I am an old hand at this.
In life, I have so often got into difficult situations and out of them, that this has become almost a matter of habit for me.
Meanwhile in the present case, I shall write partly in Russian and partly in Armenian, the more readily because among those people always “hanging around” me there are several who “cerebrate” more or less easily in both these languages, and I meanwhile entertain the hope that they will be able to transcribe and translate from these languages fairly well for me.
In any case I again repeat—in order that you should well remember it, but not as you are in the habit of remembering other things and on the basis of which are accustomed to keeping your word of honor to others or to yourself—that no matter what language I shall use, always and in everything, I shall avoid what I have called the “bon ton literary language.”
In this respect, the extraordinarily curious fact and one even in the highest degree worthy of your love of knowledge, perhaps even higher than your usual conception, is that from my earliest childhood, that is to say, since the birth in me of the need to destroy birds’ nests, and to tease my friends’ sisters, there arose in my, as the ancient theosophists called it, “planetary body,” and moreover, why I don’t know, chiefly in the “right half,” an instinctively involuntary sensation, which right up to that period of my life when I became a teacher of dancing, was gradually formed into a definite feeling, and then, when thanks to this profession of mine I came in contact with many people of different “types,” there began to arise in me also the conviction with what is called my “mind,” that these languages are compiled by people, or rather “grammarians,” who are in respect of knowledge of the given language exactly similar to those biped animals whom the esteemed Mullah Nassr Eddin characterizes by the words: “All they can do is to wrangle with pigs about the quality of oranges.”
I am an old hand at this!
During the period of the process of my life, I have so many times got into difficult situations and out of them, that this has for me become almost a matter of habit.
In the present case, I shall meanwhile write partly in Russian and partly, where it is necessary, so to say, to “philosophize,” in Armenian, the more readily because there are people near to me and always at hand who “cerebrate” more or less in both languages, and I entertain the hope that they will be able to transcribe and translate from these languages fairly well for me.
But, of course, whatever language I use, you must know that I shall always disregard the aforesaid “bon-ton-language.”
Why from my earliest childhood I have always disliked this “language-of-the-intelligentsia” I do not know—apparently simply because at the moment of my appearance here below there was being played in our neighbor’s house a “phonograph” and at the same time the “midwife” had in her mouth a lozenge dipped in cocaine.
While still a youth, I felt that the whole of my, as the ancient Theosophists called it, “planetary-body,” and moreover—why I don’t know—chiefly with the right-half, and in later years—particularly when I became a “teacher-of-dancing” and came in contact with people of different “types”—I became gradually convinced of it also with my what is called “mind,”—that the so-styled “grammar” of any language is compiled by people who not only in respect of knowledge of the given language are those biped “somethings” which His Uniqueness Mullah Nassr Eddin characterizes by the words “all-they-can-do-is-to-wrangle-with-pigs-about-the-quality-of-oranges,” …