This is it. Tomorrow I leave for my unshaven journey through Ireland, Amsterdam, and Paris. It's funny that these are the three places that I planned to go before I came here, and now I'm actually going...with friends!
This is the climax. I'll be living my dreams backpacking through Europe for 11 days, and when I get back I have one month left (falling action), and boom I'm home again. Back to New Jersey, no more city life and British people, fish and chips, double Decker buses, staring at the Thames, Globe Theater, New Cross Inn, hundreds of years of history, English countryside, Green Park, tower bridge, ...wait I don't want to think about all this right now, do I?
I miss my friends so much, but I really don't know how I'm going to go back to driving my Altima up and down Browntown Shopping Center after all this. The world is just too impressive. To God Damn impressive.
Than again, I can almost hear my band blasting through Nick's basement again...that makes me smile.
I still have a list of things to do when I get back though.
1. See an Arsenal Football game
2. Go to Manchester
3. Go to Liverpool
4. Take the Beatles walking tour
5. Go to King's Cross to try and find Platform 9 3/4's.
6. Go to Stratford upon Avon and other Shakespeare sites.
7. Go to Brighton.
8. Go to Warwick Castle.
So there are still things.
I hope I can bring London home with me.
There's so much I want to write about but this isn't the blog for it. I'm just so lucky, the world has moved me so much since I've been here. The world changed me.
I just think about how I came to London for no reason. Like, I had no reason to do this except that something told me to go to London. My first calling. I listened to my first calling in life and it's working out like callings do usually.
I hate how symmetrical and schematic life can be sometimes.
It feels good to feel good again, or feel something besides neutrality and general non-interest in life I guess. I feel sort of, re-energized. I feel back.
Things are good.
Yesterday I woke up and took the bus to Greenwich by myself. Greenwich is a really sweet little place, with shops and such. I walked around alone for a while going into stores and thinking about how it's strange that I'm getting into aesthetics. Like I see clothes or like interesting decorative shit and I think to myself..."maybe I should buy that"? Why? I never wanted things before, but lately I've been really fascinated by fantastical looking decorative clothes and like ornaments and pictures and things. It's weird because this is just something I noticed I've developed since I've been here, no one else is like that or introduced me to it, it's just like this small thing in the back of my mind. I like cool stuff now I guess. Am I turning into Justin?
I don't know, maybe the kid is changing.
Anyway, I found a copy of Emmanuel Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason" that was published in like 1815 in an old book shop.( Holy crap I am turning into Justin). I was so happy about it, only 10 pounds. I used to read that book at the Breakfast table every morning on Franklin Street so I could start my day being fucked up in the head. I wanted to read it.
I found the COOLEST, PUB, EVER. It was a real bar, with bar stools and stuff, and a fireplace.I sat there and ordered an Amstel Bier, and I read the book and drank alone for like two hours. Finally, I started feeling drunk, and the bartender who is like a dude my age asked what I was reading.
Long story short he started drinking and talking about philosophy with me, and before I knew it it was 5pm and I was totally drunk from drinking with a stranger while talking about Emmanuel Kant in England all day.
I drunkenly took the bus back to my flat, and later Kate and Daria decided to bake a cake. Feeling drunk already, I bought 10 beers and drank them while they baked and I watched and made stupid jokes and was drunk. Jo eventually came in and helped me drink them, and after we finished we went back to the liquor store, moved it to my kitchen, and me and Jo wound up drinking and singing songs and talking about our lives until 8am. It was a beautiful night, because I bonded with someone I didn't know that well before, and it reminded me very much of a night at home, and centered me a bit.
Today I laid around hungover and went on a tour of Haunted places in London. It was pretty interesting. There are lots of ghosts in London, I wish I could meet all of them.
Well, tomorrow I leave. No Blog for 11 days. I will be writing a blog though, on actual paper (LOL)which I will transfer to this thing when I get back.
Cheers
Andrew
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Oh it starts and ends....you're like a sunset.
Wasn't going to update this for a while (like post 11 day trip around Europe, a while)but once again I find myself lying in bed, unconvinced of a good reason to surrender to sleep. No T.V, too late to play guitar, music in the background, I figure might as well update my blog. Plus, I don't want to see the bald guy in my dreams again. Just kidding.
BTW is anyone still reading this besides Lori and Tom? I find that I'm letting this get a bit personal and I'm wondering if anyone actually reads this.Knowing that I'm writing to empty cyberspace and two close friends would make me feel a little better I think. Shoot me an e-mail if you're following this blog
andrewstrums@hotmail.com
just kidding, don't e-mail me.
I'm feeling really fucking excellent right now. I know last week I had a bit of a setback, with homesickness and unexplained physical sickness (possibly brought on by anxiety which may or may not have been brought on by alcoholism and turkey sandwiches) but I think I discovered a few possible career choices for my "life" once May hits.
Ok
A. Write a great book. Ok, ok, I know I always say this, but, I think I came up with a really good idea to write about...I'd have to start writing though, which is complicated because it would interfere with my facebook postings and away message checking.
B. Be in a Rock Band. I saw Phoenix tonight and the dream holds true, I wish I was doing that instead of pretending to be a young intellectual.
C. Open up an English style pub in Keyport with Nick. Yeah that's right. Me and Nick always talked about opening a bar, if I opened a pub like the ones here in London, I think it'd be a hit. We'd open for English Breakfast, tea lunch, live music every night (supplied by me), Currey Dinner, Sunday Roast, and of course all the English beer you can drink on tap! Oh yeah, and NO TIPPING! Big signs in the windows that say no tipping! ...now all I need is 900,000 dollars to get started.
D. Take out a 50,000 dollar loan for Grad School and continue to read books and get my degree in book reading, thus perpetuating my beatnik lifestyle and future (comparable to a sunrise) that will never come....i'm leaning toward this one.
E. Ok There are ALOT of street musicians in London. I was thinking like what if I got them all together in some BIG venue, charged people to see them all at once, for like, a good cause or something. (What cause worth fighting for is good?)I think that'd be awesome. The musicians would get exposure, somebody would benefit. I'd need to be backed by John Mayer and Kanye West or something though.
F. Live with my parents and deliver pizza.
G. Commit insurance fraud.
H. Sell my ballin car and live off the money for six months and then hang myself.
J. No ok J is serious. Maybe work for National Geographic? What if I got paid to like blog about places I've visited...that'd be a nice life, traveling and writing about it.
K. Eat 6 grease trucks sandwiches in 45 minutes, and have my last dying words be "Call it the Fandy (Fat Andy)".
Ok, that was comic relief. What have I actually been up to?
Sunday I went to a cooking class. I learned how to make Yorkshire Pudding and Scones. The lady was really weird and I felt immature the whole time. I felt like I was back in High School cooking class and all I wanted to do was be an asshole and make offhand comments and make the kids I was with laugh. I love scones though. Scones with marmalade and clotted cream...fire.
Afterwords this kid I don't know to well named Julian asked me to watch football (soccer) with him at a pub. It was like 1pm and I was pretty excited because I wanted to sit at a pub with a dude and get blasted in the middle of the afternoon...haven't done that since a few days before I left. He bailed though, but it was ok because me and my real friends went to Piccadilly. Jose and I got some Heineken's, and I got a german-style sausage with onions, and we sat in Green Park outside Buckingham Palace and spent the afternoon laying in the leaves in a circle. I had one of those, "God, I'm in London" moments. It had been a while and it felt good.
That night we saw "The Imaginerium of Dr. Parnassas" in a British movie theater. The movie was fuckin' awesome, but the British "PICTURE HOUSE" was way MORE awesome. The seats recline all the way back, the theater was clean, and every preview was for beer. Like literally every preview. Oh, and you can drink in the theater.
Monday I went to class which was LAME, but our London History class was really interesting. We walked around like some places I haven't seen yet, down alleyways and stuff. We saw St. George's hospital which is like 600 years old, and we went to a few graveyards where people were buried during the plague.
Later that night I went to see "Annie Get Your Gun" at the Young Vic. It was literally the worst play I've ever seen, and I know I always talk in extremes, but saba dah it was FUCKING bad. I loved it. I was entertained the entire time by how bad it was. I think, I could have made up better dances. I really do. I might see it again because it was so comically bad.
Tuesday we had taco lunch, and then Kate and Chris and I walked around New Cross. That night we went to the New Cross Inn again, watched some bad bands, had a good time. I wound up getting drunk even though, I really tried not to. Toffee Vodka was just too good,and I'm a sucker for good friends and conversation.
Today I woke up LATE and felt great. Kate and I went to see Phoenix at the O2 Academy Brixton. Brixton, turns out, is like the East Orange of London. I really wanted to eat at a nice place, but we could only find weird pubs with weirder menus. Finally, when I was about to give up, we spotted a really nice little place in an alleyway. It was a cool little place,, with like happy people and candles and such but the picture on the wall was of a bunch of different colored cartoon people holding each other's dicks...it was also the logo. That aside, I ordered an Ostrich Burger (yeap) and Kate had a Fish pie with an egg on it. I than proceeded to convince her of the joy's of beginning a relationship with Guinness.
After that we went to the show, got two Guinness's (yes), and watched Phoenix. The theater was so cool. It was like, if a theater at home put on a costume. Phoenix was amazing and it felt great to see real music again. I was really into it. The band that opened up was interesting as well, they have that song that goes, "I'm doing handstands for you" over and over again.
I love music and musicians. All I want to do is be a badass musician with a cool light show. This show was such a good experience, I miss seeing concerts so much.
It was a great night, now I can't sleep, thinking about buffalo wings.
I love England. I love London. This city is quite alive. This weekend I'm going to Dublin though, perhaps, the climax of this blog.
My time is running short. Can't believe I've been here for six weeks. I can actually see going home now as something that is not so far away. It's ok. I still have to go to liverpool, manchester, brighton, wales, and Subway.
Goodnight Friends. I love you!!!
Cheers-
ANDREW M. GINSBERG
BTW is anyone still reading this besides Lori and Tom? I find that I'm letting this get a bit personal and I'm wondering if anyone actually reads this.Knowing that I'm writing to empty cyberspace and two close friends would make me feel a little better I think. Shoot me an e-mail if you're following this blog
andrewstrums@hotmail.com
just kidding, don't e-mail me.
I'm feeling really fucking excellent right now. I know last week I had a bit of a setback, with homesickness and unexplained physical sickness (possibly brought on by anxiety which may or may not have been brought on by alcoholism and turkey sandwiches) but I think I discovered a few possible career choices for my "life" once May hits.
Ok
A. Write a great book. Ok, ok, I know I always say this, but, I think I came up with a really good idea to write about...I'd have to start writing though, which is complicated because it would interfere with my facebook postings and away message checking.
B. Be in a Rock Band. I saw Phoenix tonight and the dream holds true, I wish I was doing that instead of pretending to be a young intellectual.
C. Open up an English style pub in Keyport with Nick. Yeah that's right. Me and Nick always talked about opening a bar, if I opened a pub like the ones here in London, I think it'd be a hit. We'd open for English Breakfast, tea lunch, live music every night (supplied by me), Currey Dinner, Sunday Roast, and of course all the English beer you can drink on tap! Oh yeah, and NO TIPPING! Big signs in the windows that say no tipping! ...now all I need is 900,000 dollars to get started.
D. Take out a 50,000 dollar loan for Grad School and continue to read books and get my degree in book reading, thus perpetuating my beatnik lifestyle and future (comparable to a sunrise) that will never come....i'm leaning toward this one.
E. Ok There are ALOT of street musicians in London. I was thinking like what if I got them all together in some BIG venue, charged people to see them all at once, for like, a good cause or something. (What cause worth fighting for is good?)I think that'd be awesome. The musicians would get exposure, somebody would benefit. I'd need to be backed by John Mayer and Kanye West or something though.
F. Live with my parents and deliver pizza.
G. Commit insurance fraud.
H. Sell my ballin car and live off the money for six months and then hang myself.
J. No ok J is serious. Maybe work for National Geographic? What if I got paid to like blog about places I've visited...that'd be a nice life, traveling and writing about it.
K. Eat 6 grease trucks sandwiches in 45 minutes, and have my last dying words be "Call it the Fandy (Fat Andy)".
Ok, that was comic relief. What have I actually been up to?
Sunday I went to a cooking class. I learned how to make Yorkshire Pudding and Scones. The lady was really weird and I felt immature the whole time. I felt like I was back in High School cooking class and all I wanted to do was be an asshole and make offhand comments and make the kids I was with laugh. I love scones though. Scones with marmalade and clotted cream...fire.
Afterwords this kid I don't know to well named Julian asked me to watch football (soccer) with him at a pub. It was like 1pm and I was pretty excited because I wanted to sit at a pub with a dude and get blasted in the middle of the afternoon...haven't done that since a few days before I left. He bailed though, but it was ok because me and my real friends went to Piccadilly. Jose and I got some Heineken's, and I got a german-style sausage with onions, and we sat in Green Park outside Buckingham Palace and spent the afternoon laying in the leaves in a circle. I had one of those, "God, I'm in London" moments. It had been a while and it felt good.
That night we saw "The Imaginerium of Dr. Parnassas" in a British movie theater. The movie was fuckin' awesome, but the British "PICTURE HOUSE" was way MORE awesome. The seats recline all the way back, the theater was clean, and every preview was for beer. Like literally every preview. Oh, and you can drink in the theater.
Monday I went to class which was LAME, but our London History class was really interesting. We walked around like some places I haven't seen yet, down alleyways and stuff. We saw St. George's hospital which is like 600 years old, and we went to a few graveyards where people were buried during the plague.
Later that night I went to see "Annie Get Your Gun" at the Young Vic. It was literally the worst play I've ever seen, and I know I always talk in extremes, but saba dah it was FUCKING bad. I loved it. I was entertained the entire time by how bad it was. I think, I could have made up better dances. I really do. I might see it again because it was so comically bad.
Tuesday we had taco lunch, and then Kate and Chris and I walked around New Cross. That night we went to the New Cross Inn again, watched some bad bands, had a good time. I wound up getting drunk even though, I really tried not to. Toffee Vodka was just too good,and I'm a sucker for good friends and conversation.
Today I woke up LATE and felt great. Kate and I went to see Phoenix at the O2 Academy Brixton. Brixton, turns out, is like the East Orange of London. I really wanted to eat at a nice place, but we could only find weird pubs with weirder menus. Finally, when I was about to give up, we spotted a really nice little place in an alleyway. It was a cool little place,, with like happy people and candles and such but the picture on the wall was of a bunch of different colored cartoon people holding each other's dicks...it was also the logo. That aside, I ordered an Ostrich Burger (yeap) and Kate had a Fish pie with an egg on it. I than proceeded to convince her of the joy's of beginning a relationship with Guinness.
After that we went to the show, got two Guinness's (yes), and watched Phoenix. The theater was so cool. It was like, if a theater at home put on a costume. Phoenix was amazing and it felt great to see real music again. I was really into it. The band that opened up was interesting as well, they have that song that goes, "I'm doing handstands for you" over and over again.
I love music and musicians. All I want to do is be a badass musician with a cool light show. This show was such a good experience, I miss seeing concerts so much.
It was a great night, now I can't sleep, thinking about buffalo wings.
I love England. I love London. This city is quite alive. This weekend I'm going to Dublin though, perhaps, the climax of this blog.
My time is running short. Can't believe I've been here for six weeks. I can actually see going home now as something that is not so far away. It's ok. I still have to go to liverpool, manchester, brighton, wales, and Subway.
Goodnight Friends. I love you!!!
Cheers-
ANDREW M. GINSBERG
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Back On Track; Life in London.
Ok So I've written long, ego-driven rants the past week or so on Abbey Road and other such things in life, but I strayed a bit from my actual London Blog.
Trying to be as honest as possible, after Nick left I was feeling A. Physically destroyed, like McDonald's, meat pies, sausage, mash, and enough beer to keep an entire African village drunk for three weeks had taken a toll on my body, and B. a little lonely. This week was interesting for me as as part of this whole, I was feeling really stressed and I wasn't sure why, I was sleeping badly, and I was feeling just general tiredness.
Monday I announced it was Octsober and decided not to drink this week. I wanted to figure things out.
Tuesday I went to my favorite bar in New Cross, the New Cross Inn, watched some really bad local bands with two great people and got black out drunk and wished I could get on the stage...i'm itching. This kid I know Charlie busted out a passable rendition of "El Scorcho" and I felt really warm, but all the other music was bad, but bad in a drunken, sing-along, beautiful way. That night wound of being one of my favorite nights so far, but the next morning I felt awful again...more than a hangover I just felt like, my body couldn't exhale.
I deducted I've been treating my previously healthy body way to crappily over this time. I've made some changes with regards to certain habits, and I'm working on thinking about things again, not tuning out and diving into my current world of post youth vacation without a split second to remind myself...in May I'll be out of college.
Wed. I was hungover and we went to see a really interesting play about a guy who shows up at his sisters house covered in blood. We were a half hour late ( guess we still are tourists) after getting lost in Soho, but the play was good and I really dug it. I really like seeing all these plays. I felt so unbelievably drained on Wed night though, I declared that starting Thursday I would make myself feel better. After a small stint at the Hobgoblin, I called Kate via LL and asked if she'd wanna walk around Camden-town on Thursday.
So Thursday Kate and I headed out for Camden-town. Camdentown is not like Camden in NJ. You don't walk around strung out on mushrooms after a Phish show, or watch your car get towed. It's a happening, vibrant place.
It's the place where I will live when I'm 50 and alone, scratching out the last makings of a book that will make me posthumously rich, 75 years later after my great great grandson discovers it in his kid's toy box.
This is like, what you picture when you think of where your favorite writer or musician wrote your favorite song. They were probably in a place just like Camden town, at least mentally.
There are foods of the world (literally) everywhere, this and thats, clothes, saba dah (hehe),. It is like if the Boardwalk got an education. You can find just about anything there and for a good price. I wanted to buy a jacket for 5 pounds but I couldn't determine if it was styled for women or just really European. We got mulled wine, which I was boasted to Kate "In the literary world we call that Mead", but, my assumption was wrong. It is like Sangria boiled and it taste fuzzy on your tongue. It's wonderful.
We walked around some more, bought some souvenirs and some hand rolled Indian cigarettes that were supposed to taste like coffee, but they tasted more like dutch master. I was feeling really good during this day, I remember when we walked by the tunnels in little Venice I thought to myself how I didn't feel homesick anymore.
Camden is a wonderful place and I plan on going back. We stopped at a music store and I almost bought a uke, but I figured, eh, ill save the money for a change. Kate got like a shaker shaped like a skull, it kept everyone company during dinner.
That night we made buffalo wings. It was cool, I tried Ranch and it changed my life. I don't know what I've been thinking all these years.
Oh yeah we did Laundry after Camden, and Sue the laundry lady loves her job and gladly washed my unmentionables. It really was one of those perfect days.
That night everyone went home to do homework and I talked to Kelly about the concept of homesickness. It made me feel better, knowing I have such good friends here. I told her about stuff I did in High School, which I find I tell people a lot about here. I never even talked about High School at home, but lately things just remind me of these fucking wacky ass things my friends and I did that I forgot about, and I just gotta laugh and tell the story. I mean, if you're reading this from home, imagine getting the opportunity to tell someone who has never met Justin Hunt, about Justin Hunt.Things like "The Game", and stuff like that. I still haven't mentioned Jason Kennedy though, I'm saving it for a really good story.
I tried to sleep later but I wound up going through pictures of me and my friends from home and I got really reflective, and pretty sad. It's so weird growing up in a town where everyone you know understands each other completely, and we all root for each other but at the same time, when we hang out we make fun of each others lives, girlfriends, dreams, cars, parents, I mean we're so mean to each other really, but we love each other in such an interesting way and force each other to think about ourselves. The other night I told my friend Joe to shut up here, I was only joking but he seemed pissed off and I felt bad.
I thought about this and I thought about the night Justin told me he wished my family hadn't survived the holocaust, and I told him I'm sorry his family didn't drown on the boat from Cuba, and we laughed and went to sleep as he mumbled..."jew" with his last waken breath of the day. It's weird how people from Old Bridge are, it's weird how this town churned us out to be. Cold, but at the same time...so sentimental.
Anyway, so that was Thursday.
Friday I woke up feeling better, following a much needed late night conversational pick me up from Lori, and I decided to relax. I went to my favorite coffee shop down the street, and just drank cups of coffee and watched people walk by. As I was sitting there, I was stricken with a melody that I ran back to my dorm to bang out on the guitar. I than spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in my dorm writing music for a new song. I think it's coming out really well, and It feels good to feel creative again.
Friday night we had a power hour. It wasn't the best idea, I got really drunk and had my roughest night to date. I passed out at about 2am and woke up at 6am covered in sweat. My mind was racing uncontrollably and I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to do when I graduate, how I was going to move, whether or not I should go to grad school, the state of my band, how much longer I have to live, free will, falling in love, death, and finally car insurance. I just couldn't relax and I don't know what was wrong with me. I fell asleep at around 11am, and slept for a few hours, waking up feeling, well pretty good actually.
Today we picked up some Ramy Leaf and laid around on the big open grass field in front of my college, and we ate, and we had more Ramy Leaf, and we ate, and at night we laid on the grass and looked at the stars and it was all in all a very relaxing day. I know I will sleep well tonight.
This week I'm going to take it easy. Keep chewin my gum and try to eat healthier until Saturday, when I go to Dublin. More posts to come.
Cheers
Andrew
Trying to be as honest as possible, after Nick left I was feeling A. Physically destroyed, like McDonald's, meat pies, sausage, mash, and enough beer to keep an entire African village drunk for three weeks had taken a toll on my body, and B. a little lonely. This week was interesting for me as as part of this whole, I was feeling really stressed and I wasn't sure why, I was sleeping badly, and I was feeling just general tiredness.
Monday I announced it was Octsober and decided not to drink this week. I wanted to figure things out.
Tuesday I went to my favorite bar in New Cross, the New Cross Inn, watched some really bad local bands with two great people and got black out drunk and wished I could get on the stage...i'm itching. This kid I know Charlie busted out a passable rendition of "El Scorcho" and I felt really warm, but all the other music was bad, but bad in a drunken, sing-along, beautiful way. That night wound of being one of my favorite nights so far, but the next morning I felt awful again...more than a hangover I just felt like, my body couldn't exhale.
I deducted I've been treating my previously healthy body way to crappily over this time. I've made some changes with regards to certain habits, and I'm working on thinking about things again, not tuning out and diving into my current world of post youth vacation without a split second to remind myself...in May I'll be out of college.
Wed. I was hungover and we went to see a really interesting play about a guy who shows up at his sisters house covered in blood. We were a half hour late ( guess we still are tourists) after getting lost in Soho, but the play was good and I really dug it. I really like seeing all these plays. I felt so unbelievably drained on Wed night though, I declared that starting Thursday I would make myself feel better. After a small stint at the Hobgoblin, I called Kate via LL and asked if she'd wanna walk around Camden-town on Thursday.
So Thursday Kate and I headed out for Camden-town. Camdentown is not like Camden in NJ. You don't walk around strung out on mushrooms after a Phish show, or watch your car get towed. It's a happening, vibrant place.
It's the place where I will live when I'm 50 and alone, scratching out the last makings of a book that will make me posthumously rich, 75 years later after my great great grandson discovers it in his kid's toy box.
This is like, what you picture when you think of where your favorite writer or musician wrote your favorite song. They were probably in a place just like Camden town, at least mentally.
There are foods of the world (literally) everywhere, this and thats, clothes, saba dah (hehe),. It is like if the Boardwalk got an education. You can find just about anything there and for a good price. I wanted to buy a jacket for 5 pounds but I couldn't determine if it was styled for women or just really European. We got mulled wine, which I was boasted to Kate "In the literary world we call that Mead", but, my assumption was wrong. It is like Sangria boiled and it taste fuzzy on your tongue. It's wonderful.
We walked around some more, bought some souvenirs and some hand rolled Indian cigarettes that were supposed to taste like coffee, but they tasted more like dutch master. I was feeling really good during this day, I remember when we walked by the tunnels in little Venice I thought to myself how I didn't feel homesick anymore.
Camden is a wonderful place and I plan on going back. We stopped at a music store and I almost bought a uke, but I figured, eh, ill save the money for a change. Kate got like a shaker shaped like a skull, it kept everyone company during dinner.
That night we made buffalo wings. It was cool, I tried Ranch and it changed my life. I don't know what I've been thinking all these years.
Oh yeah we did Laundry after Camden, and Sue the laundry lady loves her job and gladly washed my unmentionables. It really was one of those perfect days.
That night everyone went home to do homework and I talked to Kelly about the concept of homesickness. It made me feel better, knowing I have such good friends here. I told her about stuff I did in High School, which I find I tell people a lot about here. I never even talked about High School at home, but lately things just remind me of these fucking wacky ass things my friends and I did that I forgot about, and I just gotta laugh and tell the story. I mean, if you're reading this from home, imagine getting the opportunity to tell someone who has never met Justin Hunt, about Justin Hunt.Things like "The Game", and stuff like that. I still haven't mentioned Jason Kennedy though, I'm saving it for a really good story.
I tried to sleep later but I wound up going through pictures of me and my friends from home and I got really reflective, and pretty sad. It's so weird growing up in a town where everyone you know understands each other completely, and we all root for each other but at the same time, when we hang out we make fun of each others lives, girlfriends, dreams, cars, parents, I mean we're so mean to each other really, but we love each other in such an interesting way and force each other to think about ourselves. The other night I told my friend Joe to shut up here, I was only joking but he seemed pissed off and I felt bad.
I thought about this and I thought about the night Justin told me he wished my family hadn't survived the holocaust, and I told him I'm sorry his family didn't drown on the boat from Cuba, and we laughed and went to sleep as he mumbled..."jew" with his last waken breath of the day. It's weird how people from Old Bridge are, it's weird how this town churned us out to be. Cold, but at the same time...so sentimental.
Anyway, so that was Thursday.
Friday I woke up feeling better, following a much needed late night conversational pick me up from Lori, and I decided to relax. I went to my favorite coffee shop down the street, and just drank cups of coffee and watched people walk by. As I was sitting there, I was stricken with a melody that I ran back to my dorm to bang out on the guitar. I than spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in my dorm writing music for a new song. I think it's coming out really well, and It feels good to feel creative again.
Friday night we had a power hour. It wasn't the best idea, I got really drunk and had my roughest night to date. I passed out at about 2am and woke up at 6am covered in sweat. My mind was racing uncontrollably and I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to do when I graduate, how I was going to move, whether or not I should go to grad school, the state of my band, how much longer I have to live, free will, falling in love, death, and finally car insurance. I just couldn't relax and I don't know what was wrong with me. I fell asleep at around 11am, and slept for a few hours, waking up feeling, well pretty good actually.
Today we picked up some Ramy Leaf and laid around on the big open grass field in front of my college, and we ate, and we had more Ramy Leaf, and we ate, and at night we laid on the grass and looked at the stars and it was all in all a very relaxing day. I know I will sleep well tonight.
This week I'm going to take it easy. Keep chewin my gum and try to eat healthier until Saturday, when I go to Dublin. More posts to come.
Cheers
Andrew
Thursday, October 22, 2009
A Pang of Homesickness in the middle of the night
I decided I wanted to hang up some pictures of my friends from home on the wall at 3:30am, so I went on Facebook to print some off and I wound up flipping through every picture I was ever tagged in. Man. I'm so lucky to have lived the life I lived so far. Like, I feel totally lucky to be in all these pictures.
I guess this is the first real pang of homesickness. Legitimate missing of my friends, of country place, nick's porch, my Nissan, Buffalo chicken slice, Marc and Celia, Johnbasement.
Wouldn't mind crankin' a fucking amp either...
...maybe a late night ending on the dirt road stumps, talking about life and love, sleeping on a bench at the park.
I miss you guys.
Andrew
I guess this is the first real pang of homesickness. Legitimate missing of my friends, of country place, nick's porch, my Nissan, Buffalo chicken slice, Marc and Celia, Johnbasement.
Wouldn't mind crankin' a fucking amp either...
...maybe a late night ending on the dirt road stumps, talking about life and love, sleeping on a bench at the park.
I miss you guys.
Andrew
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Abbey Road and my entire life until this point.
I walked across Abbey Road.
I remember November 2001. I remember being early into my thirteenth year, the mid stages of puberty in full swing, feeling accomplished because I was going to play "Tevye" in Fiddler on the Roof, and I had made honor roll that marking period. I can actually remember this, I have a really good memory for remembering myself at certain times in my life, and I remember November 2001. I remember doing Arts Middle School, theater training, being good at improv. I remember wanting to be just like Jim Carrey. I remember all this.
I remember this one day in November. I know this is a bit cinematic, and obviously cheesy, but I swear, I remember.
It was November. It was one of those days where you go through your parents stuff because you're a kid and your parents stuff seems awesome. Growing up I never had or knew what CDs were...just records. My parents didn't buy a CD player until Christmas 2002 if i recall correctly, so they always had lots of records laying around and my mom would always play all of her favorites really loud... which were typically like Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson but I remember her playing The Beatles and Creedence Clearwater Revival when I was real young and my mom was still young too, but I was too young to recall this sort of thing probably. Anyway, I rememeber bouncing on a ball next to the sofa on a Sunday after church while my mom made Speghetti and I listened the music she blasted out of the records.
Ok, that was a bit off topic, I just want to say that there were records in my house.
Underneath the cabinet in my living room. That's where they are/were? I remember that day in November going through them and looking at all of them, my parents were out doing whatever parents do and I went through my moms records and I felt how big and old and cool they looked and I sifted through all the bullshit and I picked out the bands I remembered until I found Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. The colorful, trance inducing cover just looked cool to me and I wanted to hang it on my wall. I always hung stuff on my wall. So I did.
Well, if you know my mom, she got real pissed after I hung HER record on MY wall for no reason, so she took it down. A few days later we were shopping in the East Brunswick mall and we were shopping at Sam Goody and I asked her to buy it for me.
I remember I listened to it, it was the very first time I ever really listened to music. It wasn't on the radio, it was just music I was listening to myself. I took the plastic off and got the CD open, and I listened to it, I mean really listened, and I learned a secret that changed my entire life that day, being 13, I discovered on that day that when you listen to music, you can tune out your entire life, you can turn off the noise. I no longer cared about anything, except the forty five minutes I would be listening to The Beatles when I got home at night. Literally, life became worthless to me unless I was listening to the Beatles. I was a 13 year old having a philosophical breakdown.
So I checked out
I stopped worrying about school, I stopped cutting my hair, I stopped acting,I smoked marijuana cause the Beatles did, I bought a guitar, I learned how to play, I got into Nirvana, I got into the 60s, I got into the 70s, by the end of my 8th grade year I had become one of those band shirt wearing, long haired kids who don't understand anything. Everything I said and did drove my parents nuts. I hung out with Keith and he smoked cigarettes, I hung out with Justin and we started Section1211, by my freshman year of High School I did whatever I wanted and I lived for two things. A. Band Practice. B. Listening to music at night.
The Beatles led me to my guitar my guitar led me to my band and all the people that would later become my best friends..my band led me to Caliendo's basement...a place where I feel more safe and at home than in my own bedroom in the middle of the night. The Beatles led me to Catcher in the Rye, Catcher in the Rye lead me to books like Cather in the Rye, it lead me into my literary studies. I read tons of books from the 60s, I read from the 70s, than I started reading old stuff, than Shakespeare, eventually everything I could get my hands on.
When I listened to music at night I felt dead, like I didn't really have to exist as long as I had my headphones in, and so in that sense none of the things I did during the day in high school really affected me. That is what I miss the most about high school, checking out and listening in that way, things change as you get older. Music doesn't do the same thing anymore. It was youthful idealism, but picture perfect. I just knew back than that I had my albums, which had drastically increased in number. Every week I mowed the grass for my dad and every week he gave me 20 bucks and every week I bought a new CD with that money. Christmas money, birthday money, graduation money, all money I spent on CD's. By my sophomore year of high school I had the BEST CD collection in my eyes, nobody could touch it. I wouldn't lend out CD's. The Beatles were in my opinion the perfect band, at fifteen, I believed in John Lennon, I believed in peace, I believed in Love, the Beatles had in my eyes, made me a really good person.
Of course what sixteen year old doesn't feel this way? I'm not saying that this is terribly original. I mean my friends and I were all the same, we all liked to get stoned and listen to music and jam and make fun of jocks and girls who cried and cut class, but I felt above all that, because I knew at the end of the day music was doing something for me that I wasn't sure it was doing for everyone else. I didn't desire anything but music, I didn't care about money or cars or anything worldly, I really didn't, and I still don't.
Abbey Road was my favorite album. It was the soundtrack to my life. I feel like my whole six year relationship with Melissa can be summed up by listening to Abbey Road cover to cover, or my six year relationship with Section1211. I feel like I've talked about more times, listened to it more times, thought about it more times than anything else in my life. I lived by the lyrics, in a lot of ways, it was my bible, it was my religion.
I used to write , "In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make" on stuff that was important to me. Notes to friends, yearbook signings, that sort of thing. I always wrote that quote. I believed in Love, I really did. I still believe in Love I suppose, I'll never be able to shake that, no matter how hard I try these days to be a realist, no matter how many conversations I've had with Justin about the temporal illusion of Love, or when I think about the nights I spent during winter in Franklin St.... I still believe in Love even if it's just an idea.
Mr. O'Neill asked me when I was sixteen what I wanted to do when I graduated. I said, "Walk across Abbey Road". I meant it. I wanted to walk across the cover of that album. I said the same thing to my parents on graduation day. I remember even talking about it on graduation night with my friends, I'm gonna walk across Abbey Road.
I graduated but I never let life get in the way of anything. Its true I lost this, what I'm writing about. I don't listen to music the same way anymore, I know I'm more cynical, I haven't listened to the Beatles in like two years, I mean really listened. Now I like observing my aging and indie bands and strong beer and dark chocolate and writing/reading at night. I like depressing art and sad songs and rainy days. I'd rather be drunk then stoned. I like philosophy and books more than anything else. I like weird experience, and living and having stories to tell. I don't pick up the guitar as much as I used to, I don't believe in peace and love although I'd wish for it for anyone. I'm not a hippe but I might be a hipster I suppose afterall. But being this person I am now, walking across Abbey road after all these years is a tribute to who I used to be and a tribute to who I am now. I guess it is a metaphor for the person I was and the person I am and I'm happy with both...crossing the road my entire life.
Life bothers me now I guess. There's no escape in music, just release. I think about how little I care about having a job and how I wish I was motivated to not be content in a tiny room the size of my current dorm. I wish there was something I wanted to do. I just don't need anything, I don't want anything. I just want to meet people, I want to know the human race. You don't need a BA for that, although I will sadly have one in a few months.
Life isn't about anything but this. Good relationships, knowing good people, having good stories to tell, living on the other side of life. That's love. Love for your life, love for your friends, love for a cloud or a rainy day. Never fall into the structure. If they tell you be a teacher cuz you can't write, tell them fuck you and write anyway. Reject the 9-5, keep your hands soft, make enough money to see what you need to and bargain for the rest. Life is temporary, so, fucking temporary. We don't have enough time to look out the window, we've got to go outside.
I walked across Abbey Road in London, England because I wanted too show myself that it could be done, that there is a real place behind every idea. That there are real hands behind every chord I listen to. I walked across Abbey Road with my best friend because it is there, just like everything else in life, do it because it is there. I'm sorry if you expected this blog to be about what it's like at Abbey Road, but I have nothing to say, it's just a road. I crossed it.
Find your road, and cross it.
In the End the love you take is Equal to the Love you make
-Andrew.
I remember November 2001. I remember being early into my thirteenth year, the mid stages of puberty in full swing, feeling accomplished because I was going to play "Tevye" in Fiddler on the Roof, and I had made honor roll that marking period. I can actually remember this, I have a really good memory for remembering myself at certain times in my life, and I remember November 2001. I remember doing Arts Middle School, theater training, being good at improv. I remember wanting to be just like Jim Carrey. I remember all this.
I remember this one day in November. I know this is a bit cinematic, and obviously cheesy, but I swear, I remember.
It was November. It was one of those days where you go through your parents stuff because you're a kid and your parents stuff seems awesome. Growing up I never had or knew what CDs were...just records. My parents didn't buy a CD player until Christmas 2002 if i recall correctly, so they always had lots of records laying around and my mom would always play all of her favorites really loud... which were typically like Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson but I remember her playing The Beatles and Creedence Clearwater Revival when I was real young and my mom was still young too, but I was too young to recall this sort of thing probably. Anyway, I rememeber bouncing on a ball next to the sofa on a Sunday after church while my mom made Speghetti and I listened the music she blasted out of the records.
Ok, that was a bit off topic, I just want to say that there were records in my house.
Underneath the cabinet in my living room. That's where they are/were? I remember that day in November going through them and looking at all of them, my parents were out doing whatever parents do and I went through my moms records and I felt how big and old and cool they looked and I sifted through all the bullshit and I picked out the bands I remembered until I found Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. The colorful, trance inducing cover just looked cool to me and I wanted to hang it on my wall. I always hung stuff on my wall. So I did.
Well, if you know my mom, she got real pissed after I hung HER record on MY wall for no reason, so she took it down. A few days later we were shopping in the East Brunswick mall and we were shopping at Sam Goody and I asked her to buy it for me.
I remember I listened to it, it was the very first time I ever really listened to music. It wasn't on the radio, it was just music I was listening to myself. I took the plastic off and got the CD open, and I listened to it, I mean really listened, and I learned a secret that changed my entire life that day, being 13, I discovered on that day that when you listen to music, you can tune out your entire life, you can turn off the noise. I no longer cared about anything, except the forty five minutes I would be listening to The Beatles when I got home at night. Literally, life became worthless to me unless I was listening to the Beatles. I was a 13 year old having a philosophical breakdown.
So I checked out
I stopped worrying about school, I stopped cutting my hair, I stopped acting,I smoked marijuana cause the Beatles did, I bought a guitar, I learned how to play, I got into Nirvana, I got into the 60s, I got into the 70s, by the end of my 8th grade year I had become one of those band shirt wearing, long haired kids who don't understand anything. Everything I said and did drove my parents nuts. I hung out with Keith and he smoked cigarettes, I hung out with Justin and we started Section1211, by my freshman year of High School I did whatever I wanted and I lived for two things. A. Band Practice. B. Listening to music at night.
The Beatles led me to my guitar my guitar led me to my band and all the people that would later become my best friends..my band led me to Caliendo's basement...a place where I feel more safe and at home than in my own bedroom in the middle of the night. The Beatles led me to Catcher in the Rye, Catcher in the Rye lead me to books like Cather in the Rye, it lead me into my literary studies. I read tons of books from the 60s, I read from the 70s, than I started reading old stuff, than Shakespeare, eventually everything I could get my hands on.
When I listened to music at night I felt dead, like I didn't really have to exist as long as I had my headphones in, and so in that sense none of the things I did during the day in high school really affected me. That is what I miss the most about high school, checking out and listening in that way, things change as you get older. Music doesn't do the same thing anymore. It was youthful idealism, but picture perfect. I just knew back than that I had my albums, which had drastically increased in number. Every week I mowed the grass for my dad and every week he gave me 20 bucks and every week I bought a new CD with that money. Christmas money, birthday money, graduation money, all money I spent on CD's. By my sophomore year of high school I had the BEST CD collection in my eyes, nobody could touch it. I wouldn't lend out CD's. The Beatles were in my opinion the perfect band, at fifteen, I believed in John Lennon, I believed in peace, I believed in Love, the Beatles had in my eyes, made me a really good person.
Of course what sixteen year old doesn't feel this way? I'm not saying that this is terribly original. I mean my friends and I were all the same, we all liked to get stoned and listen to music and jam and make fun of jocks and girls who cried and cut class, but I felt above all that, because I knew at the end of the day music was doing something for me that I wasn't sure it was doing for everyone else. I didn't desire anything but music, I didn't care about money or cars or anything worldly, I really didn't, and I still don't.
Abbey Road was my favorite album. It was the soundtrack to my life. I feel like my whole six year relationship with Melissa can be summed up by listening to Abbey Road cover to cover, or my six year relationship with Section1211. I feel like I've talked about more times, listened to it more times, thought about it more times than anything else in my life. I lived by the lyrics, in a lot of ways, it was my bible, it was my religion.
I used to write , "In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make" on stuff that was important to me. Notes to friends, yearbook signings, that sort of thing. I always wrote that quote. I believed in Love, I really did. I still believe in Love I suppose, I'll never be able to shake that, no matter how hard I try these days to be a realist, no matter how many conversations I've had with Justin about the temporal illusion of Love, or when I think about the nights I spent during winter in Franklin St.... I still believe in Love even if it's just an idea.
Mr. O'Neill asked me when I was sixteen what I wanted to do when I graduated. I said, "Walk across Abbey Road". I meant it. I wanted to walk across the cover of that album. I said the same thing to my parents on graduation day. I remember even talking about it on graduation night with my friends, I'm gonna walk across Abbey Road.
I graduated but I never let life get in the way of anything. Its true I lost this, what I'm writing about. I don't listen to music the same way anymore, I know I'm more cynical, I haven't listened to the Beatles in like two years, I mean really listened. Now I like observing my aging and indie bands and strong beer and dark chocolate and writing/reading at night. I like depressing art and sad songs and rainy days. I'd rather be drunk then stoned. I like philosophy and books more than anything else. I like weird experience, and living and having stories to tell. I don't pick up the guitar as much as I used to, I don't believe in peace and love although I'd wish for it for anyone. I'm not a hippe but I might be a hipster I suppose afterall. But being this person I am now, walking across Abbey road after all these years is a tribute to who I used to be and a tribute to who I am now. I guess it is a metaphor for the person I was and the person I am and I'm happy with both...crossing the road my entire life.
Life bothers me now I guess. There's no escape in music, just release. I think about how little I care about having a job and how I wish I was motivated to not be content in a tiny room the size of my current dorm. I wish there was something I wanted to do. I just don't need anything, I don't want anything. I just want to meet people, I want to know the human race. You don't need a BA for that, although I will sadly have one in a few months.
Life isn't about anything but this. Good relationships, knowing good people, having good stories to tell, living on the other side of life. That's love. Love for your life, love for your friends, love for a cloud or a rainy day. Never fall into the structure. If they tell you be a teacher cuz you can't write, tell them fuck you and write anyway. Reject the 9-5, keep your hands soft, make enough money to see what you need to and bargain for the rest. Life is temporary, so, fucking temporary. We don't have enough time to look out the window, we've got to go outside.
I walked across Abbey Road in London, England because I wanted too show myself that it could be done, that there is a real place behind every idea. That there are real hands behind every chord I listen to. I walked across Abbey Road with my best friend because it is there, just like everything else in life, do it because it is there. I'm sorry if you expected this blog to be about what it's like at Abbey Road, but I have nothing to say, it's just a road. I crossed it.
Find your road, and cross it.
In the End the love you take is Equal to the Love you make
-Andrew.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
And in the End...
I have so much to say, I hope someone is reading this.
I had to pick up Nick at London Heathrow airport on Wed. morning at 9:00am, so naturally I stayed up all night. I left my room at like 6:50am and I got to Heathrow via the bus to Elephant and Castle, than the Bakerloo Line to the Picadilly line, all the way west.
I was pretty tired by the time I got to Heathrow, so I drank two red bulls and waited outside the gate for Nick. Sure enough, he eventually came shuffling off the plane looking tired but happy.
It felt weird to see him, and I felt weirder having him see me. Like I've said before, the possibility of seeing home feels so impossible here, and it was like, oh, wait, we can hang out?
So we gleefully embraced and than got to some serious catching up. Nick is the only one from home I haven't really explained what I've been doing here to. We sat on the long tube back (Nick was fascinated with the tube, and OYSTER CARDS)and I told him about everything I've done, the people I've met, living in the UK, all that jazz...
Bryan warned me about this, but it was really reallly realllly cool for me to watch Nick the way I was the first few days I came here, yano, snapping pictures out the window of everything and staring all gawk-eyed at things as we passed. It really made me appreciate this again, because I've stopped looking up when I pass Big Ben and I've stopped noticing British accents. I've settled so nicely into this world that I forgot it's not the one I belong to.
Later that day we took naps, and we went out for Nick's first fish and chips and Fuller's London Ale. Again it sweet for me to watch Nick do all this stuff, it made me happy to be doing it again, everything felt exciting again.
That night Nick met all of my friends. They were all super nice to him and I think he really enjoyed all of them. He said he liked Jose the best. We wound up getting irresponsibly drunk and I bought shots of sambuka at the New Cross Inn. The New Cross Inn is essentially Chubby's in Red Bank, just local bands and drunk ass locals. I love that place, because it reminds me of home. Oh and Emily made me an omlet.
The next morning we woke up hungover and set out to do all the major stuff I've already done 400 times. Big Ben, Parliament Buildings, Westminister Abbey, Buckingham Palace.
Westminister was cool for me this time to though, because we took like an inside tour of the church and there are SOOOOO many people buried in it. Kings, Queens, Lords, Dukes, Charles Darwin, and Isaac Newton all boast being buried in this fuckin church. The church itself was too impressive for words. It is one of the most beautiful and fascinating places you will ever see. It literally astounds the mind. Like your mind can't comprehend what your eyes are looking at.You just feel like you want to cry everytime you're in these places.
There was a room called the tomb of the unknown soldier where you could light candles that burn in Westminister Abbey, I lit one for Larry Imbro (thinkin about you always man), and felt sorta spiritual for like a few minutes.
After that we walked up to the Palace, took some pictures, and got bangers and mash at a pub. I showed Nick around Picadilly Circus, than we went back, got showered, went to O'Neills with Daria and Kelly, watched a coverband, called it a night.
Friday we woke up feeling better and decided to go shopping at Oxford Circus and also see Soho. I took Nick to Carnaby Street, and we shopped at Top Man in Oxford Circus. Nick bought an 85 pound jacket and I bought some british looking t-shirts, that my friends will surely make fun of me for wearing when I come home.
Soho was really cool. We went to countless music shops, book stores, sex shops, head shops, all that stuff. We dropped too much money on souvenirs,
That night I took Nick to a pub called the Mudlark, which claims to have the best meat pies in London (there was no barber shop above it though), and it was DELICIOUS. We got Guinness and steak meat pies, and Nick couldn't get over how good the food is here...also we ate McDonalds drunk later that night...twice.
That night I took Nick to my favourite spot in the world by St. Pauls Cathedral, which I've wrote about in these blogs extensively. I took him to the Globe as well. Also, we went to this pub called the George which has been there since 1617, both Shakespeare and Charles Dickens have drank there which was pretty surreal. Nick couldn't get over this place, yano, drinking in history...neither could I.
We went to some pub by the Thames and waited for Becca to get out of class. While we were waiting, we got completely drunk, and by the time Becca showed up we were shloshed. The three of us drank in this pub until the bartender literally begged us to leave, and then we got a bottle of wine and went down to the thames. We drank two more bottles of wine there, and me and Nick walked home from the Thames River and took the bus to New Cross black out drunk. We woke up the next morning with no recollection of how we got home, but the soda cups signified we stop at McDonalds.
Saturday I was the most hungover man in the world, but it was the day I had been waiting for my entire life. I will not write about this now, I will make a new post tomorrow called, "Abbey Road". I need to take that post more seriously that the mood I'm in now.
Last night we just watched some local bands in New Cross and rode the London Eye, and today I sadly took Nick back to the airport.
It was fun though friend.
Cheers.
Andrew
I had to pick up Nick at London Heathrow airport on Wed. morning at 9:00am, so naturally I stayed up all night. I left my room at like 6:50am and I got to Heathrow via the bus to Elephant and Castle, than the Bakerloo Line to the Picadilly line, all the way west.
I was pretty tired by the time I got to Heathrow, so I drank two red bulls and waited outside the gate for Nick. Sure enough, he eventually came shuffling off the plane looking tired but happy.
It felt weird to see him, and I felt weirder having him see me. Like I've said before, the possibility of seeing home feels so impossible here, and it was like, oh, wait, we can hang out?
So we gleefully embraced and than got to some serious catching up. Nick is the only one from home I haven't really explained what I've been doing here to. We sat on the long tube back (Nick was fascinated with the tube, and OYSTER CARDS)and I told him about everything I've done, the people I've met, living in the UK, all that jazz...
Bryan warned me about this, but it was really reallly realllly cool for me to watch Nick the way I was the first few days I came here, yano, snapping pictures out the window of everything and staring all gawk-eyed at things as we passed. It really made me appreciate this again, because I've stopped looking up when I pass Big Ben and I've stopped noticing British accents. I've settled so nicely into this world that I forgot it's not the one I belong to.
Later that day we took naps, and we went out for Nick's first fish and chips and Fuller's London Ale. Again it sweet for me to watch Nick do all this stuff, it made me happy to be doing it again, everything felt exciting again.
That night Nick met all of my friends. They were all super nice to him and I think he really enjoyed all of them. He said he liked Jose the best. We wound up getting irresponsibly drunk and I bought shots of sambuka at the New Cross Inn. The New Cross Inn is essentially Chubby's in Red Bank, just local bands and drunk ass locals. I love that place, because it reminds me of home. Oh and Emily made me an omlet.
The next morning we woke up hungover and set out to do all the major stuff I've already done 400 times. Big Ben, Parliament Buildings, Westminister Abbey, Buckingham Palace.
Westminister was cool for me this time to though, because we took like an inside tour of the church and there are SOOOOO many people buried in it. Kings, Queens, Lords, Dukes, Charles Darwin, and Isaac Newton all boast being buried in this fuckin church. The church itself was too impressive for words. It is one of the most beautiful and fascinating places you will ever see. It literally astounds the mind. Like your mind can't comprehend what your eyes are looking at.You just feel like you want to cry everytime you're in these places.
There was a room called the tomb of the unknown soldier where you could light candles that burn in Westminister Abbey, I lit one for Larry Imbro (thinkin about you always man), and felt sorta spiritual for like a few minutes.
After that we walked up to the Palace, took some pictures, and got bangers and mash at a pub. I showed Nick around Picadilly Circus, than we went back, got showered, went to O'Neills with Daria and Kelly, watched a coverband, called it a night.
Friday we woke up feeling better and decided to go shopping at Oxford Circus and also see Soho. I took Nick to Carnaby Street, and we shopped at Top Man in Oxford Circus. Nick bought an 85 pound jacket and I bought some british looking t-shirts, that my friends will surely make fun of me for wearing when I come home.
Soho was really cool. We went to countless music shops, book stores, sex shops, head shops, all that stuff. We dropped too much money on souvenirs,
That night I took Nick to a pub called the Mudlark, which claims to have the best meat pies in London (there was no barber shop above it though), and it was DELICIOUS. We got Guinness and steak meat pies, and Nick couldn't get over how good the food is here...also we ate McDonalds drunk later that night...twice.
That night I took Nick to my favourite spot in the world by St. Pauls Cathedral, which I've wrote about in these blogs extensively. I took him to the Globe as well. Also, we went to this pub called the George which has been there since 1617, both Shakespeare and Charles Dickens have drank there which was pretty surreal. Nick couldn't get over this place, yano, drinking in history...neither could I.
We went to some pub by the Thames and waited for Becca to get out of class. While we were waiting, we got completely drunk, and by the time Becca showed up we were shloshed. The three of us drank in this pub until the bartender literally begged us to leave, and then we got a bottle of wine and went down to the thames. We drank two more bottles of wine there, and me and Nick walked home from the Thames River and took the bus to New Cross black out drunk. We woke up the next morning with no recollection of how we got home, but the soda cups signified we stop at McDonalds.
Saturday I was the most hungover man in the world, but it was the day I had been waiting for my entire life. I will not write about this now, I will make a new post tomorrow called, "Abbey Road". I need to take that post more seriously that the mood I'm in now.
Last night we just watched some local bands in New Cross and rode the London Eye, and today I sadly took Nick back to the airport.
It was fun though friend.
Cheers.
Andrew
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Shampoo
Nick asked me if he could use my shampoo, you know, the one I've been using since I got here. I said, "Yeah dude it's that giant bottle right there". He said, "Dude that's conditioner".
Monday, October 12, 2009
I got a feeling
Ok, back on track. I've got a lot to report.
Thursday I achieved one of my dreams. I saw a Shakespeare play, "Love Labour's Lost", performed at Shakespeare's Globe theater. It's a weird feeling, you know, achieving your dreams. When you sit around in High School and think about the world and the things you'd like to do in it, it never really seems possible, everything seems so old and text book.Doing stuff like this makes me feel like...wait, did that just happen?..all the time.
If anything upsets me the most on my trip abroad it's this nagging feeling of (which I've wrote about before)..what did I do to deserve this? It almost feels a little unclean, like stolen money or something. I feel like I haven't done enough for the world to be vibrating in it so well right now. Whatever. This is stuff no human thinks about besides me. Regardless of why I'm here I am here and I literally mull over every second of it, so there is my karmic payment I suppose. (millz)
We went to the Globe to try and catch the 7:30pm showing. Naturally, I bought a small bottle of cherry wine and a small bottle of gin and tonic that I drank on the streets of Southwark walking toward the Globe. Turns out you can walk to the Globe in 10 minutes from London Bridge, if I had known that two days earlier Kate and I probably would have caught the sunrise without rushing, but if you know me well, you know I can't do things correctly.
When we got there the tickets were sold out, but there were two tickets available for the matinee the next day, which I bought for 10 quid. We actually wound up getting tickets off someone on the street for that evening's performance though, so I wound up giving the tickets for the next day to my two bro roommates Zach and Kyle as an apology for letting my alarm clock go off for an hour and wake everyone up before I got home...(nevermind).
Anyway
It was surreal to be in the Globe. I don't even know how to write about it, which is weird. I was a groundling, I saw Shakespeare, it was Brilliant, I was in the Globe. My whole life being an "English" student and an "English" major lead up to this, and I did it and it was perfect. I drank a Grolsch and watched Shakespeare in the standing section. They still use no mics, they still do everything old school, it was beautiful man I tell you.
After the Globe we went to O' Neils, where we usually go on Thursday nights, I had a really sweet time there and then we went back to the flat to eat late night food.
I need to stop eating late night food. I haven't put on any weight yet but I know when I did put on weight when I was 18 it was because of late night food, which I spent the last year vehemently steering away from. I've been kinda on it again. No good.
Friday we went to see a production of INTO THE WOODS. The show was put on in this like attic of an awesome bar. We got bags of some turkey and gravy crisps, which were splendid, I had two Fullers and had to pee the whole time. I really enjoyed the show though. I like watching musical theater.
That night we went back and tried to sleep early so we could be ready to go to Stonehenge and Bath the next day. I went to sleep at 12:30am and stayed up all night. Please see my blog post below for reference.
I really wanted to go on this trip, the most possibly, but I was too fucked up from staying up all night. I couldn't function on the bus, I was anxious and tired and sweaty and bad. We got to Stonehenge and I managed to keep myself conscious long enough to appreciate how amazing it is there. If you know me, you know that I believe Stonehenge was set up for the aliens (hey kyle, are you reading this?), so I've always wanted to see it. What's fascinating about stonehenge isn't that it's just a bunch of rocks, it's that they weigh tons and someone dragged them like 300 miles into the middle of nowhere 1000 years ago and set them up. I really liked finally seeing it in real life, like I've said again and again, very surreal.
I passed out on the bus and missed the whole beautiful countryside on the trip to Bath. I felt like crap in Bath, although I ate a great burger (first one I've had since I left!). Bath is a city run by these natural hot springs that the Romans thought cured leprosy or some shit. It was ABSOLUTELY beautiful there, I mean, really, I could live there forever and die somewhere in a park. Also I have to say, I was sick when I got to Bath, and I was fine after I left.
That night we made pasta in my flat and ate fudge from Bath and ate scones and drank tea. It was a great night.
Sunday I slept till 1, waking up feeling the best I've ever felt in my life. Kelly and Kate hung out in my flat all day while we made plans to do things we never did, and then I just cooked them Franklin St. chicken and broccoli.
Sunday night we went to the New Cross Inn down the street. I chugged two Coronas for no reason before we left, So I was feeling good, and then for whatever reason I drank excessively on a Sunday night at the New Cross Inn. Everyone there was really friendly, I loved it, It's my kind of place.
They had a live band playing and it was during this time I felt my first pain of homesickness...loud,live,amplified music. I miss Noistradamus, I really do. This band sucked though, Noistradamus would have taken a big shit on this place.
Sorry.
Anyway I stayed up really late that night but I had to wake up for class at 8. Long story short I took the wrong bus, wrong tube, went to the wrong city,and missed my class. Today was one of those days.
Nick is coming in one day. I am girlishly excited for him to come. I felt a bit homesick today, I'm not going to lie. Sad news from home and lack of Murphy makes me feel a bit like, one Saturday in O.B would be great, that would be all I need. Fortunately, that Saturday has come in the form of Nick. I feel like I signed some contract coming here where I can't see my friends from home for 3 months, and Nick coming I feel like we're breaking that contract. Everyone here is super excited for him to come, and I'm excited to show him what I've learned, because trust me this blog and these words could never ever show you...
Oh yeah I'll be spending Halloween in Dublin, followed by a week of Amsterdam and Paris.
Give me a break.
Cheers.
Andrew
Thursday I achieved one of my dreams. I saw a Shakespeare play, "Love Labour's Lost", performed at Shakespeare's Globe theater. It's a weird feeling, you know, achieving your dreams. When you sit around in High School and think about the world and the things you'd like to do in it, it never really seems possible, everything seems so old and text book.Doing stuff like this makes me feel like...wait, did that just happen?..all the time.
If anything upsets me the most on my trip abroad it's this nagging feeling of (which I've wrote about before)..what did I do to deserve this? It almost feels a little unclean, like stolen money or something. I feel like I haven't done enough for the world to be vibrating in it so well right now. Whatever. This is stuff no human thinks about besides me. Regardless of why I'm here I am here and I literally mull over every second of it, so there is my karmic payment I suppose. (millz)
We went to the Globe to try and catch the 7:30pm showing. Naturally, I bought a small bottle of cherry wine and a small bottle of gin and tonic that I drank on the streets of Southwark walking toward the Globe. Turns out you can walk to the Globe in 10 minutes from London Bridge, if I had known that two days earlier Kate and I probably would have caught the sunrise without rushing, but if you know me well, you know I can't do things correctly.
When we got there the tickets were sold out, but there were two tickets available for the matinee the next day, which I bought for 10 quid. We actually wound up getting tickets off someone on the street for that evening's performance though, so I wound up giving the tickets for the next day to my two bro roommates Zach and Kyle as an apology for letting my alarm clock go off for an hour and wake everyone up before I got home...(nevermind).
Anyway
It was surreal to be in the Globe. I don't even know how to write about it, which is weird. I was a groundling, I saw Shakespeare, it was Brilliant, I was in the Globe. My whole life being an "English" student and an "English" major lead up to this, and I did it and it was perfect. I drank a Grolsch and watched Shakespeare in the standing section. They still use no mics, they still do everything old school, it was beautiful man I tell you.
After the Globe we went to O' Neils, where we usually go on Thursday nights, I had a really sweet time there and then we went back to the flat to eat late night food.
I need to stop eating late night food. I haven't put on any weight yet but I know when I did put on weight when I was 18 it was because of late night food, which I spent the last year vehemently steering away from. I've been kinda on it again. No good.
Friday we went to see a production of INTO THE WOODS. The show was put on in this like attic of an awesome bar. We got bags of some turkey and gravy crisps, which were splendid, I had two Fullers and had to pee the whole time. I really enjoyed the show though. I like watching musical theater.
That night we went back and tried to sleep early so we could be ready to go to Stonehenge and Bath the next day. I went to sleep at 12:30am and stayed up all night. Please see my blog post below for reference.
I really wanted to go on this trip, the most possibly, but I was too fucked up from staying up all night. I couldn't function on the bus, I was anxious and tired and sweaty and bad. We got to Stonehenge and I managed to keep myself conscious long enough to appreciate how amazing it is there. If you know me, you know that I believe Stonehenge was set up for the aliens (hey kyle, are you reading this?), so I've always wanted to see it. What's fascinating about stonehenge isn't that it's just a bunch of rocks, it's that they weigh tons and someone dragged them like 300 miles into the middle of nowhere 1000 years ago and set them up. I really liked finally seeing it in real life, like I've said again and again, very surreal.
I passed out on the bus and missed the whole beautiful countryside on the trip to Bath. I felt like crap in Bath, although I ate a great burger (first one I've had since I left!). Bath is a city run by these natural hot springs that the Romans thought cured leprosy or some shit. It was ABSOLUTELY beautiful there, I mean, really, I could live there forever and die somewhere in a park. Also I have to say, I was sick when I got to Bath, and I was fine after I left.
That night we made pasta in my flat and ate fudge from Bath and ate scones and drank tea. It was a great night.
Sunday I slept till 1, waking up feeling the best I've ever felt in my life. Kelly and Kate hung out in my flat all day while we made plans to do things we never did, and then I just cooked them Franklin St. chicken and broccoli.
Sunday night we went to the New Cross Inn down the street. I chugged two Coronas for no reason before we left, So I was feeling good, and then for whatever reason I drank excessively on a Sunday night at the New Cross Inn. Everyone there was really friendly, I loved it, It's my kind of place.
They had a live band playing and it was during this time I felt my first pain of homesickness...loud,live,amplified music. I miss Noistradamus, I really do. This band sucked though, Noistradamus would have taken a big shit on this place.
Sorry.
Anyway I stayed up really late that night but I had to wake up for class at 8. Long story short I took the wrong bus, wrong tube, went to the wrong city,and missed my class. Today was one of those days.
Nick is coming in one day. I am girlishly excited for him to come. I felt a bit homesick today, I'm not going to lie. Sad news from home and lack of Murphy makes me feel a bit like, one Saturday in O.B would be great, that would be all I need. Fortunately, that Saturday has come in the form of Nick. I feel like I signed some contract coming here where I can't see my friends from home for 3 months, and Nick coming I feel like we're breaking that contract. Everyone here is super excited for him to come, and I'm excited to show him what I've learned, because trust me this blog and these words could never ever show you...
Oh yeah I'll be spending Halloween in Dublin, followed by a week of Amsterdam and Paris.
Give me a break.
Cheers.
Andrew
Friday, October 9, 2009
Off Track Middle of the night Blog
4:15am, been trying to sleep since one. I've gotten about forty minutes of sleep I'd say. In two hours I have to get up, I'm going to Stonehendge for a day trip. I was really tired before but sleep didn't take me tonight...I couldn't think of what to do, laying in bed, mind racing, I thought maybe hey, I'll take comfort in my blog.
So I guess this post won't be about what I wanted to write it about...my trip to The Globe Theatre, my life in London, actualizing daily all the things I've ever dreamed about doing...no, I guess I'll reserve this one for some middle of the night post-teenage reflection, London takes the night off. Tonight I'm just gonna write.
Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with my trip, don't even read this, I'm just writing this for no reason.
For some reason tonight I'm thinking about landmarks. Doesn't have to be a cathedral, or something 400 years old. Tonight I'm thinking about 51 Delafield, New Brunswick NJ. United States. Keith's old house.
I remember when I used to live for the night. Shuffling through work weeks at the Game Room, weekday nights spent on Mill'z couch in Calvin Court smoking hookah and watching Scrubs, fear of turning Brookdale into a four year school, hours and hours with Gerry at coffee shops talking about which direction life was heading in...I used to live for Saturday night, the great escape.
I spent so many nights on the floor of Keith's house. I remember one particular night. I was 18. We bought a 30 case of Miller High Life, and I drank pretty much the whole thing. It was one of those drunken nights, ash tray overflowing, cans in the backyard, one of those beautiful paintings of frustrated post high school/rejection of getting older nights. A perfect freeze-frame in time for any aging man to look back on and say, "Oh I remember me when...."
Beers till we can't stand, pizza from R.U Grill. The Great "Fuck You" to getting older, the only chance we had to pretend we were the people we read about in all our favorite books. I remember sitting on Keith's floor of his room while he was in the bathroom. I remember feeling drunk, and strange, and I looked at his wall and written on the wall was "life is beautiful because it is empty", and I remember repeating it out loud, and I remember thinking about how life IS beautiful because it is empty, in drunken, youthful poetry. Emptiness is beautiful, because you can fill it with anything, I always loved that idea of, no glass half full or half empty, not an optimist nor a pessimist, just free to fill it with whatever you want. Total Free Will, bound and tied to the pragmatic glass.
These were those beautiful nights when a guy could really think.
That is a sort of freeze frame I like to remember. 18 year old me, reading old lines on a wall in New Brunswick, finding the meaning of life somewhere inside a house that doesn't really have to even exist in the real world. The gravity world. The world we're all heading towards. Moments of realization. Moments of God.
I remember our, "last night". Landmarks. LBI, 2:00AM, Justin, Brendan, Bryan, and myself, the night before everyone was to leave for college, the night before I would wake up the next morning, not packing clothes and bags and doritos and ramen, but still in my room with all of my friends gone. We stood on the beach and stared at the water in silence, and Justin made a fumbling motion with his hair, and I remember wondering, I mean really wondering ..."what's gonna happen tomorrow".
Freeze Frame.
I was scared.
Two years go by, Noistradamus records, the Java Joint Years, playing weekly sets for tips to crowds of 8. I met Dan, I took pictures. We lived in Nick's Basement again, we lived famously in our heads. I'll always remember recording "movie syndrome" , sliding across Nick's snowy deck, pale blue cigarette smoke invading the very fresh air we'd gone outside to get, thinking, man I'm apart of something. Feeling really warm. Feeling really happy that I didn't go away to school, feeling really important with my three best friends.
Freeze Frame.
Moving day, my leg charred from standing in a fire. I'm about to live with Justin, the same guy who a few years ago on that beach I thought I'd never see again. Franklin Street, the birthplace of the absurd, of the lonely, walls where you could ask any question and find a response somewhere in your dreams in the middle of the night. Books. Books. Books. Rice for Breakfast. Justin would disappear for days at a time, I'll always remember Franklin St in January...heat turns off at 12am, walking around with a blanket, sitting without internet or television feeling bad for anyone who is lonely because in 235, you are always alone. Jim, Ebenezer, the saddest men I had ever met, living next door, hearing them through the walls. Breaking up with my girlfriend, visits from friends. Going home and eating Krispy Pizza. Making dinners with Justin....and the greatest thing of all is....all and all, the most meaningful few months of my life. My trip to London was born in a dream I had while sleeping in Franklin St. My whole life changed once I started living it. Landmarks.
Go home, summer time. Great job, Great friends, fleeing the country, can't complain.
Living in London, living in a city, meeting new people, feeling at home. Never been happier.
4:56am.
So I guess this post won't be about what I wanted to write it about...my trip to The Globe Theatre, my life in London, actualizing daily all the things I've ever dreamed about doing...no, I guess I'll reserve this one for some middle of the night post-teenage reflection, London takes the night off. Tonight I'm just gonna write.
Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with my trip, don't even read this, I'm just writing this for no reason.
For some reason tonight I'm thinking about landmarks. Doesn't have to be a cathedral, or something 400 years old. Tonight I'm thinking about 51 Delafield, New Brunswick NJ. United States. Keith's old house.
I remember when I used to live for the night. Shuffling through work weeks at the Game Room, weekday nights spent on Mill'z couch in Calvin Court smoking hookah and watching Scrubs, fear of turning Brookdale into a four year school, hours and hours with Gerry at coffee shops talking about which direction life was heading in...I used to live for Saturday night, the great escape.
I spent so many nights on the floor of Keith's house. I remember one particular night. I was 18. We bought a 30 case of Miller High Life, and I drank pretty much the whole thing. It was one of those drunken nights, ash tray overflowing, cans in the backyard, one of those beautiful paintings of frustrated post high school/rejection of getting older nights. A perfect freeze-frame in time for any aging man to look back on and say, "Oh I remember me when...."
Beers till we can't stand, pizza from R.U Grill. The Great "Fuck You" to getting older, the only chance we had to pretend we were the people we read about in all our favorite books. I remember sitting on Keith's floor of his room while he was in the bathroom. I remember feeling drunk, and strange, and I looked at his wall and written on the wall was "life is beautiful because it is empty", and I remember repeating it out loud, and I remember thinking about how life IS beautiful because it is empty, in drunken, youthful poetry. Emptiness is beautiful, because you can fill it with anything, I always loved that idea of, no glass half full or half empty, not an optimist nor a pessimist, just free to fill it with whatever you want. Total Free Will, bound and tied to the pragmatic glass.
These were those beautiful nights when a guy could really think.
That is a sort of freeze frame I like to remember. 18 year old me, reading old lines on a wall in New Brunswick, finding the meaning of life somewhere inside a house that doesn't really have to even exist in the real world. The gravity world. The world we're all heading towards. Moments of realization. Moments of God.
I remember our, "last night". Landmarks. LBI, 2:00AM, Justin, Brendan, Bryan, and myself, the night before everyone was to leave for college, the night before I would wake up the next morning, not packing clothes and bags and doritos and ramen, but still in my room with all of my friends gone. We stood on the beach and stared at the water in silence, and Justin made a fumbling motion with his hair, and I remember wondering, I mean really wondering ..."what's gonna happen tomorrow".
Freeze Frame.
I was scared.
Two years go by, Noistradamus records, the Java Joint Years, playing weekly sets for tips to crowds of 8. I met Dan, I took pictures. We lived in Nick's Basement again, we lived famously in our heads. I'll always remember recording "movie syndrome" , sliding across Nick's snowy deck, pale blue cigarette smoke invading the very fresh air we'd gone outside to get, thinking, man I'm apart of something. Feeling really warm. Feeling really happy that I didn't go away to school, feeling really important with my three best friends.
Freeze Frame.
Moving day, my leg charred from standing in a fire. I'm about to live with Justin, the same guy who a few years ago on that beach I thought I'd never see again. Franklin Street, the birthplace of the absurd, of the lonely, walls where you could ask any question and find a response somewhere in your dreams in the middle of the night. Books. Books. Books. Rice for Breakfast. Justin would disappear for days at a time, I'll always remember Franklin St in January...heat turns off at 12am, walking around with a blanket, sitting without internet or television feeling bad for anyone who is lonely because in 235, you are always alone. Jim, Ebenezer, the saddest men I had ever met, living next door, hearing them through the walls. Breaking up with my girlfriend, visits from friends. Going home and eating Krispy Pizza. Making dinners with Justin....and the greatest thing of all is....all and all, the most meaningful few months of my life. My trip to London was born in a dream I had while sleeping in Franklin St. My whole life changed once I started living it. Landmarks.
Go home, summer time. Great job, Great friends, fleeing the country, can't complain.
Living in London, living in a city, meeting new people, feeling at home. Never been happier.
4:56am.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I Invented the world.
So here is what has regretfully become my once weekly blog posting. I swear I'm going to make more of an effort to post daily, but hey, thats ok, I have a superb memory for minor forgettable details.
Now that I have assimilated (quite peacefully) into the life of being an American Werewolf in London,I am happy to be that Werewolf. Wait, what am I talking about? Sorry it's 4:30am.
Ok Lets Begin.
So Friday I slept in because I always sleep in. I woke up hungover and made my way down to the international office to switch out of my "Music and Culture" class, solely because it was more culture than music, and I switched into American and British Musical Theater, so that rules.
Later that day it was agreed that we were going to ride the "London Eye"...at last. The eye is ideally a Ferris Wheel, but Ferris Wheel is too much of a negative term for something like this. The term "Ferris Wheel" brings up (to me at least)gaseous imagery of non-romantics feebly and uncreativley impressing each other by proving that they are capable of love and awkward bony hand holding 50 feet above the St.Ambrose Carnival. LAME.
The Eye is a humongous observation wheel (there you go) where you can go and see all of London from the very top. It's something that we had always seen in passing, impressive during the day but more like, I dunno, important looking at night. It's something that most tourists should do, and you can see it on like any postcard in London.
We took the bus to it and first we were greeted with the "4D" experience, which was a weird little 3D show...the 4th dimension was the security guard checking for food or drink before we entered I believe, and soon we were off. I didn't bring my camera because I really wanted to take the whole thing in, and it worked out nicely. We rode it as the sun was setting so it was pretty cool to see all the lights of London and Big Ben turning on as we got closer to that top. The eye could be potentially very romantic if you ever have the POUNDS to get a private ride with champagne...I imagine it's a great place to fall in love...but only at night. During the day it's a bit like going to the liberty science center, but I think at night it could be really really worthwhile for your soul.
Also, if it didn't have glass, It'd be the best. I wanted to feel the air coming off the Thames from that high up.
We had a lot of fun on the wheel, taking pictures and such in front of all of London as our backdrop. Weird Europeans asked me to take several pictures for them. This happens to me a lot here, people ask me to take pictures for them. I'm bad at stuff, so I usually take the worst picture of all time and they grumpily choke out "thank you" before ranting in presumably Russian about what a moron I am.
After the wheel we goofed around in the gift shop for a bit, and I saw a really cool British Flag hat that I wanted...maybe I'll go back and get it. After that we laid in the grass outside and stared at the sky and the eye and the London skyline. I was really enjoying this because I love greenery and I felt like I haven't seen it in a while, and lying on the grass in London looking at London had this really peaceful dualistic quality. Every time I give myself a second to cool off I think about how lucky I am to be where I am with the people I'm with, things really couldn't be more perfect right now. I have been thinking lately about how a few years ago I was working 60 hours a week at the Game Room during this time, sad and confused to be out of high school and a member of the working class, and now I'm lying on London grass feeling pretty good about myself, wondering what the fuck I did to deserve this. Absolutely nothing. That's why I plan on taking none of this for granted.
Now it was time to head off, as the nights usually go, to drink, in London.
Me Kate and Daria reallly want to go to this place, "The Shakespeare's Head" to drink, but it just wasn't in the cards that night. We had to help our friend find a bus home, which took kind of long, so we wanted to just go to the first pub we saw. We got lost for a little bit by the bank of the Thames, and I remember saying how great it is to get lost in London, because you just get to look at wonderful stuff....I'm fascinated by the Thames by the way, don't know if anyones picked up on that yet.
We crossed the footbridge to the other side of the Thames, which was reallllllllly great. It was so nice to walk across and I felt human. I love that footbridge. After some more searching, We decided to eat at a pub called the "silver cross". I ordered fish and chips, which was AWESOME again, even though this time it was literally in the shape of a fish just deep fried. Than, I finally tried Fuller London's Pride Ale...5 times. I was trying to drink six but the bar closed. Me, Jose, Kate, Emily, Kelly, and Chris enjoyed a really good night there though, I was having a blast.
After that we left in search of a new bar. They wanted to stop in this one place just to pee, but I ordered two Spanish beers and Jose and I drank them, it was one of the weirdest beers I've ever tasted in my life.
After that we went back to the flat, I drank an entire bottle of wine, stayed up till 7:30am, and sang "goodnight sweetheart" with Jose all night. It was a perfect night, and that was just Friday.
On Saturday I slept until 3:30 in the afternoon. At about 5, Kelly and I ate dinner (Franklin st chicken), and at about 6, everyone came over just to stay in and drink a bit. I had a good time hanging out in my kitchen, Kate wound up getting locked out of her room and it was fun asking Francis the security guy to let her in at 5am. Francis is weird. I don't even know if his name is Francis, it could be Charles. I had a solid night, playing drinking games and stupid kids from Italy.
OK, so I stayed up again that night till 7:30am totally drunk, and we were supposed to wake up at 11am to take a tour of the British Museum. I woke up drunk, Kate was hungover, everyone was tired as a collective. We took an hour bus ride to the museum, but I was too hungover to focus on what the tour guide was saying.
We just decided to leave and try again some other time, we were all too tired and hungover.
I did see the Rosetta stone before I left though, which is cool because I mean, well cmon it's the fucking Rosetta stone.
That night we just hung out in my room and I played guitar and we just had fun.
Monday I had class. I took a tour of the Museum of London which was really interesting because London at one point burned down in a fire, so we learned all about that and saw a lot of interesting relics and stuff from the fire. St. Paul's Cathedral initially burned in 16somethin, and the model in the museum of the old St. Paul's is older than America. This is a cool place if you should ever get the chance to check it out.
Later I had poetry, which was fun. I had coffee with my professor afterwords and we talked about British poets I haven't heard of. It's cool to hang with your professors.
Tuesday I had British and American Musical theatre...cool class, cool professor. I don't LOVE musical theater but I can dig this class.
Tuesday night our friend Vaughn bought like 9 cases of Budweiser and threw a bit of an American party. There was beer pong and stuff, it was fun to pretend we were at home...oh yeah and it was TACO NIGHT again, and that was bangin! TACOS RULE <3!.
Later that night Kate, Kelly, and I went back to my kitchen to cook the remaining taco meet in omlets. These were very tasty. After this, I stayed up really late with Katie and exchanged life stories and ideas. I'm really getting to know the people I'm hanging with, and it feels good.
At about 6am, Kate and I set out to watch the sunrise at my favourite spot in London by the Thames in front of St. Pauls, and we raced against the sky and made it there in time for a rainy sunrise. I really enjoyed showing her this spot, because it is literally my favourite spot in the entire world. My favourite spot used to be the cement block by the dirt road in old bridge, but this is kind of like that on a larger scale...We walked across the millennium bridge, and talked about architecture, London, Shakespeare, and everything else there is to talk about when in London. It was one of the best nights I've had here, and I'm finding that these experiences are better when you share them with someone else, now that I've surrounded myself with great people I now call friends, this has become easier.
I got in at 9:30am, and went to sleep feeling good. Slept till four, woke up, saw an awful av ant guard show about Nazis, went to the HOBOBLIN, went home, now I'm here.
Oh and I had a burger on ciabatta bread from McDonalds...give me a break.
More to come
Cheers
Andrew
Now that I have assimilated (quite peacefully) into the life of being an American Werewolf in London,I am happy to be that Werewolf. Wait, what am I talking about? Sorry it's 4:30am.
Ok Lets Begin.
So Friday I slept in because I always sleep in. I woke up hungover and made my way down to the international office to switch out of my "Music and Culture" class, solely because it was more culture than music, and I switched into American and British Musical Theater, so that rules.
Later that day it was agreed that we were going to ride the "London Eye"...at last. The eye is ideally a Ferris Wheel, but Ferris Wheel is too much of a negative term for something like this. The term "Ferris Wheel" brings up (to me at least)gaseous imagery of non-romantics feebly and uncreativley impressing each other by proving that they are capable of love and awkward bony hand holding 50 feet above the St.Ambrose Carnival. LAME.
The Eye is a humongous observation wheel (there you go) where you can go and see all of London from the very top. It's something that we had always seen in passing, impressive during the day but more like, I dunno, important looking at night. It's something that most tourists should do, and you can see it on like any postcard in London.
We took the bus to it and first we were greeted with the "4D" experience, which was a weird little 3D show...the 4th dimension was the security guard checking for food or drink before we entered I believe, and soon we were off. I didn't bring my camera because I really wanted to take the whole thing in, and it worked out nicely. We rode it as the sun was setting so it was pretty cool to see all the lights of London and Big Ben turning on as we got closer to that top. The eye could be potentially very romantic if you ever have the POUNDS to get a private ride with champagne...I imagine it's a great place to fall in love...but only at night. During the day it's a bit like going to the liberty science center, but I think at night it could be really really worthwhile for your soul.
Also, if it didn't have glass, It'd be the best. I wanted to feel the air coming off the Thames from that high up.
We had a lot of fun on the wheel, taking pictures and such in front of all of London as our backdrop. Weird Europeans asked me to take several pictures for them. This happens to me a lot here, people ask me to take pictures for them. I'm bad at stuff, so I usually take the worst picture of all time and they grumpily choke out "thank you" before ranting in presumably Russian about what a moron I am.
After the wheel we goofed around in the gift shop for a bit, and I saw a really cool British Flag hat that I wanted...maybe I'll go back and get it. After that we laid in the grass outside and stared at the sky and the eye and the London skyline. I was really enjoying this because I love greenery and I felt like I haven't seen it in a while, and lying on the grass in London looking at London had this really peaceful dualistic quality. Every time I give myself a second to cool off I think about how lucky I am to be where I am with the people I'm with, things really couldn't be more perfect right now. I have been thinking lately about how a few years ago I was working 60 hours a week at the Game Room during this time, sad and confused to be out of high school and a member of the working class, and now I'm lying on London grass feeling pretty good about myself, wondering what the fuck I did to deserve this. Absolutely nothing. That's why I plan on taking none of this for granted.
Now it was time to head off, as the nights usually go, to drink, in London.
Me Kate and Daria reallly want to go to this place, "The Shakespeare's Head" to drink, but it just wasn't in the cards that night. We had to help our friend find a bus home, which took kind of long, so we wanted to just go to the first pub we saw. We got lost for a little bit by the bank of the Thames, and I remember saying how great it is to get lost in London, because you just get to look at wonderful stuff....I'm fascinated by the Thames by the way, don't know if anyones picked up on that yet.
We crossed the footbridge to the other side of the Thames, which was reallllllllly great. It was so nice to walk across and I felt human. I love that footbridge. After some more searching, We decided to eat at a pub called the "silver cross". I ordered fish and chips, which was AWESOME again, even though this time it was literally in the shape of a fish just deep fried. Than, I finally tried Fuller London's Pride Ale...5 times. I was trying to drink six but the bar closed. Me, Jose, Kate, Emily, Kelly, and Chris enjoyed a really good night there though, I was having a blast.
After that we left in search of a new bar. They wanted to stop in this one place just to pee, but I ordered two Spanish beers and Jose and I drank them, it was one of the weirdest beers I've ever tasted in my life.
After that we went back to the flat, I drank an entire bottle of wine, stayed up till 7:30am, and sang "goodnight sweetheart" with Jose all night. It was a perfect night, and that was just Friday.
On Saturday I slept until 3:30 in the afternoon. At about 5, Kelly and I ate dinner (Franklin st chicken), and at about 6, everyone came over just to stay in and drink a bit. I had a good time hanging out in my kitchen, Kate wound up getting locked out of her room and it was fun asking Francis the security guy to let her in at 5am. Francis is weird. I don't even know if his name is Francis, it could be Charles. I had a solid night, playing drinking games and stupid kids from Italy.
OK, so I stayed up again that night till 7:30am totally drunk, and we were supposed to wake up at 11am to take a tour of the British Museum. I woke up drunk, Kate was hungover, everyone was tired as a collective. We took an hour bus ride to the museum, but I was too hungover to focus on what the tour guide was saying.
We just decided to leave and try again some other time, we were all too tired and hungover.
I did see the Rosetta stone before I left though, which is cool because I mean, well cmon it's the fucking Rosetta stone.
That night we just hung out in my room and I played guitar and we just had fun.
Monday I had class. I took a tour of the Museum of London which was really interesting because London at one point burned down in a fire, so we learned all about that and saw a lot of interesting relics and stuff from the fire. St. Paul's Cathedral initially burned in 16somethin, and the model in the museum of the old St. Paul's is older than America. This is a cool place if you should ever get the chance to check it out.
Later I had poetry, which was fun. I had coffee with my professor afterwords and we talked about British poets I haven't heard of. It's cool to hang with your professors.
Tuesday I had British and American Musical theatre...cool class, cool professor. I don't LOVE musical theater but I can dig this class.
Tuesday night our friend Vaughn bought like 9 cases of Budweiser and threw a bit of an American party. There was beer pong and stuff, it was fun to pretend we were at home...oh yeah and it was TACO NIGHT again, and that was bangin! TACOS RULE <3!.
Later that night Kate, Kelly, and I went back to my kitchen to cook the remaining taco meet in omlets. These were very tasty. After this, I stayed up really late with Katie and exchanged life stories and ideas. I'm really getting to know the people I'm hanging with, and it feels good.
At about 6am, Kate and I set out to watch the sunrise at my favourite spot in London by the Thames in front of St. Pauls, and we raced against the sky and made it there in time for a rainy sunrise. I really enjoyed showing her this spot, because it is literally my favourite spot in the entire world. My favourite spot used to be the cement block by the dirt road in old bridge, but this is kind of like that on a larger scale...We walked across the millennium bridge, and talked about architecture, London, Shakespeare, and everything else there is to talk about when in London. It was one of the best nights I've had here, and I'm finding that these experiences are better when you share them with someone else, now that I've surrounded myself with great people I now call friends, this has become easier.
I got in at 9:30am, and went to sleep feeling good. Slept till four, woke up, saw an awful av ant guard show about Nazis, went to the HOBOBLIN, went home, now I'm here.
Oh and I had a burger on ciabatta bread from McDonalds...give me a break.
More to come
Cheers
Andrew
Thursday, October 1, 2009
4AM UPDATE
So I've been slacking on my blog, which, I think is a good thing, because it means I'm caught up in my new life here and not thinking about home as much. Writing this is a way for me to write home, and when I don't update, I feel like it's because I got caught up in what I'm doing here. I know to someone reading this from home, that probably sounds like a bad thing. But to me it's good, because I have a long trip here and I want to be in every moment of it...not lost in my head thinking about stuff I could never get to...that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about you guys though, and this post goes out to all the people who are actually reading this...including Lori, who reminded me to stop slacking and keep writing.
But alas here I am, 3:15 am on a Friday morning. Monday was the first day I woke up here and felt at ease. I went grocery shopping finally, so I poured myself a my first bowl of cereal in forever (i've just been eating turkey sandwiches) and it felt, well, comfortable. I got dressed, walked out into my busy city and felt totally calm...or like used to it. I smelled the daily morning scent of eggs clashing with kebab that always wafts through New Cross at any time of the day, English Breakfast and English dinner always being served, and I felt warm. I walked across my same busy cross walk I've been going on, but I didn't feel anxious and I'm no longer comparing everything I see to the US or Old Bridge, I finally feel welcome, no longer a stranger to this strange new land. I'm used to talking in polite English, I don't think I've used slang since I've been here. I say "cheers" when someone holds the door for me, and can quickly count out british pence and pounds to pay for something with no effort now. I'm no longer shocked when the teacher (tutors, they're called here) refers to me as "foreign student" , and I no longer feel that distanced or strange from the British people I've met. I'm starting to feel comfortable. Really comfortable.
After breakfast I trudged out with my friend Casey for my first class. We got a cup of coffee (garbage coffee) in the student center. In England, they ask you if you what black coffee, or white. I'm sure you can figure that out, but it took me awhile to realize that if I wanted milk in my coffee I had to ask for white. I had London History. This is an international class, so the class is largely American with the tutor being British of course. She assigned some easy work, and every other week we meet at some famous place in London and have class there. Next Monday I have to take the train into central and meet at some museum...which I'm really excited for. The class was good, my friend Kyle (who is also my flatmate) was in the class as well so at least I'll be able to make sure were doing the right stuff to please these teachers in the UK.
After that class, I had my first British class. I entered the room, and sat with all British kids who were friends. They were all talking in heavy accents, commenting on the pub last night or talking about British music. Some British people have such a heavy accent that I can't understand them, this is usually people from different cities like Leeds or Cambridge. I felt like the whole class was talking like this. The professor walked in, and he looked...just...like...Alan Richman....yano, Snape. He talked like him too.
The first thing the tutor said was, "Is there a Mr. Ginsberg in the class?". I raised my hand and everyone looked at me. Snape continued, "Congratulations on finding the room on the first day, even some locals can't do that....how are you finding the UK...is it different from the U.S?". "It's fine" I mumbled quietly, "not to different".
"Good".
So now everyone knows that I'm American. We read through a bunch of British poets, all the students commenting and raising their hands, talking wisely about poets they've probably read their whole lives, and I , for the first time in an English class...had nothing to say. I've never heard of these poets, I never read these poems...I have some catching up to do.
Eventually Snape gave us a cigarette break...no literally, he said, "I have a terrible cigarette problem so if you want to join me for a smoke, come out now, if you don't smoke...well, I don't know what nonsmokers do...I suppose they knit or something..." and he trailed off and walked out of the room.
After the class ended I was tired, but I cooked my flatmate Kelly some Franklin St chicken!!! They don't have Adobo here but I found some bootleg spices that taste sort of the same. We made chicken wraps and she made some brown rice, and I was really feeling good about this whole situation. I have friends, I have class, I have a great city, and a whole future ahead of me.
I didn't do too much that night I don't think.
The next day I had no class so I slept late, and got ready for TACO NIGHT. Me and my friends here had decided to cook tacos for TACO NIGHT. It is the single best night ever. Everybody I hang with here is really different from the friends I have at home, and just like the people from Old Bridge, my friends from CEA/LORING/LONDON are all beautiful and interesting in their own unique ways and I feel so well rounded from all the different people I've met and called friends in my life.. ahhaa, of course,Some things are the same...like they love tacos as well, and its the similarities that I find so funny sometimes. Since they had class, I spent the afternoon cooking black beans which I later brought over to Kate's apartment for taco night, and we ate tacos and wraps and beans all night. It was real communal, and I felt good having friends and no longer feeling alone in London, this feeling of moving along.
Afterwords, a few people wanted to go to O'Neils, but me Kate, Emily, and Daria, wanted to walk around central. We took the train in and got lost in a really ritzy area. It was so weird to be lost in a place surrounded by like "Gucci" and such. I was pronouncing all the names of the stores wrong and yelling things in a New York accent which they got a kick out of...hehe its funny how they are starting to get exposed to the real Andrew Ginsberg as I get more comfortable with them....Kate and I really wanted to find a cool British pub, (like the SHAKESPEARE'S HEAD) but everything closes at like 10:30 during the week, so we wound up at O'Neills, and I got drunk on double shot gin and tonics and just had a good time. I also think I had an Extra Cold Guinness, which ruled.
The next day, I think I'm at Wed now (wipes sweat from brow), whew, lots to talk about...the next day I had one class at 5pm. It was my london theatre class. The class is simply we get to go to see a show in London every week, and talk about the show for one hour before the play. The teacher announced that, that night, we would be seeing "Inherit the Wind" with Kevin Spacey at the Old Vic. Daria and Jose were in that class so we were really excited. He gave us our tickets ( 20 pounds each) and said "seeya there".
We wound up taking the wrong train, but its ok, we ran as fast as we could and took a few tubes to get to the Old Vic in time. The play was awesome, Kevin Spacey was great, it was about creationism versus evolution in public schools. All the British actors had to like have southern accents, and some were bad, so it was funny.It was just neat to sit in an old theatre that is currently run by Kevin Spacey, and watch a play in London. After the play we looked for some food, and ate some rubbish at a fast food place. We got back, went to our favourite bar in New Cross, the Hobgoblin, had a few drinks and chilled. I got a warm british beer with no carbonation, which wasn't to good, but worth trying. I met a Brit named Charlie at the bar and he says he plays guitar and he beatboxes really good. He reminded me of Larry Imbro. Charlie and I plan on jamming soon...well, maybe. We left the bar and I went to bed that night not feeling homesick at all.
You know what, I'm realizing I got my dates messed up. This is why I need to post like every two days....Monday I didn't sit in and do nothing, THAT was the night we went to O'Neils...all that stuff happened on Monday, and I drank the gin and all that....TUESDAY night AFTER taco night, yeah, yeah I remember now, Me Chris and Kate went to a Casino...
It was great! We went out to a Casino in central London, got membership cards, and gambled a bit. I won like 8 pounds but than I lost it. We fooled around in the casino for like an hour and then we went to search for another bar. We were walking by a neat little bar called Oxygen, and Chris talked the guy outside into letting us skip the 10 pound cover and get in for free. Since we got in for free, we all ordered weird drinks...I had Mai Thai, although Kate says hers tasted the best. It was really cool watching them make it, she must have poured like twenty different things into my glass.
The downstairs area was relaxing but after I finished my drink we went upstairs and it was a more personal environment. It was all little nice with buddha statues and zenish light. I was a little buzzed from the drink and we all got to exchanging stories. It was cool for me to watch as I told them stories about home for the first time, stories about parties at Nick's house, or the night I burned my leg in the fire. I told them aboutt how my friends pee in stuff and drink it by accident, and how I got suspended from high school. I told them about me and Justin in Franklin Street, and the jobs I worked over the summer. It was during this time that I started to feel really proud to be we're I'm from, I love my friends and I can never ever run out of stories to tell about them when I'm meeting new ones.
We called it a night, I learned alot about everyone through stories exchanging and went home.
Today I woke up and did laundry. I don't want to talk about it. The dryers don't work and my clothes are dangling all over the kitchen trying to dry. My class at night sucked, and I'm going to try and switch out of it tomorrow.
...the night was good though, My friends and I just stayed in and cooked food, and we exchanged more stories, I told them some serious stories...so now we're definitely friends.
Anyway I will try and post again soon. Tomorrow I'm going on the London Eye with a bottle of champagne and knowing myself I'll have a lot to say about it. Saturday were doing something, and Sunday I'm going on another tour.
Oh yeah, and we're planning our trip to Amsterdam, Dublin, Paris tomorrow...boo yeah.
Oh yeah, and Nick is coming in a week and a half, all my friends can't wait to meet him.
Oh yeah, I'm really enjoying myself.
Cheers-
Andrew
I got was awoken by the sounds of the nearby comprehensive school as usual My first class was cool because it's a London History course,
But alas here I am, 3:15 am on a Friday morning. Monday was the first day I woke up here and felt at ease. I went grocery shopping finally, so I poured myself a my first bowl of cereal in forever (i've just been eating turkey sandwiches) and it felt, well, comfortable. I got dressed, walked out into my busy city and felt totally calm...or like used to it. I smelled the daily morning scent of eggs clashing with kebab that always wafts through New Cross at any time of the day, English Breakfast and English dinner always being served, and I felt warm. I walked across my same busy cross walk I've been going on, but I didn't feel anxious and I'm no longer comparing everything I see to the US or Old Bridge, I finally feel welcome, no longer a stranger to this strange new land. I'm used to talking in polite English, I don't think I've used slang since I've been here. I say "cheers" when someone holds the door for me, and can quickly count out british pence and pounds to pay for something with no effort now. I'm no longer shocked when the teacher (tutors, they're called here) refers to me as "foreign student" , and I no longer feel that distanced or strange from the British people I've met. I'm starting to feel comfortable. Really comfortable.
After breakfast I trudged out with my friend Casey for my first class. We got a cup of coffee (garbage coffee) in the student center. In England, they ask you if you what black coffee, or white. I'm sure you can figure that out, but it took me awhile to realize that if I wanted milk in my coffee I had to ask for white. I had London History. This is an international class, so the class is largely American with the tutor being British of course. She assigned some easy work, and every other week we meet at some famous place in London and have class there. Next Monday I have to take the train into central and meet at some museum...which I'm really excited for. The class was good, my friend Kyle (who is also my flatmate) was in the class as well so at least I'll be able to make sure were doing the right stuff to please these teachers in the UK.
After that class, I had my first British class. I entered the room, and sat with all British kids who were friends. They were all talking in heavy accents, commenting on the pub last night or talking about British music. Some British people have such a heavy accent that I can't understand them, this is usually people from different cities like Leeds or Cambridge. I felt like the whole class was talking like this. The professor walked in, and he looked...just...like...Alan Richman....yano, Snape. He talked like him too.
The first thing the tutor said was, "Is there a Mr. Ginsberg in the class?". I raised my hand and everyone looked at me. Snape continued, "Congratulations on finding the room on the first day, even some locals can't do that....how are you finding the UK...is it different from the U.S?". "It's fine" I mumbled quietly, "not to different".
"Good".
So now everyone knows that I'm American. We read through a bunch of British poets, all the students commenting and raising their hands, talking wisely about poets they've probably read their whole lives, and I , for the first time in an English class...had nothing to say. I've never heard of these poets, I never read these poems...I have some catching up to do.
Eventually Snape gave us a cigarette break...no literally, he said, "I have a terrible cigarette problem so if you want to join me for a smoke, come out now, if you don't smoke...well, I don't know what nonsmokers do...I suppose they knit or something..." and he trailed off and walked out of the room.
After the class ended I was tired, but I cooked my flatmate Kelly some Franklin St chicken!!! They don't have Adobo here but I found some bootleg spices that taste sort of the same. We made chicken wraps and she made some brown rice, and I was really feeling good about this whole situation. I have friends, I have class, I have a great city, and a whole future ahead of me.
I didn't do too much that night I don't think.
The next day I had no class so I slept late, and got ready for TACO NIGHT. Me and my friends here had decided to cook tacos for TACO NIGHT. It is the single best night ever. Everybody I hang with here is really different from the friends I have at home, and just like the people from Old Bridge, my friends from CEA/LORING/LONDON are all beautiful and interesting in their own unique ways and I feel so well rounded from all the different people I've met and called friends in my life.. ahhaa, of course,Some things are the same...like they love tacos as well, and its the similarities that I find so funny sometimes. Since they had class, I spent the afternoon cooking black beans which I later brought over to Kate's apartment for taco night, and we ate tacos and wraps and beans all night. It was real communal, and I felt good having friends and no longer feeling alone in London, this feeling of moving along.
Afterwords, a few people wanted to go to O'Neils, but me Kate, Emily, and Daria, wanted to walk around central. We took the train in and got lost in a really ritzy area. It was so weird to be lost in a place surrounded by like "Gucci" and such. I was pronouncing all the names of the stores wrong and yelling things in a New York accent which they got a kick out of...hehe its funny how they are starting to get exposed to the real Andrew Ginsberg as I get more comfortable with them....Kate and I really wanted to find a cool British pub, (like the SHAKESPEARE'S HEAD) but everything closes at like 10:30 during the week, so we wound up at O'Neills, and I got drunk on double shot gin and tonics and just had a good time. I also think I had an Extra Cold Guinness, which ruled.
The next day, I think I'm at Wed now (wipes sweat from brow), whew, lots to talk about...the next day I had one class at 5pm. It was my london theatre class. The class is simply we get to go to see a show in London every week, and talk about the show for one hour before the play. The teacher announced that, that night, we would be seeing "Inherit the Wind" with Kevin Spacey at the Old Vic. Daria and Jose were in that class so we were really excited. He gave us our tickets ( 20 pounds each) and said "seeya there".
We wound up taking the wrong train, but its ok, we ran as fast as we could and took a few tubes to get to the Old Vic in time. The play was awesome, Kevin Spacey was great, it was about creationism versus evolution in public schools. All the British actors had to like have southern accents, and some were bad, so it was funny.It was just neat to sit in an old theatre that is currently run by Kevin Spacey, and watch a play in London. After the play we looked for some food, and ate some rubbish at a fast food place. We got back, went to our favourite bar in New Cross, the Hobgoblin, had a few drinks and chilled. I got a warm british beer with no carbonation, which wasn't to good, but worth trying. I met a Brit named Charlie at the bar and he says he plays guitar and he beatboxes really good. He reminded me of Larry Imbro. Charlie and I plan on jamming soon...well, maybe. We left the bar and I went to bed that night not feeling homesick at all.
You know what, I'm realizing I got my dates messed up. This is why I need to post like every two days....Monday I didn't sit in and do nothing, THAT was the night we went to O'Neils...all that stuff happened on Monday, and I drank the gin and all that....TUESDAY night AFTER taco night, yeah, yeah I remember now, Me Chris and Kate went to a Casino...
It was great! We went out to a Casino in central London, got membership cards, and gambled a bit. I won like 8 pounds but than I lost it. We fooled around in the casino for like an hour and then we went to search for another bar. We were walking by a neat little bar called Oxygen, and Chris talked the guy outside into letting us skip the 10 pound cover and get in for free. Since we got in for free, we all ordered weird drinks...I had Mai Thai, although Kate says hers tasted the best. It was really cool watching them make it, she must have poured like twenty different things into my glass.
The downstairs area was relaxing but after I finished my drink we went upstairs and it was a more personal environment. It was all little nice with buddha statues and zenish light. I was a little buzzed from the drink and we all got to exchanging stories. It was cool for me to watch as I told them stories about home for the first time, stories about parties at Nick's house, or the night I burned my leg in the fire. I told them aboutt how my friends pee in stuff and drink it by accident, and how I got suspended from high school. I told them about me and Justin in Franklin Street, and the jobs I worked over the summer. It was during this time that I started to feel really proud to be we're I'm from, I love my friends and I can never ever run out of stories to tell about them when I'm meeting new ones.
We called it a night, I learned alot about everyone through stories exchanging and went home.
Today I woke up and did laundry. I don't want to talk about it. The dryers don't work and my clothes are dangling all over the kitchen trying to dry. My class at night sucked, and I'm going to try and switch out of it tomorrow.
...the night was good though, My friends and I just stayed in and cooked food, and we exchanged more stories, I told them some serious stories...so now we're definitely friends.
Anyway I will try and post again soon. Tomorrow I'm going on the London Eye with a bottle of champagne and knowing myself I'll have a lot to say about it. Saturday were doing something, and Sunday I'm going on another tour.
Oh yeah, and we're planning our trip to Amsterdam, Dublin, Paris tomorrow...boo yeah.
Oh yeah, and Nick is coming in a week and a half, all my friends can't wait to meet him.
Oh yeah, I'm really enjoying myself.
Cheers-
Andrew
I got was awoken by the sounds of the nearby comprehensive school as usual My first class was cool because it's a London History course,
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