Bella’ got a web cam. I just took this photo and sent it over ICQ to the girls. They said I look sad. I said “I’m not”. Not really. 21 August 1998
Browsing category blogging
Continued… I spent the last few days walking around trying to familiarize myself with everything in the broad day. The other night on my way back from Eliza and The Phoenix I got lost. Every street looks the same and my ‘remember the roundabout’ theory didn’t work. There are roundabouts everywhere. Par Example I’ve found
“There is no cure for cancer. This is why we walk….” -Carolynn Johnson Carolynn Johnson had just turned 37 years old when she found out she was pregnant. Within a two week period, she was also diagnosed with breast cancer. A radical mastectomy was recommended. She agreed. To protect her unborn child and in spite
Continued… To listen to my grandmother, meeting people online is scandalous. “Your cousin X went on one of them computers and her husband almost left her.” Good thing I don’t have a husband. My Pa wont let her have a computer. She thinks it’s because he’s jealous. I think it’s because she likes to rent
Continued… I called home today from a pay phone down the street. We have no land line yet. Everyone uses their mobile=cell phone. I had to go in to Royal Bank of Scotland to break a travellers cheque=check. They gave me a glass of champagne and said they’d throw in a cd player and 50
Continued… Bella’s the girl. The one who arranged the house. She has a lisp and looks ten but says she’s 19. She’s from Gloustershire and says “It’s ‘-sure‘ not ‘-shire,” and “I think you’ll need elocution lessons.” I get it. She’s posh. Like the Spice Girl. “No. Most definitely NOT like the Spice Girlâ€. She
Blandford Street, London While The Euro was doing Embassy Things I walked around in circles and tried not to be hungry or anxious or to spend too much money. On my way to see the Wallace Collection I somehow ended up on Blandford Street. I like the colour blue on this pub. The Tudor Rose.
Continued… I live on St XXX Street. In a two story brick house on a littered up street at the front of a cul-de-sac just down an alley and off the main Road. The girl who told me she’d pick me up at the airport didn’t. She’s not even in the city yet. She sent
Continued… I’m sitting at Gatwick in a wheelchair. I have enough money to last two weeks. Two weeks. Then I need a job. I need a job now. I also need to figure out how to use the public transportation system, how to get a dial up connection and how to not get raped in
Today marks my 9 year blogiversary. It started with geocities, a garden in Paris and a first-name-only basis. I practiced html, posted photos of myself and used it as a letter writing medium. I had just moved abroad and every penny mattered – I couldn’t splurge on airmail. It was cathartic and therapeutic and it
I was looking through my old high school memory book. Where it asked about the life you’ll live and the things you’ll have in 10 years’ time. The first question was “Married?”. The first answer: “Not on your life. Or mine.” My future was never made of man. I was on the softer side of
