Cyrillicism

Am currently listening to one of my roommates speak loudly, quickly, and passionately in Russian, and have realized that at that speed, I find Russian indistinguishable from gibberish. I could swear she just said "baa baa blah bee ho." I'm starting to suspect that she doesn't speak Russian at all and is just making it up. And by "she" I mean all Russian speakers. Note that the Soviet Union is the only place Esperanto really caught on. Clearly, they are messing with us. Mind you, it might not be Russian at all; it could be Belarusian, or something - I'm just hearing a lot of "da"s. It's kind of slushy.

Have met my third roommate, who, following a trend, is very nice. She's Brazilian, and she's here studying English. As the room's native English speaker, I am regularly peppered with questions like "what do you call the holes in the moon?" which makes me want to write miles and miles of songs and poetry. There's also the occasional game of charades, and requests that I repeat back sentences so that they have the same meaning but use different structures and words. It's wonderful; it's like living in a crossword puzzle where I know all the answers.

I spent probably three hours of my day walking. I was going fairly quickly. I have no idea how much ground I covered (much of it the same ground). My feet are tingling.

Shoulder

It's nice because I never went to summer camp. And would have hated it if I had. It's nice because it's like summer camp, only without interfering counselors, required activities, set bedtimes, or the sun.

At the same time, I would give anything to have Ciro run his hands along my back.

There's a Cocktail Party at the Resevoir

Oh, I am so excited about this movie. And also dubious. Excited and dubious. The books are so good, and the imagery is so pretty...

As of when I first took this, Aeron was a snow leopard: modest, competitive, solitary, dependable, and fickle. If you take the test and change it, please leave a comment on what it changes to, and the adjectives. Mind you, unless they were very clever, I'm annoyed with the test for the statement "I ask too many questions." Presumably, everyone who asks questions feel they are not too many, and likewise for those who don't. I ask a lot of questions. A ridiculous lot of questions. Too many questions? No. Nor should it be considered odd that I spent about three hours today copying down sections of the National Gallery's technical bulletins and catelogues from the 1970s because I was curious about a painting.

After that, I walked through an area of London that seemed to be full of people much cooler than me who wore black and seemed to work in media or advertising. The whole street was full of these people tossing their heads and lauging and holding (but not seeming to drink) beers. It was like walking through a cocktail party. Then I figured out it was Soho. I went to the Italianate gardens at Regent's Park to decompress. Ohhh, I am looking forward to when Queen Mary's rose garden blooms.