Rhymes with Militia...

As I get older, I realize that I correct people less and less on the pronunciation of Alysia. Now you'll never get it wrong again.

31.8.04

Okay, so I'm sure you, oh faithful reader, have been intensely contemplating the lack of post in the last month. Some of you may have assumed that I was too busy; some assumed I was too lazy; some assumed that I finally tired of this crazy blogging ride. Well, none are the whole story because I've been a little consumed in the last month with a little trip to the UK. I got back today, which is why I know feel I can talk about it. When I fiercely desire something, as I desired the trip I just returned from, I have trouble talking about it. This is the way I am with all the things I love. I become tongue tied, unable to compose a simple sentence with the right adjectives. (This is most unfortunate when I write about books I love, as that is really where I have constructive things to say. Most of the time I say the title of the book, its author and then swoon for the duration of the discussion. This is why I can't take a course with Lolita on the reading list. That book.... I have no words.) For this reason, I couldn't really talk about England. As my friends can verify, I did a lot of squealing prior to departure. Since I'll never be able to describe it, I'll just tell you that I didn't want to leave. I didn't care that I still couldn't understand 1 out of every 5 people by the end of the trip. The fact that I seemed perpetually under-dressed didn't matter either.

Have you ever stood in a house that is over 400 years old? I saw King Arthur's grave. The wind off the Irish sea at low tide rolls the sand like a desert storm. Sheep still graze at Avesbury (a small version of Stonehenge). According to a woman at a market "if [unintelligible name] hasn't heard of it, your last name isn't Welsh"; he hasn't heard of it. Sometimes tourist spots are still remarkable, despite all the tourists. Case in point: Trafalger Square, London. Between MoMA and the Tate Modern, I'd visit the Tate. In our dodgy London B&B, I think I caught the housekeeper trying on people's clothes...

I'll update with little stories and such soon. Right now, jet lag has a firm grip on my sleep patterns, so I must head to bed. Cheers.


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