Last night I was having a drink with my friend Helen at Shakespeare's, the bar/cafe wing of the bookstore where I work, and this older fellow came up and asked us if we were American. Ye, we said. So he starts asking us about US geography, and what are the states in the middle here, near the lakes? I sort of just started listing things I knew to be in that area--Wisconsin, Michigan, etc--but I didn't really know what I was talking about. Neither did Helen. So then his other friend walks up, and we start talking about Montana. This other fellow says he went there, and there was lots of speed there and oh! it was a great time. And then so he says his band is playing tomorrow night and do we want to come? So what is this band anyway? Well, it turns out it is Plastic People of the Universe. This is a big deal apparently! They're something of a legend, involved in Charter 77 and all this anti-communist stuff.

Then, I let my class go almost 15 minutes early this morning. God, I'm a lout. But I"m really beginning to enjoy this place.

sloth

Oh my god, I am a retard. I couldn't even remember the password to my blogger account. Oh! the rusty wheels of a brain churning, slowly, slowly.

So. I still live here in the CZR. Its grim and gay by turns, even as it seems everyone is jumping ship. The latest victim: my lunatic but lovely Aussie roommate Rowan, who plans to head to Romania and Morocco (geographical links notwithstanding) and then home "to commit suicide," because its cheaper than sending the body back. This IS the kind of thing that seems funny after so many months in this place. Humor here is gruesome.

I am considering taking up smoking. Its disgusting and glamorous. I need more props to suspend me!

Gah! Everything is good, really. I don't even hate teaching that much (christ on a cross, I think I enjoyed two of the lessons I had yesterday, even as the third was a new nightmare manufactured in some sinister TEFL factory somewhere). The weather here is puzzlingly good. My brother is coming to visit in a week's time. Paris for the weekend. La di da, etc.

Ok, little darlings. The cogs have screeched to a halt. Don't be strangers (I think that means you, Heather).