The Notebooks of Alexis..
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He was walking to the local Tim Horton's coffee shop. It was the year, 1904. It was after the year or in a different reality or both than the year or reality, 1903 in a reality called.. he believed.. the "old" reality.. in which he was supposed to help Dostoevsky with his novel about Prince Myshkin.. the apocalypse happened.. disaster.. Madame Epanchin was suffering the persecutions of having been the Joseph Stalin of Dostoevsky's novels and having personally devastated the literary and cultural legacy of Dostoevsky and now she, Madame Epanchin, was being held.. accountable .. for that... in the finished version, the drastic revision, of Dostoevsky's novel, "The Idiot".. and it seemed to be the way for Dostoevsky to handle the sheer, horrible, harsh disaster of his livid earthquake of a novel, "The Idiot", a true hot zone or disaster zone of a novel... then things.. calmed.. Madame Epanchin said words akin to ..".. will you forgive a clumsy old fool of a woman who can't talk.. very well.. and who thinks to fast for her to be able to even be cognizant of her own spoken words..".. ".. of course..".. said Prince Myshkin..".. we are all to blame in this, and myself, most of all, it all began with my sheer rudeness to Lebyedev.. what.. had you ever met a Lebyedev like that before..?.. ".. ".. indeed!..".. laughed Lebyedev with nervousness at the general panic of the room as to the Just Inquisition threatening like a deadly Valentine plague to bear down upon poor, tragic, quirky Madame Epanchin.. ".. thank you, Lebyedev.. ".. said Prince Myshkin..".. it was.. my thought.. sorry, Lebyedev.. my actual thought was.. sorry again.. whether you had ever met a prince MYSHKIN like that before.. a man who was always written to be a beautiful soul, and who ended up being everything further from that truth.. ahh.. Gavril is a beautiful soul, Lebyedev is a beautiful soul, my good friend Burdovsky is a true beautiful soul.. and Prince Myshkin is nothing but a worthless prat!..".. Myshkin finally stormed, almost spitting out the word, "prat"...".. ahh.. you break my heart with those words..".. spoke, sobbing, Madame Epanchin.. ".. and their you go again, Prince Myshkin, oh my prince, always the first to blame yourself for everything.. after this personal tyranny and grandmotherly dystopia I brought under your fair roof.. when you obviously, oh Prince Myshkin.. had this whole.. Burdovsky affair... sorry Burdovsky sorry.. you obviously, Prince Myshkin, had he whole affair right and settled before I even entered your abode to even bother to visit you in your illness.. before I had an iota or particle of knowledge of any of this affair.. you'd already talked to the people ... and to Gavril.. and figured everything out about.. Burdovsky.. and then I start ranting typical Madame Epanchin like an obnoxious mother hen.. and then the same mantra.. oh please forgive an old self-congratulatory sinner Madam Epanchin.. who more than anyone wants to be patted on the back and congratulated every time she apologizes
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