A chronicle of movement aimed at synchronizing thoughts and keyboards with said movement.


Schedule (pronounced Shed-u-wl)

Classes began today. We're here. We're residents of London, finally, stepping past the early and tremulous stage of tourism. And I even convinced the two girls downstairs (Kaylan, a buddy from BU, and Michelle, from Lafayette) to cook stir fry with me. So, for the slight cost of 20+ pounds ($36 or so), we got to save money. Lovely. And in a few hours, the Americans will raid yet another British pub (Bunker, this time -- a German bier hall, apparently). From then on, it's

The advent of classes, the renewed rigors of a schedule, offers the holy chance for expansion. With unlimited options (and a surfeit of nebulous time), life loses form. Loses initiative and direction. Now now now, I can set some time to actually find good fish and chips AND THEN go to the gym. And it's brilliant to walk around in South Ken, where the apartments fade off down streets in benign and ceaseless white.

But now, the time has come to collar-on and tighten up some jeans. Cheers!


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