Rodrigo y Gabriela -- Foc

Rod y Gab are playing a bunch of festivals all over the UK this summer. I'd feel like a fool if I missed out.

I have no legs, I have no legs

Before coming here, I had just assumed the locals would be closed off to the idea of these stupid Americans invading their country, but that was just the beginning of my err--there is no such thing as a true "local" in this place--we're all transplants in one way or another. While New York City is the beacon of capitalism and American prosperity, London is the center of the universe. The streets are rich in every kind of culture you can imagine, but to them it's just a way of life. To walk down the street and be left guessing at what tongues hide in the mouths of strangers is truly dumbfounding. It reverses any insight I thought I had to how the world works.

We, as hypocritical Americans, have closed ourselves off to new and different cultures. We stole bits and pieces of what we liked, shunned what we didn't, and denied what we dont understand. Here, in London, the whole world is all around, and all you have to do is open your mouth and talk to someone and they'll be happy to share their story. I've found that to be the propriety of conversation in these parts: What's it like where you come form? It's what brings us together, and we leave the differences and unpleasantries behind.

I couldn't imagine a better place to learn about the world. This place is truly a gem. Just last night we ventured down to Brixton to checkout a free Reggae show at a bar called "Hootenanny." Stepping off the train down south we were bombarded by rastas selling trying to sell their wares to strangers. One man was entirely too forthcoming to be legitimate, but unfortunately my roommate invested in some very nice oregano. Too bad that's much better on pasta than inhaled into the lungs.

Continuing down, ignoring the winks, clicks, and hand gestures, we made our way to Hootenanny. Right on the corner of the main drag sits the venue, complete with a large outdoor sitting area where we found our classmates. Hootenanny itself is reminiscent of what would be an "Irish pub" in the states--red wooden features, embossed golden sign, stone dance floor, and Guinness on tap. In the corner, where we found our stay for much of the night, was a outdoor grill set up with £1 tacos and quesadillas. The grillmaster, Grant Winters, found that the local culture was lacking good mexican food, and decided to make this a weekly event. The popularity of it was astounding, he truly found his niche. Mexican food is something that Americans take for granted; here, you're much more likely to find more Asian oriented delicacies. The habanero he uses "burns the hell out of you, but you'll wake up with a stiffy like you've never had. It's like fucking viagra!" He was a great gent to meet, and I plan on returning at least once more before this trip is over.

Continuing on until 3 in the morning we watched, laughed, talked, and danced the night away. The performing acts were all very lively--their stage presences were something that I rarely see in America. It is as though their liberal breed allows them to cast hostilities and apprehensions aside and really set a fun tone for the evening. The group, Royal Gala, were fantastic! A jazzy brass band complemented a guitarist plucking ska riffs with a high-kicking woman belting her heart out. They play a sort of jazz-fusion mixed with a big band take on salsa music. Her voice was stellar, the band was having fun, the crowd was eating it up, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

The rest of the night we drank and danced to dub reggae music until it was way after the time to leave. At this point the tube was long past shut down, and instead we had to rely on the bus system, which is highly efficient, don't get me wrong, but way to confusing for a group of drunk kids lead by our drunk professor to figure our. Eventually we hopped off at Hyde Park, and began walking. A few kids and I decided it was a grand idea to skip out of the group, hop a fence, and cut directly through Hyde. The air was cool, the sun was rising, fellow possible hooligans were out, and our legs were hurting. We trudged on and on, and hours later were finally made our destination. My inkling to commandeer a boat and cut across the Serpentine pond was unfortunately shot down (am I the only one who enjoys half-brained, spur of the moment, fun ideas?).

At around 5:30 in the morning, we had made it. My bed never felt so comfortable.

And now, 8 hours later, it's time to do it all again. Cheers.

London, England: First 2 Days

I'm glad my mother reminded me to document my happenings in this country, because if not, I may have continued to run through it footloose and fancy free.

Two days have already passed and I suppose the rest of the trip will continue as such. I expected to arrive here in a place of stark contrasts to the land I love--a parallel universe of sorts--but I quickly realized that the folk here are all of the same breed, just on a much larger scale. The "melting pot" as London is known for, only just scrapes the surface. Just the shear size and number of people in this city make it unreasonable to talk to every interesting person or beautiful woman you see on the street. There's no point in slowing down, might as well continue with your business.

i've found that people are so wrapped up in their own affairs that it is considered rude to even look around at other Londoners riding the tube, grabbing a meal, or walking the streets. However, this does not make the people seem rude, quite the contrary--a woman on the street was happy to assist a fellow student and I en route to our initial destination on Manson street. This city just offers so much that it is best to keep pushing on and leave the frivolous behind.

Last night a man with dots tattooed on his eyelids was very abrasive and rude to us. His accent led me to believe that he was some kind of German or middle-European. I was in the local 24-hour bodega last night after midnight (which sells booze at all times of the day) when Lisa, a student in the group, asked me to come outside. I came out to see this man right in the face of another abroad student, Chris, asking for money or just looking for trouble. When I approached, he asked where we were speaking. Telling him "We're from America," didn't seem to register, because he began asking if we were Polish. He grew more and more aggressive until the sensible side in me decided to lead the group away. Definitely the type of person I'd like to avoid over here.

Other than this, my 2 roommates and I went on a pleasant trek along the Thames and up around Parliament yesterday--a perfect tourist getaway! I snapped some photos of tourists in the shadow of Big Ben, some silly Pelicans in Westminster Abbey, the Beefeaters of Buckingham Palace and some portraits of the most gorgeous architecture I have ever seen.

I cannot even sit still because of my excitement. I'd much rather be out in London than typing in my room! Too bad I'm here on schoolwork ;). More fun to come!

Sabina

Sabina Rose O'Donnell was a lively girl that left a lasting impression on me from the first time we met. She was polarizing in a way--the type of person that draws you near without any sort of formal invitation. It was as though the twinkle in her eyes told you all you needed to know about her, the world, what to see, what to do. It was all there, she had it all, until some monster took it all way.

It's been hard to reflect on all that's happened. I feel the pain of the thousands of people that were blessed to have known this young lady. Friendly and sociable, and smart as a whip; the true legacy she left behind are the individuals here mourning her loss. The people who gathered the night of June 2nd were among the most vibrant, joyous and grateful people I have ever met. Her spirits lives on in them.

A tragedy such as this is enough to put hate in your heart, but looking in the faces of the people that loved her most, redemption was not what came first to mind. They just wanted their friend back, to have one more drink, to have one more laugh. Sabina only deserved the best things in life. She deserved to walk the streets and dance the night away with joy and dignity. She met an end that was unfitting to the life she lead. But, it would be a mistake to dwell on the ugly, because she was loved, and she loved right back. Time will pass, and her injustice will be put to rest, but her lasting impression will never fade, it will only burn brighter and brighter for all to see.

________________

May you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young." - Bob Dylan

Philadelphia urban art in action.

The Secret Life of Drinking Games

Gather one, gather all,

'round the TV for last call.

Grab a bottle, rum or gin.

Last one conscious for the win.

For more and more of Generation-Y--aka the Multi-task generation--doing just one thing at a time doesn't quite cut it anymore, and drinking while watching television certainly doesn't enter the realm of difficultly. Let's think, if most of the young demographic can drive, text, and flip through the radio while smoking a cigarette, then sitting and consuming liquid must surely be a breeze. So why not take it a step further? Why not organize some kind of game around the media you're taking part in? Why not combine the typical lazy American' two favorite pastimes: drinking and watching TV? It's questions like these that have been asked and answered nightly during primetime.

So, you're a Lostie, and if the show has gotten the best of you (like the rest of us) then you've surely stooped into some sort of drunken stupor. But, all is not lost, organize! Every time a character appears in another's flashback, take a shot. Whenever a shocking secret is revealed, have a drink. For all with strong stomachs, keep the bottle handy and have a sip every time someone is sweating, panting, or sporting a 5 o'clock shadow. And finally, whenever you ask yourself, "What the hell is going on?"--stop watching TV, get up, and hit the bar.

If all this seems too much for you, then you're not in luck. However, if mild-drinking and decent television doesn't quite fit your lifestyle, then heavy drinking and truly awful programming may be something more palatable. Does this sound like something you'd enjoy? Is suicide your game? Then look no further than ABC Family for the most horrific half-hour of your life and tune into The Secret Life of the American Teenager. It's quite simple actually, just drink when they say "sex." If you don't kill yourself from the programming, then you'll surely die from those 64 shots you took in 30 minutes time. Even the kid with down-syndrome gets in on the fun. Watching the show itself is a fate worse than death, so you needn't worry, you'll be plenty drunk before the urge to gouge your eyes out kicks in.

Drinking has always made normal games more enjoyable. It's you vs. them vs. impairment. If you can master this, then you'll surely be the champion of nights no one can remember.

Hate these shows? Hate me? Make up your own damn game!

First week of school down; 14 to go.

Pursuing an English major my first semester at Temple wasn't all that I had hoped it would be. My courses were drab and boring, my teachers didn't appreciate my sparkling personality (har har), and I felt that my course of study didn't mesh well with my strengths.

So, typical of my rash decision making, I scheduled all Journalism and Mass Media courses this semester, and, thus far, I couldn't be happier. I'm touching all bases: Newspapers, Magazines, Radio, TV, and all the technology you can rot your brain with. I'm a lingering English major cast in the middle of bloggers, writers, shooters and sceamers.

But, out of place is where I belong.

It's silly of me not to mark down these thoughts in my head. Hence my interest in an honest-to-God blog. The days of written diaries are dead, I tell you! I hope to write in this for a long time to come; and fickleness be damned! My wit just can't be contained in 140 characters...::cough cough::...yeah.