Time Traveler

Bad mornings begin when fatigue drags down the body and aches in the spaces of bones. Today was a bad morning.

but I sallied forth--into a crypt and an amazing display of light art glowing and pulsing in the pungent bowels of the earth.

then off to the Wellcome Museum where I discovered that someone somewhere thought a penis with a hat was a fertility aid. Also I toured the bodies buried under Tube stops and McDonalds all over London.

Finally the British Museum and the elegance of invaders. Sometimes I can't help but think of it as an elegy to empire, and marvel at the shamelessness of plunder. and then I leave

(Also I wonder what we will display when we talk about Iraq, Cuba, Africa, Afghanistan. When we write our history in placards and crafted exhibits. And then I leave)

But what ho! Scotland on the horizon?!! EGads am I doing something with my time?! Watson this is BRILLIANT

Did I mention--

Thursday saw Ordinary Differentials off to a start as well as

Marylebourne, Bakers Street, Regents Park and the floating houseboat chinoisere, bits of Camden that is just like home, and my infatuation with all grocery stores that are not Tesco

Behold the beauty of vegetable cutlets!

and then the Big CHill House to wind the evening down right

Cheers From Britain

This is the first time I feel cheerfully inclined towards the place; possibly because my sun returned to me. She even revolved endlessly in the brilliant blue sky

Oxford Street is icky (scientifically exact terminology) in its wealth.
Hyde Park is huge
and the National Royal Theater is BRILLiANT

you gotta love a play about lesbian suffragettes who slit their wrists on stage. You HAVE to

and then fireworks and works of fire. crazy people setting themselves on fire which would be immolation except they were being paid.

its no New York but its good enough for now

ENTER NEW YEAR stage center

strange times backwards and forwards i'd say in general

much too little time in sum (and way too much knowledge is trying to cram its way into this tiny brain)

more talk and less sleep!

No Rest for the wicked

so is there a word for life coming together slowly?

a mass of pieces slowly melting into a tangible solid? (no not an acid trip...really)

I got told today by someone much older and friendlier and better that I seem like someone with a goal, mature even (which is a deeply disturbing idea). It's like being told you're beautiful/handsome--you wont ever believe them but the thought is wonderful.

Vacation has begun and although i do not expect sleep to embrace me in her chafting fishnet embrace, I hope to see the Sandman at at least some point...

I am not a good college student. I dont enjoy sleeping very much.

Hi World

so You and I...we've had some rough times lately.

You took my laptop to the tune of two weeks and many hundreds of dollars.

but I forgive you.

If I live through finals we should have a party.

a sleep party.

Edge

Today is the day that I am going to die.

I watched a woman struggle with herself, laugh, cry, have a psychotic breakdown, commit suicide and rise from the dead over and over endlessly like Lazarus only she left pieces of herself behind every time.

and then it was intermission. Edge is the story of Sylvia Plath and her "suicide" and the poet-laureate Ted Hughes, adulterer, black magic warlock, and the center of his universe.

There aren't a lot of words that I can use to sum up that expeirence. Intense, pure, exhilirating. I actually talked with the lady actress and she shook my hand and I am never washing it again. it literally tingled with the electricity of her prescene.

and I met Henry Chang the man behind the steamy noir haze of Chinatown Beat. i liked him and his yo's and dudes and subtle philosophy. I think i want to be him when I grow up. Comfortable in my skin and my passion.