We are at last back on American soil and American soil is suffering from 1000% humidity. New York is hot, loud, crowded, roachy and hideous but by god it’s home.
The Lad and I are both feeling dazed by the sheer Americanness of everything. “Our money is so BIG,” I say in wonder, “and why is it just this one color?” At the diner they just keep on filling your coffee cup. Cars are huge. And I don’t know quite how to put this in a sentence, but: burritos, man. Burritos.
I miss London though, or rather Thomas’s flat in Stoke Newington which we rarely left except to buy more alcohol. If there were an award for “Most Wasted Trip to London” we would get it, and we would get special honors for the implicit pun, because we both wasted our time and were wasted most of the time. Days began at around 1:00 in the afternoon and ended around 5:00 in the morning; drinks began around 3:00 p.m. I have never poisoned my body so thoroughly in such a short period of time and I am proud of myself for sinking to the challenge — a complicated challenge, actually, since the point was not only to keep up with veteran drinkers Thomas, George and Lad, but to carefully supress all signs of drunkenness. This is easy to do when sitting around watching the Back to the Future trilogy but gets a hell of a lot harder when you are all reading Shakespeare out loud.
We did manage to venture out to Cambridge for a day: Thomas’s 85 photos of the day are here, cut down from the original 180 he first took. Captions are provided by Thomas, which is why they convey information as well as pith.
I am looking forward greatly to being home, my clean and purple city, where burritos are $3 cheaper and my parents will cook me dinner while our faithful dog Molly barks at me and tries to hide behind the house until I leave.
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