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2003-09-08 - 7:27 p.m.

Me and Eugene were riding with Lisa to the theater. He called his parents who are Russian immigrants like himself.

I enjoyed listening to Eugene talk Russian to his parents. It’s such a lovely, morose language. I got him to translate my girlfriend’s phone message where she leaves a special message to some Kossacks from her circus. “What” is all he could understand.

“Her accent is very American. Like mine.”

“Can you fake a Russian accent?”

“I can in English.”

“Can you in Russian?”

“No.”

My friend, Sylvia, has a Brazilian accent. She, like most Brazilian girls, loves her Brazilian accent and wouldn’t lose it if she could. But, she can fake an American accent pretty well.

“I’d turn you in if this was the Cold War.”

“Thanks.”

“I love you.” (This is how I would have ended it if I knew better).

 

 

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