Here’s the thing. I may not be a rock star, but I’ve fulfilled any rock star’s dream: I got a Grammy. I gave an interview to Rolling Stone magazine. And, remarkably enough, Rolling Stone actually ran it. But there’s a problem. In the city of Kirov, where I now spend most of my time, it is absolutely impossible to buy Rolling Stone. Every child here knows how to drink furniture polish, and the magazine Mother-in-Law’s Tongue (a cheap, sensationalist publication) is sold at every kiosk, but nobody knows what Pushkin died of—and you still can’t find Rolling Stone. The magazine’s website doesn’t have the article up yet. There’s only this ominous teaser: The postmen are asking for a light Lawyer Alexei Navalny, who terrorizes fuel magnates with his letters, lives to the rhythm of songs by Grazhdanskaya Oborona and Rage Against the Machine, whose music perfectly suits his personal understanding of national democracy. Why am I saying all this? Just this: if anyone has read this wonderful magazine, tell me what they wrote there. And to head off the obvious questions: I’m not on the first cover—Shakira is. No idea why.
People