Wait, what's going on?

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?sched=1263

Daylyte $avngz

MONEY$$

It's currently 5:28 and I'm still awake, so apparently I was just kidding about all that "getting to bed at a decent time and not being such a fuck" stuff. Not much has been happening. Wet, windy weather. Been hanging out at Dean's flat a lot. Taking the bus. Drinking all different kinds of beer, mostly all from North America. Drinking lots of coffee, as well. Listening to Woody Allen's band at all hours of the day and night. Reading The Turn of the Screw. What a creepy story.

I can try to toughen up

These past couple of days have been such excruciating, tiring doozies. I feel like something has absolutely wrung all the energy and spunk and life out of me. I need to start getting to bed by midnight on school nights, setting aside money for one decent dinner out a week, and just spending my money on things like fresh, healthy food instead of cigarettes and booze, strippers and Baby Grand Pianos. I need to start my day off with a croissant and cappuccino from Peckham's at a reasonable hour and not rely on a fiend-like amount of double espressos when I roll out of bed in the early evening. I waste too much of the day sleeping.

But, really, I'm doing okay. I'm learning. Although my spirits have been sort of in the sewer, and although the university isn't all that I hoped it to be, it's fun to be living alone in a city, any city. Hell, it's just fun to be on my own. Hanging around in my underwear all day on Saturdays and Sundays, reading, cat-napping, listening to nice music like She & Him, watching movies in bed and laughing at things to myself very loudly. I've taken this box of a room and created a nest of sorts out of it, and it is very cozy, especially compared to the outside, the goddamn freezing outside with the dangerously gusty wind. It's getting intolerably cold.

This morning I just jumped in a taxi instead of walking to class--a novel, warm decision, well worth the money, and, the more I think about it, what I perceive to be a must in regards to getting to my Tuesday morning English tutorials on time. It feels nice to treat myself to things like taxis on blistering mornings. Makes me feel like I'm doing an alright job of taking care of myself. Said tutorial was crap and I'd really care not to discuss it. Afterwards, I somehow ended up sitting around enjoying a cup of coffee and a joint with this guy from my tutorial, Dean, who ended up being a pretty interesting person. Plus, I think we managed to seek out the only sunny spot in Edinburgh--I couldn't remember the last time I sat in the sun.. in organic warmth, not radiator warmth. I look forward to many more post-tutorial, marijuana-induced chats with my new friend. What else happened today? I treated myself to a delicious sandwich from this deli that I knew had to be good judging from the line spilling out of it's door and down the block. What else had I to do but stand in a queue waiting for probably the freshest food I've eaten since I've been here (this consisted of avocado, smoked cheese, roasted red peppers, and a lot of other good stuff on the most divine cracked-wheat bread I have ever sunk my teeth into) and then proceed to consume it next to a friendly hobo on the sunny side of Nicolson Square? It was lovely. Tonight I went to the film society screening of The Great Dictator, just to hear Charlie Chaplin speak. He has a charming voice. Tomorrow I bite the bullet at buy a UK telephone. I like to think I'm not being swallowed, bit by bit, by this tartan serpent of a country.

Been down to Dixie and dropped acid on my tongue

Well, we made it to Glasgow--a feat that, 24 hours ago, I wouldn't have believed us capable of. But we did it, we managed to find our way to the bus station, onto the bus, off the bus, into a taxi, and into the concert. After the concert, we did it all in reverse. Technically, my foot didn't touch one proper Glasgow street at any point during the excursion, and all I saw of Glasgow was through a cab window; Jenny Lewis might as well have played in Edinburgh. But I'm forgetting to count my blessings: I'm just glad she came to Scotland at all. It was like a little slice of home, much needed and much appreciated. Plus she's just so darn great. It made me quite homesick when it was all over, homesick for aimless driving around in Lisa's big ol' truck, stoned as a whore in Bethlehem, perhaps with my feet hanging out the window. It made me homesick for sunnier weather and rummage sales and kissing and the farm and sitting around watching funny television with funny people and all the times I stayed up to watch the sun rise, before everything stopped being wonderful.

(Photos courtesy of Catherine)

From one Pseudo-Scot to another

I wasn't sure about the kilt thing at first, but I've thought about it, and Marc Jacobs just looks really, really good.

"Life is just a short period of time in which you are alive."

Not much is new in terms of schoolin'. Lots of boring poetry lectures and crap art history lectures and more down time than I know what to do with and more walking than I could ever want to do with. At least we found pot, after a long, weary search; it is a strangely unpopular substance here, here in Land of the Shitty Hash. The other night I watched Kingpin on the really nice television in Ridhima's pantry with Russell and Charlie. That was a lot of fun, and probably the highlight of my weekend, as it was the first completely non-boring night I've had here thus far, i.e. it didn't involve sitting around aimlessly in an anonymous pantry nursing a flat beer, gazing upon the remnants of parties long past. I forgot how much I enjoy just lounging around and watching a good movie with a group of friends who all laugh at the funny parts--I watch far too many serious movies. From now on, I only want to watch movies in which people laugh and laugh often.

Tomorrow's my day off, which isn't saying much, as I really don't do much on my days on, but I suspect I will sleep until around noon, whenceforth I shall emerge, ripe and strong and healthful from the covers, and attempt to salvage the day by running a slew of tiring errands. I've consumed three bottles of orange juice in the past twelve hours--I'm determined to get healthy, shake this cough, stop this smoking (at least until the cough ups and gets out of my lungs), eat some real food, and, on the whole, just not feel as much like shit all the fucking time.

"and we would be warm and in love"

I am very lucky to be in love with my best friend, but it is very hard when there is so much of one person to miss.

Learned to crawl on the kitchen wall

Somehow, at 2:30 am, I ended up sucked into a video chat with, one by one, the entire Radin family, which was funny and kind of awkward but completely wonderful because I got to talk to Shira and she was wearing adorable pajamas with little cartoon cats on them and she blew me kisses when she had to go to bed. This made up for both of Jared's parents hesitantly telling me that I "look tired," and just talking to Mitchell Radin in general.

So it's 2:30, I just woke up about an hour ago, I slept through my "Rape of the Lock" lecture, and thus, I'm going to find some food, read "The Rape of the Lock", and lecture myself about it.

You're standing on my neck.

Well, doing my laundry wasn't as bad as I surmised it would be. It was fucking worse. First of all, by the time you get all your clothes in machines that actually work, you've spent about fifteen quid on laundry tokens. Then your clothes only dry half-way, assuming that, unlike me, your dryer actually keeps working for the whole cycle, and then, unlike me again, you aren't left with a heap of wet clothes in the middle of your floor because you ran out of fucking tokens and the building in which the Righteous Token Machine has been locked for the night, gone to bed gingerly so that tomorrow it can, once again, only spit out half the amount of tokens that you've paid for. Do I sound bitter? Are you picking up the "half" motif here? Saying I am about "half" satisfied with the quality of the laundry system here would be a flattering, completely sarcastic overstatement. I miss my cleaning lady.

So I had a long day. Classes from 10 am to 6 pm, interspersed with about three double espressos and one seriously strange excuse for a pastrami sandwich. How come it's never sunny on the days when I actually leave my room? Wind and drizzle, all the time, never real rain; it rains half-way, and it's gray, and pretty soon it's going to start getting dark at like, noon just like EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER has warned me about, and that's gonna be a real blast. "Oh, Scotland. You know, it gets very dark there in the winter. Yes, the days, they are very short. Oh, that's going to be depressing."

The only solution to a day like this? Sidecars at the pub down the block; I'm allowed to throw tantrums if I'm drinking sidecars. Hey, it worked for Zelda Fitzgerald.

Hoe cakez

Dinner tonight: one bag of kettle chips, one peanut-butter & jelly sandwich, two cups of tea, one British-equivalent-of-Cup 'o Noodles, and a lot of hummus. I really like to think that I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't walking multiple miles a day.

Our love is simple

Well, here I am at Blogspot.com because livejournal is, like, so tenth grade. I said I'd never cave.. then my friends list just became so boring.

I'm living in Edinburgh and it is very, very cold, despite what Wikipedia may say about its "surprisingly temperate winter climate," or something like that. In fact, it is so cold that I was hesitant to leave my room at all today, save for a brave expedition to the store for chocolate chip cookies and some "yoghurt" covered peanuts. What did I do in my room all day, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. I watched many episodes of Daria, read half of American Pastoral, and indulged in an inordinate amount of napping. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was turning into the great L. Greco herself. Despite sleeping through my only lecture on Friday, blessing myself with a homemade three-day weekend, I still managed not to go grocery shopping, not to do my laundry, not to explore my massive English Lit. anthology.. not to do anything at all but lie around in my underwear wishing I could write like Philip Roth and talk like the characters in The Life Aquatic ("How did you get my espresso machine?" "We fuckin' stole it, man."), with the exception of an exciting, three-am adventure into the city to find a late-night snack (enter: probably the worst and best 1/4 pounder with cheese I've ever consumed, washed down with a couple shots of Jack). Oh, college.

What am I doing in this fucking city? I hope this all turns out to be right. I hope I find it in me to create something soon. I think I'll pray to the Good Lord to send me some unbearably funny friends. It feels good to laugh, it feels good to laugh hard. I'm tired of being the only one who tells funny jokes; I'm tired of walking; I'm tired of inflation; I'm tired of this goddamn useless British DVD player that spits out all my wonderful movies in disgust. Send me a familiar face, send me fresh vegetables, hell, send me to the moon if they've got a Whole Foods.

I've just been sent the new Jenny Lewis album, Acid Tongue, by my good, good, wonderful friend, Ben Dunbar. We're talking Tom Petty, we're talking Fleetwood Mac, we're talking a little early '90s, but most of all, we're talking motherfucking Jenny Lewis. I can't think of a better pickmeup for an alienated ex-pat than J. Lew. Thanks, Ben. You're a real pal.