h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

as predicted by the amazingly... amazing amy, i have come to elaborate, extrapoltae, and just be an all-round bother to you all.

i would add first that i am at least two people (depending on whether or not i take my pills), so there may de decidely *more* than four people in this conversation at present.

i would also add in a side note that, strangely enough, we had a conversation today at lunch about infected feet. isn't that odd?

yes, i absolutely adore Once On This Isalnd, not only for all of the typical it's-a-good-musical-with-lots-of-colors-and-great-music reasons, but for all the wrong reasons as well (for example, i met the infamous chris when working on the light crew that year, and went to my first all-night party after closing night...). that's all i'll dwell on that for now.

today, i had a horribly existent day (amy, have you ever heard chris refer to the "pause button"? it's our equivalent to the fountain of youth, and, i might add, still yet to be found to the misfortune of us all...). my opptomism, failing around ten-thrity in the morning, left me wallowing in ten times too much work for my own good and a bit too much nihilism. sigh. i really need a day off.

over here in america, many high school students have decided to celebrate the day a year ago that two idiots bombed a high school in colorado (you may have heard of it -- columbine?) so no one will be at school tomorrow except me and the copy-cat criminals. no one will pull a gun on me, tho, b/c i don't have that kind of luck. it'd be too easy.

i told you i was feeling cynical today!

um, let's see, what else? i'm not quite sure. i must retire to my bed if i hope to keep my sanity. o, and by the way, i apologize for the obnoxious comment about multiple-personalities written above by my counter-part, she has a tendency to lie. i'm sure she didn't mean to come across as overly-witty. bye now.

Possum welcome to the club for the sick and wounded.I spent 3 hour in the A & E on sunday and 1 hour there monday 1 hour 30 mins tuesday,all with a broken arm.
It is a little better than it was this morning it all swelled up so they raised the sling that its in then said move it as much as you can(doing a full swing of the arm to show me how)if i tryed that i think i would pass out, but i can almost get it straight now.
Any way i hope the leg is ok take care of your self you are the only one you have got.

I'm amazing?? Cool. But what was this *shrug* thing about....?

Possum, you really should worry about that foot (though I thought I saw someone refer to it as "leg," so I'm not sure which it is anymore)... green can't be good. Black and blue's not so bad, but green kinda turns the stomach. Bleck. Sounds like some of the lacrosse players at our school-- they attempted to brand crosses into their upper arms with bent clothes hangers. Needless to say, they'll probably get gang green (or however that's spelled). To quote one of my friends, "We don't know why they are the way they are...." I hope it gets better.

Gladly, my headache is gone (for the moment anyway-- it was bad yesterday afternoon because I was acting like a high ranking staff member at the Soliloquy meeting yesterday afternoon because of the lack of competent members and really didn't know what I was doing) (Soliloquy is our school's literary/arts magazine), though my throat hasn't been sorer for quite some time. But I feel pretty good, and as far as I know, nothing happened at school as a result of the Columbine anniversary, so I guess stuff is basically okay.

Alison (er, Skie, whatever... I never call you that at school, blame it on force of habit), I don't think Chris has ever mentioned the "pause button" to me before. Although, since the only time we really talk is during Chem. first period, I'd think he'd be wanting a fast-forward button instead. He has however shown me the "do not press" button, and I press it every time he lets me. Nothing's happened yet, though. Maybe the button's broken...

Despite being home all day long (and because of the misery this cold is bringing me-- thanks a lot, Al! , not the anniversary thing), I've had a pretty decent day so far. I finished one of my favorite books in the world, and it was rather beautiful outside for a large portion of the day. I'm finally getting that break I've been complaining I need. Well, sort of. I promise myself I'll relax during the holiday, sleep in as much as possible, and write if I can. You all heard it here-- all *counting* five of you (me not included, nor Skie's many personalities). But, I'm talking about myself now-- something I hate doing-- so I shall retire to my room to read some more and try to enjoy my time off...the whole four days we get this year. :-p

If I don't talk to any/some of you before next week-- seeing as I'm leaving for Maryland sometime on Saturday, Happy Easter/Passover/whatever your religious leanings this time of year... adieu, mes amis...

yes amy, of course you're amazing! the shrug was b/c i was rather redundant (amazingly amazing? now c'mon!) .

amy, soliloquy was a horrible bother today (i arrived home very close to tears for everyone concerned) and i have some really bad news. i don't think any of your poems got in. i was outraged. only one of my poems got in, while poems at the equivalent skill level to "roses are red, violets are blue" got outstanding reviews. i was absolutely livid! the problem was, ours were intelligent and thought-provoking and, as i feared, they rushed thru reading them and so, didn't understand them. whereas some poems that got in were like, "o, this rhymes and it's about dogs. i understand dogs... 5". sigh. i was so horribly upset (after all, what good is it to work so hard on something if only crap gets in), esp. for you since i actually liked some of your poems better than some of mine, but after talking w/my parents, i'd like to pass on their words of comfort to you: we've out grown it. basically, we're too good. every year,i've gotten less and less accepted in, and it's b/c they're aiming for a highschool audience, so they have different standards. so don't be frustrated or too discouraged. after alll, we don't write for the shallow-minded teenagers who only skim the page, we write (at least i do) for ourselves, and the other people who *appreciate*, ok? take heart. things will be better next year when i have more control and not everything is so rushed. i'll force people to sit down and actually read them all, even twice if necessary.

anyway, what else? um... o! so, what's this about a "do not press" button? is that like the 80s' MC Hammer "can't touch this"? is there a little something-something between you and chris that i should know about? heehee, just kidding. ah, today during trig. he and dan told funny stories. i was one step away from the good ol' days (in the good ol' days, he told the stories to me under the dogwood at the bus stop... but trig class is close enough ).

i'm sorry for giving you my cold! and i'm glad you're feeling better. now that i have a few major tests/papers out of the way and a four-day weekend during which i can catch up w/my work, i'm feeling better too (tho not perfect... i haven't felt perfect since-- well, nevermind. sufice it to say that there was only one person around whom i could feel "perfectly imperfect" as you put it, and i think we all know who that is by now, so i won't even mention it... yes, i realize i'm too late, but anyway, we now will nd the tangent and resume w/my original train of thought... which was... ummm...), so things are looking up.

yes, things are looking up. i had a three hour conversation w/my parents after school today and it feels good to have people behind me. it also felt good just to talk about everything that's been happening in my busy life recently. sigh.

anyway, yes i've wasted enough of your time. and everyone, have a wonerful holiday break, no matter what you believe in (or if you believe at all)... it's spring, that's good enough. tata.

Well, today was great all the way through but had a horrible ending

Basically I hung around in one of our little cafes for the whole day, with one or two breaks to watch the Pokemon film (yeah, yeah, keep laughing: it was funny and weird; the two main things that I recquire in a film to keep me amused) and nip into Burger King. (I haven't eaten any junk food for months, so we all went for a disgusting greast meal). That would have been good in itself but it involved hanging around with Chloe, my friend who is going to the Maldives (FOR FREE!!!!!) and Canada and so on, which was cool because we haven't chatted properly for goodness knows how long.

So that was great - I bought a book as well, by Joanna Harris, called "Chocolat", about a woman who opens a Chocolate shop opposite a church in rural France. It's more interesting than I make it sound - by the looks of it she ends up splitting the village between the ones who go to church and the ones who eat the chocolate. It's got just the right ammount of weirdness to be right up my street. I was sorely tempted to buy two others (there was a "three-for-two" offer, but I resisted) - one of which I'm definitely going to buy in future - it's the diary of Long John Silver, written on his death bed as an alternative version of his life and events on "Treasure Island". Looks like good stuff.

So I get into the house and it's a gorgeous evening so I went for a walk and so on. Then I watched my favourite TV programme - "The 11 o'clock Show". This is basically based around an alternative-comedy view of the days events in the news. It's usually very foul-mouthed but really clever. It's sort of an underground movement in Britain - it's on every day on Channel 4 and lot's of people watch it, but not enough to push it into the mainstream. It's great.

Anyway, so that's the good part. The bad part is that I just got a mobile phone text message off the one person in the world who I care about more than any other, saying that she met her ex boyfriend in the pub tonight. They had a messy break-up in October and they've avoided each other ever since. She sounded really, *really* upset. I don't know what's going on really but it's very upsetting for me: she's in Bournemouth, at the other end of the country, so I can't see her, and I can't phone her because it's half past midnight, so I'm just sitting here being worried. It's so frustrating when you *know* that someone you really care for is hurting, but there's nothing you can do. So that put a big downer on my mood, as you can probably tell.

That's that, anyway. The foot is marginally improving, I think. Obviously the salt water is working, but I can't for the life of me understand why. It's a little less painful, but still as green as ever. I had a dream last night that it was going to be amputated, but the people in the hospital took off the wrong foot. It might be prophetic - that's the kind of thing that would happen to me.

At the moment it's 1:09am here in the UK. SS, if you're online now then you can probably work out the time difference. That's something that I think is great about the good old Laws of Physics - they provide plenty of food for thought. I was just thinking about the way time works here. For example, at around 8:30 I was out and it was twilight. But where you guys all are, at that moment while I was enjoying the stars and the clear air, it was still the middle of the day and the sun was out. (Or whatever). The Earth is a pretty cool place to be, I reckon.

That's about all I've got to say, I think. I'm sorry to hear about soliloquy, guys. I guess that's the problem with poetry. No one can ever say whether any poetry really is good or bad. It's totally subjective, because everyone sees it differently. That's why I think that reviews and criticism is largely useless, because, quite frankly, it's crap to impose some sort of academic value/restraint on literature when everyone is bound to have a different opinion. Of course, I don't know the circumstances, so I can't really comment.

I'm going to get off my soapbox now anyway and slink away. Have a good Easter all, whether you're in Maryland or England or Pennsylvania or wherever.

Goodnight.

Ooh, nasty. How did you break it?

I've no idea how I got the old foot infected. It just happened. And it hurts like crazy.

I was playing football with a 6 year old nephew and sliped i thought it was only sprained so i went to work for 10 hours it is just down the road from the hospital and a doctor called in he said no thats a break go down to e & a now but i still had 2 hours to work so i stayed.
I went back to work tuesday night I was OK for most of it

*healthy clogged-nosed snort* ah. better now.

I've got only one thing to say about Soliloquy and the things that got in: I was expecting it. Really. I mean, look at the people in the group: Christine (ditz), Colby (ditz), Liz (not entirely, but still shallow), etc, etc.... With those kind of surface people judging the poetry, what did we really expect to happen? I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stand up for your opinion-- maybe with two of us raging over the injustices (not just against us, but against some of the high quality poetry there in general), we might have had a recount or been able to make the others understand. Damn. That really sucks. I'm actually not very bothered by it, more, I know what this'll do to you since you're one of the editors. But I really have to agree with what your parents said: we have outgrown it. I outgrew rhyming poetry in about seventh grade, the same year I started writing seriously (if not before then)... but that's just about the time most people are realizing that poetry isn't such a bad thing after all. But don't worry, I'm not discouraged or frustrated... (and I, too, am being overly redundant now!), I really only write for myself (to make the voices stop for a few minutes so I can breathe easy) and people who choose to think for themselves-- not for publication. The only thing that really bothers be is when one of my friends blatenly doesn't like what I've written, or someone who I wanted to like what I've written hates it. Next year... you get to be editor in chief, me literary editor.. um, we'll dredge some competant art student (Tim?... tee hee) up for art editor and your one line will be true: "things will be better next year when i have more control and not everything is so rushed. i'll force people to sit down and actually read them all, even twice if necessary". I *like* that.

Chris's "Do Not Press" button is in the Chemistry section of his notebook, and at random points during class he'll go and press the button... hoping, as many of Folly's students do, for the endless overheads and labs to come to an end at some point. Oh, I missed funny stories during Trig? What were they about? (that is, could you tell me some? pleaseplease?? )

I'm glad that stuff is looking up at the moment, but what at? The sky, the moon, the stars, the nebulae... I got only a few hours of sleep last night, frequently interrupted by trumpet blasts of nose-blowing from yours truly, and it is now only nine thirty in the morning, so humor me. But yes. Stuff is looking up, even for me, sick though I am. It was absoloutely gorgeous yesterday afternoon at about two or three, and I felt kinda like flying. (of course, I wasn't distracted at the right moment, but anyway). But I'm glad we both have a weekend to recover/relax. It's been too long since the last time I did so, and probably even longer for you. Enjoy. (what we really need to do-- like your "annual celebration of life" from last year- spend all day doing stuff we haven't done since we were little and such. I was so relaxed after that, and just in time for Final exams! *sigh* Anyone up for completely repeating the 1999-2000 school year- as in time travel- say "aye"...)

aye.

I know what you two mean about the poetry and literary magazine situation.

Last year I was the editor of poetry of my school's literary magazine (the Tapestry, and that's my old school) (and I was appointed such because my creative writing teacher absolutely adored my poetry, I got straight 100s throughout her class; same with Marcus, who was editor of prose - he wrote stories that weren't exactly wonderful yet, but reading them you could see the seeds of greatness. Anyhoo) and some of the poetry accepted was so abysmal...Bleck! as you say, Amy. Here's an example - the last two lines of a poem praising our school, saying how great the students are, etc(this is after a couple of revisions forced by the teacher).

We get accepted into Yale and Harvard
and get news of our acceptance through placards.

Or something like that. I was a bit luckier than you two, though; all the poems I submitted except one were accepted, and since there was a 3-item per person limit, and I submitted 6 or so, it didn't matter.

And I do have one up on you...you were complaining about poems written for the high school audience? Try junior high school audience...it's a lot worse!

Incidentally, I have some poems up at http://www.h2g2.com/A279317 (Possum already knows this )

And we're 5 hours apart, as we decided before. No more time experiments for me.

And how green is your foot? Shade, intensity, area? If it isn't rude. I'm curious.

Sorry about your cold, Amy. I, too, was up last night a 3 am with a horrible stomachache. I took some ibuprofen (having to go into the kitcen and eat a roll in the process b/c u can't take ibu. on an empty stomach) but I couldn't lie back down because it hurt too much, so I had to sit up in bed massaging my stomach and waiting to get a blood level so I could go back to sleep.

And I think we should start a club - Ramblers Named (as opposed to Anonymous).

hello everyone.

i have one thing to say about soliloquy, and that is that i'm still pissed off about it, but i have to accept it b/c there's nthing i can do about it. altho i was afraid something like this would happen, i guess i didn't want to believe it.

amy and i had quite a long talk online today, didn't we? hmmm... it's been a while since we did that.

afterwards, i went for a walk in the rain and composed a poem in my head (i'll send it and another poem i'm planning on putting in the echo this month to you later, amy, ok?). anyway, i'm feeling sadly defeated suddenly, and cold and more than a bit tired. i won't ramble on anymore, tho. so tata for now all.

Hello people,

Well, I'm not sure about the poetry thing. My poetry isn't very good - this I know, but I strongly believe that as an art form there should be no constraints placed on it. Rhyming Poetry can be astonishingly good - read Roger McGough. On the other hand, some free form poetry I really dislike. If someone wants to right strict sonnets, then that's fair enough, because the sonnet can be beautiful. Poetry is really hit-and-miss: one person's favourite is loathed by others. Taking the example of Roger McGough; here's a man whose poems I think are on different levels funny, witty, bittersweet and deeply sad. Yet many critics panned his work as simplistic because it was very simple and rhyming, expecially during the 60's when he was bursting onto 'the scene'. But I can think of very few others who can deal with subjects as diverse as road accidents, old age pensioners, British politics, Liverpool, rape and domestic violence with such gentleness and intelligent wit. He's a highly accomplished satirist, but also a wonderfully subtle narrative poet and a man with a great empathy for, and understanding of people.

I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say, so I'll reiterate; all poetry (with obvious exceptions) can be good or bad depending on the "eye of the beholder", to use a good trustworthy cliche. So for us poets (okay - *you* poets (I'm not deluding myself)) that's both an encouragement and a challenge, because it means that, to use another cliche, your poetry will only ever be liked by most of the people some of the time or by some of the people most of the time.

That's my humble contribution anyway. I'll leave you to discuss it.

The foot is now more black than green. At it's worst it was a strong green - like a grass stain - but with black mixed in. It's getting better, though, I think. I went for a big walk today, and it didn't hurt too badly, despite being caught in the rain. I'm not sure what happened with the weather for today. We were down by the sea, and it was beautiful and sunny. Then suddenly the wind whipped in from inland and big, fat, black stormclouds rolled in and promptly began depositing their big payloads of rain. It was not good.

The evening was much better though. Dramatic, of course - we were watching a football game (sorry, "soccer") in the traditional way; crowding into Tom's dining room with beer and sausage rolls. I should probably explain the procedure. Everytime it's the same. Liverpool always lose, and Martin (one of the guys) is always blamed for bringing bad luck. Grahy always drinks far more than everyone else and becomes grossly inebriated, despite the fact that the rest of us are pretty much sober, and gets embarrassed about it the next day. During the game we all make comments, as you do, apart from Tom who sits there in stony silence only to erupt whenever there's some excitement. Then at half time we go into the garden for a kick around. Then it's back inside for the second half in which everyone gets tense and there's a lot less joking. Then the game ends, we talk about the controversies, and then play on the playstation for a little while and chat. Then we go down to the pub.

It's always the same. The template never changes. And I don't think any of us would change it for the world - it's a link to our past because we've been doing it for goodness knows how long, and it's become very much a part of our lives. It's one of the things that makes life beautiful, as far as I'm concerned. Just a whole bunch of guys spending an evening doing not very much at all.

This post is probably more boring even than usual (and to top it off, I'm being boring by going on about how boring I am! Wow.) so I'll end there, I think.

Just about all there is to say is that, if you've grown out of Soliloquoy then good for you and bad for them because growth is always a good thing. And that's about it.

Au revoir.

Ramblers Named sounds like a good idea...

Perhaps we could have competitions to see who could ramble for the longest in the most boring way.

As foot related questions go, there's a big split in the middle of the bottom of my foot, and this split has gone all black and green. Around it green too (do you really want to know this?). The rest of the foot is normal, apart from the ball which is going black, and the skin is hard and splitting. That is, normal in my sense which includes lots of dried skin and a horrible stench...

Okay, now that I've disgusted you (but you did ask) I'll leave you alone.

It sounds like it's getting worse. Do keep an eye on it. If it gets much worse, I'd contact a doctor again - you wouldn't want to have to really lose the foot, or die of septicemia. Not to mention that we wouldn't want you to, either.

Was there always the stench?

first and foremost, stop talking about the foot! it’s gross! I really do hope you get better, possum, but I just ate breakfast and, after reading that last post, was in serious danger of losing it again.

anyway… o no! you weren’t boring at all possum! in fact, I really enjoyed reading about your friends’ traditions like that. I’m not sure if my friends and I have any traditions as of yet (we’re just getting ourselves situated and we don’t exactly have all the free time in the world). we used to always go to the coffee shop on fridays, but we’ve been too busy recently. I think a new tradition is forming in which we go to some amusement park the day of the last final (now that’s *my* kind of tradition! ). but I know what you mean about how it’s something that adds to the beauty of life, just b/c it gives you a sense of timelessness. you’ve been doing it forever. there’s something to be said for traditions like that, isn’t there?

and now my note on poetry. contrary to popular belief, there is such a thing as bad poetry. here is an approximate example of the type of stuff we received at Soliloquy (I’m not even sure if I can express the painful quality of this, but here goes):

“I love him so much, I don’t know what to do.
I love him so much, he makes me blue.
I need him really really bad.
sometimes he makes me happy, sometimes he makes me sad.
I love him so much, I miss being in his arms.
when I was w/him, I was safe.”

now, here’s an example of excellent rhyming poetry (just to prove I’m not prejudice ) by leonard cohen, it’s the third verse of a poem called “one of us cannot be wrong”:

“I heard of a saint who had loved you
so I studied all nigth in his school.
he taught that the duty of lovers
is to tarnish the golden rule.
and just when I was sure that his teachings were pure,
he drowned himself in the pool.
his body is gone, but back here on the lawn
his spirit continues to drool.”

see how cohen uses simple language and rhyming, but his images are so creative and almost shocking. I esp. love the last two lines. if those aren’t the greatest I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is. whereas the top one, no creativity or imagination whatsoever, just cliché after cliché. anyway, so, that’s my point. and you’re right, possum, free verse can be just as bad. I shudder to think of it.

anyway, I’m off now. I should really clean my room today or soemthing, it’s pretty horrible. I just have to finish my earl grey and then I’ll be off. tata.

Well, okay, I'll stop going on about the foot. I won't go to the doctors, though, SS. I don't like going to the doctor's. If I mysteriously stop replying to postings, then you'll know that I've died of some sort of related disease. But otherwise, the topic is closed.

You're right - tradition is often good. Or, at least, traditions which aren't followed simply because they're tradition; if they're followed out of genuine pleasure.

Anyway, yes, that piece of poetry you cited was pretty bad. Obviously, there are exceptions to the rule in cases of awfulness and in cases of excellence. I do think that poem was kind of nice, though. Bad, but kind of romantic and sweet in a dumb sort of a way. Of course, there's no way that it should ever be considered 'good'.

On the subject of poetry I wrote two poems today that I was really proud of. It was nice to have a day of writing and being on my own. There was a hugely impressive storm. My attic window has a view out over the river and Liverpool could be plainly seen on the other side (about 4 miles away), but suddenly the rain came and I couldn't even see to the bottom of the road. It was so heavy, it was like fog. I find the rain very inspiring actually. With the drama of nature all around it's hard not to allow it to affect you. I also love watching people in a thunderstorm; I can also see to the main road out of that window and I could see people sprinting along like ghosts in the mist. You find yourself wondering who they are, where they were on their way to when the storm caught them. All of it good for the old writing juices. Not so good for the poor sods out there in the rain, though

So, how was today? Skie, did you enjoy cleaning your room? (If enjoy is the right word, which it probably isn't).

Oh, and have a good Easter Sunday. I hope you all get plenty of eggs. I won't have one this year. I'm (and I quote) "getting too old for that now".

ah, yes. i love the rain. in fact, i think i might love it more than sun itself. the other day, after feeling trapped in the house working on my term paper for hours, i took a walk outside. it had been "storming" all day (in such a way that, you would have never noticed unless you decided to take a walk in it) and i went out w/an umbrella, but ended up not needing it. you have to understand that i've been so horribly busy recently, and utterly void of any sort of spiritual peace, that poetry has come extremely difficult and forced. but walking in that "after a spring storm" atmosphere was perfect and i wrote the first poem which came naturally in about three weeks. it felt really good. what was perfect about this early evening was that, altho the sun was peaking thru the clouds near the horizon, water was still falling from the tree branches, so i had the best of both worlds, sun and rain, and a bit of wind. days like that, i don't think there's any way you *can't* believe there's a God w/an artistic eye. so, for once, i was happy.

on a side note which only very vaguely has to do w/rain, chris and i are speaking again. he called me last night and we spoke for two hours, but it was a bit odd, considering we've been w/out each other's company for such a long time (actually, it hasn't been that long, but we were really close and then fell so far apart). i should feel happy about this, but i think i'm still mourning his departure, almost as if he'd died. i need some rest and i'll be joyful again.

and no, possum, i didn't have fun cleaning my room (namely b/c i haven't actually gotten around to doing so yet ). but dear, i really think you should see a doctor if your foot gets any worse. i dislike doctors as much as any one (i suppose i'm lucky to be healthy most of the time), but certain things simply require medical attention.

my mother forgot about Easter until last night. so i got a bag of M&Ms and a cadbury cream egg (god, i love those things! ), but i suppose that's good. i need to eat better and get more exercise anyway. i hope everyone is having an excellent Easter.

did you ever notice that weeknights could be read week-nights or wee-knights. heehee, i just noticed that on a comercial for some game show that was on a moment ago...

"Wee-knights" - I like it. They could ride around on wee-horses and things. Weren't the knights in "Labyrinth" kind of like that?
Wow, it's so long since I've seen that film. I'll have to get hold of it somehow and watch it.

I'm really glad you and Chris are talking again - that can only be a good thing. It pays to be optimistic about things.

I'm feeling really nervous because I had a long think just tonight about a lot of things, and I really started to feel as if I was being *told* to do something by God. I know that not everyone in this forum is a "believer", so sorry to talk about this, but it really felt as if I'm meant to be doing something in summer - voluntary work overseas. I was looking through a leaflet and Kyrgystan leapt out of the page at me. If all goes to plan I'll be going in late July for 3 weeks to work with street kids and children in the psychological ward of the Bishkek hospital. I really hope that I get a place, but also I'm kind of dreading it for the obvious reason that it'll be the scariest thing I've ever done!

Anyway, Easter is fine, the same as ever. I hung around with friends and ate lunch and Easter eggs with them (yes, I did get one! My parents were feeling guilty I think, so I got a mint-flavoured one. It was gorgeous). It was really nice. Cream Eggs are *very* nice, but I've been overdosing on them for the past few weeks so now I only associate the taste with feeling vaguely unwell. It's a bit of a bummer. Let that be a lesson to you - too much of a good thing is *bad*.

Even rain. Today has been one of those typical British days. It toyed with the emotions this morning by pretending to be sunny, but sure enough it's now overcast and about to rain. It won't be a storm though - it's back to that sort of drizzles which falls in sheets and seems light but mysteriously soaks to the skin.

I promised not to talk about the foot anymore and I'm a man of my word so the case is closed. But I'm not going to the doctors. Last time he told me to soak it in salt and I think that probably stands until it goes away. Anyway, I hate plagueing the doctor with my minor little illnesses. If I'm ill, which isn't too often, I just tend to get on with it, because I know that the NHS is stretched enough as it is.

Anyway, that's enough from me.

Dojvedanja.

I'm baaa-aack! mwhahahahah! My mini overnight vacation to Maryland was rather nice, even though I ended up sleeping only about three hours last night, with all my cousins and relatives and such. And the candy. Yes, the candy was nice-- especially those little "sweet-tarts" that are so very nice. (random note: i'm watching TV and seeing that there's a "celebrity who wants to be a millionaire" on on May 1st. That is *so* pathetic... ok. I'll continue). It was rather nice down on the Eastern Shore (well, a number of miles from the actual Shore, but close enough), especially this morning when it was brilliantly sunny and beautiful outside. I wrote a couple o'poems, had a bit of turkey for lunch, goofed around with my cousins, and then came home. How wonderful.

Skie, Chris actually called you? I'm glad for it. Seems like this time he might be the one "giving in" as you once put it, or does this have something to do with that email you got yesterday morning and were procrastinating opening? Either way, it's good you're talking again. I'm surprised, but wonderfully happy for you -- and him.

Possum, what you're doing this summer sounds completely cool and totally great (running out of positive adjectives... excuse the lack of decent word choices). Despite any fears you have, I have a feeling that it'll be the most amazing experience you've ever had, if possibly also the most terrifying (I mean, I'd be scared to death). God'll use it- even the psychological ward- for whatever He's decided, and that can only mean good things. I've always wanted to do that kind of voluntary work.

Also, that green foot does *not* sound like a "minor little illness". I won't tell you what to do, because, let's face it, there's an ocean separating us, but if you don't do something about it, it's your funeral. Just a friendly reminder...

I think that's about it for me for tonight. My cold is much better- I'm all the way to the hacking-my-lungs-out/ sneezing-my-head-off stage already. And Skie, I'm going to work on that story (the one I was talking about the other night, not the short one with my hallucinating writer kid) either later tonight if I have the energy or tomorrow inbetween preparing for that stupid oral book report I have to do for Clouser's class on Tuesday. Somebody here's a procrastinator... So, I shall bid all of thee a good night till it be morrow...

Welcome back!!

Okay, the world has just demonstrated that it, despite some pretences, is actually a ridiculous place to be. I mean, a celebrity who wants to be a millionaire. I'm eschewing the obvious point that the "celebrity" probably already is a millionaire, but this just goes to show how mercenary and...crappy...people can be. It's got me so annoyed that I can't even think of an adjective to describe how money grabbing and down-right appalling that concept is. Think about it. The celebrity makes money he/she doesn't need. The TV company gets bigger viewing figures. While absolutely no-one else benefits. Greed truly is the disease of the modern era. As if that show wasn't money-grabbing enough.

Anyway, now that I've calmed down a little, I can talk normally. As far as Kyrgystan goes I went to church this evening and had one of the best evenings of my life - there were probably only fifteen people in the place including 6 people playing instruments but it was so cosy, informal and happy. Everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves, and I think more strongly than ever that I'm going to Central Asia come July. There's the small matter of raising £1200, but that should be really fun - I can do all sorts of sponsored events. Apart from anything else this is a chance to get off my backside and start doing something with my life.

The foot will never be discussed again - I promised that that conversation was now over, and I'm not going to make a liar out of myself. The foot is, by all accounts, a minor illness: it doesn't hurt so much anymore (I'm used to dealing with pain, but that's a very long and dul story); there are people around with heart disease and broken necks; and I'm sure my body can eventually produce enough antibodies and endorphins to deal with it.

Hope the cold gets better. And what's this about a story about "a hallucinating writer kid"? Sounds...erm...intrigueing.

I must go now, anyway. I need my beauty sleep - travelling back to university on Tuesday is going to be hell.

Bonsoir.

Yeah, there was always something of a stench. I admit it