Lisa and my conversation

Lisa: Is that him?

Me: That’s ‘Crispin Glover’, a guy who’s in here EVERY DAY even more than mark…and always wears a black ‘leather’ jacket, but APPARENTLY NOT TODAY. That’s what I’m shocked about.

M: 7 or 7.30? Thursday? If tomorrow’s not pub quiz?
L: OK. We should get Bangla.
M:Early or late?
L:Thursday = bangla, and we should invite your flatmates. Including Crispin.

M:He is not my flatm,ate. He is my mortal enemy. I’ll fight him.

L:You should fight the ‘british’ keyboard.
M:I am locked in combat with the thing.


L:Shhh.

M:Fuck you, you’re sleeping on the cushions.

L:Finally.



aaand scene.

Koeln 1

The people you meet at airports are the flotsam and jetsam of society. Australian expats bent on describing 'footie' in detail? Little people who want to make friends by telling you about living in majorca and clearly alcoholic making you very uncomfortable by reading over your shoulder? Peruvian nut oil salesman who wish you a nice life after making you promise to forget about money and come to Macchu Picchu? Yes sir, may I have another?

I recommend Germanwings for all your low-cost German air travel needs. They work with deadly efficiency, motormouthing the safety spiel in english and german with nary a pause. It is hilarious. Every other word is 'flugen;' every other word, I am pleased.

Cologne-Bonn airport looks like the future. It's all glass and metal and pictoral representations of 'arrival' and 'departure' since it's a waste of signage to translate everything german-french-english-whatever. Also, duty-free shops!

Passport Control German: You are American?
Me: Yes.
PCG: What are you doing in London?
Me: Studying.
PCG: Why are you coming to Germany?
Me: Karneval.
PCG: Resigned sigh, emphatic stamping of the passport.
Me: Thank you!


Ok. You have never been greeted by friends until they are chanting German anthems at full volume in a crowded crowded airport. LOVE.

Katharina is an inspiration. Within minutes of arriving, she got me caught up on her life of the past year, taught me about eight Cologne songs, gave us directions to the club where Lisa and I would meet her brother, taught me how to say 'Get away from me' for use in the club, figured out what train we needed to get on, and gave me candy. I adore her.

At one point, we're lost and looking for a parade. Katharina storms a deli and asks the entire room where it is.

Her whole family seems to be the same way; her sister alex wanders into the big parade to charm the candy off of the mayor. Her brother quietly commands the action, sending us on goose chases through the streets with a guy nicknamed 'the vomiting bumblebee.'


So, Karneval is about a couple of things. It's about Cologne/Koeln/Kolle, the city and the things that make it great--including the giant double-spired cathedral by the water, its distinct 'koelsch' accent, the story about three kings buried in the cathedral and the tears of eleven virgins that did something. It's about indulgence before Lent, which means drinking and eating a lot. And then the parades, which are awesome because you get dressed up in whatever ridiculous attire you scrounge together (drunk and far from home, means VERY ridiculous) and then get candy thrown at your face for three hours, surrounded by singing people.

Psych 101 TA Application

Germany will live forever in my memory, guys. This is important. Last question on the thing.

What are your three main weaknesses?

I always get this one, and I can never remember what I said the time before.

So far I've come up with:

Micromanaging, insubordination, dislike of psychology
Femural, deltoid, bicuspid
Whiskey, men, travel
Procrastination
Irreverence, a childlike soul, a burning desire just to find my place in this big big world.

Das Ist Prima

I went to Germany and didn't tell my blog! oops.

It was great. I am tired.

More after I sleep for a thousand hours.

VIVA COLONIA.

Conclusion

So, I finished the paper, gave a big sigh of relief, and then spell checker totally schooled me on 'colour.'

Oh, England!


::laughtrack::

I Am Nothing of a Builder

La la la. writing a paper

Blah blah blah. Christopher Wren

Flim flam sam. balustrade

'He was to produce dozens of churches on a timeframe that would neither leave congregations in liturgical limbo, nor use more stone than the quarrymasters provide. The city was hungry for stone. '

slee lee loo...limbo. I bet that's gonna go over like a ton of bricks...

doop dee dee. hey. I'm hungry.

Someone Beat Us To It

Shit, Fair Haven ladies:

http://www.onceuponanepitaph.com/

Remember Troy? Remember Boston? Remember Dancing Jesus of Middletown, NJ? The quaker graveyard across the street from the episcopalian graveyard next door to the methodist graveyard on that stretch of 35 after the grove but before the mall? I'm forgetting some. But Ithaca ones: the 'natural graveyard' by Arnot woods, the deer-infested graveyard of Maple Ave, the creepy graveyard I walked past after getting lost on the bus...and haven't seen since.

Although considering these are just canadian graveyards, maybe we could do a U.S. version?

***

There's a candy bar called a 'Yorkie' and it's labelled 'NOT FOR GIRLS' with a red bar-in-circle symbol (like a no smoking sign, except with a standard restroom-style dress-wearing lady-silhouette on the inside). See below.

I'm on a quest to eat all the candy, everywhere, and I like a challenge, so on my way to class yesterday I decided it was time to try the Yorkie.

At the check out, the nice Jamaican man started handing me my change, but did a double-take.

'Did you see this?!?' He asked, pointing to the NOT FOR GIRLS.

He starts giggling. He has a crazy man-giggle.

'I cannot complete this transaction!' He says. Giggling.

'It's ok, I'm not very ladylike,' I say. And then I take my candy and run.

Epilogue: It's just a bar of solid chocolate. Not worth the effort, really.

haiku

Snow in the morning
Damp, gritty ankles by noon
Hot chocolate weather.

Thelonious Monk
Wilco, Pixies, Sonic Youth.
Bloody Valentines.

Try to recruit me!
I can't work in the U.K.!
Your dumb smile fades.

Germany! Cologne!
Bags are packed in my head
God bless EasyJet.

The couple upstairs--
It's not the humping I mind
Her, laughing, for hours?

This is My School

Portobello Road

I'm skipping Camden and Giraffes for now because I need to have pictures to show you and I have no pictures! So, Portobello Road instead.

Actually, let me start by saying I had a good week. Something happened every day. Free movie and chocolate? Tuesday. Fish and chips? Wednesday, with Jana and the Syra-crew. Thursday, Patrick Stewart as Antony sweat on me because I was sitting in the front row at Antony and Cleopatra.

Two things about that: One, don't let the ticket lady bully you into sitting in the front row. Two, Professor X works out. Oh, and the royal shakespeare company really knows how to put on a play. Also, I REALLY want to see Equus (with Harry Potter's Daniel Radcliffe) when it comes out, and I am in just the right part of the world to do that. Friday I was sick, so that was a thing, and Saturday I continued to be sick but also made it to Portobello road.

It's basically a street market specializing, at one end, in silver and antiques and jewelry. Magnifying glasses were many. Pocketwatches abound. I'm sure you could find yourself a pipe, and then your sherlock holmes costume would be complete. It was all very shiny. There are stretches of houses all painted in sherbet colors, which seems very out of place in london. But it's cute. Also, sherbet or sherbert? I say it 'sherbert' but I think that's wrong.

The other end of the market, at least as far as we walked, was food. It's a very long road. Along with the oranges and potatoes and regular things, you also get not-so-common items like passionfruit. And a cheese stand and an olive stand and a paella stand which was doing some very brisk business.

On my way home I stopped by the library because I'm sick and thus not drinking, so might as well catch up on my contemporary american literature. I (finally) read franny and zooey and just finished Naked Lunch. I am not sure how I feel about either of these.

Also, the fun continues tonight. I'm going to see ricky gervais do a thing.

Remember mo rocca?

Well, for one reason or another, I liked the american office more.

I'll let you know how it goes.

February

We're into february, I'm sitting here, thinking to myself.

I may or may not have done the first-of-the-month rabbit-rabbit thing. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't ask. It will haunt you like breathing in graveyards and putting your hand on your head in tunnels. A first-of-the-month ritual to make you feel bad if you acknowledge someone with a 'morning' before doing 'rabbit rabbit' later on in the street when you remember. Did I say 'morning' or just think it? Really--it doesn't matter. Really.

Groundhog Day was a movie. It seems to be about the passage of time, and trying to get things right. Bill Murray does it by living the same day over and over. I would contrast this to how I shop for shoes.

--First I have to look at every shoe in the store, not trying on or even touching any.
--Then I try some on, infuriating the sales person by repeated trips for another size or color or style.
--Then I leave without buying anything and look at everything the store has online.
--A few weeks later, I buy something which is now on sale and non-returnable.
--And get buyer's remorse upon leaving the store, seeing something in the window which I love.

I've lived about eight different lives in the past 6 months, as opposed to Bill murray re-living the same day for 6 months. That is as far as I'm taking this. Happy groundhog day! I know today's the fourth!

Security

I think it's funny that the password protection for this blog is as secure as that for my online bank account. I feel really good about that, actually.

***

In Orwell's 1984, the description for the Ministry of Truth did not just come from heroin dreams or paranoid delusions. It's likely that that building is based on the Senate House of the University of London, a building that I pass each day.

***

The University of London is quick to tell you when you're under surveillance; all of London is, actually, cause I think it's a law. But everywhere you go are round signs telling you this area is under CCTV surveillance for protection and crime prevention.

***

I am torn when I see the cameras before the signs. Do I ignore it, like catching someone stare at you? Or do I stare it down like a bear? (A bear hungry for my delicious profile). Because if ::I:: know they're there, and ::they:: know they're there, why shouldn't they ::know:: I know they're there?

Still with me?

***

Today I got real chips with vinegar and they were delicious. Jana helped--hi Jana!

***

Also today I went to a pub quiz and contributed Cristopher Wren, Chemistry and Physics, Drowning, Gems, Lichtenstien, and Iraq to the group's efforts. We didn't win, (Gems was wrong; the answer was Diamonds) but I did not end up puking all over lower Manhattan. And Rich Monahan.

Which is all I ever ask!