| The Power of Prayer |
[Mar. 7th, 2007|01:20 pm] |
Way to go, kids! Thanks to your faith in a higher power mixed with my own constant barrage of applications to every company on earth, I have a new job!
I am the Assistant Editor for Comics at United Media. That means that in any given week I am partially responsible for preparing some 560 individual strips for syndication. That's right, I've joined a Syndicate. I used to love that video game and now I'm living it (minus the lasers and persuadatron).
That means that after close to 2 years of service, my time as a comic store guy is over. I believe I still have discount for life, so it's no great loss, but I will miss reading comic books for a living (though now I will read comic strips for a living instead). One step closer to being an editor for a major comic book or graphic novel publisher by the time I'm 30.
Goodbye, 14-hour days. Goodbye, wage slavery. Goodbye, running in place.
Hello, health insurance. Hello, paid vacation to China. Hello, Snoopy.
The comics I will be editing can be found listed at Comics.com. Most of them are mediocre strip comics, but there are a few diamonds in the rough. My new boss was the editor for Calvin and Hobbes from day one, so I know good taste will try and prevail. See you all in the 9 to 5.
-Fizban needs to figure out what "business casual" means... |
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| Prayers for the rationalist |
[Feb. 21st, 2007|03:24 pm] |
Ok, people. The next few days could have some important influence over my future, even if the weekend appears quiet. I need those of you who believe in spiritual and metaphysical things to ask them kindly to tip fate benevolantly in my favor. Unfortunately, I've lived most of my life with little faith in that sort of thing, so I'd just be a hypocrite if I started now. It's up to you if I'm going to gain any karmic advantage above and beyond my own behavior. It will be appreciated. With booze, if desired.
-Fiz hopes Luck is a lady that likes nerdy guys |
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| Incoming ICAS invasion |
[Dec. 1st, 2006|10:36 pm] |
The Fiz will be landing in Iowa City on the 21st of December and sticking around until just before the new year, where he will rush back to New York City to join the celebrating throngs amassed there and retrieve his New Year's kiss. Who's joining the party as we celebrate the annual holiday reunion (however tiny it may be this year)? I'm thinking wing night. I'm thinking one-shot DND. I'm thinking Pei Party with Pei Shots. I'm thinking a long drive through the countryside at night with good tunes and conversation. Not to mention tons of free pizza (Wedge, I'm looking at you). Gimmie a shout out if you're down.
-Fiz Returns |
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| I'm google-able |
[Aug. 23rd, 2006|02:53 pm] |
Odd to think how tiny and unassuming my toy review freelance is, and yet still present in some dark corner of the internet world. While googling "12 inch G.I. Joe history," looking to research which era of G.I. Joe figures would win in a fight (ah, what beautiful fluff I write sometimes), I found that an earlier article of mine popped up as the ninth link in the list. How easy is it to get to the front of the line of a google search? Prehaps, if I use an imaginary word in my next article, anyone entering a search for it would find it, first and foremost? I feel an internet experiment brewing...
-Fizban kills time as writer's block stalls him out |
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| Who you know |
[May. 26th, 2006|12:18 pm] |
For very random reasons, I need contact info for Ryan Peterson. Can anyone help out?
-Fiz |
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| Now a Broadway Baby (or at least Morton St. and 7th Ave.) |
[May. 12th, 2006|10:52 am] |
As of July, I will have fulfilled the one task set to me by another person for success in New York. This one goes out to you, Rockabilly Pete.
A friend from the store has an old family apartment in the West Village. It's railroad, it's small, my room is just off the kitchen and must be used to access the rest of the apartment, but it's got the best location in the city short of a penthouse off Central Park. Why give up my privacy for a place in Manhattan? Well, it's cheaper (I'm hacking off over a third of my rent and utilities expenses in the move), it's ridiculously convenient, and I live in Queens at Sarah's apartment five days out of the week anyway. All I need is a place for my stuff, a place to write, and a place to lay my head when Sarah or I need a night apart. This serves the purpose well.
I'm proud to be a Brooklynite, it's a really cool place that I'll probably have to move back to if ever this room for rent falls through, but until then, hello Village!
I wasn't sure whether Sarah would like me taking a room that doesn't allow us any privacy when she stays over, but she seems really supportive of the idea. We have her apartment to do the quiet domestic thing most days, but it'd be nice to think that if you stayed out late in the city you can WALK home and crash, so the new place would have its uses. Also, there are about a dozen stores (half of which sell shoes) that she gushed over on the walk back to the subway after checking out the room. Who ever thought I'd date a fashion geek?
Other than that, it's life as usual. Still zero results on my three-month long job hunt. Anyone with any connections in publishing, speak now. Liz from kung-fu was very helpful in that she gave me a reference in her company and even directly delivered my resume to an editor there, but even that apparently was unsuccessful. I don't know what qualifications beyond mine you need to get a job in print out here, but soon I may have to seriously consider just going back to school, a concession that bums me out. I want real work, and I want it now. Gimme.
-Working Girl Fiz |
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| Where have all the Fizbans gone? |
[Mar. 8th, 2006|09:42 am] |
Good question. Its not that I've become any more busy or made any profound changes. Still working at the Planet, and as my seniority increases, many of my friends move on to various illustration jobs (I'm the only one there who can barely draw a straight line), and I get more of the grief from my angry Irish muppet manager. I am deep in the job search for something "real," i.e. decent salary, health insurance, and some vague relation to my education. If any of you have any connections in the book publishing or magazine industry, hook me up.
The rest of my time is spent trying to keep up with daily life maintainence and making time for the girl. Sarah and I's relationship continues along well, with few growing pains and a good amount of growth to show for it. She's moving soon, and I fear it will be far far away from my neighborhood, but despite the added obstacle of an hour-and-a-half subway commute to see her, I feel up to the challenge.
Anecdote of note: attended a Quinceanera (mexican verison of a "sweet sixteen" party mixed with a debutante ball) for Sarah's co-worker's daughter. It was a highly elaborate set-up reminiscent of a marriage without the man, with glass slippers and tiaras brought to her on pillows, giant dresses, correographed dances with the six boy and girl "entourage," and an excited hired host on the loudspeaker shouting "viva quinceanera!" every two minutes. Sarah, who is deathly shy of dancing, was forced to dance a merengue with me at some point, and the multiple cameras and combined awkward whiteness of the two of us in front of an audience of older hispanic people must have made it the most uncomfortable moment of our relationship. Luckily, hysterical laughter is a universal balm.
Everything else is window dressing. Be good all.
-Fizban lives! |
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| You say it's your birthday? |
[Jan. 6th, 2006|12:09 pm] |
Another birthday has passed and I feel like I'm the old man in the spider's web from Krull, watching the sand slip through his fingers. Yeah, that's right, a Krull reference. Bask in my obscurity.
Had to work on my birthday (suck) and the L train isn't running to Manhattan so I had to cancel my chili party this Saturday because I garauntee you that no one would show up if they had to take the J Train to get here (double suck). The good part was, Joe let me escape the store for an hour and a half last night to have dinner with Sarah, and between the charming company, the glass of wine, and Sarah hanging out at work for an hour after dinner, it was the fastest day of work I've ever had. God bless the Anime section for being dead last night so that I could make out at work, and god bless the owners of Forbidden Planet for being too cheap to put in security cameras.
The other bit of good news is that the chili party is only postponed, and we have a new venue. Some friends with a big loft in Chinatown are going to host a joint-birthday-chili-boozefest for myself and my friend Elvis' girlfriend Ananda's birthday which is at the end of the month. For those of you who will understand the comparison, Elvis and Ananda are like the rock-and-roll New York versions of Cat and Dog. Ananda even grew up in Iowa when she was little, and knew what the Amana colonies were. They also rock out to Journey on a regular basis.
So life is pretty good. Sarah continues to surprise me, and whatever she got me for my birthday is big and heavy, which fulfills two of the three criteria for awesome presents (the third being if it makes a fascinating rattling sound when you shake it). I have to go partake of Mr. Fuortes' hospitality for some brunch now. Hope everyone's new year is going well so far. Take care.
-The Fiz
Ironic End Note: a friend, who is a white guy living in the heart of Harlem, recently got mugged while walking drunkenly through midtown after a new year's party. After they had taken everything but his metrocard, including his coat, he walked another freezing block, only to get mugged again (the second mugger being totally out of luck). Two muggers in two blocks in midtown, and the guy says he loves his neighborhood in harlem because no one ever bothers him. They even say hello as they pass him in the street. Crazy City. |
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| Fizbantantilus: Year Two |
[Dec. 30th, 2005|02:13 am] |
Back in New York after far too short a visit back home. To those people I didn't get a chance to see, especially the Chinese department gang who I never got ahold of, forgive me, I fear I was stretched too thin.
Home gets stranger every time I go back. The combination of deep-seated familiarity with the place itself and the ever-increasing disparity between my life and that of most passing aquaintences is a very disjarring dichotomy. Luckily, I spent most of the time back with family and old friends, so my only real regret is that I didn't have more time to enjoy the simple pleasure of Home.
Now that I'm back in the city however, it's time to get Year Two started in earnest. The various elements of the plan of attack are as follows:
Top of the list: New Job. I love the Planet, but it is definitely not what I came to New York to do. I need to get going on the next step in career work now that the internship is many months behind me. This will probably be a many month process of application and rejection, but I'm confident that I'll get somewhere eventually.
Study time: First up is preparing for and taking the GRE so that grad school is a viable option for Year Three. Meanwhile, I will get back into studying Chinese more seriously, with the handy motivational bonus of playing unofficial tutor to a couple friends who are starting Chinese classes in the fall. I figure being a study buddy, even for people coming in at the ground floor, will help resolidify my basics as well. Plus, in exhange for the help, one of the friends is going to give me honest-to-god piano lessons. I'm having my keyboard shipped out and hopefully I can recoup my long-lost modest skill in music, which is a reward in and of itself.
Writing: I have a couple serious short story pieces that will hopefully be ready for submission some time in Feburary. Probably nothing will come of it, but I'll never get a creative career going if I don't try. Chalk this one up for experience.
Exercise: Something I've been vowing to get going again ever since I moved to the city, with zero results. The new year is as good an excuse as any to get this back on its feet. I'm sure Justin will help me put together a simple workout routine (I can't afford a gym so it's weights at home for me), and Mike has agreed to go running with me when the weather is a bit nicer (I see no use in starting to run again in the middle of winter with my out-of-shape circulatory system and my lazy lungs). Between the two, I should look like Arnold by July.
Life and Love: Met a lot of great people out here this past year, but New York is the hardest place to forge real friendships that I've ever seen. The size and stress and expense of the city, along with many other obstacles, makes alloting social time a precious commodity. If I'm going to really build a life here, finding ways to strengthen my connection with people will be a challenge in its own right. Throughout it all, I hope Sarah and I really make it work. She's the best thing to happen to me in this town, and it wouldn't feel much like home without her.
And let's not forget all of you, most of whom are far away from me, and far apart from each other. A lot of us have known each other for some time, and as a crazy, be-fro'ed reality pervert named Grant once said to me, "We've made it through so much, it'd be stupid if we didn't stay friends for good." I tend to agree. Wherever you are now, my door is always open, and my wallet will always be empty attempting to visit each of you every chance I get. I wouldn't have it any other way. Take care of yourselves, and live well this next year. I'll see you soon.
-Fiz |
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| Relatively Upbeat |
[Dec. 1st, 2005|03:34 pm] |
Apartment situation update:
Anti-discrimination board got back to me, saying that there is a law called the Real Property Law, section 235-f. This law, which should supercede even the tight wording of our lease, allows for two people on the lease and one person unrelated. If we get any written notice demanding Rob's removal or a complete eviction, we are supposed to get back in contact with them. Otherwise, we sit tight and don't have to do a thing. Hopefully, that's how it will end, but with this city, you never know.
So now I don't know whether Rob is moving, but I still think he should take the opportunity that has arisen to live in London. It'd be good for him to see the world outside New York, and now he can do that without feeling like he left under any pressure. We'll see what he decides, and then Justin and I will work from there. Finding a new roommate is a much easier problem to have then finding a whole new apartment, so even if Rob does leave, I'm not worried about any of it unless something more goes wrong.
Otherwise, life goes on. My NaNoWriMo novel is short a few words, but since I completely restarted on the 7th, I have decided to push on through to at least do the 50,000 words in 30 days, even if they are specifically the 30 days in November. Even then, the novel will not be finished, and I'll probably just keep writing it on and off indefinitely while working on other, more managable writing projects. When I do get the first 50,000 words, I'll share.
Got to go clean the house for guests, and kill some roaches and mice so that they don't disturb them. Stupid old city apartment buildings.
-Fiz IS the better mouse trap |
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| Word Count Redressed |
[Nov. 4th, 2005|02:36 pm] |
This is an important announcement to the NaNoWriMo kids.
Understand first that being as old as the dawn of time makes me forgetful sometimes.
Apparently, I have mixed up the 175-page part of the NaNoWriMo criteria with the word count. It is not 75,000 words, but rather 50,000, according to the "officials" over at www.nanowrimo.org. Those of you fearfully looking at a low initial word count, take heart that you are much further done than you thought. Keep in mind, though, that 50,000 word is just the finish line. No one said you can't keep going, and if anyone wants to beat Sterling's record from last year, you're going to have to push 100,000 words, so keep pounding those keys.
As soon as the windlinghat reminds me how to do one of those hidden livejournal page break thingies, I will post some teasers from my own novel. That way, all of you who don't want to wade through a massive post can skip it. I was as relieved as anyone to find that it was only 50,000 words, since that took me from behind schedule to ahead of it. 5,000 words and counting.
My novel is a wonderfully elitist high concept piece. Stay tuned for a sneak piece.
-Fiz gets back to work. |
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| T Minus |
[Oct. 29th, 2005|12:20 am] |
NaNoWriMo starts after midnight this coming Monday. You have one more weekend of freedom before being strapped into your computer chair for thirty days. Can you handle it??
And I want to see teasers showing up in livejournal now and again. Gimmie the best and worst that prolific literary vomitus has to offer. Make new worlds, and annihilate them in the name of drama. I want to see epic tragedy, and that means pain. So bring it on, minions of the Endless Narrative, I can take it.
-Fizban judges books by their cover and finds them guilty! |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 16th, 2005|10:24 pm] |
Withoutapack, I'm calling you out!
You ran uncontested in last year's IC NaNoWriMo, but in 2005, you will have competition.
The plot has been conceived, the story is at the starting line, and all it needs now to hit the ground running is the tolling of the turn of midnight, November 1st.
If anyone else wants a piece of the action, all you need to do is crank out 75,000 words by November 30th. As True Adventurers, members of the ICAS must keep their storytelling skills sharp, in order to relay their travels with spirit when they find their way back home. This is endurance training at its finest, children. The games begin in two weeks. stretch those phlanges and get ready.
-Fizbandantilus |
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| A 14 Million Person Obstacle Course |
[Oct. 9th, 2005|11:15 am] |
Whew. Nearly a week of New York back under my belt. I had forgotten how hard everyday life in New York is. Not in terms of "illegal immigrant with eight kids working at the docks for spit and a pat on the back," but the general sensation that every little thing is more complicated than it has to be. My favorite manager at the store quit for a job in freelance illustration (more power to him, but its sad to see him go), the owners are in town for an inspection, i spend much of my time relegated to the yu-gi-oh/ manga section upstairs, which gets packs of thieving ten-year-olds on a daily basis (whom I'm forced to play the stereotypical scowling shopclerk barking, "get away from there, you lousy kids!"... makes me feel old), and I still haven't found time for laundry or groceries or cleaning, let alone writing.
Also, in classic fashion, I decided to lay off seeking out women in order to focus on all the things I really came to New York for, and instantly they start falling in my lap. I get hit on by one of my bank reps, and some random girl sitting in a group of five strange men at a bar, all in 24 hours. This rebolstered my confidence, caused me to change my position 180 degrees, and the next day my foray into purusing women was awkward and utterly failed. Isn't that always the way?
But in all honesty, I'd settle for a clean apartment sans rats and roaches, a full kitchen, clean clothes, and a little time to myself with a spark of inspiration. Elsewhere, these are relatively common enough. In New York, they are luxuries. Strange how I felt the madcap romp across half of Europe would make life back in New York relaxing, and its only just now I'm starting to feel utterly exhausted. The next week will be devoted to getting everything stable again so that I can find room to breathe.
All that said, November is approaching... NaNoWriMo anyone? Muahahahaha!
-Fizban on the ropes |
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| This is the End |
[Oct. 4th, 2005|10:38 am] |
Nothing left to do but sit around the hostel for an extra hour before heading for the airport.
Our final day began with individual sojourns into the city. I walked a stretch of streets in the old part of town where a character from a story I wrote many years ago did the same, though he was walking it in 1925 based on copious amounts of research. My walk was much stranger, with all the modern buildings replacing the old wiped out during the Blitz. My final destination was to be Paternoster Square, once home to Paternoster Row, my favorite street in London that no longer exists. Before WW II, it was home to many print shops, doing small book runs, periodicals, etc. from the upper floor printing press machines, while all along the street level were odd bookstores and antique book markets. The buildings were pressed so close together on the upper levels that windows were mirrored and tilted to catch the light for the workshops, and almost no sunlight ever reached the little street below.
Now it is a commercial park with a broad, empty square and pillar monument, tucked just behind St. Paul's. Pictures are available, but it is enough to say that there was a disparity between myself and the fictional man I once placed there, and even though he never existed, I'm sad to see his bookshop paved over and replaced by a stock exchange business and a starbucks.
I also, finally, finally, got some good english curry. Ok, not so much english curry as spicy Bengali food in general. It was a tiny place up Brick Lane, and the staff sat and plotted with me how they might open a place in New York, while gracing me with free bits of this and that.
Our final museum was the Imperial War Museum, with everything from mock trenches to V2 rockets, to interactive displays for learning about the history of crimes against humanity and games involving using "real" submarine controls to pilot the ship and monitor sonar. All this and more, and in a free museum no less. It was a massive and impressive display, and I love any museum that has old airplanes hanging from the ceiling in the lobby (the air and space museum in D.C. has them, too).
I thought we would be pretty idle after that, but Ash's doctor friend Eric finally found us and took us for more beer and curry, wandering all over the middle of town from bar to bar to bar. It has been an excellent three day sendoff here in London, and I can't even conceive of how life not on the road will be. It's almost daunting to imagine maintaining a regular life and job and friends. So much easier to move every two days. There are advantages, I suppose, and I'll look to the comfort and familiarity of my place in New York, but the travel urge will likely simmer in the back of my mind and return with a vengence inside of six months. For now, the beast is sated, and I must go back to the beginning. I. am. waaiting for Vincini...
-My name is Fizban Dantilus. You kill my father? Prepare to die! |
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| Such things as dreams |
[Oct. 2nd, 2005|10:21 pm] |
Born monster! Whose Nature to which Nurture cannot stick!
Or some such. We saw Shakespeare in the rebuilt Globe Theater, and it was one of the great artistic experiences of my life. It was The Tempest, which I have wanted to see on stage since I read it ten years ago. There were a few oddities that my purist nature took time warming up to (the three women in jeans and leather jackets playing "spirits" in various forms, and dancing about, etc.), but all told it was a brilliant production, done with a cast (besides the three "spirits" and a set of choral singers) of only three people. The set was little more than the stage, a stool, a chess board and pieces, a rug, and a hanging rope from the ceiling with a loop, the last of which was often used as a figurative representation of all the magic in the play. It also allowed for much leaping and tarzaning around.
What's more, it was the last play of the season, the last of that particular production, and the final directorship of one of the original directors to join up with the whole endevour since the Globe was rebuilt. For more than 45 minutes after the performance was finished, there was much speech-making by the man himself (who also played Prospero, among other characters), a dance by the actors (which was apparently a post-performance tradition in the theater of Shakespeare's time, something I did not know until today), a hail of rose being thrown about, and a farewell song sung by all the workers and colleagues. Even as a random spectator, it was a moving event, and the finality of it wove its way into the performance itself and gave it an energy and earnestness that struck me firmly.
To have such an experience, at the tail-end of our trip, to watch such closure in another world entirely, performing Shakespeare's last play, and all the other noteworthy bits of sinchronicity, well, it was a fitting end to a grand adventure.
Even yet, afterwards, we finally managed a drink with an old friend I hadn't seen in five years, one with which I've always enjoyed a goodly length of witty banter, and our renewed interactions in person have set me happily buzzing. I think I would desire to be rich if only to wander the world and enjoy good drinks with good friends.
I have pasta on the boil for a late-night snack, to give me energy for a final day's walkabout in London before the true end to my journey. Be well, all, I will see many of you soon.
-Fizbandantilus is a Prospero's Prospero |
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| The End of Days |
[Oct. 1st, 2005|11:21 am] |
The HMC Rocinante served the expedition proudly in its 7-day exploration of the length of the British Isles, and was retired from service with an honorable discharge on the 30th of October, 2005. What have we been up to? Crying defiance into fierce ocean winds that threatened to knock us from the cliffs along the northwestern coast, with nothing but seagulls and sheep to mark our passage as we fell to an awful death on the crest-breaking rocks below. Drizzle, drizzle and more drizzle trudging through the hills and likesides of the Lake district. Watching As You Like It performed by the Royal Shakespearean Society in Stratford-upon-Avon. Circling stonehenge with little excitement, surrounded by other tourists with nothing to do but take a photo and go home. We instead turned to the deeper countryside, to explore 5000 year old burial mounds, the remnants of an old festival castle near the oldest White Horse of Britain. More, there was high-speed driving through roads made of tree tunnels and old stone walls, narrowly dodging all the other cars, listening to Tchaikovsky and chuckling to myself. On the aforementioned cliffs, we walked to the empty lighthouse there, and looked across the water to the faint outline of the Isle of Man itself, shimmering like a ghost on the distant horizon. We have climbed thousand-year old city walls, sat in pubs that knew a time before the discovery of the New World, and I found a love of Bangers and Mash with a nice pint of bitter.
All this and more, and now back to London for a quiet couple days of introspection, irish stew, and some Worthington's. I'm about to make a last-ditch attempt to get tickets to this Sunday's performance of The Tempest at Shakespeare's Globe Theater, so wish me luck. Barring that, we've got a few friends up our sleeve in this city now, and drinks, coversation, and a good game of darts will suffice. There are neighborhoods to walk, and thoughts to be thunk, and then it is back to the familiar streets of New York. Even now, I'm staring at my eurail pass, still good through October, and imagining a last-second change of heart as I plunge deep into the backways of Europe... We'll see. Should I return this coming Tuesday, I will share a drink or three with those of you within range. To the rest, may we meet in short order, with stories worth telling, and drink worth toasting our fortunes to. To your health!
-Fizbandantilus in the round |
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| Deathrace 2000? |
[Sep. 23rd, 2005|08:35 pm] |
Ok, lots of silence and miserly behavior on my part, so here's something with a little meat on it.
We made it back to the British Isles in one piece. Amsterdam was our last stop in Europe and pretty much wrapped up the whole great ramble that was us walking all across the countryside for the last 20 days. We became well and truly lost on the outskirts of Amsterdam (though I admit, our current state of mind at that point wasn't conducive to logical or rational thought). I've never been so utterly unaware of my location in all my life. It was a fascinating experience (again, enhanced by my altered state) as we wandered in and out of a giant park and quiet residential cobblestone streets with endless dutch houses packed together. I loved it. I intend to get lost as much as possible from here on, though I will wait until after this trip, since Ash was less enamored with it than I.
We also tried smart drinks while in Amsterdam, something I've always wanted to do. Unfortunately we couldn't find the more elaborate smart drinks, and the ones we had did little if anything to improve my mental faculties. I chalk it up to be just too damn smart already.
The dutch have a dish called hatchpot, or some such. Basically, it is your standard sunday roast and veggies (broiled beef, carrots, potatoes, and onions with gravy) mashed into a big pile. It's like stating the obvious with food. "this is what is good to eat, have a gallon or three."
Next up, we have possibly the most complicated part of the trip. After much fussing about travel arrangements, we have decided to rent a car for the week. Providing I don't run into any problems on account of my age, nationality, or "bank check card" credit card, we will officially be equipped with a Ford Focus compact car. Our working name for it is to be the HMC Rocinante (the HMC standing for "Her Majesty's Compact, and Rocinante being the name of Don Quixote's horse). First stop: Stonehenge! followed hopefully by buzzing up to Stratford-upon-Avons to stay the night and see some Shakespeare as performed by the Royal Shakespearean Society (of which the Celebrity Godhead Patrick Stewart is a proud allumnist). After all this, its cruising around the lake district, maybe hiking through some craggy moors and cliff-faced coastline, and back down into London for two or three days of decompression for the return trip to the states.
Iowa City Action Squad Codename: Don Quixote reporting the initiation of the final phase- to map the ley lines of Old England via Automotive. Adventurers Assemble!
-Fizban dons his driving glasses... |
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| money is blood, and i`m a hemophiliac |
[Sep. 15th, 2005|09:58 pm] |
I have never felt poorer in my life. I can almost feel the pound of flesh that is ripped from me daily as I travel in this extravagent land. That said, its still going strong. So many anecdotes and so little time. Ill wait for stateside before telling them, but I will say I`ll miss the schnitzel. Quioxte expedition reporting all clear. Send in the first wave! Storm the beaches! Plant the flag, for Iowa!
-Fizban signing off |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 10th, 2005|02:57 am] |
So a bit drunk as a result of being friendly with Irishmen. Three large Irishmen who, when drunk, speak absolute nonsensical "english." God bless them, though, they are proud, thorough nerds.
Dusseldorf has been a relaxed but enjoyable stop. Yesterday was pretty quiet, but today kept up the pace. We rented bicycles along with an Australian we've met, and got lost in the outer sprawl and parks of Dusseldorf before we finally reached the palace-turned-park that we were going to picnic at all along. Hours of weird back alleys in what passes for German suburbs, horse breeders fields, cemetaries, rivers with massive swans, and the backyard of a very nice old man who gave us directions in German after we so rudely rode through his grass. Bicycling through Europe has become my favorite pasttime.
Next to all that, we found the world's most amazing playground equipment. I will have to wait until I get home to share pictures, but my god, what a sight. It was a series of webs, or rope towers, bound by metal links around central poles that rose a good 30 feet off the ground. You could climb to the top, bounce on the pseudo-trampaline parts, hide in the weird leather patch alcoves, play pirate, whatever. I almost want another day in Dusseldorf just to go to the playground. Awesome.
Got back to the hostel by 7pm, set up the next leg of the trip and settled in to quietly have a couple drinks with the other hostel kids. Now, I'm not one for going on vacation and hanging about the hostel, but with ash resting up from a recent cold, and myself exhausted from 6 hours of bike riding, a little conversation did nicely. Besides the three irishmen, you had one aussie, one englishman, some new kid from indiana, and a couple of scottish punks. Everyone supposedly spoke english, but you'd never know it to see all the confusion in the room.
I joined them for a short outing to the old part of town where there is what's called "the world's longest bar" which is really just a glorified term for stretching Iowa City's ped mall down a single street, and letting people drink on the sidewalk. We also saw a tiny German dance club, and watched 50 white people flail with the best of them. An interesting look at German youth nightlife.
But now I'm exhausted and tomorrow is the start of our several day hiking exhibition through the Black Forest, so I'd best get ready. Hope home is well.
-Fizbantantilus uber alles |
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