warm fuzzy feeling.

Sorry sorry sorry I lied horribly and said I was going to blog yesterday. I didn't. I didn't and I'm sorry. Here is a comic from Drew at toothpastefordinner.com to make up for it...



Yesterday, it got really cold and rained on me and Hannah as we wandered aimlessly around Norwich and then into the really neat library they got here in town. I didn't get anything, because I have enough to read/write, but still...



And then we planned our trip to Amsterdam. Joining me is Alice, from New Zealand, Hannah from Canada, and Grace and Jonny from England. So far, our plans are the Van Gogh museum and the Anne Frank museum, and go on the canals. Any other wonderful ideas? I like ideas! Tell me yours. We leave November 1st!

Lemme see lemme see lemme see. My whole life is a blur. Last night Hannah and I also went to a writer's workshop at a bar called "Workshop, a place for writers." There were lesbian line drawings on the wall, spiderwebbed fairy lights from the ceilings, and bookshelves full of books-they happen to have a lending library of their own. It was a sort of preliminary meeting last night, next week we bring new work. I love writer's workshops. Then we went back to Jack and Joe's house for some red wine and music, from no-wave to rap. Did you know rap is an acronym for rhyme and poetry? Jack and Joe talk very well at one another. It's like a british male version of Gilmore Girls. I like the picture below to illustrate it.


And finally, ancient history: I forgot to let you all know that I saw Tom Stoppard's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead at the Maddermarket Theater! The theater is literally a minute and a half from my place. It's a lovely, tiny place, and my friend Fuchsia and I had great seats. There is a sequence in the West Wing of Josh flipping a coin and it landing on heads every time lifted straight out of this play.


Okay that's it I think. Rain, libraries, pubs, theater, skinny jeaned brits. I think I covered it.

What treasures does today hold?!

why did I never tell you?

(Pretend it's Monday, please. Not Tuesday. Monday I was exhausted and Finding Nemo was on.)
Okay so I'm not crazy.

Well, I'm a little crazy.

But not as crazy as you may think.

My baby dragon, named Pierre, joined me on my cavorting around London-town. It was lovely, and the coat was mostly not needed, but it definitely made me look like a tough, grizzled detective. And perhaps, in low tones, I narrated the whole trip to Pierre as though we were a team of detectives. And perhaps I pretended like Pierre was like a french Ned, and we were bringing statues to life to tell what happened at the crime scene.

Perhaps.

Here's Ned... I mean, Pierre, making friends with Ben.

This was after a winner's breakfast of water and a lemon meringue tart. This was in a coffee shop in Soho that had a broken coffee machine.

Chelsea and I met up, and she took me to a Democrats Abroad Obama rally. Pierre approved! "Oui, Monsieur Obama!" he said.


Pierre and I went to a 3d movie at the Scien?e [sic] museum. I inferred (that's science talk for guessed) that they did not have any 3d glasses that were his size. He enjoyed it anyway, because Kate Winslet narrated.


Chelsea and I took Pierre to see Spamalot! which was in a different type of 3d. LIFE 3d. It was hilarious and a lot of fun and in this picture it looks like Pierre is going to break down the Palace theater, Godzilla style.


Perhaps one of the best things I did was walk around the Kensington gardens. Pierre was sleeping in my pocket when I finally found the Peter Pan statue. If I look scruffy to you, it's because I AM scruffy. I haven't shaved in over two weeks.


I also took Pierre to get right and cultured after being lost all over London. We found the British Museum eventually and I finally got to take off my coat. That museum is absolutely one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my life. Ever, literally. I spent five and a half hours in there, and a lot of them were spent in the Chinese Jade room. Jade is as hard as diamonds apparently, but people still work it into amazing things.


Pierre was really interested in the Rosetta stone. So interested that this picture is super blurry.


Not pictured, because the pictures aren't as good as these ones and blogger is starting to fail on me: me and Pierre reading in a pub, Pierre taking over Trafalgar square, me and Pierre asleep in our hostel beds, eating Indian food, shopping at Harrods, learning how to survive, checking out modern art, meeting a finger puppet Van Gogh, and debating art at the Tate.

My trip to London was fantastic. Sometimes it was lonely though, because I am small and London is quite, quite large. My last day, when I was completely lost and my phone was badly in need of topping up and I had a bug bite on my leg from my hostel beds and my hair was in need of a washing and my bag was starting to feel as though I had accidentally switched my clothes for bricks... I had this moment where all I wanted to do was sit in a cafe and read.

And that's exactly what I did, and three hours later, when my book was finished, it was time for my train back to Norwich.

Most of London wasn't like that though. It was 95 percent fantastic, with fantastic art (National Gallery, Tate Modern, Victoria and Albert), incredible museum pieces (British Museum, Science Museum, Natural History museum), great entertainment (Spamalot, street musicians along the Thames, conversations with Pierre), and a whole lot of time to think.

I love being wherever I am, almost all the time.

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.