gunpowder, treason, and plot
it was a month ago today (or yesterday) i left cali with all my shit packed into the dearly departed sven-monster (my volvo) and headed back east via san diego, tucson, las cruces and roswell, austin, etc. i saw some of my favourite people en route, went surfing, etc. time in the South was all too brief and divided between here and there, so i regret not being able to see alot of people for very long. and some people i only saw when i was drunk, which i regret also (like chris granger). but it was good that i stopped through anyway, to get all that california-type nonsense outta my head. seriously, i will miss that place alot and all the people i met there. i finally took an amtrak to atlanta, and a plane over the pond, and a train to a train to a cab to where i am writing you from.
and so now i live in england>
errrrr yeh
old stuff, too much to describe, all of it a change and i don't really think i will be here more than a year but that's what ole josh ridenour said too so we'll have to keep our eyes peeled for more data to process. some of the main archetypes are already making themselves known, like harry: drinking-buddy chap from oxford, my new auburn-analog, working in the lab where watson and crick discovered the double helix (which they announced at the eagle, this pub where i went to drink greene king beer upon my arrival).
tit hall is the name of my college (there are 31 colleges), but i live some ways away in bateman street. it was there that i locked myself out of my room on the evening i arrived, drunk off my ass and in my underroos. actually, it's more like i just happened to wake up in the corridor, with no recollection of how i got there, and i began to wail and beat on my door to be let in. i was still drunk so this made perfect sense. i don't know who i expected would let me in (it was empty) but i don't think i would have been surprised if jesus christ himself had opened the door. i was making a hell of a noise, bang bang bang ahhhh. so anyway, after a while of this in the freezing cold hallway, i suddenly realised what the fuck i was about. and i began to be very embarrassed, naturlich, so i went downstairs to the room of the only other guy i'd met and luckily the only other person in my house at that point. joseph is his name. we'd immediately gone drinking once we'd set down our suitcases. so i knocked and knocked at his door and finally his still-drunk ass answered. so i said to his still-drunk ass: 'i know i just met you and all, but...' and then i hesitated, and i could see him standing there, slits for eyes, looking at my shivering drunk underwearclad dumb ass, and i could see him thinking 'hmmmm' and with raised eyebrows and i continued hastily 'no, um, can i crash on your floor, i seemed to have blah blah blah'. anyway, i didn't get any sleep that night because there were no covers for me and the carpet is really itchy, like a hairshirt carpet (actually, hairshirt carpet is the name of my new band, we're emo) and so when he woke up to find my shivering nearnaked ass on his floor he offered me some clothes so that i could walk the 20 minutes to college and explain to the porters my stupidity. this wouldn't have been a problem except for the fact that he was about 120# and 5'6" and his clothes weren't about to fit me and at this point i hadn't slept in 3 days (couldn't sleep on the plane). all this was friday, and i am feeling a far sight better now. i got sorted out, as they say.
there's a brand of shampoo here called schwarzkopf. i think that is the most interesting fact i've encountered today. no, this is: the main university library here can be seen as the ministry of truth in the 60's film adaptation of 1984. and the inside is just as scary.
something english to the people who send me their addresses; if i once had it, i have it no more. joebrown@post.com is my new one. cheerio, wot wot. i'm off to take a cricket bat and knock the head off a statue of margaret thatcher.
and so now i live in england>
errrrr yeh
old stuff, too much to describe, all of it a change and i don't really think i will be here more than a year but that's what ole josh ridenour said too so we'll have to keep our eyes peeled for more data to process. some of the main archetypes are already making themselves known, like harry: drinking-buddy chap from oxford, my new auburn-analog, working in the lab where watson and crick discovered the double helix (which they announced at the eagle, this pub where i went to drink greene king beer upon my arrival).
tit hall is the name of my college (there are 31 colleges), but i live some ways away in bateman street. it was there that i locked myself out of my room on the evening i arrived, drunk off my ass and in my underroos. actually, it's more like i just happened to wake up in the corridor, with no recollection of how i got there, and i began to wail and beat on my door to be let in. i was still drunk so this made perfect sense. i don't know who i expected would let me in (it was empty) but i don't think i would have been surprised if jesus christ himself had opened the door. i was making a hell of a noise, bang bang bang ahhhh. so anyway, after a while of this in the freezing cold hallway, i suddenly realised what the fuck i was about. and i began to be very embarrassed, naturlich, so i went downstairs to the room of the only other guy i'd met and luckily the only other person in my house at that point. joseph is his name. we'd immediately gone drinking once we'd set down our suitcases. so i knocked and knocked at his door and finally his still-drunk ass answered. so i said to his still-drunk ass: 'i know i just met you and all, but...' and then i hesitated, and i could see him standing there, slits for eyes, looking at my shivering drunk underwearclad dumb ass, and i could see him thinking 'hmmmm' and with raised eyebrows and i continued hastily 'no, um, can i crash on your floor, i seemed to have blah blah blah'. anyway, i didn't get any sleep that night because there were no covers for me and the carpet is really itchy, like a hairshirt carpet (actually, hairshirt carpet is the name of my new band, we're emo) and so when he woke up to find my shivering nearnaked ass on his floor he offered me some clothes so that i could walk the 20 minutes to college and explain to the porters my stupidity. this wouldn't have been a problem except for the fact that he was about 120# and 5'6" and his clothes weren't about to fit me and at this point i hadn't slept in 3 days (couldn't sleep on the plane). all this was friday, and i am feeling a far sight better now. i got sorted out, as they say.
there's a brand of shampoo here called schwarzkopf. i think that is the most interesting fact i've encountered today. no, this is: the main university library here can be seen as the ministry of truth in the 60's film adaptation of 1984. and the inside is just as scary.
something english to the people who send me their addresses; if i once had it, i have it no more. joebrown@post.com is my new one. cheerio, wot wot. i'm off to take a cricket bat and knock the head off a statue of margaret thatcher.