mt st helens

no. young waitresses who i can't identify with and feel bad for because of that, and then i wind up waking up with a feeling like a hole has been ripped into my abdomen.
 
"The sky was a chaos of black and flesh-coloured clouds with an ugly sunburst behind a hooded hill, and [a] dead man was lying on his back under a dusty plane tree."
 
i have to write a paper about aleppo tonight and i can't think of a topic besides ambiguity, or cuckoldry, neither of which are acceptable. maybe i should write about Nabokov's gothitude.
 
i'm not so sure if ambiguity is really a great thing to write about but i mean, can you compare and contrast it to another story or something as far as the 'existence/non-existence' thing goes?

also, the favorite part of that story for me is the "I'm a rhyme!" part.
 
okay, the "i'm a rhyme" line is great, but i don't understand the line after it...i figured it might be a play on Russian?

"Which reminds me--I mean putting it like this reminds me--of the days when we wrote our first udder-warm bubbling verse, and all things, a rose, a puddle, a lighted window, cried out to us: "I'm a rhyme!" Yes, this is a most useful universe. We play, we die: ig-rhyme, umi-rhyme. And the sonorous souls of Russian verbs lend a meaning to the wild gesticulation of trees or to some discarded newspaper sliding and pausing..."

ig-rhyme? umi-rhyme?
 
i want to stay within the bounds of the story...this isn't a Nabokov class, so I can't drop biographical stuff into the interpretation (even though it seems crucial for this story) because nobody else will know it.
 
it's my understanding that in russian, umi is generally a suffix and it is a nonsense word and tends to have little meaning, and ig is the same as a prefix. i always understood it as a childish wordplay thing.