this is outrageous, this is contagious.

It becomes harder and harder to sum up ones days as things happen and more things occur and this person says this or that to another person and blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda... and then one day, you have this terrible thought (I call this 'Blogger's Blight) that none of the things you write really matter, and isn't this all a lot like bragging? As in, "oh look at me, I just went to London, and Paris, and London again, and had one of my favorite people in the world visit me in my strange medieval town, and school is awesome and I'm having the best time?"

I mean, isn't that bragging? I don't want to be a braggart, no one does. But I do want to tell everyone what has been happening in my life. So... let's see. About a week and a half ago I saw Vampire Weekend play their songs at La Cigale in Paris:




I told a friend that I was seeing them and she said, "Wow, you are just making all of your dreams come true, aren't you?" And I thought to myself... yes. Yes I am. Seeing Vampire Weekend was a dream come true. I love their music and they are such charismatic gentlemen.

Paris was strange. It was like coming home in some weird way... walking the streets of Paris with Ariane was a return to form, back to basics. I did that my first two weeks away, and it was lovely to do it again.

I also managed to create a moment, in Montmartre, near Le Sacre Couer (I think that's what it's called). It's the park where Amelie gave her blue arrow clues to give the photo album back and Ariane and I sat on the footpath and I got out my iPod and we listened to Yann Tiersen as all of Paris laid out below us. Perfect.


On a perfect day, too. Check that blue sky! Ariane is such an incredible person. She's not just a distant cousin, she's a friend for life. I can't wait for Barcelona this weekend...



Anywho... then I came back from Paris and met Erin in London. We spent a whirlwind day having high tea at Fortnum and Mason, checking out the wares, drinking hot chocolate, pricing old stones and puppies at Harrods, exploring Hyde Park and examining it's barking squirrel population, and staring up from the second row in awe of a strangely british rendition of a very spanish hero... Zorro. Zorro the musical is fantastic. It's even better when it's a mix of spanish to posh british accents.

Then we trained to Norwich, which, I believe, is where I lost my iPod. Sigh. Norwich with Erin was fantastic. I took her to all of my favorite spots, and basically got the chance to renew my eyes for Norwich - it really is a lovely little city and it's sometimes difficult to remember that when you have things looming over your head like playwriting deadlines and books to return. Sometimes it's dangerously close to being just... like... a city, and not an experience. And it's most certainly an experience.

Here is Erin and me, dressed like... me. We both dressed as me for a fancy dress party. Hilarious!

And then we went for a pint with Joseph and Fuchsia at one of my favorite pubs, the Playhouse. I think we spent the entire evening making fun of each other's accents.



And... now I'm just sick. Sick as a dog. I've been watching loads of british comedy television with Joseph, who is also as sick as a dog. I'm trying to rest up for Barcelona this weekend, because I would hate to be sick for that.

I promise to post tomorrow. Even if nothing happens.

don't go out tonight.

Yesterday I wrote a short story and debuted it to laughter at Workshop, my favorite pub in the world I think. Good thing: the laughter was intended.

Today, Alice and I are going to Cambridge, to see these people sing.


I hope they aren't actually that large, that would be terrifying.

And I'm taking Pierre. Y'all only comment on entries about Pierre, even when I address you specifically. Here he is turning a lion into a statue with his mind.


If it were up to me, this whole entry would be in exclamation marks. I am so darn excited to see the Pipettes. It's not up to me though, exclamation points are boring to read over and over.

A sob story: Once, the Pipettes were going to play a free show in San Francisco. I left three hours beforehand, thinking I would get there two hours early and get a spot up front, because I tend to idolize and idealize bands. The traffic had different plans though. I got there four hours after I left, right as riotBecki said, "Thank you!" and they disappeared.

Tonight, I get my heart mended.

we want the new temptations.

Last night I saw Alphabeat, and words fail me for the moment so I'm going to watch this...



Mama, I thought you would like them. And Dad, is that changey color effect something you would do in post production? Or are they just doing fun editing tricks?

I didn't have my camera so I can't post the usual tried-and-true blurry photo with light streaks that I enjoy so much. But you should watch that and you can have a mild understanding of the sheer pop ecstasy that they are.

And the bands before, Pandering and the Golddiggers and Das Pop were gleefully poppy as well. PATGD was something to look at, I will say that much. And Das Pop were really nice guys.

Other than that, business as usual. Well, I mean... I don't think I have a "business as usual" but I am trying to lead a relatively quiet life because the rest of this week is absolute madness. Joseph and I ate a "pub lunch," which consisted of roasted potatoes, broccoli and carrots, and roast beef slow simmered in gravy. Our repast was at a 750 year-old pub called Adam and Eve, . And we drank "true norfolk ale." Which was good, but only because it came with the meal. I would not drink "true norfolk ale" on its own. Give me cold, on tap cider anyday.

Sunday was a pub quiz and fireworks. Watch the british Office episode called "The Quiz" if you want to know what a pub quiz is... it's exactly like that. I think Aqua Teen Hunger Force has an episode with a pub quiz as well... and now that I have thought about that show, my mind is spiralling out of sanity. We didn't win, by the way. But I realized I know a lot about water, which is handy.

The next couple of weeks go like this:
Wednesday - Cambridge to see the Pipettes (more of that pop ecstasy I so enjoy)
Thursday - Traveling Circus in Norfolk
Friday - Halloween
Saturday - Monday - Amsterdam
Thursday, Friday - London
Saturday - Tuesday - Paris for Ariane and Vampire Weekend
Tuesday Night - Sunday - Erin visits!

Oh and I go to school too. Promise.

This is to answer the healthy eating question. Look at that! I'm eating an apple.

And as far as literary allusions, Father, Harry Potter was set in the late nineties, early zeroes, which is the England I'm experiencing. The literary allusions are indicative of a book based on a culture that embraces its past as well as its present. Also, just last post I referenced A.A. Milne and Kenneth Grahame. ALSO, shouldn't I take my audience into account? When was the last time you picked up James Joyce, Mr. I-Hate-James-Joyce's-The-Dead? ALSO, Jane Austen is spelled with an E.

BAM!

I spent all of yesterday discussing whether or not Joseph was being a cad as defined by Jane Austen over a cup of earl grey. Verdict: no.

ooh-hoo child...

Yesterday I ate a cake and drank apple/lemon tea with Hannah.

Here's a picture of us, but at an unrelated function:



Yes, I should have buttoned one more button on my shirt. My bare chest is embarrassing.

There was a point to this...

Oh yes. So Hannah and I live in opposite flats. Once or so a day I manage my way through the six doors it takes to get to her place and read a bit from my notebook for opinion. And she does the same. She is an excellent audience and I like to think that I am just that for her. She is a poet trying to do prose, I am... well, I am me. You all know who I am.

Last night was another concert, this time for Blood Red Shoes. We started the night in the raging, dancing, jumping crowd. Then we found our way to the back for a couple songs. Then we fought our way back into that same roiling mass of people. Lyrics yelled together, over and over, that I liked: "I wish I was someone better/ I wish I was someone better." And "How long, how long, how long can you miss someone?"


They are a duo. Like the White Stripes, but in reverse. I think that is a cool picture. Do you?


They brought their own decorative lamps.


I went with Joseph and his friend James. I wore a flagrantly mismatched tie on purpose. Also, Blood Red Shoes' music is much more cathartic live. But, isn't that always the case?

Today is a trip to deconstruct (in paper form) a museum. It's tea with Kaitlyn, it's possibly salsa lessons and definitely script writing. It's drinking more hot chocolate, more coffee, more tea. It's eating more sandwiches and probably riding my bike. It's a Wednesday, in the east of the UK, where I am living and wishing and hoping and playing and working. In that order.

jokes on you, we still alive...

So I'm going to visit London with my baby dragon who you should meet when I return.

I will be seeing Chelsea. And hopefully I shall see Mollie.

Last week, we had to write a silent scene for an unnamed play in playwriting. This week, we have to write character studies and plot arcs for each one, as well as the overarching plot of our play.

I'm not complaining, it's just rather unbalanced.

One more note on homesickness: I am not really homesick. It is the only way that I can really describe the feeling that I get struck with for a passing moment. It's ephemeral, like the first fizz on a bottle of soda, or perennial flower blooms. Both of those things are rather pleasant too, if you think about it. It isn't a pang, it's something more... well, I'll write about it on the train.

I have a "young person's railcard". I have Revolutionary Road. I have a Cadbury creme bar. I have a wallet full of this next week's budget (hmmm...) and a pocket full of dreams. I would like to see a show! See the rosetta stone! Take pictures wearing ridiculous hats in Harrod's!

I like being a tourist. I like being alive. Don't you?

See you Monday.

Think what the future would be with a poor boy like me.

Welcome to Mary Chapman Court. I'm trying to get everyone to lovingly refer to it as "Shawshank". Shall we take a look around?



There's our kitchen! See that washer on the left side? It's a dryer as well! That's what we call a "space saver"!

There's the dining room. There are five of us in here, but only four chairs. The message from UEA is clear: eat quietly alone!


There's my bed! It's probably about 6' long. I'm 6'1" and 3/4s...



And there's the ol' desk. I'm writing at that desk right now.


I covered up the previous British student's graffiti with... all of that junk. Pictures and the like. Those three blue post-it notes have my phone number (it's too long to memorize!), my Pipettes ticket confirmation number, and my Barcelona confirmation number. How exciting!

Patrick says, and I agree, that British graffiti is much nicer than American graffiti. There was a huge sign on someone's garden wall that just said "Hey There!" His postboard had all sorts of encouragement on it. Conversely, Joseph still hasn't put anything on his postboard, and there is a lovely poem urging him to fall into a pit of despair. I don't call it Shawshank for nothing!



This is Patrick and me. We were getting ready to go out. The ties are a big hit, Mom! I'm glad I brought them, despite your raised eyebrows.



This is Joseph. Someone told him he looks like Orlando Bloom. I don't think so.

Life is quieter now that fresher's week is over - on Monday, we had a mildly offensive "French Night" where we drank red wine, ate brie on baguettes, listened to the Amelie soundtrack and drew moustaches on. British accent + french = fun!

And last night, we went to the pub up the road that we are trying to make our own - so far, each night that we are there, we take over one of the rooms and discuss such far ranging topics as CSS, prices at Tesco's, our love of Mary Chapman Court, and the weather.

I don't have class for these first few days of the week, so I have taken to wandering. I have time to write letters finally, and time to cook. The campus has a lovely lake that, I'm almost positive, has mermaids and a giant squid underneath. And every street in Norwich is just too picturesque and quaint to describe in anything other than tired cliches. I'm going to try and explore more of that today with a Belgian girl I met at that awfully loud international students night.

I also have time to go to Barcelona (I bought my tickets yesterday), Cambridge (I bought my tickets last weekend), and Amsterdam (still working on it.) Europe, here I come!

(exclamation mark count for this post: 12)

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.

With alacrity, I sink.

I remain incredibly moved by timely handclaps.

Two nights ago it was brought on by a synthesized voice asking to put up your hands and clap, while strobes and spinning beams of light pushed us closer together. As I clapped and danced next to other EAP chums I wondered if my heart was beating fast and hard or if the bass was just that strong.

Last night handclaps were asked for (and received, albeit a bit off beat and drunken) by a British cover band while they sped up versions of Video Killed the Radio Star and Yellow, sung in a gruff voice probably fueled by too much Guiness and, of course, cigarettes.

And just a few hours ago it was in complete joyous unison at the Globe Theater, as the characters of The Merry Wives of Windsor took their bow and sang about being merry. Shakespeare was meant to be performed. I contest reading his words in books. But, honestly... Falstaff got what he deserved.

The energy in this group of EAP kids is electric and a little bit off kilter - a group of 20 somethings right on the precipice of a few months away from what they know. We cling to each other in pubs, follow one another down wrong pathways just because it is difficult to be a leader. A lot of laughter, though. A lot.

I did, however, manage to see Kensington gardens at leisure with an excellent group, posing ridiculous for a photo scavenger hunt in front of a robo-t-rex, a Princess Diana memorial fountain, and other various/sundry bits of interest. And I faux psycho-analyzed an entire table of us at the Naked Chef's british retaurant while eating delicious polenta atop mushrooms and ragu.

I want to storytell like the beefeaters at the London Tower. I want to have the comic timing of Messr. Ford in Merry Wives. But most of all I want to settle in tomorrow and see what lies in store at the hallowed halls of UEA.

Discount sale on gargoyles.

A recipe for an excellent parisian evening:

First, un voyage à la supermarché. (Flight of the Conchords reference... sort of...). We bought (Nous avons acheté) du jambon (ham), cheese (la fromage), du pain (bread), avocat (avocado), and chocolate (chocolate).

Then we ate that and listened to Lindstrom in Ariane's apartment.

Then, add Charlotte, who lived in San Francisco for her teenage years and therefore has a perfect american accent when she speaks english. We went to a bar for wine and conversation.

Add Philou, Marie, and Jane. Drink and talk a little, go outside and smoke a little.

This was the evening, and it was good fun. I think my favorite part of the evening was talking to Jane, who speaks very little english, and trying to get her to understand my terrible French. I told her that Ariane said she was a "chanseuse" which means "lucky one". I meant "chanteuse", which is singer. But perhaps she is lucky too, who am I to say?

I also bought a baby dragon. And took the metro by myself at 1 AM.

Oh! And we got those Herman Dune tickets.

C'est geniale.

Strange thing about Paris: everyone smokes inside their apartments. This is odd!

"Chouette" means cool. Or it meant cool. I think it's like how radical used to be cool. Now, people say "super" (soop-air) and "geniale".

I think I am spelling all of that right.

Yesterday, Paul took me and Ariane to Virgin records. He asked me to choose three cds for him... so I found him She and Him, Of Montreal, and Belle and Sebastian.

So... we shall see. He gave me a best of collection of George Brassens and Françoise Hardy, and I love both. Also, Françoise Hardy is cute!

Today, a little shopping? a little trying to get Herman Dune tickets? a little more of Paris?

J'espere que tu m'oublira pas jamais.

No one says "chouette" anymore.

Last night was another evening spent in the company of Ariane's friends - some of the most attractive people I have ever seen. All well dressed and stylish, but in some sort of easy fashion that I can't exactly put my finger on.

I keep telling Ariane I am having an excellent time. She was right, I was always going to fall for Paris.

Before the rendezvous with Ariane's friends we ate a three course meal with my uncle Paul and Katherine, and my uncle who I had never met before, Paul's brother, Daniel and his wife Ann. At "Le Clos des Gourmets". They gave me a menu in English, to my dismay.

And this morning we spent another hour in a cafe with Julien, and ate Japanese cuisine in an open air market.

Every day my resolve grows to learn French and return.

Now, we are off to meet Paul in a Virgin records. He likes Vampire Weekend and would like to buy their CD.

more!

The horn blasts in Cursive's Happy Hollow make me want to walk around this neighborhood and point at every thing that Tim Kasher is singing about. It's like a deranged marching band.

Today, I am productive. I am going to do many things. Many of them are artistic, one of them is monetary, and I already started it by eating half an avocado on toast and two eggs. Would a deep-fried hard-boiled egg be good?

I think I will leave with that question hanging in the air.

So... um...

I went from Santa Cruz to Santa Clarita Valley, care of Anthony. We traveled for a long time, which was interesting, and we were attacked by a Ventura sun, which was awful.

My mom made us dinner, and we walked around Suburbia and watched a movie based on a board game called Clue.

Today, I'm going to show him Venice and Melrose and probably Amoeba Records too.