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