Debauchery

I went to the Notting Hill Arts club last night. It's dirty and dingy, and it's in a basement. But it's also got that indie-cool-punk edge, so of course Kevin loves it. They tried to go last week too, but the bouncer wouldn't let Kevin in, because he was too drunk (which he wasn't, others have told me). Chris Wong argued with the bouncer, using the following rationale:

"You won't let him in, but you'll let me in, and I'm drunk as fuck."

I don't know why that didn't sway the guy's opinion. But anyway, last night was fun. Then we walked back. When I got up to my room, I hear Greg yelling from the bathroom. Right away, I'm like, "Greg, shhhh, shhhh." And he yells, "Who is that?" Right then Austin walks out of the common room, into the hall where I'm standing. Right away I can tell he's blasted. He starts laughing, and tells Greg that it's just Reynolds, which Greg tells me, "Hey Chris, guess what I'm doing..." (I assumed he was throwing up, but I found out that such was NOT the case.) Austin ushers me into the family room then, because he needs to tell me something, where I see about 20 to 25 empty cans on the table, and Jack sitting in his underwear, drinking a pint. He looks at me, shakes his head, saying, "You don't even wanna know." And the thing is, he was right.

THE MIDDLE SECTION OF THIS STORY HAS BEEN CENSORED BECAUSE MY MOM MIGHT READ THIS.

The next day, Austin tells me, "You know, you were right last night. I would have regretted that, although it would have been hilarious." And while I kept telling them that they shouldn't do it, I knew that if they actually had, I wouldn't have stopped them, because I was curious.

Well, if you really want to know the rest of the story, email me or something.

Bye.

Hey

Finally. It only took 3 months. Looking forward to it.

Love,

Chris

The pancakes of the DAMNED! No, wait, I mean DRUNK!

So.

Scientifically and objectively, some of the funniest things ever uttered by a drunk man were eloquently sounded by Jack Laskowitz (flatmate here in London) last night. Because he was drunk.

To elaborate, the night previous flatmates Greg Belatti, Austin Pauls, Jack Laskowitz, and Chris Reynolds, as well as Austin's girlfriend Meg Smith, took a jovial jaunt down to the Monkey Puzzle, a fine English pub with a particularly great moniker. While I had not participated previously in such verboten and illicit activity, I was swept up by the rush of adrenaline when we stole 9 pint glasses. During the conversation that preceded our larceny, they came up with the bright idea of seeing just how many pubs they could hit in some finite amount of time. The deal was struck, and Jack, Austin, and Greg agreed to set out at lunchtime the next day. (Note: pubs in England close at 11 p.m.) I decided not to participate because A.) It costs on average $4.5 American dollars per drink, B.) I had a paper to write, and C.) I'm a total square. L-7.

So the next day, the merry crew set out at abou 1:30. In the course of their day they hit 11 or 12 pubs (the number was later drunkenly debated) and finished up outside of the Wargrave, which is a pub just down the road from the flats. I met them there with Lesley, who agreed to come along and view the expected debauchery. We all went back to the flats where Jack proceeded to do what he always does when he gets drunk: makes pancakes. Greg fell asleep on the couch; Austin in his bed. Lesley and I helped/laughed as Jack made somewhere in the realm of 20 to 25 pancakes. Yet the best part was still to come.

Jack brought the pancakes out to a sleeping Greg, and just as one might help and coax a drunk friend to drink water, so did Jack attempt to convince Greg to eat some pancakes.

SCENE: Jack sits on the coffee table. Greg is asleep on the couch. Lesley looks on. Chris videotapes.

Jack: (In a stern voice, as though he's doing this for Greg's own good) Greg. GREG. GREG. Do you want to eat some pancakes? Do you want to eat some pancakes? GREG. WAKE UP. Listen, take the pancake that is in front of you and eat it.

Greg: (keeps sleeping, occassionally mutters)

Jack: Listen soldier, you're in the Navy--are you going to waste the food that's in front of you? (Jack eats a pancake) Mmm mmm, you know what this tastes like? The stars and stripes. This tastes like Tubman, on the Underground Railroad. Mmm.

Chris: (Takes a pancake) This pancake is crunchy. There are broken eggshells in these pancakes.

Jack: Greg, I eat this pancake, and it reminds me of Lincoln, freein' the slaves. Now do your duty, soldier, and eat that pancake!

Greg: (Eventually takes a pancake and eats it; eyelids half closed.)

This continues for a while. I filmed a lot of it using Jack's camera. Lesley and I tried not to laugh too loudly, so as not to disturb the natural flow of the scene. Later, Jack fell asleep on the couch. I tried to wake him up, to tell him to go to bed. He got up, took off his shoes, then fell asleep hunched forward in the sitting position. Eventually he just laid down again.

All in all, it was an episode of the best kind of drunkery: someone else's. I should really get those videos.

Dinosaur Comics, among other things

In my life right now, the following things/events:

I will be playing Henry V--a 51 line speech in fact. That should be fun.

I was at the British Museum today. The same stuff that was there last time I went was still there today. Consequently, my time might have been better spent unconscious, in bed.

London had nice weather today.

Dinosaur Comics are pretty funny. Check this one out.

Nothing else.

I can do pictures now

This is one of my favorite pictures, taken during my trip to Rome.

Will Kurtz in St. Peter's Square, the night the Pope died.

So a Canadian soldier on leave from Afghanistan walks into a bar

And apprently, buys everyone I know shots. His name was Jordan. I think he just wanted a friend. Seriously, this guy purchased 21 shots for our drinking pleasure, then, when we wanted to go to a different club, he paid everyone's cover, which was ten dollars each. I'll admit to feeling a little bad, but I think I did the necessary "No, man, I'll pay--put your money away!" thing, so I'm rectified.

It was Mike Quisao's birthday at midnight this morning. He had a great grand old time, and ended up getting four fairly-to-very attractive girls' phone numbers. Fair play to that. On another note, I am the best dancer in the world, which is probably to my detriment.

We finally got our scene assignments for my Playing Shakespeare class at the Globe theatre. I will be in a scene from King Henry IV, Part I, as King Henry IV. We will also be reciting sonnets. Here's mine, which you may remember:

Two households both alike in dignity
In fair Verona where we lay our scene.
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents strife.
The fearful passage of their death marked love
The continuance of their parents rage
Which but their children's end nought could remove
Is now the two hours traffic of our stage.
The which of you with patient ears attend
What here shall miss our toil shall strive to mend.

Just so you know, I typed that from memory. Just so you know.

Also, we cooked dinner for Kevin McCabe's parents last night. Although I didn't want to, Kevin insisted on pasta. We added chicken, and I made the sauce--it turned out better the second time. Then I made some crepes for dessert. Those worked out well. I am a God with any Teflon surface.

I love you all.

Chris

Rome

First: I HAVE FINALLY PUT UP PICTURES. These include a new panoramic from Salzburg, a few new London shots, photos from the first break through Munich, Salzburg, Vienna, and Prague, and finally, a whole butt load of Rome pictures. Click on "My Photos" on the right hand side to see them.

Here's what I did in Rome:

DAY 1: We left on Friday after class got out. Will Kurtz, Sarah Sibley, Matt Skinner, and I made our way to Stansted airport,and with no problems made our flight to Rome's Ciampino airport. We arrived 15 minutes early according to the captain (but I personally think it's a conspiracy by RyanAir to always add an extra 15 minutes to the flight time) and we made it to our hostel, near the Termini train station. Crashed for the night, with plans of hitting the Vatican the next day.

DAY 2: We got up at 7 and made it to the Vatican museum by 8:45. It took longer than expected. Even so, we got in very quick, despite the long line. That was pretty cool--saw all the standard sights. Then we saw the Basilica, went up the Dome, and then got some pizza. After that, off to the Spanish steps and the Trevi Fountain. It was 9:30 by the time we got back to the hostel, where we found out the Pope had died. We decided to go back to St. Peter's, where a throng of people had already gathered. See my previous post for more on this experience.

DAY 3: We went to mass at Santa Maria Maggiore. This is one of the four basilicas in Rome--the only four official basilicas in the world. All the rest, including the one at Notre Dame, are minor basilicas. Anyway, afterwards we hit up the Colosseum and the Arch of Constantine, then the Roman Forum, the Bocca de Verita, the Circus Maximus where I beat Sarah in a race. We walked under the aqueduct, on top of Nero's Golden House, then to the Imperial Forum and Trajan's Market and Column. We finished with dinner and Gelato.

DAY 4: First to the Vittoriano, aka the Venitian monument, then to the Pantheon and to two other churches (one of which was a basilica), where we saw Caravaggio's Calling of St. Matthew and Michaelangelo's Christ Carrying the Cross. Then at 1:00pm, Will and I made our way to the Vatican, to get in line and wait for them to bring the Pope into St. Peter's and open the viewing to the public.

at 4:45 they brought him in, and because we had been waiting a while, we got pretty close. Then a few hours later they opened it up to the public, then a few hours later we finally got inside. It was a powerful experience, one that we documented in video, including our brief walk by the body. Ten hours after we first had gotten in line, we made it back to the hostel.

DAY 5: Final day. Will and I checked out Palatine hill, which was amazing--lots of ruins and such, then we found Michaelangelo's Moses in the last remaining basilica. We saw Bernini's tomb in the basilica in which we had gone to mass the day previous, then we tried to see St. Theresa in Ecstasy, by Bernini, but the place was closed. Oh well. We got Gelato instead. Then off to the airport, and an easy flight back to London on Tuesday night.

For the rest of the week, I just chilled out in London. I saw two plays: Don Carlos, which was great, and We Will Rock You, aka Queen: the Musical. Also good, but stupid at the same time. I like Queen though, so it was worth it.

Now I'm just updating stuff and avoiding writing papers. Whatever. Let me know what's new with you. Bye.

Saturday, April 2

We decided to walk back to our beds. I wished that I had brought my phone, so that I could call my parents, or anyone I knew, just to cement the reality of the situation that I had not yet absorbed. The hour-old day was cold, but we hardly noticed it. There were no stars to be seen; the lights of Rome hid them.

One hour earlier the second service on the steps of the Basilica of San Pietro began--it was simple and unadorned. Two nuns sang the music that echoed throughout the square, and a priest who grasped the microphone stand with two hands and had adopted a far-sighted stare offered words to the throng that had gathered. No one spoke.

We had arrived at the square by bus not too long before, as the first service was ending. The announcement had been made not more than an hour and half earlier, but the crowd of the sorrowful and respectful had already filled the place. There was enough room to move around the intial group of mourners that in the coming days would number over two million. They were crying, praying, and singing. Many more would come later, to line up three miles long to see a man who history would likely remember as Giovanni Paolo the Great.

One hour before we had arrived at our hostel after a long day of sightseeing and walking, and we were all ready to crash for the night. Because the key wasn't working, I went down to the front desk to get it remedied. The computer on the desk there had a single headline on the monitor.

At 8:30, Pope John Paul II had died.

Back from Rome

Hello.

I came back from Rome last night. On this subject I will have at least two more entries. Suffice it to say I was there when the Pope died, and I, along with Will Kurtz, waited 9 hours to get into see him lying in state, in St. Peter's Basilica. It was worth it. Rome as a city is amazing--one of the most fascinating trips I have ever taken.

More later.

Chris