I feel pretty boring here. I am learning how to read my Ordinance Survey map, and wander farmer's fields taking pictures of sheep, scaring said sheep, causing little lambs to run bleating to their mothers. Also I am committing some Dylan Thomas to memory in my spare time. "Never and never, my girl riding far and near in the land of the hearthstone tales and spelled asleep, fear or believe that the wolf in the sheepwhite cloak..." Something like that.
The gossip mill here is unreal. Everyone fancies everyone, and there are no secrets even if you say nothing. Oh my god. They know everything! They are inside my head! It's very interesting. I am teaching them old school slang. Escuela vieja. I tell them that they can go back to 1995 and be oh so cool. I didn't drink tonight, and instead moped about. Honestly. For shame.
Anyway that's my boring story from Bangor. I wish I knew the Welsh national anthem. Too bad, though - I wouldn't sing it because I don't approve of nationalism. Or something like that. I am cautious of Welsh nationalism. Cautious like you wouldn't believe. I need a new book, I just finished Slaughterhouse Five. One of these days I will write an anti glacier novel.
I think I'm going to go home and eat some food.
Okay, so I drank a bit.
By the way, I love asking boys if they've ever read or heard of this Benedict Anderson book.
2003-02-20, So, yeah
before / after
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