And count to three...

I guess it's about that time to post, isn't it?

It's been a long time. Since the last time I posted, I have written a dialogue referencing zombies and Christmas for prose, a scene without dialogue for playwriting, had a night in and two nights out.

Most notable was CSS, featuring the Kabeedies. The Waterfront is an incredible club owned and operated by UEA, and I drank a lemonade and watched as the Kabeedies stole my heart with their enthusiasm and jumping, and then CSS wowed with their excellent stage presence and lots and lots of glitter and confetti.

That was Tuesday. It's funny, but that's how I think, "Okay, Tuesday was the night of glitter, confetti and my ears blown off by electro-pop and teen-punk... and then... last night was Milkbar."

Milkbar, with my american friend Kaitlyn, was a bizarre pastiche of indie-dance and Kubrick visuals. Lots of interesting outfits. Lots of mod, all about. Moptops and thin ties and wingtips. I think, sometimes, the best way to experience this all is with another fish out of water (like Kaitlyn) who can stare - politely - at the tiny dresses and long boots that seem to be in style here and wonder, collectively, a resounding, "What?!"

I think I am finally finding routine here. I read and write in the morning, have a tea with my flat when they return from studies, and then bike about, looking for things that interest me, where I either write some more or just go in, look around and think "I'm in England!" This thought process never tires, either. It's hard to really show exactly what I mean, but I walk on cobblestones and look and observe and then I go back home, to this odd little desk and write or lay on my bed and wait for people to return so that I can ask more questions. I may be belaboring the difference between the US and the UK, but I think the point is important. So I sharpen away.

And then at night, people go out. I go out with these people. It is a symptom of being around roughly 20 clubs and 240 pubs. One of the things they use to sell Norwich to tourists is "A different pub every night of the year!" This is a lie. Many of those pubs have shut. But a good 2/3rds hold strong, full of the same sort of lecherous old people and fun-seeking young folk.

I've danced more in the last month than I have in my entire college years. I have also written a lot of bizarre things. I don't like any of them, but I think it's all a symptom, as said above... it's a symptom of just being completely entranced with the world around me that everything I write seems like a love letter to whatever it is I have decided to write on. Tesco's, for instance. Meeting people at the university bar. Time traveling with the ballroom dance society. It doesn't make much sense, does it? But it's happening, and it's happening to me, and if I got it in my head to update this more perhaps I would be able to explain it a bit better.

It's weird though, writing in this blog is a sort of homesickness. And I try not to indulge that side of me very often but I have been away from everything I know for a month and eight days now and sometimes all I want to do is walk on over to the 7-11, buy a slim jim and a cup of bad coffee, walk back and play wii until Kristan comes out and berates me.

Perhaps one of the best things I did yesterday was go to a fellow creative writing student's house and help them write their dialogue. Working with someone, on their laptop, drinking hot chocolate and talking to their housemates... that felt a lot like home.


Another one of the best things, and a bit like home, was eating chili and talking literature with two guys from my creative writing class as they took me to a couple of their favorite places in Norwich. The best was a pub called the Birdcage, where we finished our Chili and went through their back catalogue of magazines. We debated the merits of The Strokes on the top 100 guitar songs, according to Q in 2005.


They are mod guys. They are cool. I am very happy that they found me cool enough to hang out with.

Sometimes, though, like in this picture, I make chocolate chip cookies and I drink milk and I give warm cookies to everyone and then everyone can pretend like this is home. It isn't though... it's a long term hotel.


Speaking of hotels... off to London tomorrow. Adventure!