It's a pretty strange time to be an American. My country is going slowly crazy as grown men respond to lost job by blowing away themselves and their nuclear families, immigrants take up refuge under abandoned houses, and things seem generally fucked up. Reading the news on CNN, BBC, New York Times, etc., I'm acutely aware of how lucky I am right now.
I'm also aware that Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich is whining like a child all over network news and the talk show circuit, expecting us all to honestly believe that he is "innocent." Fuck that. I don't even think that Rod himself thinks he's innocent. He wants every American (and probably a handful of curious foreigners) with television or the internet to remember his smarmy face and multi-syllabic surname so that in a few months, after the inevitable signing of the book deal (has this happened yet? Probably) he can make mint on his own oversupply of lameness. It's a time honored tradition, man. Knock yourself out! The Bill O'Reillys, Rush Limbaughs, O.J. Simpsons and, yes, Keith Olbermanns of the world (sorry man - we're in agreement, but you come off as a cartoon) are living proof that if you can bray like a jackass on television for long enough for people to know who you are, you can sell a shitload of books to a nation of "readers" and top the New York Times bestseller list in your sleep i.e. the part of the day when you're not flapping your jaw about whogivesaratsass.
The Economist claims that the number of readers in America is growing. This is actually good news.
PHEW.
Wales is cool.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I say Cardiff, you say Caerdydd!
21/1/09 (that's how they do around these parts.)
Yesterday's transfer to Cardiff...not all that bad, but full of unexpected kinks. Our ride from London went smoothly, but the bus driver, maybe excited, maybe just hopelessly weird, spent nearly the whole ride expounding upon the six of us his historical knowledge of England and Cardiff. Most of it was pretty interesting, to be honest, but at 7:30 in the morning...I would have preferred sleep. He also nearly brought us to Swansea, due to a tangent he went on about his daughter living there (one of many). Later, he drove away with our backpacks in the passenger area after assuring us that he'd unload eveything. Someone had to hunt him down at a bus stop. By that point, I wasn't all that surprised.
In the afternoon (already fucking raining...) I went on a trek to buy some cookware and bedsheets. I came back with a raincoat, overlong in the arms and no sheets. Oops.
Later, I went to the Student Union bar - The Taf - in an attempt at sparking conversation, being social, etc. but knowing no one, I floundered a bit, over tipping the bartender (these £1 coins...something to get used to. I was also later told by Parker that no one tips bartenders here, so she probably assumed I was hitting on her) before striking up conversation with two engineering dudes, James and Eddie. I will probably never see James or Eddie again. Thanks for being kind to the confused American, mates.
Fatigue & Guinness finally prevailing, I headed back to Synghenydd to get some sleep and was faced once again with my lack of sheets. thinking quickly, I unbuttoned the cover of my duvet (read- comforter) and climbed in.
MacGyver.
Yesterday's transfer to Cardiff...not all that bad, but full of unexpected kinks. Our ride from London went smoothly, but the bus driver, maybe excited, maybe just hopelessly weird, spent nearly the whole ride expounding upon the six of us his historical knowledge of England and Cardiff. Most of it was pretty interesting, to be honest, but at 7:30 in the morning...I would have preferred sleep. He also nearly brought us to Swansea, due to a tangent he went on about his daughter living there (one of many). Later, he drove away with our backpacks in the passenger area after assuring us that he'd unload eveything. Someone had to hunt him down at a bus stop. By that point, I wasn't all that surprised.
In the afternoon (already fucking raining...) I went on a trek to buy some cookware and bedsheets. I came back with a raincoat, overlong in the arms and no sheets. Oops.
Later, I went to the Student Union bar - The Taf - in an attempt at sparking conversation, being social, etc. but knowing no one, I floundered a bit, over tipping the bartender (these £1 coins...something to get used to. I was also later told by Parker that no one tips bartenders here, so she probably assumed I was hitting on her) before striking up conversation with two engineering dudes, James and Eddie. I will probably never see James or Eddie again. Thanks for being kind to the confused American, mates.
Fatigue & Guinness finally prevailing, I headed back to Synghenydd to get some sleep and was faced once again with my lack of sheets. thinking quickly, I unbuttoned the cover of my duvet (read- comforter) and climbed in.
MacGyver.
Monday, January 19, 2009
London 1: The Kingdom in the Flesh
I know FOR SURE that I formatted this blog before I left the states. What happened? Why this empty shell.
Not important. I am in London and, in the first of many first, am not confined to Heatrow like I was the last time (though, arguably, I could have left. Was that a Nabil decision or a Me decision? Lost to time and foggy memory). On of my first excursions onto the street, in search of a cell (MOW-BILE) phone, I almost immediately got caught in a hellish deluge of painful white hail and, shortly thereafter, very, very cold rain. As usual, I was wearing a sweater, and entered the Car Phones store looking like a drowned rat with a funny accent. My Americanness is already making me self conscious, and it's barely been six hours. This will pass, I have to reassure myself.
More on all of this later. Writing in the lobby isn't ideal.
Play nice.
Not important. I am in London and, in the first of many first, am not confined to Heatrow like I was the last time (though, arguably, I could have left. Was that a Nabil decision or a Me decision? Lost to time and foggy memory). On of my first excursions onto the street, in search of a cell (MOW-BILE) phone, I almost immediately got caught in a hellish deluge of painful white hail and, shortly thereafter, very, very cold rain. As usual, I was wearing a sweater, and entered the Car Phones store looking like a drowned rat with a funny accent. My Americanness is already making me self conscious, and it's barely been six hours. This will pass, I have to reassure myself.
More on all of this later. Writing in the lobby isn't ideal.
Play nice.
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