Thursday, September 30
Sorry, Once MoreDammit, I keep getting distracted from sitting down here and writing something worthwhile. Today is no different: I'm going for a kickabout with a load of new mates in 20 minutes, then I'm off to the closing party for my language course that I've been doing for the last 4 weeks...
The detox is going relatively well. I had 2 drinks last night, which were my first since last Thursday, but I was stone cold sober. I thought that I'd be a hell of a lot worse. I have a feeling that tonight could get a touch messy though. 4+ hours of free drink, then probably going out afterwards? I'm going to know about that in the morning.
One final thing in this briefest of messages: I found the British Library's website earlier, and their treasures section is fantastic. You can see one of the original Magna Cartas online, so long as you have a sufficiently quick connection, amongst others. It's very strange to be sitting here, seeing what was actually written by someone 800 years ago, a person just like us, holding a quill and writing. I like history...
If anyone knows of any similar sites, give me a shout. I'm thinking the big library in New York, which I've forgotten the name of at this moment. Oh, and if you can hunt it down on Google, go have a look at a copy of 'Songs of Innocence and Experience' by William Blake. He was an English poet, but also an engraver, who decorated his poems with pieces of art that let you understand the poems in a slightly different way. Can you tell that I studied him for my English Lit A-Level?
Sunday, September 26
Feeling BleurrghAnd yes, "Bleurrgh" is a word. I've just made it up to describe something which needs a word to describe it, just like Shakespeare did so many times.
Christ, you're thinking, now he's comparing himself to Shakespeare. Well, only in this sphere of things. I haven't had anything performed to a royal audience yet, nor have I had a theatre constructed purely for the performance of my writing. Yet.
Anyway, I figured I'd better try to keep up to date as much as I can, after the failure to write anything substantial for a few weeks. Hence I find myself writing about Friday and Saturday, not that anything hugely exciting happened.
After the events of Thursday night, and the subsequent trip to Bar Drei (the greatest bar on the planet, more about which some other time), I didn't make it to classes on Friday. Hell, I didn't even make it completely out of bed until gone 3 in the afternoon. I've no fucking idea what time I made it to bed on Friday morning, but I'm guessing it must have been late. Very late.
Thankfully, I awoke without a hangover, but I was still in one of those bleurrgh moods where anything more strenuous than opening your eyes feels as if it is simply too epic to even contemplate doing. You know the ones: every part of you aches and feels tired, you can't concentrate on anything for longer than 30 seconds, and it feels as if the whole world is having a good time without you. I get those days surprisingly often, but usually accompanied by a raging hangover too. Is my body trying to tell me something?
I did fuck all for the rest of the afternoon, then met with a load of my friends to go to a party organised by the ERASMUS society at this university. The slightly unnerving aspect was that absolutely none of us were at all up for drinking. We'd all had such a heavy night the previous day that we were all in that bleurrgh state of mind.
I also had to put up with J (she of Thursday night infamy) on the bus, apologising profusely for her actions that night. I can take an apology, no worries, and I was owed one, but to do it solidly for 10 minutes? Please. I'd said that it was OK, and that it happens to the best of us from time to time, but she kept on repeating how embarrassed and sorry she was. Hopefully she's learnt a lesson or two. I know I have: don't ever offer to get a paralytically drunk girl home again; leave it to the paramedics.
We rocked up to the party, after having eventually found it, buried amongst the small back streets of Altstadt. Oh, but first we had our usual group thing of standing around, waiting for someone to make a decision of some sort. We do that so, so much at the moment. Everyone is worried about offending someone else if they make their opinion known, or try to make a decision on behalf of everyone. This leads to 10-15 of us constantly standing around, trying to make a mutually consensual decision, a process which often accounts for vast sections of our time together.
Sometimes, this manifests itself as us all walking in a particular direction for a few minutes, following a couple of people, only to find that the two or three in front aren't actually going anywhere, but are merely walking. We then have to turn round to get to where we actually want to go, which is exactly what happened on Friday night. 10 minutes past the turning for the party, the two girls leading us told us that they had no idea where they were going. Cheers girls, thanks for that!
The party itself probably wasn't that bad, but we (especially me) all felt fucked, and in the vast majority of cases still hungover. This being 10pm in the evening and all that... You know you've had a heavy night when you're still hungover at 10pm the next day.
It was so fucking hot in the room where the party was too. We had to get outside for a bit, just to cool off for 10 minutes or so. Of course, being outside meant that we'd might as well go get some food, since we had done the hard part by getting outside. This led to me breaking my No McDonalds rule for the first time in a good 18 months or so, due to the peer pressure put on me by my friends. That and the fact that it was so THERE, right where we needed it to be. Yeah, anyway.
On a side note, it was as shitty as I remember. Crap, limp chips; sloppy, tasteless burgers; everything branded to within an inch of its livelihood; and sullen staff behind the counter. I'm already looking forward to no more McDonalds ever!
Sorry, I've got to head out, I'll finish this later.