Frozen in Time

It has taken me a while to start this post--as you can tell. I'm back in the USA and it feels.weird. I was one of the last to leave Madison House at the end of April and I can honestly say it was the sadest day I've experienced in quite a while. I may have shed a tear, but-I'll leave that a mystery.

49 Gower Street deserves a proper closing, but I'm going to make this brief. I'm too far removed to describe everything as I wanted. I fear that if I try, I'll be here all night rambling on incoherently--and the fact is, it's just too sad to recount the last days.

I visited Dionysus once a day for the last 6 days in the City. Yes, I did.

The last days in Mad House were filled with papers, alcohol, pipe tobacco, and tears. The second warning that we all received when we entered Mad House in January was that if we don't stay on top of our work at the start of the semester, we will all hate ourselves in April. It's not quite that easy. Do you remember reading about the excitement of the first weeks? Well, I do and for the first month of the trip, I wrote one 500 word paper. That's it. You can probably imagine that I should have done more. Too much time at the pubs in the first quarter of this vacation left me with little time for the pubs at the end. 10x600 word essays on 5 different novels in 8 days--just one class. Thanks Mick, you're my boy.

Well, it wasn't all bad. I managed drink quite a bit during the composition of those essays. That made it a little interesting. Poe was a drunk and he wrote some crazy shit.

I made my first visit to Wagamama during the last week. Wagamama is a noodle bar--It's pure Asian, I just don't know, as bad as it is, what. kind of Asian? A mixture I would say. It's damn good. If you go to London, go, they are all over. Wait, again I am talking about food and didn't even realize it. If this bothers you stop reading, b/c there is a great story involving food on the horizon.

If you know me, you know that I love Lebanese food. Considering I'm Lebanese that shouldn't be a shocker. Enter Ishbilia Lebanese Restaurant. I found Ishbilia in my search for superb Lebanese cuisine in London, b/c I knew that Europe appreciates Mediterranean food far more than Americans. Not to toot my own horn, but I nailed it. The first sign that I found the best restaurant in the city was that every person in the the place were themselves Lebanese. I was the closest to a white person in the room. Just what I wanted, a meal that takes 3 1/2 hours to complete, everything served with onions—heaven. The second clue was the high rollers entering the restaurant, which the servers seemed to all know. Oh, well shit, my parents came to town on April 21, I didn't tell you that. So this was now my third visit to Ishbilia (it's damn expensive). While waiting for our table an Aston Martin, multiple Mercedes’, a Bentley, and one mysterious Rolls Royce filled with simple looking Lebanese men all arrived at the door. I don't know who owns this place, but they have a connection to something serious and I'll never know who or what, they were all speaking Arabic. It's probably better that way.

Back to the people-We were to live together for 89 days; it was bound to get ugly from time to time. Living with so much estrogen both demolished and reassured my sexist opinions, which by the way, I'm working on. I'd say this trip put me strides and leaps ahead of where I was. I don't consider my self a sexist; I just tend to say some things that may be taken as sexi.st. Anyway, I have to say, Dan, Ben, and I came to the conclusion, we loved every person in that house. I felt like it was my duty to protect them from the drunk Frenchmen in the bars (see, that could even be sexist to some of those crazy feminists out there?), or maybe vice-versa...

Tonight is Tuesday, this means many American students along with some creepy fuckers are enjoying 1 pound pints at Sports Cafe. We'll be there again...We'll make it happen. It felt like it would never end and then it did.

I want to post something that many of you will read and have absolutely no idea what any of this means, but I know who will.

K. Fran sums up many of our greatest moments...

alley - our secret jersey pinkie promise in rome
anna - getting stuck in the east finchley tube...classic
jammin - priceless story with the Big Issue and the homeless woman
brooke - hot italian ass?
xtina - notorious for hanging around exotically named men
dan - i won't forget the emo moment on saturday when you were
playing the guitar and we all looked like we wanted to slit
our wrists
daniela - walkabout? croatian? taking your bra off? HAHA.
b.matt - stupid baish. transition glasses. hookah heart to heart.
erica - completely fer-schnickered the day before spring
break. awesome.
evan - asian delights. tube rides of shame. brazil..haaa
jeanne - bed bugs. ripping my 20 pound note in half. drunk at
the first play we ever had to see.
j.creel - random bursts of chuck norris jokes. thundermug.
jess - safety ruins fun. grillz. vodka. a little memory makin.
donohue - it STINKS in here. fancy pantssss. i would walk 500
miles.
katie c. - i know secretly you're a party animal...i saw it
come out at zoo bar. you sasspot.
kourtney - my funsized vegetarian. remember when the taxi
driver at ireland drove away with the trunk open and you tried
to stop him? awesome.
ksenia - or keznia. hetero lifemate. REALLY STRUM IT.
lauren - your mom. HEY! BERNICE...just try it on, HEY!
margaritte - you have the most contagious laugh on this
planet. DONG. venting online and swapping inside jokes while
in the same room...priceless.
mary - pint pot karaoke with your completely drunk boyfriend.
how could i ever forget.
kendall - wino. maymester awaits.
robby - lamb, kebabs, and weird animal noises. i miss it.
fink - always there for me when i needed a cig and a wine
drinking buddy.
sara feldman - rocket bar founder...good times, good times.
steph - garden PARTAYYY! i'm shure shomeone did.

I'm going to add a couple of quotes, from some of my great professors...

Tank – “Any Questions or Queries?”
J. Dobbs – “Doesthat sounds familiar to anyone?”
Mick - "They'll fuck you up your mom and dad!", "Has anyone read Beowulf in Olde English?"
Lovin - "MathEmatics, MathEmatics, MathEmatics"
Rachel Barnes - "Yes, right, ok..."

We'll see each other again, a lot actually, but we will never return to London together with a purpose, even if it was only to get drunk and stumble home. London will never again be the Euphoria that we experienced and remember. The only way we know London is together, which is why it was so hard to see an empty house, empty rooms, and a clean kitchen. I wish I wasn't one of the last to go, I would have been able to remember Mad House in its glory, full of eager Americans, ready to drink a bottle of wine, party for three hours, and devour a kebob at the drop of a hat. With each day that goes by, I miss the time even more.

I've rehashed the semester so many times over again in my head and in my dreams that I'm almost drained of words. Our time in London allowed us to grow. We truly did, just as Rusty told us, Live, Learn, and Love London. Three of the greatest months of my life.

The end.

"Dude, I Wish that Other Stovetop Worked." - Fast Heat, Slow Minds

It is 4:19am in London, 22 April 2006. I'm not finding sleep easily, for I know when I wake up this house will not be the same.

I'm going to go out on a limb here. I just don't understand time - For the last 3 months my life's clock has been the Tube map, out of scale. We embarked on this journey prepared to stay forever, three months sure seemed far away, yet your entry point is visible from your exit two block aways on the other side of the street. We have all waited for the time to come for us to arrive in London for almost two years and it's over.

Yeah, I did it...an awful, awful metaphor. Just deal with it.

I can't say much right now - I don't have many words. If I seem melodramatic, it is - there's no way around it.

However, there is something I wish to share with you. 27 people, 27, for three months have shared 4 burners in a kitchen the size of a coffin. Meanwhile a flat, counter stovetop with 4 additional burners rested all semester, unused. Why you may ask? I have no idea. My theory is simple, no one ever turned the switch, ever. Which translated into "Why doesn't the other set of burners work". I can recall a absolute minimum of 10 times of the top of my head the words, "Well if the other fucking burners worked I could cook a fucking egg". The startling revelation was made in Mad House April 21, 2006, exactly 3 months and 2 days after our arrival. We are fucking smart.

I want to detail my accounts of the last couple of days, now isn't the time, I have quite bad Asian eyes right now.

I'll end this brief with one word. Dionysus.

Cheers...

1997

1997 was the year that I threw away my Puff Daddy CDs.
1997 was the year that I got rid of those damn Boss jeans from 1996.

1997 was the year I adopted Toomuch112 as my pseudonym.
1997 was the year I moved out of the house in which I was raised.
1997 was the year of the year of my first DMB show.
I got my first 'B' in 1997.
Bill Clinton was president.
The year of hale-bop.

____________________________________________________________________


Yesterday Iran threatened our country.

This is Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Both now and in 1979 holding a U.S. hostage during the occupation of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran. Good choice for president...

All I want to do is show you this image. He has 27 years of hatred built up and is spouting that hatred to his citizens. This week he again called for the annihilation of Israel.

Perhaps I'm being a little too morbid, but with Iran's newly acquired nuclear capability, the next two years will prove to be some of the most important years International diplomacy has ever seen.

That's it-I never intend for this to be a political blog. However, I thought it deserved some attention.


Why did I mention 1997?
It felt like the United States was in cruise control. 1997 is the year that comes to mind when I think of how little stress there was during the 1990s. I don't think that feeling will return any time soon. It's not like I can say life is exactly hard now...I've lived in London for the past 3 month essentially expense free, that's not too bad a deal.

A more jolly post tomorrow, I promise. Tonight Mad House is celebrating our last Saturday night in London together. Wish my liver good luck.

Cheers

Tank Bradshaw

Thirteen days.

It seems ironic that Monday has been my favorite day of the week during my time overseas.
Today was an even better Monday. The day began with poly-sci. Tank conducted class at Mad House this morning. There is not a classroom in Madison House; therefore we attempt to learn while laying down on the couch or the floor. It's a competition to see who falls asleep first. I'll miss it dearly - I digress. The class was thrilled to give 15 minute presentations that took just as long to prepare...and the Tankster was just as happy to listen. That is why I love Tank so much (Dr. Tancred Bradshaw, aka Tank, is a professor of political science and optical molester, his current dwelling is the 4 floor broom closet in the British National Archives). He was sleepy and was dosing off. I guess that's what happens when you stay up all night researching the origin of the leather bound parliamentary seats.

I planned to accomplish a lot more than I did today. After class I sat at my desk and called my mum instead of doing work. Ate lunch, it was time for the house meeting and to collect my 40 pound weekly stipend. Gym, then the grocery store - I then cooked what I intended to be a Kafta kebob, but I didn't have skewers so it was this interesting mixture, I'm gonna tell you...

1 onion, 12 shrooms, 1 kg lamb mince, mint, garlic, crushed chilies, cayenne, oregano, soy sauce, olive oil.
Then I threw a cup of peas on top. With Red Leister cheese, a tomato & a raw red onion on the side.

You better listen when I say I have an eating disorder. What if I have a tapeworm?

So then it was time to do homework, but I didn't. This may lead to my eventual death later in the week when I shoot my self in the face after Mick tells me to read another novel.

I'm looking around my room wondering how exactly I'm going to get all of this stuff home. It's gonna be tricky.

Cheers

Oh Yeeeeah, I Forgot. Retrospect

I'll take you back to February 28th.

I was shaving about to do some work for Mick Hattaway it's still cold in London I was thinking about Summer that reminded me of something I never told you about February 28th, 2006

The previous sentence had no punctuation in honor of Ulysses and James Joyce.

I don't believe in luck; however I do believe in God. Yes, that explains the whole situation, God is rewarding me for all of the good things that I have done in my life...At least, that's my story.

I managed to get a ticket to Dave Matthews' solo show at Tutu's in King's College London. I'll start with that story. I told you that the ticketing was only open to UK residents. First of all, the on sale times listed on DMBand.com were not correct. The 'advance sale' began the night before the public sale--the 'pre-sale' began at 10am--the 'public sale' began at 3pm. I don't know who bought tickets in the advance sale...somebody did. I registered for the pre-sale and clicked the 'buy' button at 959. I had two tickets. I was astonished to say the least.

I then realized not only would I have to have a UK shipping address, but a UK billing address. Bad deal. I took too long pondering this snafu; I HAD two tickets. I almost pissed in my pants due to my high anxiety. Finally, 15 minutes later, after the show had officially 'sold out' I picked some one else's dropped ticket. Fuck-- so I used my current London address as my billing address. The slacker working for Ticketmaster ignored the fact that my credit card is not British. Good thing, I got a ticket.

Doors at 7pm. The venue was the top floor of the KCL student union--Tutu's, a bar half the size of Canal Club in RIC (In the UK every college within University has its own bar...). The queue had already begun to wrap around the building about 75 people deep by the time of my 4pm arrival. It is incredible how easily the British queue up, it's automatic. Fifteen minutes earlier Dave had visited with the hardcore Brit fans for a chat and some pictures. I missed it.

The opening act was good, but he could have been turning water into wine and not a soul would have cared. There were 350 people waiting to see Dave, whom everyone knew was no farther than 15 yards away. Dave took the stage around 8:45pm.

He was jet-lagged and admittedly stoned. It gets me when people think Dave is always stoned, it's just not the case, he's actually a strange chap; however, on this amazing evening, he was blazed my friend. He began by telling his British fans that he appreciates their support. I can say with almost complete certainty that I was the most seasoned veteran in the crowd. That sounds ridiculous, but Dave does not come to the UK often. The last visit was in 2001 and for most fans this evening was only their second chance to see this guy live; I'm about to hit the over-the-hill mark.

I started this blog when I was sober. It's now 6 hours later and I'm drunk.

I think there are three generations of DMB fans at this moment. 91-present, 96-present, 2001-present. I'm unfortunstely not old enough to be in the first. That's that. My point is, the UK fans were in heaven. They don't get the chance to see Dave very often. It was a night of Euphoria.

Dave talked a lot that night; stories about his time living in Cambridge, high in South Africa, pronunciation, and even more ganja-induced tales. Awesome is the only word that comes to my mind.

I think I've already tried to explain why the events of February 28 affect me so much. There are many reasons that I don't want to get into , but I think I've said this before...
When I was 14 I told my mom, 'It's ok, I'll meet him again', and I meant that entirely, without hesitation.
When the show was over we waited around the stage for Dave to come back and say hello. That wasn't possible, so what my next move? I had been talking to his guitar tech since the show ended; my first irrational thought was to give his tech a note. Yeah, look, it sounds a little weird and I guess it is. But if there is some way I can prove to you, this is not an obsession, I think this is it. I wrote "Dave, I went to my first show when I was 11, thank you for what you do." That's it. I just want you to ponder the things or the people that have shaped who you are...and then if you still think I'm crazy, it's cool.

Where was I going with this? Well, the group of 15 or so of us that waited outside of the only exit to the building for an hour and a half finally, finally got our treat. Dave, Corona in hand, walked out of the front door of KCLSU. If there is one thing that we knew b/f anyone else it was that Dave had already planned to come back to the UK b/f the summer tour. Maybe it slipped out, or maybe he was happy to let the British fans that surrounded me in on a secret. Yesterday, the May England tour was announced. Unfortunately, I'll have left Britain. I'm not thinking about yet.

There are certain subjects on which people tend to have varying opinions. I know music is one of these.

OK, I'm sober again. I think I passed out after that last sentence. I guess I got drunk b/c I don't think any of that makes much sense, and I was on the fringe an emo tirade.

Yeah, so I met Dave again, that's it. It's not as exciting as I was making it, but I wanted to recount the episode b/c people continue to ask about it. The story has been told.

My sister Lindsay and my brother-in-law Don were in town this weekend--great times. I come home pretty soon huh? Yeah, it's hard to think about.

Cheers

The Death of Wang Chung

0645-Waterloo Station - Euro Star through the English Channel and into Paris.

For a couple of days we weren't sure we would get to Paris. For centuries the French have engaged in their favorite pastime--rioting. It's like a country with herpes-they're just having a typical herpes outbreak. The morning we left for the 'city of love' I uploaded the Kaiser Chefs' I Predict a Riot to my iPod to get my self pumped.

I had a pre-conceived notion that we would be greeted by a rude Frenchman and our trip would be full of dirty looks. I must say that the French surprised me--not to say that they like us Americans.

The entire Mad House was taking over one hostel. Once we found our weekend home (that's another story) the Hotel Commnies du Marais gave me good vibes--good location and close proximity to many baguettes. A stumpy Asian man greeted us as we entered; he looked as if he had eaten too many spring rolls the night before. My first thought: Asians WILL take over the world, give them time. Once we paid our bill (33Euro for two nights) and dropped off our bags, it was time for a baguette. If you haven't noticed, for every country that I visit, the cliché staple food is the first thing on my mind. In any case, I like baguettes.
There is no such thing as an English menu in France...that I saw. I ordered the last baguette on the menu and hoped it was good. It was smoked ham, jackpot.

So we were eating our baguettes overlooking the River Seine and Notre Dame. I wasn't full.

Notre Dame is a cool place. If you're Catholic as I am, you'll appreciate it a little bit more. However, I've seen more cathedral's during the past three months than anyone ever should. They all blend together.

After Notre Dame it was time for wine and olives courtesy of our Art History prof. Rachel Barnes. The coolest chick in Britain. Some were fairly drunk.
Next stop, the hostel. I was still running on those good vibes from earlier, but I happen to notice that our sink had not been cleaned. The hair shavings gave it away. I brushed it off and we were out to dinner, where I consumed the greatest bleu cheeseburger I have ever eaten. When you hear about how good French food is its fucking true brotha.

Dan and I had about a 2 mile walk to The Moose Canadian bar in the Latin Quarter. Remember, we were in Riot mode, so when we saw thousands of rollerbladers coming down the street I was looking for cover. I don't know what they were skating for, but they were rollerblading and they were happy. No riot. Two minutes later the excitement started. I counted at least 25 buses full of police. Riot police were lining the streets with their shields and helmets, but they seemed rather jolly.
---If you don't know what these riots are about I'll explain--30% of French young adults believe capitalism is the best economic system, compared to 69% of Britons. The other 70% are the slackers rioting b/c they are afraid that the job for life that France's failing socialist government promises them will disappear. A perfect example of how socialism breeds complacency.
Sorry, I got serious for a moment.
Anyway, we passed some protests and I just tried to look inconspicuous and walked into the Canadian safe-haven. The bar was owned by the Moosehead Brewery, which was a great surprise, I fucking love Moosehead. Except that I paid the price of a six-pack for one bottle.

The fun began around 4:30am. Remember the hair shavings? If you ever see hair shavings in your hostel room, leave. Just when I was getting to bed, I woke up to the sound of screaming. Bugs. A floor above me, four of the girls woke up with bugs on them. Little black bugs, or bed bugs.

Enter - Stumpy Asian, soon to be known as Wang Chung.
Wang Chung is in denial. He believes that four young ladies living in Bloomsbury, London have brought the mighty resilient bed bugs to his beautiful hostel. Wang Chung is wrong.
They moved upstairs to another room. At this point, we weren't sure they were bed bugs. I actually thought bed bugs were too little to be seen.

I lay in bed and scratched for about 15 minutes before the first group of the drunken ladies arrived. Enter-Wang Chung...Apparently there is a code to enter the front door after 9pm. 12345, I don't think Wang was worried about our safety. Well, Wang wasn't happy that he had to wake up and answer the door...twice. I wasn't sleeping much this night.

1 1/2 hour later we were up for the Musee D'Orsay Impressionist gallery to see the Monet, Pissaro, Van Gogh, and so on. You don't get the full experience from prints of impressionist work, so the gallery was incredible.

Third Baguette of the trip for lunch. It rained for a while and we were off to the Louvre. Mona Lisa, Venus di Milo, other stuff. Seeing the Mona Lisa was similar to going to NYC for the first time; you have seen it so much on TV, it's a great thing to finally see it live. The Arc and Eiffel Tower were next...a lot of pictures.

After spending $30 on three phone calls...I gave up trying to find the rest of the group and Dan and I chilled out. Night two brought what? Oh yeah, the four traumatized girls were put into a room next to mine. Again, we awake to yelling. More bugs. Wang Chung was in trouble. I found a bug in my bed, crawling on my pillow. As Wang was busy yelling at the girls, I pulled him into my room. I don't even want to go in depth. Wang was in my face and if I were drunk, he might have died. He continually yelled "ONE bugS" with the standard Asian plurality of every word. Bugs don't travel alone. I told Wang if he didn't get the fuck out of my room I was going to call the police...I was being too rational.

Talking to Wang was like telling a junkie to go to rehab. He insisted that there were no bugs. Maybe he was a junkie.

Another night without sleep and we had bed bugs. Bed bugs are close to the most resilient insect in existence. They lay five eggs a day and don't go away easily. Is there some irony here? Is it ironic that an Asian owned the hotel with bugs that spread quickly and won't go away? Possibly

Wang Chung will die a painful death.

All 22 of us came back to Mad House and boiled water to rid our clothes of beg bug larva. YES. I now pray nightly that I will never again see a bed bug.

I'm dragging here, but I love Paris. I never thought I would, but it's a nice place to visit. The service was incredible and that was a nice surprise. If there is one thing that I know it's that I will never again stay in a hostel, and I hope you don't either.

That is all for now. Start thinking about what kind of alcohol you're going to have waiting for me upon my return to the States.

Cheers

One Love, One Bugs

I have good news - I'm still 100% man.

What seemed to be my biggest fear did not have to be confronted...
Have you ever watched me cover myself in bug spray? I'm a big fan of Cutter Deep Woods. I hate anything that is smaller than my hand and has legs. This weekend I confronted what is truely my biggest fear...and a stumpy, spastic Asian man.

It's gonna be good, I'll write tomorrow.

I've slept 7 hours in the past 3 nights. For now, it's time for a nap.


Salaam