Feeding the Jones

The Inter Nets was down over the weekend. *Shudder*

You'd think that answering emails all day would want to get me away from the computer, but I just get a bad Jones for all the Internet stuff I can do, but can't.

Anyway. Eventful weekend. But late now, details later.

For anyone who likes WoW or online forums, this thread is really funny. It gets good at post #5.

RIght. Peace.

Google Maps are Cool

Google Maps.

Check this out. Here's England.



Here's greater London. The marker is my Tube station, Upton Park.



Here you can see major road going south. That road is just barely wide enough for two cards to pass when there are cars parked on both sides. The large white square is the local football field. My house is near the bottom centre.



And here is my house, more or less.



How cool is that?

Remember, you can click on all these pictures to make them full-screen. That goes for any photos on the Blog.


Peace

Looking for my Flow

I read a neat thing today about Flow State . Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi writes about it and defines 8 characteristics universally found in states of Flow. He basically defines it as a place you go to when you are hyper-focused, and at peace with and enjoying what you are doing. Time flies, distractions (internal and external) cease to be relevant, and what one does becomes autotelic, or worth doing for its own sake.

The website goes on to ask:

1. Can you think of any times in your own life what you have been in a state of complete hyper-concentration?

2. What were those times?

3. What conditions existed in order for that state to occur?

I stopped and thought about it, and the last time I can remember feeling like that was when I was directing a scene from Spinning Into Butter by Rebecca Gilman. I had Brian Bush and Erin Ogden as my actors, and the whole thing went fantastically. It was a living, breathing piece of art that I had created, nurtured, and finally released full-grown to stand on it's own on stage. I couldn't have been prouder of the result.

When I think back on my (absolutely wonderful) college carreer in Theatre, that is the most shining moment. I enjoyed designing, but I didn't consider myself good enough to continue. My Stop Kiss sound design was great and fantastically recieved, but it was just song selection, no engineering. Lights are fun, but I'm not an electricion. Despite calling myself a Tech, Stage Managing was the only thing I was ever really comforatble with. I liked the artistic aspect of the other, but the nuts of bolts of the things were always too scary and difficult.

Just like stage construction. I could do it, but it never came naturally. I had to drill it into my head every step of the way. If I took any time off at all, I would lose huge amounts of skill.

SMing was fun, it filled my power-lust, and I was naturally good at it. Not fantastic, but more than good enough. My interpersonal skills made up for what I lacked in organization.

I called myself an SM because it was the practical, pragmatic way to go. I was going out on a limb enough as it was doing Theatre. Trying to be an actor or director is not a profitable move. Stick with the safe path. Go with what will benifit most, even if that benifit isn't in the most important place: the soul.

I like my current job. It's a good office full of fun people. Answering emails is starting to get dull and annoying, but I'm still quite good at it. I do really want to go to the Very Exotic Place come November. Apparently our office there is 10 minutes from the beach. It sounds like absolute Paradise. But I miss home. And I wonder if I could handle another year of this, even in Paradise. If I went, I'd feel obligated to stay long enough to make it worth the company's time and money. That's six months to a year, at least. If I'm just going to be doing Cusotmer Service the whole time, with no chance to advancement, I'm not so sure now.

So what does all this boil down to? I don't know. I miss home and friends fiercely, and I'm starting to get a mean Theatre bug. I want to act and direct. That almost certainly means Grad School. I'm becoming more certain that Grad School is in my future. Not immeditately, but there are things I still want to do that would be extremely difficult outside of the academic environment.

I really don't know. I've gotten over my "fuck america, i'm never coming back" phase. The Rockies call my name, even from this distance. Euorpe will definitely be revisited, as well as other parts of the world. But I don't think it will ever be home. That honor is reserved for 20 acres of pine forest at the tip of Idaho.

I don't know. I'm rambling. I need to find my Flow, and it isn't here. I may be offered a once in a lifetime chance soon, but I don't want it to turn into a trap with fantastic scenery.

I just don't know.

Two Fun Weekends, including The Fringe

Clubbing with Michele was awesome. We went to a fun little place in South London (Brixton Hill, for those who know where it is). Good Jungle and Drum 'n' Bass, as well as some Breakbeats (techo music). We danced like madfolk until the wee hours. I didn't get home until 6 am. At around 3 I left the house again for a Monkey Meetup. Hung with some of the wonderful people from Monkeyfilter . I always used to think meeting people you met in the Internet was wierd and creepy, but these cats are cool as all getout. There will be at least one or two more before I leave. I made them promise.

Right. I can hear you all wailing a gnashing your teeth out there. So, without further ado, here is my account of the Fringe.

We (Brooke and I) left London at 6ish, and arrived by train in Edinburgh around noon. The nice as hell fella from the "hostel" picked us up from the train station and brought us to where we were staying, including a mini tour on the way. It wasn't a real hostel (all of those were completely full), but this guy's flat. He had put some bunkbeds in an empty room, and was renting them out. It was a nice place, and he was really cool. There were 4 beds, but we had the place to ourselves.

We stashed our stuff and walked to the Royal Mile, Edinbugh's high street. It was PACKED with people. Street performers were scattered about, and little knots of people formed around them. There were stages set up with previews of shows on them, and folk handing out fliers every which way. We spent the bulk of the day there, watching free entertainment and trying to decide what we wanted to see that night.

We took the National Scotch Whiskey Heritage Tour, which was fun. I learned a lot about whiskey, and drank some very tasty stuff. I joined the club mostly for the "free" tasters it came with, but later decided I should have saved my money. The only adavantage of the club is if I go back, which I won't. I got my money's worth in whiskey, but only barely. No worries.

We finally decided on a show called "Beautiful Child," based on the description of a woman handing out the fliers. After some confusion about getting tickets, we made it to the venue only to find out they were sold out. We got tickets for the next night, and decided to see the show that was about to start. It was a sketch comedy group from New Jersey. They were funny. Not great, but funny. They played the "We're Americans in Scotland, whoa!" angle fairly well.

We got some food, and decided on another show to see. We picked one called "Stirring." It was about Internet dating, and it was fucking fantastic. Tiny little venue in this giant club network called the Underbelly (thanks for the recommendation, Tami!). The show was well staged, excellently written, and fantastically cast. It made me want to put a personal online and see what happens. Then, of course, things go bad and the desire went away. I highly recommend the script, and would love to direct it some time.

Afterwards we hooked up with a friend of Tami's from when she was there last year (thanks to her again). Eddie is likely in his 50s or so, and cool as the other side of your pillow. He took us on a larger tour, and showed us his favorite pub. There was some killer jazz. We had a drink, then headed back to his house for further libations. Hung out with him and his son Martin, who has inherited his father's cucumber-like coolness. He offered us a place to sleep, but as all our stuff was at the "hostel" and we didn't know if other people would be there or not, we declined. We did take him up on the offer for the next evening, however.

The next day, we went to a nearby park where Fringe Sunday was a-happening. Fringe Sunday is a weekly event where you can see 10 minute previews of most or all the shows, acts, musical groups, etc. There are also the usual perponderance of magicians, performers, and the like wandering about. We spent most of our time in the cabaret tent, watching the musical type acts. We saw a number of superb and funny musical groups, most of which weren't playing when we could see the whole show. There was a hip hip group called Freestyle Love Supreme that was crazy good. There were entirely freestyle, with no written songs or words. They improved based on what the audience was giving them. Thier beatboxer, ShockWave, was one of the best I have every heard, live or otherwise. I hope they go places, and I really hope thier website goes up soon with samples. They have www.freestylelovesupreme.com, but there's nothing there.

One of the previews we saw was a group called
Topping and Butch . Here's a picture of them from the above-linked website.



One skinny, one fat, both in red bondage leather, both very gay, and fucking hilarious. Topical humor, political stuff, all done in song and dance. They did one song called "Fag Hag" to the tune of "Downtown" by the B-52's (i think). Kim, I wish you could have been there! You sprang to mind instantly, although most of our Theatre friends would have loved it. Except Mr Plummer. I think he might have thrown a chair. Anyway, they were the highlight of the Fest. I really want to see thier other show now.

After that, we went to "Beautiful Child." We knew that it was about a teacher having an affair with a student, but we didn't know that the student was 8. The teacher (played by Tim Curry's fucking clone, only shorter) comes to his seriously dysfunctional parents asking for protection, due to the fact that he "loved" one of his art students. After much deliberation, mediocre directing, and inane dialouge, they finally decide that he can stay, but only if they PUT OUT HIS EYES. That's right. Their cure for pedophelia is a firm blinding. 'Cause that makes all kinds of sense. And of course the tragedy is hightened because he's an art teacher, so he can never paint again. Ugh. There were a couple of other characters in it, but they were so pointless as to not be worth mentioning. Brooke liked it, but I gave it a C-. The acting was decent, but watching mini-Curry spit gallons onto the other actors kind of killed any enjoyment I got out of his performance. And he couldn't cry.

We had a few pints at a nearby pub, and then went back to Eddie's. Hung out, played video games with him, drank some psudo-Absinthe (just acholholic, not really anything else), and went to bed. He dropped us off on the Royal Mile the next day, and we toured the Castle of Edinbugh.

I've seen a few Castles now, but this was the first to truly fulfill my boyhood dreams of what a castle should be like. Really, really cool. Bits of living rock jutting out here and there, ramparts, turrets, mutli-levels, and I could practically hear peasants trundling thier carts and Lords riding by on battle-dressed horses. There was a lot of museams inside the castle, and we followed a tourguide around for a little while. Here's Brooke and I at the top, standing on one of the afrementioned juts of living rock.



We ate lunch at the Gourment Burger Kitchen, which we had been to in London before. Best. Burgers. EVER. We spent the rest of the day watching street theatre and waiting until we had to be at the airport at 6. We were able to book the flight early enough that it was actually cheaper than the trian tickets, which we didn't book early enough at all. The flight took about an hour, and of course I was congested at the time, so decent was a very painful experiance. If you've never flown with a stuffed-up head, don't. The pressure change hurts like a mother. I'm fairly sure that's why I have a minor sinus infection now. Before it was just a little head cold, but since I've been expelling snot of a very unhealthy color. Which I'm sure you really wanted to know.

So that brings us up to date, and has killed my lunch hour nicely. I'm going to be spending the rest of the week being poor, so I'll not likely have anything to tell. But I'll try to think of something to rant about. I know how you all go a little crazy when you don't get your regular dose of Brettness.

/conceited bastard.

Cheers!

Photo Album

I've got a photo album over on my Friendster account. Check it out!

Michelle is back in town for the weekend, on her way to Kenya. We're going clubbing tonight. She's the wonderful lady who took me to Live 8. She was too sick to go clubbing when she was here before, but she's feeling much better now. I was too tired when we hung out last night, so I promised she could drag me around anywhere she wanted tonight.

She's also wonderful enough to pay my way, since I went WAY over budget in Edinburgh and I've got barely enough to eat until payday (which is next Friday, thank goodness).

You're still gong to have to wait for the Fringe story. Soon, I promise.

Blog Spam?

BLOG SPAM? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

I didn't know people spammed blogs! That is so not cool. NOT FUCKING COOL!

The spammers will be the first group of assholes up against the wall when the revolution comes, mark my words!

See comment #4 on the previous post to know why I am pissed off.

No Comment Necessary

By the way, does everyone know they can click on pictures to make them bigger? 'Cause I didn't.

Also, read why the Flying Spaghetti Monster theology MUST be taught in schools. Bring a tear to my eye, it does.


I'm feeling better today, but I am very emotionally drained. I'm sorry, but you will still have to wait for the Fringe story. It's a good one, but I just don't feel like relating it now. I just might actually go to bed early tonight (*gasp*). Very tired.

Cheers, my dear and wicked children.

No Title

I saw Brooke for the final time tonight. It hurts. I will miss her very much.

I'll see you soon, Bashful.

The Rest of Paris

After dinner, we were supposed to meet people to go to the Eiffel Tower. We got a little lost, and missed the rendevue. We bought another bottle of wine from a little wine shop. The proprietor was a really nice guy who spoke excellent English. When we saw the display of wines going from 200 to 2000 Euros, we thought we were in the wrong place. But he sold us an absolutely delicious bottle for 13 Euros that we drank walking around the streets of Paris. After much confusion on thier subway system (they put the bus and subway routes on the same map!!! what the hell!), we finally made it. Remember the brown paint? You hit that with lights, and it glows gold! Magnificent. It was too late to go up the tower, so we lay back on the grass and watched it sparkle. Every hour it starts sparkling with about a million flashing lights. Pretty!

Let me take a moment to speak about the people hawking cheap shit in Paris. They are PUSHY! Don't take no for an answer, and annoying as hell. One of them handed Brooke a rose, and I almost died laughing when she said "Oh, thanks!" and walked away. He chased after us, of course, and I think she was honestly (drunkenly) surprised when he wanted us to pay for it. I gave it back to him. On Monday, a woman actually grabbed Brooke's hand and tied a cheap string bracelet onto it before she could react, then demanded 5 Euros! There was no cash between us, so the woman just walked away. Dumbass...

We bought another bottle of wine from a passing seller for 8 Euros (he certainly made a profit on THAT crap), and made our way back to the hostel. It was after the subway stopped running, and it was a long-ass walk. Met up with some of our BUNAC crew, and followed them home.

The next day we went to the Palace of Versalles (sp?). This was the first palace I have been to that looked like it belonged to Royalty, at least from the outside. I'm sure Buckingham is nice inside, but outside it's kind of drab. We went to the Gardens first, and they were great. Hedges, fountains, statues everywhere. Dad would have loved it. The only part of the inside we went through was the Kings' Chambers. Cool, but just more gilded rooms. Honestly not that exciting. And we spend a half-hour standing in the wrong line. That was discouraging. We did make friends with Jessica, the other girl in the pictures. She's awesome. Lots of fun, math major, dancer, high on life type. Definitely added to our good times.

We went back to Paris and proceeded to the Louvre (I insisted on calling the Loov-Rey the whole time). Amazing. Totally amazing. Saw the Nike, the Mona Lisa, the Venus De Milo, and tons and tons of other incredible artwork. I was told that if you spend 5 minutes looking at every single piece (or was it just paintings?), it would take you 3 months to see the whole place. Humongous.

After the Loov-Rey, we went on another walking tour. We climbed a giant hill until we were overlooking the city, and in a neat-o part of town. Very touristy with lots of restaurants. We ate, and Paul had the escargot. I tried one. Tasted like garlic and butter, and the consistency of on oyster, but not as chewy. Kind of boring, really.

We saw another old gothic church, and then walked to the Mulin Rouge. It was 90 Euros for a show (!), so we went elsewhere. Had a drink at a Irish pub nearby, and then Brooke and I headed to the Eiffel Tower again so we could go on top. The top floor was closed, but the view from the 2nd floor was still amazing. Very romantic. Made the last subway home, and stayed up at another Irish pub (odd trend here). It was the only thing open at 1. She just wanted water, so I bought a beer. It was very good, but only a half-pint for 4 Euros. So I stole the glass. Hah!

The next day we bummed around Paris some more, and went to the Victory Arch and the square where Catherine of Aaragorn was beheaded. Big obelisk, too.

Caught the Eurostar home, but not before blowing my last 5 Euros on a glass of scotch with Scott and Paul.



So that was Paris. Now I have to pack for Edinburgh.

Cheers!

The Question of Cycling... and Paris

This is Brooke and I on the boat cruise in Paris. She wanted me to post it because she thinks it's cute. I agree.

I made my first homeward journey on my bike today. Took me about two hours. Only a couple of major wrong turns. I'm in a serious debate as to whether this bike thing is a good idea.

Pro: Daily exercise. Plenty of it.
Con: It's a long-ass ride

Pro: I get a chance to know London better on a street level
Con: The streets between Central London and the East Side are fucking filthy, and not exactly scenic

Pro: It will save me money on Tube fare in the long run
Con: Not until October, and then I'm limited in my travel options. With my Tube pass, I can go anywhere at any time. With the bike, I have to pay each time I use the Tube, and I can't take the bike with me. I'm tied to it.

Pro: Fresh air
Con: London air is not fresh. Many cyclists wear gas masks when they ride. I know why now. Buses make the nasty smoke.

Pro: I'm not a target for suicide bombers.
Con: I'm about a hundred billion times more likely to die from a bad driver than I am from a nutjob with access to fertilizer.

Pro: I love cycling.
Con: Not in the rain, I won't.

You can see my dilemma. I think I'll give it another week or so. Once I have my route hammered out better, it will pick up my travel time considerably. Right now the big thing is the fact that I can't just hop a Tube any time I want. All-day passes are around £5, more if I travel at peak times. With a Travelcard, I can use the Tube and the bus as much as I like, any time. That's really nice.

Even if I sell the bike back in a week or two, I've saved money. I don't know, what you do think?


Since I'm going to the Fringe this weekend, I guess I should post about Paris first. So here we go.



The train arrived in Paris around noon Continental time. Our hostel wasn't ready for us yet, so we dropped off our luggage and took a walking tour. Our guide for the weekend was Javiar, who works for the French BUNAC equivalent. We saw a bunch of sites, including Notre Dame. I have been in a number of monumental cathedrals now, but Notre Dame deserves its reputation. Gothic and huge, it was very dimly lit on the inside. Lots of stained glass, lots of statues, and gigantic vaulted ceilings. We had about half an hour there, and I spent the last 15 minutes or so sitting in the middle of the pews and feeling humble. I can understand how a peasant 700 years ago living in a house made if straw and mud would have believed absolutely in the divine power of his rulers in a place like that. It was a great place for contemplation and meditation. Enormous amounts of energy stored in the walls. I'd love to be there when it is packed with worshippers and resonating with belief.

After the walking tour we took a boat ride up and down the Siene, seeing significant sites. The pamphlet we had was translated into English by a moron. I really wanted to take a red marker to it, or possibly charge them a small fee to make it suck less. The tour was nice. I didn't know the Eiffel Tower was painted brown. They repaint it once every 5 years, and it takes almost 60 tons of paint.

We returned to the hostel and checked into our rooms. Mine was four flights of normal stairs, then a spiral staircase. Not as bad as the girls across the hall, who then had a ladder into a loft. There was a lift, but I doubt it ever worked. I roomed with Paul and Jon, who is the happiest person in the world. He will get excited about anything and everything. Fantastic to have long discussions and debates with. I'm sorry he's leaving soon, and I didn't get to hang with him much. One of the other guys in the room was Scott, who is a theatre tech in London. He's working on a number of shows now, and is going to get me into the big Lighting expo next month for free. W00t! We hit it off as Theatre people tend to, and he was the one I (and Brooke) spent most of the time with. He's in London longer than I am, so we're gonna hang out more. Great contact.

Brooke, Scott, anther girl who's name escapes me, and I went out to a little Parisian cafe. I had frog's legs. I never bothered to imagine what frog's legs would taste like, but if I had, I would have been right. A cross between chicken and fish. Quite tasty, actually. A lot of work for not much meat, though. I had it figured out by the end.

It's late, so I'm going to finish this tomorrow.

Photos to Tide you Over

Here are some pictures to keep you going until I can relate the Story. You can clik on the pictures to make them bigger. And don't miss the Bike post below. Enjoy!

John, Me, Brooke, Scott, Paul, Tina at the Moulin Rouge

Brooke, Me, Scott, Jessica outside the Louvre

"I'm telling you, the hostel is that way!"

The Gardens behind the Palace of Versailles

Biking is Good

Ahh, my first day biking to work. How sweet it is.


It took me an hour and a half, but that was expected. I didn't take the most direct route, but that will be found later. I have a bike lane alongside a highway for almost half of it. The lane is actually on the sidewalk, not the highway, so there is a curb between me and traffic. I like it.

So, the Bicycle Story.

I went a good ways up into North London to buy the bike. I had downloaded directions to ride it home from the Transport for London website. Little did I know that these directions weren't designed for speed, but rather to encounter the least amount of traffic along the way. This means it is a very random and circuitous route. Had I known where I was going, it would have taken me about an hour to get home.

I will say this for the States: we put a clearly posted street sign at every corner, telling you the name of every street. London does not. On the rare occation you get a street sign, it is in a random place on the side of a building or down low by the road, and it often only lists one road. I wasted at least an hour total riding back and forth past streets I was looking for, but weren't labeled. I think this must be an anti-tourist measure. Arrgh!

At around 10:30 pm (I started the journey at about 7), I was halfway. The direction led me to an industrial area that was totally deserted. I turned down the prescribed road, and it went into a tiny, dark tunnel with the name of the street roughly hand-painted above it. I flew through, hoping my speed would ward off any potential attackers lurking in the shadows. There were none, but I was spit out onto a cobblestone street. It lead to a dead end.

I want to go back to this place and take pictures, or possibly film a horror movie there. I can't think of a better place to be mugged/raped/murdered/carried off to the Goblin King's dungeon. There was a circular cobbled area with a building that would probably be quite interesting in the daylight, but at night it was creepy and foreboding. Surrounded by bushes and hills, and decrepit gazeebo stood off to the left. Twisted hunks of metal somethings were scattered about, throwing odd shadows in the dim light of the single sodium streetlamp. Something was rustling in the bushes. The map wanted me to continue straight ahead, where it became completely dark and I couldn't tell if the opening I could see was a path, or just further into the wild. It took me about 5 seconds to decide that the map could continue on, but I was getting the hell out of there.

I tried several different routes to get where I wanted to be, but they all led back to the same Courtyard of Terror. I finally figured out the map wanted me to ride for some miles along a poorly lit canal. I'm sure in the day it would be pleasant, but I decided this wasn't the best time. After much worry and enough stress to make me sick to my stomach (I still hadn't had dinner), I found a mini cab company to take me and my bike home. It was about midnight when I arrived at my house, and at least 1 before I could sleep. The next morning was not terribly pleasant.

However, all this was worth it for the kick-ass bike I ended up with. It looks very much like this:



So that's the bike story. Next time, Paris. Stay tuned!

Check out Austin's Blog

My good friend Austin "Danger" Garrison has a blog too, and I absolutely LOVE his post about the Fool. Read it, I think it says a lot. And remind me to tell you about my Donkey theory. And the bike.

http://dangergarrison.blogspot.com

Peace, y'all

I LOVE MY LIFE

I should be going to bed right now. I really should. But I am compelled to blog.

I just finished a book, GEEKS: How two lost boys rode the Internet out of Idaho by Jon Katz. Fantastic book. I highly recommend it, especially if you feel at all geeky and/or are from Idaho. I made think about a lot of things, including where I am and where I am going. But mostly where I came from.

Thank you Mom, for the book and the lifetime of support and unconditional love. Without the excellent home life I had growing up, I don't know who I'd be. That wonderful home was often very hard work for both my parents, and I am deeply grateful.

Thank you Mr Anderson, whom I know isn't reading this blog, but I hope to contact soon. Mom, if you see him, can you pass the address on?

Thank you to my friends, both old and recent, for always being there for me and accepting the weird little kid I always have been and always will be.

Thank you to the Internet and Geek Culture, for providing me an outlet when it was (and is) desperately needed, and for keeping in contact with the ones I love. For that alone I can't say enough.

Thank you to Life, The Universe, and Everything, for making life hard enough to give me character, but then giving me exactly what I need to take the next step. I am well aware how incredibly lucky I am, and how many people would (and do) literally kill for what I have.

What do I have? It's not the material goods, the money, the opulent lifestyle that allows me such amazing luxuries like the room I live in and the computer I am writing this on. It's not the countless friends, family, mentors, and general people that have touched my blessed life. It's the fact that I know, without a doubt, that I will be OK. More than OK, my life will be great. I don't really need to worry, because I will end up where I need to be. All my efforts, hard work, whatever, while necessary, will ultimately lead me to the final place. And that place is good.

My future has started to become more indistinct. While I thought it was 90% sure I would be going to the Very Exotic Place (still not allowed to mention it by name; soon), it now is looking more like 60% sure. And suddenly, that's OK.

Friendster has allowed me to re-establish communications with people I thought lost, and has made me miss home. If I have to go back to the States in November, I think I would be more than happy to set up a life in Seattle. I have friends and family there, and it would be a good place. I can go places, or settle down and start being "adult." Wait, fuck that. How about just live there for a while.

If my world travels do end there, I know this: I'm coming back. There is a lot of Europe I haven't seen, and a lot more of the World I haven't been even close to. I WILL see more. And I'm fine with waiting. I know life will bring me back. The call is faint and in the distance, but it is there.

To all who read this, my love. Know that I am happy and content. This weekend is Paris, and it should be great. Next weekend is the Fringe Festival, and that should also be great. Afterwards I will be broke as hell, and that will be less great. But I'm not concerned. I've been broke before. It has it's own charm about it.

I got a good bike, so that will help. Specialized Rockhopper, a kickass mountain bike. Getting it home from North London last night was one hell of an adventure, but that will have to wait for another time. Remind me to tell you the story.

Ok, bed now. Mom, thanks for the book. It was excellent. Watch for some Chanel No. 5 in the mail. Everyone else, I leave you with the word of Smoking Bill

One, for the life you live
Two, for your family and your friends
Three, for the bed where you sleep
And four for the food that you get to eat

Excelsior

Droppin' the Quick Post

Should get back to work soon. But I need to post. MUST POST!

Got a bike, but it isn't good enough. I only spent 40 pounds on it, so I not too worried. I'll just put it back up for sale on the website I bought it on. Ask 50 for it, let them feel clever when they bargin me down.

I did get to ride it through London a bit yesterday. It wouldn't hold up to the hard-core kind of riding I'd need to do with this traffic, but just tooling around through the park on a bike was WONDERFUL. I hadn't realized how much I missed it. I think now that I will drop more money on a good one, like 100 or so. I would even be willing to give up a trip somewhere next month. I know that I'd be missing out, but I want to cycle. It would be totally worth it for the everyday enjoyment. Not enjoyment, exstacy. I'd get out every day, and get to know this city so much better. And unless I find something spectacular, no more online second hand. I need a bike shop to start a realtionship with.

Brooke leaves on the 18th. I may have already said that, I don't remember. Sad. But, of course, we still have Paris. I can't wait to use that line just before she leaves. I hope she doesn't think of it before I get the chance. She's not big on cliches, so I should be good. Great setups don't come around like this every day, you know.

Been going out with the housemates to North London pubs lately. Good times, good atmosphere. On Saturday we saw a carzy-good acrobat in the outdoor part of the pub. He didn't say a word, just started doing cartweels through the tables. Bunch of backflips and handstand tricks, and then for a finale be balanced on one hane on a wine bottle! It was on top of a fence post, and he had his whole body above it. Totally wicked. He must have come away with 50 pounds just from our Pub, and he richly deserved it.

Anyway. Back to work. Post comments so I know you're out there!