future kitsch (aestetrix) wrote,
future kitsch

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today has been a very strange day.

i. The Vagrant: Halfway up the High Street (Oxford, United Kingdom, oh ho ho), I run into a certain Peter, who is a very good dude friend (platonic), who asks me to go to lunch in the dining hall with him so he won't be alone and surrounded by eighteen year olds. I agree, and we walk all the way back down the High Street and I eat some soup and get sticky crap on my hands. Damned dining hall. We walk back, I am nervous about being late for my first lecture here, and Peter is a nerd. We also nearly get hit by a LORRY (har har those Brits).

ii. DUNCAN: Ten or so blocks away from my lecture (in the Linguistics Centre), I see the man who is the touring technician for JONNY GREENWOOD (RADIOHEAD, WAT) getting off a bus. For those of you just tuning in, radiohead is my favorite band and I have seen them approximately 47 million times so I can pick this dude out from afar. Also, he is very tall and has many piercings and long back (EDIT: BLACK not BACK. EW) hair. But, that's besides the point. We chat, and it turns out he lives not far from me out in East Oxford. Ridiculous. He says he hangs out at a pub near my house sometimes, and he'll be around in November so we might see each other then. I'm pretty sure this is the most amazing thing that could have happened on my FERST DAY OV SKOOL aside from meeting an actual member of radiohead (which has also happened here). Strange.

iii. Le Doom: I go to use an ATM, I tell it I would like to converse in English (so polite these machines are) and it promptly begins its rapport with me en Francais. Well. I can read French, so I keep on going with this jam, and ask it for fifty pounds, until it gets stuck upon asking me for a receipt. At this point, I just want my damned card back so I press some buttons and, thankfully, the bastard machine spits my card back out. It also spits out 200 pounds. DO NOT WANT. So, now I have enough cash to last me many moons, and I have learned never to trust a French-speaking cashpoint.

iv. The Swan: Going out for dinner with Alicia my Welsh zoologist lady friend (obviously) (also platonic), I order a pizza which I end up not finishing. I ask if there is any way I could take about half the pizza home with me (I know, so very American), and the waiter goes off to wrap it up in some tinfoil. He reappears, holding a pizza wrapped up in the shape of a swan that had just consumed half a pizza. Like, imagine if a python had just eaten a small child and you could see the outline of the child in the python? Yeah, it's like that except with half a pizza in a tinfoil swan.

also: i am living in the same room as before, now with more unidentifiable carpet stains.
also also: i will be rowing tomorrow. yes, that is correct, i am going to try to row. except i hate mornings and blisters. shit.
Tags: cashmoney, oxford, pizza, radiohead, the french, tinfoil swan
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