Personal lines/ public lines

Book is going slow but I am writing it in English.
My thoughts are in Polish. Joseph Conrad had similar advantage to
Dostoievsky. Dostojevsky?
It should be written Dostojewski. It comes from a Polish word : Dostojny – Dignified.
Dostojewski had a girl friend who was writing down everything for him and corrected the text.
Some believe she was more important than the writer himself to create Crime and Punishment for example.
Joseph Conrad had an English wife.
But on his birthday she would put a Polish flag for him on a dinner table.
Nice, good English woman she must have been.
I would prefer my wife in a tub  filled with goat milk and red rose petals all over her body.
I would introduce rose petals to my tongue.
But wives are for losers.
The new plan is to finish the play first. It is about my first girl-friend in London who was a French Jewish girl from Paris.
You are similar in a way – you are open to other people. Rare gift of trusting people. Can be dangerous  though. But this is what makes us more human unfortunately.
But again before  I finish the play, I must finish the “Szmaciarz” (Rag-man). Second story I want to write.
The first one I have finished because of you: “Woman of closest dimension”.  The Rag-man I have started because of you, woman, ( woman as in not a real person).
It is about gay love and why I didn’t beat up a guy, who later become the president of Poland. I used to beat really hard. I was trained pretty well in beating other men.
I should have. He crossed the line (real line, not some imaginary, “quzi” line for puppies).
I have crossed a lot of real lines in my life but always for good. Crossing lines is not for everyone. Of course it is better to be in a position of drawing them for the herd, watching the herd follow instructions.
But isn’t freedom and creating freedom beautiful?
I have never enslaved anybody.
You have reminded me what I am about.
I will be sailing on Sunday. It is the second thing that sets me free.
Sometimes I listen to music when I write. But Thievery Corporation. Like tonight.
—
12.47 am. Three hours of writing.
Enough. I go to sleep.
—
4.18 am Awaken by shots. Two different hand guns.
Fucking Humboldt Park neighbors. Happens every week. Just like Bucktown years ago. Only for pilgrims. Immigrants were the pilgrims,  making millions along the way. Fighting gangs, rapists and corrupt Police and aldermen. Or working with them . Whatever moved he whole area into American sheep being able to walk in the parks or streets to their coffee shops popping up along with  the drug dealers in bars. I had three making good life in mine. Prostitutes get better too.
You see – in the past they would be on Lake street and Ashalnd/Racine. Ghetto girls making ends meet close to projects where they lived. Owners of local businesses would have them in their warehouses. Dance. On tables.
If we ever talk again, I will tell you a lot of fascinating things. I will tell you the difference between people you can and can’t trust, about crossing the lines, staying alive but really I want to talk about  the world and how to see it around.
Americans newcomers come later and have no clue where they are. They sit glued to eye-phones watching them.
Can’t sleep. I am rested enough. I would wake up at six otherwise. Tough week is ending early. Making money for the models and photographers.
I an going health club then. Just read what I wrote before sleep, very happy with it. Memories come back. It is better than I thought. Raining outside as I knew it would – Saturday.
That’s why I am sailing tomorrow, work today. I used my re-arranged emotional life for many things. Mentioned few before. I swim or work on punch bags. Hate monotony of machines or weights.