to do with my lifeless body. The topper was the depraved correspondence from Miss Turquoise, psycho extraordinaire. Because of Miss T., I hired a private company to read all my fan mail, and they, in turn, referred the wacko letters to the Threat Management Unit. Sadly, it took several months for my nightmares of Miss T. to end, and a few more years before I quit scanning at all my public events women with turquoise eyes.
Thank you God! Toilet Paper chick eyes weren’t turquoise, but the Levi-blue gray. Too bad I was out of the loop with the latest stalking trends. I forced myself not to gruesomely imagine Psychochick’s demented letters to me. Hopefully, those letters now resided with TMU as evidence for when they charge her with murdering…me. Since Crazy Chick appeared highly intelligent and creative in her successful effort immobilizing me, I judged her as quite capable on ingenious mental cruelty, too. My body started shaking and I began hyperventilating again.
“Monty, I sense your uneasiness,” she said, applying less weight to my diaphragm. “Just because I’m aware of your lovely Malibu beach home?”
My eyes bulged out.
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