An Insufficient Degree of Cheese
What with my glasses stolen, my razor broken, and my keycard not opening the laundry room, I find myself growing increasingly dishevelled of late. That I have class for a total of three hours this week (tomorrow at about 3 in the afternoon) hasn't helped this downward slide along the presentability bell curve. I tend to stay up late watching House (I could watch a smart guy be mean to sick people forever), then sleep till noon or so, when I push unwilling three-dollar-a-kilo Euroshopper coffee down my throat for a while till it occurs to me that I have absolutely nowhere to go all day and nothing to do once I don't get there. This is not a recipe for producing a suave, debonair citizen of the world.
However, the weather has been disgustingly spectacular all week and it has driven me out into town yesterday and today to sit on a bench beneath the cathedral, where I read A.J.P. Taylor's "Struggle for Mastery in Europe, 1848-1918." I keep meaning to go check out the gym nearby, but I keep not doing it...mainly because I don't think I'll be able to justify spending fifty bucks a month on a membership.
In fact, I have a hard enough time justifying spending money on food. Doubtless a few of my faithful readers will greet this with a certain degree of concern and consternation, but I assure you, I do eat every day. Malcolm X lived on one meal a day and a lot of coffee and banana splits, and I tend to consume more than that. Like Hemingway wrote, I've found that hunger gives life a certain edge it otherwise lacks; I tend to feel intellectually sharper, more alert, more receptive to the various sensory inputs which inundate us over the course of our otherwise mundane lives. That's probably because my brain isn't getting the chemicals it needs, but nevermind. I'd rather eat once a day and have enough money left to travel rather than sit around in Flogsta, stuffing fried meat into myself.
Of course, clever as I am, this frugality is self-perpetuating. You see, if you eat little and have a freakishly fast metabolism, liquor tends to hit you a lot faster. Sure, manly sorts may scoff at you for being a "lightweight," but I then explain patiently to such people that it may take them three times as long to get drunk, but that means I can get drunk three times as often or stay drunk three times as long, and therefore am making a much more efficient and effective use of my time and money. I then offer them my condolences. It's a big hit at parties.
Anyhow. Tomorrow there's a Japanese-themed party on top of building 2, which I plan to attend. The Nihonjin love me, because I know a few primitive sentences in their godawful demon language, so I'm likely to get free food. Then Piotr's having a party in building 8, which has a "Pimps 'n Hoes" theme. Expect photographic corroboration of this claim.
Ashley (she of the tattooed derriere) is being deported, so I don't have anyone to watch movies with anymore. Emma says she's going to download a classic Swedish porn movie (which involves a lot of sausage) for us all to watch...and exciting and cultural as that sounds, I fear it may represent a high point in my life which will never again be attained.
However, the weather has been disgustingly spectacular all week and it has driven me out into town yesterday and today to sit on a bench beneath the cathedral, where I read A.J.P. Taylor's "Struggle for Mastery in Europe, 1848-1918." I keep meaning to go check out the gym nearby, but I keep not doing it...mainly because I don't think I'll be able to justify spending fifty bucks a month on a membership.
In fact, I have a hard enough time justifying spending money on food. Doubtless a few of my faithful readers will greet this with a certain degree of concern and consternation, but I assure you, I do eat every day. Malcolm X lived on one meal a day and a lot of coffee and banana splits, and I tend to consume more than that. Like Hemingway wrote, I've found that hunger gives life a certain edge it otherwise lacks; I tend to feel intellectually sharper, more alert, more receptive to the various sensory inputs which inundate us over the course of our otherwise mundane lives. That's probably because my brain isn't getting the chemicals it needs, but nevermind. I'd rather eat once a day and have enough money left to travel rather than sit around in Flogsta, stuffing fried meat into myself.
Of course, clever as I am, this frugality is self-perpetuating. You see, if you eat little and have a freakishly fast metabolism, liquor tends to hit you a lot faster. Sure, manly sorts may scoff at you for being a "lightweight," but I then explain patiently to such people that it may take them three times as long to get drunk, but that means I can get drunk three times as often or stay drunk three times as long, and therefore am making a much more efficient and effective use of my time and money. I then offer them my condolences. It's a big hit at parties.
Anyhow. Tomorrow there's a Japanese-themed party on top of building 2, which I plan to attend. The Nihonjin love me, because I know a few primitive sentences in their godawful demon language, so I'm likely to get free food. Then Piotr's having a party in building 8, which has a "Pimps 'n Hoes" theme. Expect photographic corroboration of this claim.
Ashley (she of the tattooed derriere) is being deported, so I don't have anyone to watch movies with anymore. Emma says she's going to download a classic Swedish porn movie (which involves a lot of sausage) for us all to watch...and exciting and cultural as that sounds, I fear it may represent a high point in my life which will never again be attained.
posted by Eccarius | 6:30 AM
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