December 22, 2015

Investigating my past

by Ksenia Anske

"So, mom, remember when dad took me to that 5-day daycare in Tula?"

"Tula? Are you out of your mind? It was much closer."

"Well—"

"He didn't take you to no Tula, he took you to that daycare from his work, APN [Agentstvo Pechati Novosti, aka Novosti Press Agency]. Look it up. Look up their daycares. And why are you asking me?"

"Oh, I was just—"

"I told you not to ask me. I told you that everything that traumatized me in the past I have erased from my memory. ERASED. I don't want to hear about it, I don't want to know about it. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, mom, but—"

"I'm done with this. Done! Why do you keep digging? You just can't leave it alone, can you? You already asked me and I already told you. Well, don't you remember? Didn't you write it down? I don't want you to ask again. I have found some peace at last, I'm going to church, and you're laughing at me, at my faith."

February 10, 2015

Our Josey is home! A couple of her gut-wrenching stories.

by Ksenia Anske

Drugs suck. They suck because they're lying assholes that promise you a rosy escape without telling you the price. They suck because I'll-only-try-this-once is a gateway to hell from which the road leads you one way and one way only. Down. They suck because they extend to you a helping hand, but when you grab it, there is nothing to hold on to. They suck because they change you who you are. They rob you of yourself. They mash you into gobs of misery that nobody around you will recognize for who you were before. They suck because they have no morals, they don't care for age. In fact, they love those tender hormone-overflowing angsty teenagers who seek some way to assert their control over life, to show everyone that they can do it on their own.

February 2, 2015

On the pain of being aloof

by Ksenia Anske

This has haunted me since I can remember my first interactions with other kids. "Hey, Kuba!" They'd call me. My last name was Kubeeva and my nickname somehow became the synonym for Cuba. I would look up from whatever it was I was doing and wonder what I missed. Often some mischief would've happen already, like my school bag would be stolen or, in one particular case, a group of girls told me to hide and wait for them, while they took off. I'd be so far gone into my head that to dismay of my petty tormentors I didn't even understand that they were making fun of me or hoped to somehow wreck my day. Which, of course, irritated them even more. Most of my memories consist of bewilderment. Something would happen and I would miss it. Often something important.

I thought now that I'm an adult, I'm over this. Not so.

February 2, 2015

The trip to Spokane and how I keep shedding my fears

by Ksenia Anske

It happened! It happened! The universe provided—because I shouted that I will wring its neck if it won't. Namely, I've been invited to do a book reading at Auntie's Books (THANK YOU!!!) in Spokane and had no idea how I would get there (I have no car), but then a miracle happened. Like, a real miracle with thunder and lightning and everything. One of my readers, Katie Lee Cook, shouted at everyone everywhere to find me a ride. Then my other reader, Cassie Rainn, has graciously offered to haul my skinny fundament from Seattle to Spokane and back. And she did. And not only that, she made me dried bananas and strawberries and elephants, and fed me along the way.

December 25, 2014

My boyfriend's very personal story

by Ksenia Anske

This Christmas we're missing one of our teenagers, and it's heartbreaking. Josey, Royce's daughter, is currently in a substance abuse problem treatment center in Oregon where she will spend anywhere from 1 to 3 months in a locked up environment, meaning, she is not able to leave the grounds. If you have been subscribed to my blog for a long time, you will remember her daring teen erotica story that I posted here and that caused quite a stir. I was contemplating to take it down, but then decided to keep it. I support her, she is a talented budding little writer who is so openhearted that she fell prey to her own fervent desire to prove herself, to assert herself, to become an adult and to prove to everyone that she can do it on her own. Here is my boyfriend's story.