Day 9 (Jan. 21): Blowing up the ranch

ANSWER: In 1955, Martin Luther King Jr. got a Ph.D from Boston University in this, the study of religion.

- Day 9 - 

I woke up rather late today. Around 10 or something like that. After getting ready and shuffling down the stairs, I once again found myself triumphant in beating Alex out of bed. I began to research everything, as I noticed that today was January 21. Since my audience will be dominantly American/cultured, I will just blankly state that it was a rather significant day for a few reasons. Notably, January 21 is Martin Luther King Day AND the Presidential Inauguration. I got a kick out of these two things combating each other for recognition if just because Obama's re-election (which I was in favor of) is brilliant symbolism to how far Martin Luther King Jr. had gone in his existence. 

However, I didn't notice it until BBC was on and suddenly they announce that they will be doing coverage of the event. It began to hit me. This may be the first inauguration that I have just straight up missed since the 90's. While I fail to find interest in being political, I do feel that there are some requirements in being a proud citizen. One is caring enough about the inaugural speeches. 

I remember in 2009 during my second semester of college. I had an 8 AM class. I am convinced that the teacher was blitzed out of his mind in some form or another. It wasn't long into the semester and he was already just the gawky guy who I felt people took thinking that he was going to be an easy pass. Jump just a few weeks, he mysteriously was replaced by a substitute that eventually became our teacher (and going further, was willing to help me out because she shopped at my store). 

So, on January 20, 2009, we were sitting in the classroom and suddenly the teacher just began talking about the significance of the inauguration. He let us out literally 15 minutes into the class to go out and just experience the inauguration. That was his suggestion to why class was very short. No lie. I immediately went to my car within two minutes, turned on the radio, and they were halfway through the ceremony and 10 minutes away from his inaugural speech. I should have been more aware in the first place, but it was still amusing that he hyped it so much and it was almost already over. As of now, I haven't heard or seen anything from the coverage. If you have any leads of what to look for, please let me know.

As you may have also gotten wind of yesterday, the inauguration brought out the nostalgic side of me. Remembering America as this bright spot on my dark post-high school period. To some extent that was brought up because it was that day and also because there is still some disbelief of being in England (even still, it is like "this is unbelievably cool. How did I get here?"). Also, Alex tends to have fascinating stories and all I have is two years of trying to get back on track mixed with pseudo depression (mind you, I am referencing 2009-2011 roughly). Also, none of the people that I knew were quite as interesting or involved in my life as the people that Alex references.

The other big reason that January 21 was significant was because today was the day that we would finally see Django Unchained. This is easily the only film that I assumed that we would pay to see during this whole trip. In an odd turn of events, it was actually Viv who suggested it, as we are planning a trip to Cirque Du Soleil in London on Wednesday, which was the originally planned day. Just like that, the day was booked.

We grabbed a lunch at the Standard. Up until now, culture shock hasn't necessarily been a perfect word for anything that has happened. I have just accepted that some places don't have Dr. Pepper and others don't have refills. Simple things like that don't bother me. Oddly enough, I experienced the peak of my culture shock in five minutes at the Standard on that day. First came when I asked the waiter for ranch dressing, and I swear he gave me a look that shouted "GET OUT!" but in a polite way. The other is that Adam Ant in the Thin Blue Line is not Errol Morris' the Thin Blue Line. The radio lead me to believe that Adam Ant was somehow involved in a murder mystery until Alex cleared it up. Maybe it is the cinephile in me, but the Thin Blue Line will always be first and foremost referenced as a documentary before a TV show exists.

We just sat around talking about our lives. Alex explained to me the significance of the rave scene that has puzzled me for most of the trip. I mean, it is great in Trainspotting, but it seemed to be more than a junkie's gimmick in the time that I was out there. It is because of the musical influence. We also talked about troubled friends and Alex thoroughly made me understand why Jay and Silent Bob Get Old is worth giving another shot. There are just those friends in your life that you want to help out. I get it. I guess the problem right now is that the episode releases are too inconsistent. 

In closing, the burger had a chilli meat flavor going on. It was fine, but Alex assured me that it was because it was made from a certain healthy breed of cows and made from scratch in the kitchen. Also, the infamous dog that sleeps by the fire kept bugging us during our meal. It was great, if just because I finally got to see the appeal of a dog in a pub. However, it still feels weird that the dog pretty much surveys the place like he's the boss.

We finally left the house in the early afternoon and caught the train to Hastings. I decided to be quaint and listen to a podcast called The Treatment (host Elvis Mitchell probably will be remembered by me for his interview with Joaquin Phoenix in Interview Magazine where Phoenix says that "The Oscars are bullshit." I kind of love Phoenix more just because he is honest, and no, he wasn't strictly referencing the Oscars, but the campaigning process, which fortunately paid off). There was an interview with Quentin Tarantino about his new flick, and he also discussed the significance of food in his movies. I truthfully didn't notice it, but it is quite effective. However, if you want to hear a really twisted interview, listen to his most recent Fresh Air interview in which he says that he can relate to blacks because he grew up in a multi-racial neighborhood. I am fine with it up until his belief that it somehow makes it okay for him to write in a very black way. I have yet to look at Tarantino the same way since.

We made it to the theater in Hastings and everything was gravy. We had about five minutes to kill before the film started. After hearing "Tonight" from West Side Story on the speakers in the lobby, I was in a good mood (notably because yes, West Side Story is factually the best musical film adaptation ever). Alex and I sat around in the theater discussing our opinions on Tarantino. Up until this point, I had no idea what his thoughts were. Alex finds him to sometimes be too compulsive and has too much unnecessary stuff going on. I don't know, but as my review that will come will show, I think that he has reached his peak and needs to be controlled somehow. It really has the same things going for it that pissed me off with Heaven's Gate and that goddamn fucking stupid opening 30 minutes at the college scene. 

I am trying not sound pretentious with what I am about to say. In fact, I am not an expert on western films. I have taken a class and maybe have seen 20 over the course of five months. I understand the basics, sure, but that doesn't mean that I can tell you every single aspect worth mentioning. In fact, I forgot to look for that Shane moment in Django Unchained. I just worry that my broad overview of westerns and my enthusiasm for Sergio Leone's early work isn't keeping me from seeing the bigger picture.

Let us get down to the basics. The first 80 minutes is excellent. He honestly feels like he crafted a great revisionist film. Christoph Waltz and Jamie Foxx are badasses in a fresh way. The pace is moving and while it feels more slapdash than his other films, this feels like a true western, but with a spice of Tarantino. To be broad without spoilers: everything before Calvin Candie feels like a true western. There is the sense that Django is out for revenge and he is doing it well. It flips the genre on its head, but still manages to pay homage.

Everything post Calvin Candie is troublesome. I will admit that the idea of rescuing his girlfriend is a necessary element. However, the second half IS NOT A WESTERN! It is indulgent and is just an excuse for Tarantino to give his patented long conversations that feel more bogus this time and come across like "Hey, I read 'the Three Musketeers.' Look at me!" I know it is wrong to hate on a film just because it isn't entirely a western, but even then, there are two films here that just don't mesh well. You have the first half, which is a slapdash heroic fantasy and the second, which is a negotiation film that could be summed up in under a half hour as opposed to almost what feels triple that. If they had edited it down, I would feel like maybe this film could maintain its western credibility.

Using Ennio Morricone scores and shoving Franco Nero in for a cameo was nice, but the western take just fell apart in order to try and add more significance to the romance than what was essentially needed. Like I said, it was necessary, but it felt heavily bloated and tried to show Tarantino style, as done through the eyes of slavery. The humorous first half was ruined by the second half, which really had too much going on and didn't serve much of a purpose in advancing the plot. The whole mandingo thing was nice, but it went nowhere. This is oddly the first time that I can honestly say that I probably was bored during a Tarantino film upon first viewing. 

It was also grating that it was trying too hard to be cutting edge. It addressed racism rather nonchalantly, but otherwise, was completely overblown. Also, the music cuts were poorly used. Even the Rick Ross song, as anachronistic and pointless as I found it on the CD, didn't boost the momentum of the scene. There isn't that much of the "reinventing a song's purpose" going on with this soundtrack. I don't think any old song will be referenced to as "that song from Django Unchained." I pray that this gets people to watch Django, though.

On a side note, Christoph Waltz is great and more deserving of that Oscar than Leonardo DiCaprio. Also, I LOVED the Duck You Sucker reference. I even kept myself from ignoring the film by noticing where all of the tropes fit in. Congrats, he hit almost every mark.

After an unceremonious ride back on the train set to the Auteurcast's episode on Se7en, we walked to the house. Chris and Viv told us that they might be out. However, it never clicked with anyone to give us the keys. We ended up sitting at the pub across the street, the Queen's Head, in which we chatted with the barman about the movie. Another odd moment is that Alex not only used a lot of cursing, but felt no need to hold back using the word nigger when referencing dialogue from the film. While I admire the need to quote sources properly, America has wussed me to just call it the n-word. I don't even try to say it because of reverence for a time passed that seems to be best summed up in Minor Threat's "Guilty of Being White" song. Yeah, I try to avoid being racist at most costs, but you know, that also involves respecting the right not to use certain words.

We also discussed fantasy film team-ups. It started with Kubrick and Hitchcock and quickly evolved into other selections. This immediately got derailed by talk of how shitty Sucker Punch was and if Guy Ritchie was a quality filmmaker. We also tried to discuss who was under appreciated comedians of the modern era, though mostly settling on Aziz Ansari. Also, bad mentions to Paul Rudd and Michael Cera (though as I said, Crystal Fairy is going to be one for the ages). 

We finally located Viv and Chris and got the keys to the house. We went inside and out waiting for us was chilli. Alex pulled out the cheese and we began serving it up. I noticed that it was meatless and very heavy on onions. I only later discovered that this was because that it wasn't chilli, but was pasta sauce for pasta. Viv made us pasta, and I am kind of bummed that I didn't realize it until after I thought that I had a decent bowl of chilli with cheese on it. Alex also tested me with how much cheese I wanted to use on the "chilli" by saying that I could take as much as I want. He almost immediately regretted it.

The rest of the night was uneventful, as we just sat around talking until I went to my room and finished off the Auteurcast episode. I also caught up on Sundance news. However, nothing more exciting than the premiere of the trailer for the East. 

You guys, Ellen Page is back! I admit that this sounds like a non-sci-fi version of Branded, but still. Love to hear Page talking again, and more significantly, acting in movies again. Dumb thing to say... again, speaking that she hasn't skipped a year with a release in quite some time. But... gah! I am easily amused.

Also realized that I missed the last four days of Stargroves Vlog, so I worked on that until eventually going to bed at 2:30. I know, it is late, but I was up on time the next day. I think it isn't jetlag anymore. It is my normal schedule telling me that I can do whatever I want when I want. However, it was quite a day to experience all of this, and notably find that the Imposter was on sale in the market. This feels like a big deal because, well, I don't think that any market around where I live of that scale would sell a documentary.

However, I must admit that I find it odd that I am becoming a bogus film fanatic. People loved Pitch Perfect and Django Unchained, and I disliked both for critical reasons. Kind of sad, I guess, but it is still interesting to notice how I change from year to year. I mean, I really don't want Tarantino to make any more revisionist history revenge flicks. It feels really stupid now. It is also odd that my most watched movie of last year was Girl Walk // All Day. That says something, though notably that the Master is not out on DVD yet.

Quite a day of trying to appreciate how civil rights have progressed in America through the sight of Martin Luther King, Obama, and Quentin Tarantino. It was an odd day, if just to experience the growth of America through British culture. Also, I still am weirded out by how fine Alex is saying certain words, though within perfectly referenced context. In ways, it was that moment where you realized that we were in a more progressive period. However, I still argue that Hairspray (either one, really) was a better portrayal of respecting minorities. 

I don't have much else to say. It has been one week in England, and it has been something. Sometimes I feel like I still am in the middle of a gag and that I am going to drive 20 minutes back home. As much as I enjoy England, you occasionally feel like home is very close. I am not suffering homesickness, but I do have that sense of disbelief occasionally. Notably, I just don't want to screw up my time with Alex by worrying. So far, so good.

QUESION: What is Theology?

Day 8 (Jan. 20): Pub Crawling

ANSWER: This president's second inaugural address was 135 words long; he had us at "Fellow citizens."

-Day Eight-

Today's entry will open with an honest question. What do YOU know about snow? As a person who has spent most of his life in California, that is a very mythic question. I have travelled to mountains and even back east, but what significant exposure to snow have I really had? The answer is an abysmal, empty number. I have no idea what snow is outside of the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, both films and even the books (though the books are more responsible for why I believe all of Europe is made out of IKEA furniture). 

The day started off like most of them. I woke up, got ready, and was ready to seize the day. Another cooked breakfast and everything was ready for another fun day. However, what is great is knowing how the world stops for snow in England. The country is notoriously unprepared for snow, and thus the trains come to a halt and schools are cancelled, all because of a little bit of whiteness. It seems odd, as I live in the land where the only thing that will shut down a school is a busted pipe that floods classrooms. That is rare, so I am pretty used to only missing school when the teacher is depressed (really, that is my English 60 teacher in a nutshell). 

But it was also a lesson in proper wear. I don't have the clothes necessary for snow. Okay, I have the pants and jacket combo, but how long was I going to last outside of that? My puny shoes could hardly soak in all of the wet, cold ground. I had to layer socks, and even that seemed oddly ill prepared. I ended up having to wear boots, including one that featured a pinch towards my calf.

I was wearing enough clothes to be a small tank. Eventually, Alex and I walked outside and started heading to the park. The green was now converted to white and for someone who hasn't seen snow in person, it was amazing to see an endless mile of snow in all directions. One of the first things that happened was that Alex taught me how to roll a ball of snow. However, I argue that my gloves immediately made my product so poor that I made an oval more than a ball. Yet, this lead to a snow fight that saw just how a mix of physicality and weather can exhaust me. I am trying to figure out if it is the snow or my figure that is really being worn out by this visit.

He even recorded some footage of me. I made a snow angel that looked more like the hazard signs that you see on chemical barrels. No head at all. Still, the feeling is amazing to be surrounded by that much snow. I think that I expressed genuine joy when we just started having a war over who had better aim. Oddly, I am better at hand eye coordination than I give myself credit for. In most shots, I hit where Alex told me to. Other times, I just hit his crotch. However, he was aggressive and always managed to kick me when I was down. Those balls came at my face so frequently that I couldn't even see. I even rolled a few yards after Alex started an assault. Snow is amazing, and it makes violence into a Rated G game that just melts away in seconds. It is so addictive and while I still don't like getting hit in the face, it is just so much fun. I wish that I had more exposure to it. I eventually took my gloves off to try my hand at a real ball, and those proved that my gloves were shit for rolling a proper ball.

It is also something to walk in snow. it is like walking on bubble wrap. Every step is another crack towards the ground. You see the remnants of your footstep and the clicking noise is just as fun. It is like destroying a white carpet at times. So beautiful and while it really disables the amount of steps that you can take at a stride, it has a nice cadence to it.I almost didn't mind walking slower just to enjoy walking in the snow.

After a quick stop back at the house, we met up with Viv and Chris, who were adamant on taking me to the Mermaid. Instead of talking about a boring walk, I will just go into the basics. It is a really old pub that predates a rebuilding in the 1400's. People ranging from Shakespeare to Michael Caine have stayed there. The houses across the way all have odd names, including "The house with two doors." There is an endearing novelty to those names, and it almost makes you realize that the houses were THAT old that they could afford to be the generic names because, well, there wasn't anything else that could be called "The house with two doors."

So, what do I get? A coke. In an odd turn of events, I am in a city that has a large bar per capita for England (from what I know, Halifax, Canada owns the highest bar per capita in the world (thanks, Ellen Page)) and I have been slowly being introduced to what seems like every single one of them. What is odd is that even away from the restrictive environment where drinking will not affect my day at.all, I still order a soda at every single place. It is crazy to think that I am not taking this opportunity to try liquors, but you know what... I am breaking every stereotype imaginable. What are YOU doing by ordering beers?

I mostly say this not as a running gag, but as the truth. Everyone has wondered why I have not been fascinated by the architecture. Why am I fascinated by the dumb, subtle stuff? Here's the thing. You go to art galleries expecting the classics. They are just as good as you expect. Sometimes the efforts and cultural significance are ignored because they all are high quality art pieces. Do you know Donatello? Michaelangelo? Leonardo? Can you tell them apart after staring at them for 20 minutes? Only enthusiasts can. Read my life story. I like beautiful things, but at no points am I necessarily the building enthusiast. This isn't to say that I don't enjoy these layouts, but seeing them in rapid succession is just impossible to stop and say "yes, this is a brilliant piece of craftsmanship." Only when you throw yourself into something does that really become more than a survey of British culture. As for the mundane things. It is like picking up the tidbits about the exhibition hall and understanding how it is different from your house.

Still, if one place yells of luxurious looking stuff, it is the Mermaid. There's rooms dedicated to popular English figures like Dr. Syn. The place looks really nice, old school, and runs on gas powered fires.It also has the most authentic fireplaces that I have seen of the pubs. Most of the other ones seemed to be boxed up holes in the wall compared to an entire wall that was reserved for burning wood.

I continued to get a tour of Rye, via Viv and Chris. We went down an alley where they had a barber called... Alley Barber. Easily the height of puns. Almost all puns in comparison are shit. Dumb statement, but it is funny because it is true. Also, I finally got everyone to point out that they wish that I could stay longer so that they could convert me to a fine British man with manners and Alex's favorite word: cynicism. I am not entirely sure why that word has been at the height of conversation as of late (almost as much as the Invisible Man references, which has only missed one day so far). I also saw a player piano at the Standard that featured a roll sheet for the "Paint Your Wagon" song. They said that it will probably be the thing that I remember most from that trip. Well, at least I'll remember them saying that. I also enjoy that I derailed a conversation about Lincoln unintentionally into talking about family. I still don't know if Viv knows my thoughts on the film.

We had dinner at the table, which is odd, considering that I was beginning to think that Americans and British people were similar to their irregular familiarity with eating on a piece of wood. I have been eating off of a tray-like pillow for most of my stay. Add in some candles and Alex throwing out migraine-inducing, cheesy jokes, and you kind of get the height of the dinner conversation. We even got conversation in about my dinner life as well as school. In a way, it is funny for Viv to think that I gave up on school, though if you knew me a year ago, you might as well assume so. 

The rest of the night was spent in Alex's room watching the height of British TV. I apologize ahead of time that I will be jumping to earlier in the day for part of this. There is just some odd, fascinating differences about the sitcoms. In fact, shows that I never have heard about are now quickly entering my recommendations list for when I get back to the states. Before you accuse me of being a pro-everything, do know that I have some complaints to follow.

First up is Fresh Meat, which I guess is an hour-long comedy (I say that because I felt odd when the episode began getting into 35-minute territory). It is about a bunch of house mates living together, and it felt very much like "their" Community. You had the oddball collective interacting together in a college setting. Part of my viewing was obstructed by me writing, but I noticed that Jez from Peep Show was in an episode, which immediately made me excited (I love that Alex didn't think I would get Peep Show when I consider it to be one of the best shows that I've seen in recent years). 

Okay... too much sidetracking. Here's the thing about Fresh Meat. I don't hate it, but besides the hour-long format (which feels odd for a comedy, even though that is MY problem) makes it feel like there is some filler. However, I did enjoy moments from the two episodes that I saw. Then there was the distinctly British aspects. A lot of characters talking in rhyme and doing rather peculiar things all felt very British. Not enough to say "this is bad," but in my brief time here, watching a lot of Fresh Meat is probably not going to be high on my priorities. It is enjoyable, but I feel like some cultural aspects are lost on me. I may revisit it eventually just to see if the obligatory introduction episode was just a little bit... off for me.

Pete Vs. Life was next in line, and I felt like this was the most gimmicky thing that I have seen so far. It wasn't even because it was British. This show reminds me of an episode of the Drew Carey Show in which two guys pine for a woman in a faux sports show format with two announcers commenting the whole time. In fact, I argue that the Sklar Brothers would make a stock, yet interesting American replacement of the announcers characters. 

However, it felt too much like "Pete had an encounter like THIS with this girl, and it did not go well," "Indeed you're right. Let's show some playback!" I don't even know if it could work for sports fans, but it felt like they had to stretch the premise in order for the humor to be derived. It wasn't terrible, and in fact had an episode full or quirky ideas, but still felt like it was too reliant on certain devices for the humor to really come from a place of fun.

Then there was Friday Night Dinner, which may be my second favorite show discovery on this trip. The premise is in the title. A family gets together for dinner on Fridays, and wacky stuff happens. Hilarity ensues. Yadda, yadda, yadda. However, as obvious as the format is and as often as the show features certain comedy points every time, I think that it is brilliant. I don't see it lasting very long, but the simplicity and the show's brief seasons will probably keep it from every running out of breath. I'd say that there needs to be more shows like this, but then I would immediately regret that. However, I just love how ridiculous things get. This show knows what it is going for, and succeeds. 

From what I know, there is an American remake in the works with Allison Janney, and I am not enthused now. First off, this show is great at 7 episode seasons. American seasons are three times as long and I cannot see it lasting more than a season it if plans to withstand quality. So no, I am not digging that idea. However, if it gets BBC America to play reruns of it, I will be more than on that.

The night ended with Alex rocking out to music. I honestly forgot what it sounded like to live with music enthusiasts. Loud tunes that made me fear that someone would come in and say "shut up!" Also, Alex's enthusiasm and constant rocking out just make me believe that he rocks in his sleep. I am such the party pooper. I was just watching him from the bed and thinking that I was not contributing much to the party. He even filled up time with stories and dancing, which make me believe that he is at very least passionate enough to win any air guitar competition that comes his way (mind you, he plays a decent guitar guitar, too).

I pretty much called it a night not too long after. I started the recent WTF with Marc Maron, but sleep wasn't too long after. The interview with Dave Grohl had to wait until morning. No real Sundance coverage procured. However, I did find that James Ponsoldt was doing his next film with Mary Elizabeth Winstead. They worked together on last year's brilliant Smashed and even though I don't know anything about it, I believe that they could work together until Winstead gets an Oscar nomination. I still argue that Smashed deserved her a nomination.

Still putting it out there, any leads to Sundance coverage, let me know. Otherwise, another excellent day and the simple sight of snow is enough to make this one of the better in-house days that we have had. You sometimes forget that you rode a train while in England, because I hadn't been on one since Thursday. I found it quaint that the trains were cancelled for the weekend, as if weather works on the same schedule as the working commuters do.

Tomorrow should be fun. I talk about Django Unchained and other fun stuff, like the Presidential Inauguration that I missed. However, it only reminds me that January 20th was America's  birthday. She is a girl I used to know and kind of wish that I still did. I know her birthday well because it correlates with the inauguration very well. To sum it up, she was a light of optimistic conversation during a rather cynical period of my life. I don't feel like I fully acknowledged it until after we faded apart, but I still often wonder what she is up to and think that she is doing very well. She always seemed like she would be a succeeder. 

I don't do it often, but she is one of those people I think back fondly on and wish that I still talked to. Most people from high school, I am fortunately glad to be rid of. They seemed like they were fine people, but inessential to my life. America was not quite that. She was a prominent part of Alex's last trip to Long Beach, which I feel clings this together and keeps it from being a total tangent. I am sure that I could attempt to contact her with some success, as we never had bad blood between us, but at the same time, I feel like maybe she could perceive me as inessential as I do some of my high school friends. Then again, that is my fear kicking in.

She is an excellent person, and I want to wish her a happy birthday, even if she doesn't read this. I miss you and I sometimes feel like you were one of the best friends I had, if just because you gave me hope as well as reason to see Sex and the City 2 at midnight (shut up, it is a good show, but those movies sucked). I'll stop now, but hope you are doing well. Adios.

QUESTION: Who is George Washington?

Day 3 (Jan. 15): "I'm not used to stairs in general."

ANSWER: This name, like that of a girl in Harry Potter, is derived from the name of Hermes, Messenger of the Gods.

 

 

-Day Three-

 

I went to bed around 6 PM on Monday. Tired, exhausted, I was ready for that long sleep that would put me up at maybe 10 PM the next morning. Really, when I am up for over 20+ hours, I usually end up sleeping super long. No expectations on being up any earlier. I don't even remember the time it took to get comfortable in the bed and fall asleep. It seemed to happen almost momentarily after walking up the stairs and closing the door.

When I woke up, I had this odd sense of refreshment. I felt good. I looked at the time and when I saw that it was 10, I knew that it had to be 10 AM. I wouldn't be awake four hours later and feeling great. I took to the internet and began just writing about my first day there. I was just too enthused to do it.

Never mind that the sun wasn't out. I was just under the assumption that English weather is really, really messed up. Dark until noon, or something like that. However, the further that I looked into things, I began to realize that it was indeed 10 PM, and I was confused. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I met Alex in the hall, who told me that he would be downstairs for awhile to talk. After a bath, we did just that. Everyone was down there, and Viv was watching her "who done it?" show, which if I gather properly, it was called Lewis. In many ways, I just began to correlate that my guardians for the time are no different than my parents. They have familiar passions and concerns.

Then after an hour, I went back to my room, and Alex insisted that I fight my internal clock and get some sleep. I wasn't exactly tired, but I wanted to believe him. However, my iPod was mere inches from grasp, so I put on my headphones and that made up the next four hours.

I'm sitting around in the room, in the dark just blaring music for awhile. It began with a little OutKast's "Stankonia," with notable play on "B.O.B." which lead to me doing a light show with my iPod. It was a rather poor show, but I felt like I needed to keep myself entertained. I eventually segued into West Side Story and the Mulan soundtrack. I even got bored enough to search the internet, where I found a video detailing the Top 10 Worst Songs of 2011. It was by chance that I found it, and it was not an exceptional video. The guy was royally cynical and hated on obvious songs. God, were there some bad songs on that list. I decided to actually check out one of them for the hell of it. I have heard comedian Howard Kremer talking about this artist and well... why not? I think it was Kreyashawn or something really uninspired. It almost made me depressed to realize that people actually went through with writing this music and putting their face to the music.

On a better note, Anne Marsen is working on a music video and will be touring around the globe. She's also do a video blog a day, which almost coincides with my stay here. I'll try to get the name for you tomorrow. However, I do admit that it at times feels inessential, though it only makes me love her more. She has a cat that she calls Garfield incarnate. I have a cat that I call the same thing. She is so adorable and I loved her more after I found out she had a tabby. I don't think watching any of these will convince you why I love her (speaking her boyfriend is in almost all of the videos), but the IKEA video should be a nice, cohesive view into why I think she's cool. Such a free spirit. However, because of the time difference, I don't see these until 3 AM on a typical schedule.

I went to bed around four. I woke up around 10, and I feel like maybe I was going to be fixed. However, step one of jetlag was over. Step two, which haunted me for most of the day, was about to begin. I didn't expect it, but for the entire day, my digestion system was acting all wonky. I would have meals, but feel queasy for the next hour, often needing to go to the bathroom repeatedly. Also, I did have a lot of drinks, including a ton of soda, some juice, and a couple glasses of hot tea. I don't know why, but the fluids have been on tap most of the time since I arrived. Kind of thankful, for sure.

Chris was down listening to his blues show and doing stuff. I had some cereal, and sat around watching Alex make fun of the music. After taking some time to wake up, we decided to start me off with a simple trip around Rye, where we would get to see the town and I would get to take in all of the culture. Truthfully, another issue with the first two days was disbelief that I was in England. I still had yet to grasp that I was actually overseas. As of writing this, I feel like maybe I am finally accepting everything.

For starters, the town looks very much what I imagine the definition of traditionalist. The architecture rose to the sky, it looked really old. There was a cobbled street. Even Shakespeare's cowriter has a memorial plaque. Also, there is a church here that I am seriously wondering if it is bigger or on par with the Crystal Cathedral. I don't know, but that was a big building.

I also saw a banner for the National Lottery, which has been my favorite thing to spot in movies. I want a shirt with that logo so badly. It is just so silly and fun. But it is a gorgeous sight. We looked around and the fact that the town ends shortly out of eyeline and the rivers and marsh are all almost aesthetically pleasing. I called it a classy version of Wyoming.

One of our first stops was a place that I am sure that we'll visit again and again. It is a pub called the Standard, which for starters has TWO fireplaces and a million underground tunnels. It also blew my mind that the bricks were real and that what I take for novelty turns out to be real, genuine stuff. The wall designs, the furnishing. It all was honest and authentic. I felt like I was in an odd paradox where the novelty was now inverted to genuine.

 

The Standard's standard glasses filled with Coke

The Standard's standard salt and pepper shakers

 

After that, we decided to head over to the church and take a look inside. It was big, gaping, and the architecture looked nice. Alex really admired the arches and would like to buy some. After paying the information teller, we got access to go up to the room. Apparently the view from the top is excellent.

Of course, that is after 84 steps. The information teller warned us about that. It wasn't so much a problem going up, though being vertically inclined, I did have trouble making it all the way without running out of breath. Luckily there was a resting room halfway through and we took that moment to indulge on everything. There's also a nice view of the church along the way up those first flights of stairs. I must admit that for some reason, I have come to admire aerial views in recent years, and being able to see the church from different angles was rather nice.

We also passed the room where the bells were kept. That was the last trek of space before we made it to the roof. A lot of bells in the room:

 



 

 

 

 

 

 It was quite a sight to look at the bells. However, it was time for the main attraction. Onto the roof we went. Once we opened the door, Alex went into tourist mode, admiring the view and taking a whole lot of pictures. I asked what buildings were and he usually answered. He also told me that the aenemic windmills that I was talking about were wind turbines. Growing up near Simi Valley, I always called them windmills. However, he pointed out a very gorgeous, old school windmill in the distance that I felt was very Dutch.

It really was a gorgeous sight and as I said, I have really gotten into aerial views. I don't have vertigo, but I was cautious of the edges because I didn't want to jump off. It isn't an impulse, but I do have that thought. Alex, for the most part, is the photographer for most of this trip. You may see some when I return home, but I am an uninspired photographer in comparison. I just charged batteries last night and took a go at photographing stuff. You'll see some dull cat pictures, for sure.

Want to know how great he is at the pictures? I'd say that I shouldn't be allowed near a camera when I have to compare to these:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I tell ya, he's really good at the pictures. It was a great view and we somehow lost track of time. We were up there for awhile, enjoying ourselves. Alex apologized for being the tourist, but I was just taking it all in. We eventually went back downstairs to the waiting room in between the stairs in order to just get warm. It was edging along two o'clock at the time, and we decided to wait in the bell room to watch them go off. Somehow, at two, they went off three times, and they were pretty damn loud. Alex complained about ringing, but it didn't bother me as much.

The trouble with the stairs is that I didn't really know how to go down them properly. It took a few flights to finally get it right. This place has so many stairs that I probably will get fit just walking up and down so many. We talked to the information lady before leaving and soon we were on our way.

Other misc. pictures from the church:

 

 

 

Those are the gears for the clock. I saw the pendulum, but I cannot justify where the clock actually was. We went to the roof, and that was the extent to our searching.

After leaving, we went to Grammar School Records, which I thought was a school records hall, but Alex assured me was a record shop. I found a vinyl print of the most influential comedy bit in my life in that store: Bob Newhart's "Driving Instructor." I didn't know that they had a single version of that. I was so impressed and if I didn't own "Buttoned Down Mind," I would be so tempted to buy it, even if I don't listen to vinyl with regularity. The place was small, but we got the point across. Nothing that grabbed me, but it felt good to see some culture. Also, upon returning to the house Chris informed me that HMV, which is their big music outlet chain, just got sold. Yep, things are tough all over.

Alex even showed me Pedo Point, which is where a telescope outlooks over a playground. Quite a sight.

 

I really should stop saying quite a sight. I just feel like this country looks good. At very least, different from what I am used to.

He was a busy photographer. Here's the remaining batch from our walk around town. He assures me that there is more to see in Rye and that we won't all blow it at once:

 

 

 

 

 

The remaining portion of the day was uneventful. We didn't go anywhere or do anything. However, we did watch Kung Fu Friday on a copy that I made for Alex. It unfortunately gets out of sync in the last 15 minutes, but we still love it. It is so odd to think that it is six years old and Marrs is an award winning filmmaker now. We admit that the quality is bad, but it is still one of our favorites. I am sure that this won't be the last time that we watch that DVD. I promised Alex that we will listen to the commentary. Rewatching the movie, I admit that there are subtle things that I remember from the commentary that make that film so much better.

We also watched Threesome, which is part of "Operation: Represent English Culture" that is somehow of prominent focus on this trip. The plot is rather bizarre, in that a couple and their gay friend have sex together, and the woman is pregnant with the gay man's baby. I really don't know how you make a series out of that, but I am so intrigued to find out. I am not wanting to say that it has the same plot as the New Normal, but both are equally progressively weird. However, I feel like Threesome at least tackles the subject of pregnancy with some oddity and fun without being blasphemous ot segregations outside of the initial cast. I mean, the second episode involves giving up drugs, then digging up those drugs and snorting them and then crashing through a Lego Taj Mahal. It has the human side necessary to make it work. I feel like the New Normal is an attempt at capturing that in your face humor, but done so poorly. I mean, I watched 8 episodes of the New Normal, so I am not even lying when I say this.

Alex then ran into a kurfufle and had to handle things in his room. He was busy for a big majority of the day. Chris took over as MC and we bonded over a Top Gear special on James Bond. Not caring for the series, I at least figured that it was a good time to see what British people felt about what is one of their most familiar exports. Chris was really into it, and while I cannot get into the films, the ingenuity that went into their cars was exceptionally at least ingenious. Movie magic and non-special effects things tend to impress me sometimes.

We also got around to watching It Might Get Loud, which was inspired by Chris' conversation about guitars. He thought that I might enjoy it. Initially, I found genuine humor in him calling Jack White as Jack Black. However, I cannot remember most of the movie, but I remember really enjoying the Jack White bits a lot. He really is an old school musician and one that I enjoy. Also, getting all of the British people together was fun, especially when it came to making fun of the Edge. Yeah, I get the feeling like Brits in general dislike U2. That was so charming.

I spent the remained of the night discussing plans for the next day, talking to Viv, and listening to WTF with Marc Maron in my room. Maron's conversation with Elizabeth Banks was interesting, if just because I feel like she is a more likeable, intelligent version of Jenny McCarthy on some issues. I disagree that Pitch Perfect is at all a good movie, but I will let her have her opinion. Another late night, but I feel like more than the previous night, I was adjusted. I just need to figure out how to break my recent curse of using technology to go to bed really late. That, my friends, is the downfall of society.

So, watching out for ice on the ground will be fun. I almost tripped on the way back today. No injuries yet. Still, surprised that the weather is as good as it has been. Been expecting it to be miserable. However, we're off to Hastings for the day to go see Gangster Squad and remind me what Los Angeles looks like. Of course, any excuse to see Ryan Gosling (or as Alex puts it: Ronny Rosley) is good enough for me.

 

No more teasers for tomorrow. I am trying to not become that guy. However, with this post, I hopefully will be back on track to the one-a-day turnout that I have wanted to maintain. Hope that you have enjoyed things, and I hope that I will also share more stories on the cuisine and culture, as I feel like you now know what the buildings look like.

 

 

QUESTION: What is Hermione?