Backache

It's Monday and the weather report is cloudy with a 10% chance of rain. If you look at the forecast for the entire month, you will see that there is a constant 10% chance of rain. Everyday. I tell you because you need to know. I live in a world where the fear of rain is always at least 10%.

Today, because yesterday we ate it all, i went to buy bread. This is a footpath following quest that seems to get shorter if there is a sun. So I go and step in lots of mud because the prams and oldies clog the path. And fortunately for my boots of parisian persuasion, dog poo is brighter than mud. Besides boots, I've protected myself from wintry weather with 4 layers, gloves, and scarf knitted by Gramoo even though it was shitty yarn. I'm sorry.... And then, toasty as I go, I come across a prime example of how I am identifiable as an outsider. Here is a man, bald on his white head, wearing sandals with overgrown toenails and mancapris. He might only have a zip-up hoodie from Liverpool FC to protect his manchest.

I can not compete, so I rush home, low on sugar, to the dissapointment of no mail. No mail meaning no money to pay fees, meaning no student card, meaning shit.

If we forget that I've been illegally attending class and slightly being scurred, things are going well. Geraud and I saw old men play traditional new orleans jazz in the oldest pub in Chester. The small corridors in the walled city are Allysin sized, Roman sized. Remember how those roaminjapanese stole my suitcase? Well, I sure do. Eckli, I'm looking at you. Well not you, but your chest mostly.

Then Graw ate two puddings and had a big ol' grin on his face.

If my bladder were bigger, if I weren't so thirsty, I'd tell you everything.

King in the CORNER!!!!!

We've playing Kings in the Corner. You know what that means, yelling and crowning of oneself. It's similar to calling president, except with cards. The ultimate prowess is in claiming both King and President en meme temps.

Yesterday I did photo time and went on my feet into the outside world. Then my feet froze solid and Geraud had to make his hands radiateurs and bring my feet alive again. It's colorful to have the feet as frozen limbs. You see the purple and blue of bruises start to emerge.

On our foot quest we found the brookvale ski centre. Long have we seen the signs for this mysterious place of downhill skiing and snowboarding. So we walk past a farm, a horse, and then pow the skiing centre. It's a hill, yes. It's snowless, yes. There are criss-cross patterned matts of slick mildew in place of snow. They are yellowed and glamorous. There is even a t-bar lift to reach the top of the hill. It's such an oddity slash it's next to a tiny steam train.

Audibly our walk brought out the sibling rivalry and its vocabulary heavy of fuck and shite and slag. Followed by the flight of a cell-phone.

Then what happened?

I ATE SO MUCH CHEESE!

We made photos happen from the slant window in kitchen. It appears to show a seen of indiscretion. I'll leave that up to you.

Here we go!

It's monday morning in Runcorn. I can see a spot of blue sky from only one window in the house. It's a strange phenomenon when blue happens to the sky. Most times it wears gray. However, gray and clouds keep the temperatures up and I like that.

I suffered from severe jet leg. I even vomited the night I got in. I vomited a lot. All red, the colour of wine with small bits in it. Geraud struggled to identify everything until he recalled the chocolate I had eaten. I'd say the cheese was particularly pungent.

Then my nose started leaking. Big time. Goop everywhere. So I stick small soft papers in it. Wipe, blow, wipe, shake. The ritual of a leaking nose. It's especially fun in groups.

I take the train to Liverpool the days when I go, which will be many just not today. It takes twenty minutes and has either one or no stops. It's so much faster and cleaner than the RER. I was prepared for a shoving contest of smelly alcoholics the first day. I'd say I've still got wiggle skillz from my days in Paris. But NO, this train is clean. It is a proper train. With tables. It just costs more than three beers.

I'm waiting for all my monies to arrive. They aren't really mine but you know, borrowing money keeps the economy going. Right?

Oh, sometimes I touch my hairs in my head and I feel this coarseness sticking out. So I do what I do and pull the sucker out. Then I look at the hair and wonder, "this looks and feels like a pube."
How do I have a pubic head?

Late night tip

Soon I'll be back with my Grod in jolly old England. I have Some great poo tea waiting for me.

I tried to find clothes or shoes or something to keep me warm today. I am no good at shopping. I cannot and will not make a purchase without perfection. Right now I have to pee.

I'm trying to make a video of me singing as a dog, clown, statue, and embossed allysin. don't know if it'll work or how long it'll take. Im not sure my bladder can wait this out.

I'll be back in America in July for my brothers wedding up in the Poconos. It's all so sudden. don't think i could wed quite like that. I have a hankering for eloping.

tomorrow I have to figure out the rest of my year fiscally and frantically so.

O, O. I feel so old and wrinkly.