the day you move, I'm probably gonna explode.

I'm in Brighton.

I realized I promised many things in my last post, promises I will not be able to keep. My computer is packed away, the computer cords are packed away in another place, my computer charger is packed in still one other place. So... Pictures will have to appear when I return to the states. Many apologies, darlings.

The last couple days at UEA and MCC and Norwich were lovely. We reminisced, we partied. We danced, we cooked. We took pictures and went out to dinner and out to breakfast. We turned flat one into a dance floor, flat four into a mess hall. I had a final cocktail at the Birdcage, my favorite pub. Joseph and I had a filling meal together at the Bell Hotel. I had planned to see a movie at Cinema City, a wonderful movie theater, but it fell through. We shopped. We had hot chocolate. I watched folks ice skate. I turned in my final assignments.

One final night at the UEA club was spent watching the Vengaboys, bumping cars on the dodge 'ems, getting twisted on the Twister. I had a vodka red bull, which happened to be just as bad idea as I imagined. Almost everyone from MCC went together, and I saw people from my courses and my clubs and we danced, and we shook, and we stomped. We sang along and clapped.

I kind of felt like it was the end of days, like we were dancing and eating and looking and hugging and crying as though this was it, the world was ending, goodbye earth, goodbye moon, goodbye stars. Of course it's a much nicer reality than that - as I was packing things haphazardly into my suitcase, saying goodbye to people and feeling a tightness in my stomach and in my throat, people were coming in to say goodbye, to gasp at my barren walls, to take final pictures... but it never felt final. At first I imagined it was because I didn't want to leave, didn't want to deal with the reality that everything was ending... but to be truthful, it's because I know I will see these people again. Patrick is easy, he's in San Diego. Jack and Joe have a year abroad, both of them near northern California. Alice loves traveling, I'm sure we could backpack someplace together. Hannah promised she'll teach me how she dances. Joseph is a SoCal kid at heart, he just has to come and visit me to realize how much he needs the sand and sun to live. All these lovely folks are not relegated to this period in my life. I am a good letter writer, a good facebook messager, a good email-er.

I am going to keep in touch.

But now I'm in Brighton with Joseph, spending our time walking through the shops but not buying anything, drinking mulled wine, being cooked for by his parents who are incredibly nice to me. It's making me very homesick. I want my parents. I want my home. I want mulled wine in my city... although I think I will have to make it somehow.

Home soon, and I doubt I will post before then. But good news... I'm going to keep this blog.

as you turn while wandering...

This is my last full day at Mary Chapman Court, and, in the larger sense, Norwich. I'm packing and going to some of my favorite places in the town, buying chocolate, trying to enjoy it.

But I'm really sad. I just said goodbye to Abbey, and Kaitlyn. More goodbyes to come.

I'm going to do a much more fulfilling post tomorrow, complete with pictures of me in a Santa beard, and me with a moustache. Lots of strange facial hair to look forward to.

I have not actually packed anything yet. It's all in the planning stages.

Why do I do this?

one day I drifted away...

So I went to see The Streets with my friend Samanta the other night. I remember when I bought their first album, at Amoeba, and then tried to play them on the ride home and Dad said, "I can't understand a word he is saying. Why would you want to listen to this?" and I think I have an answer now. I listen to The Streets because I like figuring out what he is saying and when I actually do figure it out, I realize it's a story about a man's life that spins out of control but he always pulls it back somehow. And he has been telling this story via string and horn samples and drums and computer blips and guitars for four albums and now he isn't thinking about the day to day. He has a line on his most recent album, "For billions of years/since the onset of time /every single one of your ancestors survived/every single person on your mums and dad's side/successfully looked after and passed onto you life/what are the chances of that like" which is a nice sentiment. It was a really "wicked" concert. There was this moment where he got everyone to freeze pose for five seconds and the music paused on this synth line that echoed, and then he yelled "DANCE!" and everyone did, like mad people, and I felt pretty gosh darn euphoric.

That was a long paragraph!

Other things I have done recently: researched astral projection, visited a zombie party with Bob Dylan and David Bowie as the soundtrack (so a zombie party from the early seventies?), learned to waltz (not box step) and ballroom jive, jammed with Joseph on ukelele and guitar, crosswords, tea, gin and tonic... It's hard to sum up the life you are leading in a pleasing and entertaining fashion, but believe me, my life is pleasing and entertaining. I should REALLY stop leaving it five days in between updates.

Onward!

This is a path that you can walk on near the Norwich Cathedral, which is a peaceful (if sullenly grey) place. Not that I'm surprised, I'm just commenting. The trees in this picture look as though they had the night out to dance and got frozen and then forced to line this walk for my pleasure.


So I drank a lot of coffee the other day and then got horribly lost on my way to school on my bike because I thought to myself, "Hey there, I left an hour early. This looks like a shortcut." If you are wondering what drinking a lot of coffee has to do with that, it's that coffee makes me believe that all my ideas are not only great, but should be acted on swiftly and without much thought to repercussions.

It was not a shortcut. Of course my camera didn't have batteries, and of course I forgot my water that day, but I found this incredible bikes-only path, where I was almost alone except for cascading yellow leaves on a tree-lined path, broken intermittently by a bridge over a river. One of these bridges had two children with fishing lines in the water, I kid you not. I stopped here to (eavesdrop) look at the water and it was a little boy and girl.

LG: I have actually gotten quite into Indiana Jones.
LB: What, more than Star Wars?
LG: I just think it's a little more real. You know, it could happen.
LB: Show me with hands.

Little girl holds her hands about a foot apart.

LG: I like Star Wars about this much.

She brings her hands another six inches apart.

And I like Indiana Jones this much.

LB: I think I can understand that.
LG: We are adorable!
LB: I know, let's have tea and discuss the queen in this same manner!

Those last two lines of dialogue didn't happend, but my god! What an amazing long-cut!

I went looking for the path and couldn't find it. But here is another picture to prove Norwich is a lovely, chilly little city:
That is all. I promise you, I will update tomorrow.

Oh, also, check out Dylan Moran on youtube. I think he is really, really funny.

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!

I think 3, large.

So I finally have internet after many empty promises from the UEA ITS.

So... my god, what has happened? I should scurry to my journal but I am going to be a bit vauge instead, I suppose.

Last night a bewildering Kaiser Chiefs cover band played a set at the LCR (lower common room). I went with almost all my housemates, who are:

Joseph: from Brighton, into indie rock, blues guitar, and literature
Alice: from New Zealand, into baking, world music, travel, and developing countries
Grace: from Portsmouth, very bubbly, quite excited, and into being a doctor

Alex didn't come with, but he is from Slovenia/Serbia, into movies, and often gets lost.

I feel like a freshman all over again, participating in all of the freshman things, like the icebreaker last night, and the internation students reception (where I was in a conversation with people from 15 different countries at one point!), and rubbing my hands together in anticipation for the societies market, where you literally shop for the societies you would like to join. So far I am going to join the Internation Students Society, the Creative Writing Society, the Archery society, the Rowing society, the Travel society, and the Wine and Cheese society.

I only have class on Thursday and Friday and have decided to make a foray into London next week to see a show and so forth. It is only 8 pounds return to get there and there is a student price for about 15 pounds to see anything good, like Jersey Boys, Spamalot, or... something else. There is a stage version of Rainman with Josh Hartnett that looks interesting.

Norwich is best described as a british town if Disney designed it - the street layout has not changed since medieval times, and the streets themselves are cobbled and narrow, only big enough for a single car. The open air market in the very center of town has been operating since 1066 and it is hemmed in by a magnificent castle that doubles as an art museum and a very imposing church.

My room is prison-like. The Resident Tutor described it as Shawshank Chic. I put a king size sheet up on one wall to help lessen the oppressiveness, but the bed is quite small... I woke up twice last night banging my foot on the end bar, startled by the cold and the metal.

So I won't spend much time in my room. But I wasn't going to anyway. I'm eating a cadbury chocolate waiting on a pizza we all ordered, and Joseph is asking if I'd like a tea. And I would, really would.