Runtu I kept terrified of people ignored me USA

Runtu : So, I kept / http://proza.ru/2023/11/19/258  /  walking, terrified… of people ignored me USA

Runtu /  http://proza.ru/2023/11/19/258 /  So, I kept walking, terrified and sick. It was kind of eerie how people ignored me.

Tucker Carlson Network

tuckercarlson.com

TIMESTAMP HEADLINE
00:00:00
Introduction
00:02:00
Putin gives a history of Russia & Ukraine
00:25:04
NATO Expansion
00:30:40
NATO & Bill Clinton
00:41:10
Ukraine
00:48:30
What triggered this conflict?
01:02:37
A peaceful solution?
01:11:33
Who blew up the Nord Stream pipelines?
01:24:13
Re-establishing communication with the US
01:36:33
How powerful is Zelensky?
01:48:36
Elon Musk & AI
01:51:07
Imprisoned American journalist Evan Gershkovich


2023 : Telegram : Runtu, Uri TikTok : " Why do we need these? " - Rudolf Nureyev asked. "Because we need life experience from these people and only on the basis of life experience can we make predictions for the future without states self-destruction and international wars..." - he underlined. "I wish good luck for Russia, but I would like to know the true colure of the future for such a great civilization with over one thousand year’s historical record. Please remember..." - he said. "We have in Russia two-hundred-year-old theaters, two hundred and fifty years of ballet and music as well as a great and the most fascinating literature and poetry to be found in the world which is over five hundred years old. Think about and be proud to keep this tradition well and fruitful from the beginning to the end of such a fascinating cultural project. I wish you good luck and God be with you." This Rudolf Nureyev said to me in Armidale ( NSW : Australia ) on November 23, 1991 " / http://www.proza.ru/diary/yuri2008/2017-02-23 / Iouri Runtu: French : Rudolf Noureev : La Mort a Paris / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English Yuri Ryuntyu / Celebrities RU : Hео-трансцендентальный театр : 2022.

2023 : Франко - Англо - Pусско-язычный писатель и журналист: Академик Юри Рюнтю / Yuri Matthew Ryuntyu: b. 1949: / : Автор избран в 1996 - академиком в 45 лет и - был рекомендован на почетное избрание в 1995: академиком Беллой Ахмадулиной : 1937-2010 / http://www.proza.ru/2018/05/27/1033 / и академиком Махмудом Эсамбаевым: 1924 - 2000 / http://www.proza.ru/2018/01/26/1133 /. Фото: диплом - члена Академии Информатизации России: Москва 1996 / http://proza.ru/2009/12/15/1018 /. Новая Академия - была создана - как элитарная интеллектуальная альтернатива - Академии наук СССР - пропитанной политизацией науки - искусства и литературы под руководством - КПСС СССР: 1922 - 1991 ). Одновременно были избраны: академик - Борис Ельцин: 1931-2007, академик - Юрий Лужков: р. 1936 и другие Знаменитые Россияне, как и - писатель, драматург и журналист из Австралии: Юри Рюнтю ( номинация за книгу - 1995 : " Руди Нуреев - Без Макияжа " - напечатано в Москве ). В тот год - Издательство Новости - опубликовало - только - ТРИ КНИГИ - " Михаил Горбачев - Биография: 2 тома " 1995 / http://www.proza.ru/2017/12/14/143 / и Майя Плисецкая " Я - Майя " 1995 / http://www.proza.ru/2018/01/26/257 / и - книгу Ю. Рюнтю, как друга Фредди Меркьюри: 1946-1991 и личного секретаря - Рудольфа Нуреева: 1938-1993 - за последние 6 лет его жизни: Париж: Франция - Ли Галли: Италия - Лондон: Англия - Санкт - Петербург: Россия ( 1987 - 1993 ). С 1993 - 2001: автор создал - 35 томное издание: из более 50 томов " Мировое Интеллектуальное Наследие Рудольфа Нуреева : Россия - ХX век " на ДВД-1: 10 000 стр.и 4 000 фотографий / http://www.proza.ru/2019/10/12/532 / French: Rudolf Noureev : La Mort a Paris : Hео-трансцендентальный театр : 2022.



Runtu : So, I kept / http://proza.ru/2023/11/19/258  /  walking, terrified… of people ignored me USA
Runtu /  http://proza.ru/2023/11/19/258 /  So, I kept walking, terrified and sick. It was kind of eerie how people ignored me.

La Paz on a Saturday night would be great if you weren’t a missionary.

The streets were crowded with young people coming in and out of nightclubs and restaurants, and the music was loud as I walked up the Prado, the main street through downtown La Paz.

But I was a missionary, and I was alone. Brent had disappeared into the night from stake conference, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do but go home.

Since the streets were crowded, it was impossible to get a taxi home, and I wouldn’t have known which bus went from Sopocachi home.

So, I kept walking, terrified and sick. It was kind of eerie how people ignored me.

 Usually someone would shout something rude to us and laugh, but no one noticed me. Or maybe I just hadn’t noticed them.

I thought about all these happy people out on a Saturday night and wondered if anyone would ever understand how scared and alone, I was. what if he’s dead? I wondered. Is it my fault?

La Paz is built in what isn’t much more than a canyon. The Prado traces the bottom of the canyon, and the city expands upward on either side of it.

From Sopocachi to Alto San Pedro was probably a 5-mile walk uphill.

I took a shortcut through Villa Armonia, and then started climbing the steep stairs leading up the mountainside to our neighbourhood.

I had to stop a few times and rest, and I told myself that if Brent wasn’t at the house when I got there, I would call the mission president.

I finally made it up the stairs, and about a block from our house, someone stepped from the shadows.

It was Brent.

“You scared the crap out me,” was all I could say. He said nothing.

When we got home, I was shaking and sweating, despite the cold.

I went outside to the bathroom and vomited. Back in the apartment, Brent was sitting on the floor, turning a Swiss Army knife over and over in his hands, staring at the blade.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking at my knife.”

The landlady poked her head in and said I had a phone call. It was Hermana Stevenson.

“Are you guys all right?” she asked. I said I thought we were.

 “Can you come down to Sopocachi before stake conference tomorrow? We need you to do a baptismal interview.”

When I got back, the knife was gone, and Brent was drawing again. We turned the light off and went to sleep.

In the morning, Brent wouldn’t get out of bed.

He said nothing, but lay there in bed, the blanket over his head.

“Come on! Get up! We have to be at the church at 9:30 for the interview.”

“I don’t care,” he said angrily. “Just go without me.”

“All right, I will.”

I took a cab to Sopocachi and did the interview.

“Where’s Brent?” asked Hermana Stevenson.

I told her about the knife and how he wouldn’t get out of bed.

“That was really stupid of you to leave him like that.” Yes, it was.

We left stake conference and took a cab to our apartment. Brent was on the floor, in a fetal position, rocking back and forth.

“Oh, my God!” said Hermana Stevenson. “My ex-husband was doing that right before he went in the mental hospital.”

She crouched down beside him and tried to talk to him, but he did not respond.

 A few minutes later, she motioned to me to come outside with her.

She had in her hand Brent’s sketch pad. She opened it to a drawing of a missionary standing at the top of a high cliff, tears running down his face.

 “Call the president, and I’ll see what I can do.”

The mission president was cheerful until I told him, “I think my companion is in trouble.”

I explained everything: the drawing, the knife, and what he was doing now.

The rest of the morning we sat together, the four of us.

Hermana Stevenson had talked Brent into lying down on the bed, and she was stroking his hair, trying to comfort him.

A few hours later the mission president called back; he said he had been in a conference call with the Missionary Department and a psychiatrist.

“You need to get him to Cochabamba as soon as possible,
 but you can’t let him know we’re sending him home.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?” I asked.

“Just make something up.”

I went back to the bedroom. Brent was sitting up now but staring off into nowhere. I tried to sound happy.

 “Hey, Brent. President wants us to come to Cochabamba on a special assignment. He said he’ll explain what he wants us to do when we get there.”

I am a terrible liar.

“Whatever,” he said.

The next morning, I got up and spent a couple of hours trying to get Brent out of bed.

He finally got up, and while he was in the shower, I took his Swiss Army knife and put it in my pocket and gave every other sharp object I could find to the landlady.

While Brent was dressing, another phone call came in.

“Hey, it’s Brown,” the voice said. This was the missionary who took my place as travel secretary in the office.

“I have a little problem. Brent’s passport isn’t here. It’s in the church offices in La Paz. You have to go and get it, but don’t let him know what you’re doing.”


I called the church offices and told them I needed his passport today.

The secretary said, “I’m sorry, but the passports are locked inside Hermano Mamani’s desk, and he’s out of the office.”

“I don’t care if you have to break the desk open. I need that passport now!” I ended up having to call the mission president, who called Salt Lake.

On orders from a General Authority, they broke the desk open.

It was really strange packing up all my belongings, even though I knew that I would be coming right back.

But I figured he needed to believe we were both going, so I packed.

I told Brent I needed to pick up an envelope at the church offices and take it to Cochabamba. We took a bus down to Sopocachi, and the secretary, looking more than slightly irritated, handed me the passport in an envelope.

On the plane to Cochabamba, Brent asked, “What do you think they want us to do?” I said I had no idea, but I was sure the president knew what he was doing.

When we got to the office elders’ house, the live-in cook saw me and burst into tears. “What happened to you, elder? You look like a skeleton. We need to get some food into you.”

We slept on the floor that night, and I got violently ill, with vomiting and diarrhea.

I woke up my former companion, who felt my sweaty head and told me I was burning up with fever.

I kept vomiting until there was nothing left to vomit. The “dry heaves” continued for a couple of hours until I felt something come up.

I looked into the toilet and saw three or four worms, bright pink and about 6 inches long. Finally, I could sleep.

In the morning, we arrived at the mission office to find Hermana Rockwell, who had been in my group when we came from Utah to Bolivia.
“I thought you were extending. I didn’t know you were going home with me.” I looked at her, confused, for a moment, and then it hit me. The 18 months were up, and she was going home. I would be going home today if they hadn’t extended the mission back to two years.

Brent went in to talk to the president for a while. When he came out, he looked sad, but almost relieved. “I’m going back to the states,” he said, his eyes dark again. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”

“It’s OK.” That’s the last thing he ever said to me.

That afternoon, we had the traditional “farewell” dinner for the departing missionaries, in this case Brent, Hermana Rockwell, and a missionary who was being sent home for “fornication.”

He was to make sure Brent got safely to Salt Lake, where someone would be there to take him to a hospital.

At the airport, Hermana Rockwell hugged me and said goodbye. Brent said nothing but walked out on to the tarmac.

 “I am such a dick,” said the fornicator.

I stayed one more night in Cochabamba, and then headed back to La Paz.

I was getting a “greenie.”


2022 - / http://proza.ru/diary/yuri2008/2023-11-18 / - Все 10 Пьес / http://proza.ru/2023/11/18/644 / для нашего сборника : " Театральная Драматургия : Русско-язычная Культура Дальнего Зарубежья России : Австралия XX - XXI век" / http://proza.ru/2022/02/24/920 / 2022


10 Драма ЖИЗНЬ МАТВЕЯ : Вторая Мировая Война : Драма на Славянскую Тему о Культуре / http://proza.ru/2020/06/19/170 /Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1261 / : 2022.


9 Драма Смерть Собора Святого Духа / http://proza.ru/2017/12/04/141 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1372 / : 2022.


8 Драма Пророк Mухаммед и Xадиджа / http://proza.ru/2019/10/21/888 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1382 / : 2022.


7 Драма Братья Карамазовы как Приемыши / http://proza.ru/2017/12/03/1052 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1236 / : 2022.


6 Драма Дети и Внуки Братьев Карамазовых / http://proza.ru/2017/12/03/1129 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1223 / : 2022.


5 Драма Русский Сальери Борис Пастернак / http://proza.ru/2017/12/03/369 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1358 /: 2022.


4 Драма Лубянка Маяковского и Лилии Брик / http://proza.ru/2017/12/02/1200 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1346 / : 2022.


3 Драма Ад Есенина C. и Айседоры Дункан / http://proza.ru/2017/12/02/380 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1322 / : 2022.


2 Драма Тайна Александра Блока / http://proza.ru/2017/12/02/1082 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1305 / : 2022.


1 Драма Жена и Мать 1918 Царь Николай II / http://proza.ru/2017/12/02/400 / Iouri Runtu: French / Юри Рюнтю : Russian / Uri Runtu: English / Canberra ACT Australia : / http://proza.ru/2022/03/14/1277 / : 2022.