Gosh, it’s been a while. Just over three months! In my defence, it’s been a very busy three months, full of travel, and love, and food, and work, and weddings.

When we last spoke, I had just been to Bristol, and was thinking about going to Bruges. I also had four chickens. I now only have two chickens. We’re not entirely sure what happened to Florence (the ginger one), but we think she probably keeled over in a bush somewhere (she’d been a bit sickly for a while). Maggie (the white one) met her maker at the hands (jaw) of a fox, in the middle of the garden. All that was left was a big pile of very pretty, white feathers.

Poppy and Cleo are both still doing very well, though. They don’t seem to be phased by the frosts we’ve had, which is odd as chickens are originally from the jungles of India/Asia. My mother keeps worrying that they’ll freeze to death overnight, but so far they seem pretty resilient. When the ground was frozen, they quickly found out that the soil was softer underneath our larger trees.

Back in September I alluded to a business idea that I was working on. That’s on the back burner for the time being, probably until spring. I have a lot of other things going on right now, and I’m still thinking about the best thing to do with all the money that I’m accruing. I’d kind of like to buy a yacht and sail around. But satellite internet access is slow and expensive. So that might have to wait for a few more years. Something’s also recently changed on the personal front (in a good way), and I suddenly find myself thinking that it might be wise to save some money — for travelling, and stuff like that. But more on that later.

The big news, I guess, is that I went to North Carolina at the end of September — Asheville, to be exact. I was there for my cousin’s wedding; he was marrying a girl that he met a couple of years ago. She’s lovely. He’s lovely. The wedding, at the Biltmore Estate, was lovely. Along with some of my other cousins, we were the only British people there; the rest were all from the bride’s side. I would link you some photos from the wedding, but it seems the wedding photographer didn’t think I was photogenic enough, or something. Instead, I have this posed shot from the terrace — probably the best view from any terrace ever.

The wedding itself was outside, in a walled garden. The ceremony was nice, but it started quite late, and the sun was behind some clouds, so it was a little chilly. The reception dinner was very nice — on some kind of covered, outside terrace, heated by these enormous patio heaters that were so hot that the pots of butter melted. I suspect the view was pretty spectacular, but it was pitch black by the time we got there — so who knows! I finally got to meet and talk to Neil’s wife, Amanda Palmer, which was nice. The evening ended with around 100 people dancing along to Psy’s Gangnam Style.

Beyond the wedding, I spent most of my time in and around Asheville. I stayed at a lovely hostel in Asheville, called Sweet Peas. It was by far the nicest hostel I’ve ever stayed in (and everyone else said the same thing). I met some very cool people there, including a couple of nice guys from Pittsburgh, and a very pretty girl from Georgia. I ate out for every meal, and I was there for ten days. (Asheville has some really good restaurants — especially vegetarian/vegan ones.)

They say Asheville is like the San Francisco of the east coast — and I agree. It’s very hippy, hipster, alternative, trendy (or whatever the word for ‘cool’ is nowadays). There are buskers everywhere, and live music pours out of almost every venue every night. There are lots of kids there, chasing their artistic dreams — or chasing the next hangover, as the case may be. I spent a lot of time in a tearoom, called Dobra Tea — some kind of east Asia-themed tearoom, with rugs everywhere. You even had to take your shoes off, if you wanted to sit in the quietest/plushest parts of the tearoom. There were over 100 types of tea that you could order, or something like that. I tried most of them.  I also had some very nice vegetarian food — but I have decided that vege burgers really aren’t for me. I tried all sorts (bean, mushroom, soy, and some exotic variety that I don’t remember the name of), but they all sucked. The flavour was OK, but the texture… damn, the texture is simply nothing like meat.

When I wasn’t in Asheville, I was driving my convertible sky-blue Mustang around the Great Smoky Mountains, and up and down the Blue Ridge Parkway. It’s kind of hard to describe how awesome it feels to drive a 400-horsepower convertible around mountain roads, at speed, in the sun, while listening to classic American rock. I drove about 1600 miles in 10 days, and three of those were at the wedding, and a few were spent walking around Asheville — so, maybe 1600 miles in 6 days. It was an amazing experience, and I’ll definitely do it again — in North Carolina, or just somewhere where a convertible makes sense (sadly, English weather and convertibles don’t really go together). I think it’s cool that, almost exactly a year before, I was driving the Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park — which is exactly where you end up, if you just keep driving north along the Blue Ridge Parkway.

This blog post is getting rather long, so I’m going to abbreviate things a bit. In America, I also did the following things: Shot a gun for the first time (terrifying); did a zip-line canopy tour (the autumnal trees looked amazing); white-water rafted down the French Broad (so awesome); played mini-golf in Helen (a very odd town in Georgia where all the buildings are Swiss/Bavarian chalet style); bought a pair of Vibram Five Finger shoes (and liked it).

Life after America

I’ve also done a ton of things since I got back from America (two months ago!), but they’ll have to wait for another blog post I think. I’ll give you a teaser, though: The photo below was taken at an Amanda Palmer gig. And the photo below that is none other than Richard fucking O’Brien — singing Time Warp, no less.

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I should preface this blog post by saying that the main reason for this blog post is to try out my new mechanical keyboard. Most keyboards (your Logitech keyboard, your laptop keyboard) have membrane switches — where a bit of rubber is popped down by each key press. A mechanical keyboard has real switches under each key, resulting in a very different tactile response — and a much louder, clacky sound. I thought about shooting a video, where you could see (and hear) me typing at 150 words per minute, but I thought that might be a little too nerdy.

Anyway, with that out of the way…

I guess the most exciting thing I’ve done in the last month is visit Bristol — the hipster/artist/cool capital of England. Bristol is famous for creating Banksy, the Concorde, and Wallace & Gromit, amongst other things. I went to Bristol to do some research for a business I’m hoping to open in the next few months, to see a friend, and to experience the famous Bristol International Balloon Fiesta. The Fiesta is basically just a big orgy of hot air balloons and hot air balloon nerds — and at night, they do a night glow, where about 20 balloons inflate and then fire their propane burners in musical synchronicity.

Bristol itself is a lovely city. Some very nice buildings, including a huge cathedral. Lots of big, open spaces too — and of course it has a harbour! If it wasn’t for the fact that everyone there is about 5000 times cooler than me, I wouldn’t mind moving to Bristol.

Also, last weekend, I was at a very large LAN party — the largest I’ve been to, actually. There were around 2500 computers, split between two (connected) rooms. I was there for 5 days — and by the end of the LAN on Monday, I was very ready to head home. We played lots of games — and even got kinda half-drunk a couple of times! (A first for that group of friends). We even played poker and smoked cigars. I won the poker.

I’ve got two other trips planned for the next month or two: Belgium first, and then a long trip to North Carolina. In Belgium I’ll be visiting the romantic city of Bruges (at last!), and the trip to the USA is primarily for my cousin’s wedding (Neil’s son)– but I’ll try to make a bit of a holiday out of it, too. I’ve already done mid/east North Carolina before, so I’ll probably do a road trip out west — to Tennessee maybe? (If you have any suggestions for what to see/do in and around NC, please let me know).

Other than that, the chickens are doing well. Three of them keep laying double-yolk eggs. I don’t know if this is a good thing, or just a sign that they’re genetically a bit wonky. Poppy, the rebel that she is, refuses to lay eggs in the coop — and moves her nest every few days. So far we’ve tracked her down four times. The first time I found her nest, this is what she was sitting on:

Also, it seems that all the food/treats we’re giving the chickens is attracting other wildlife to the garden. We’ve easily doubled our number of squirrels, and a couple of ravens have recently moved in. One of the treats we give the chickens is a cooked corn on the cob (ear of corn for you Amurkans, I think). Today I caught a squirrel picking up a cob with its teeth and taking it about 50 feet up a tree before tucking in. I didn’t hang around, though — didn’t want to end up with a terminal velocity cob knocking me out, and then coming to, surrounded by worried-looking chickens.

Judging by that rather delusional comment, I should probably go to bed now…

So, I’ve finally done two things that I’ve been endeavouring to do for the last five years: Visit Ireland, and get some egg-laying chickens. Let’s start with the chickens.

My dad and I have always joked about getting farmyard-type animals. First it was a goat, to ‘mow’ the lawn (you tether it in one location for a few days, it eats all the grass, and then you move the tether). Then it was a pig — a Vietnamese potbellied pig, to be exact — but they get too big, smelly, and unwieldy. Finally, chickens. I mooted the idea a few months ago, when I bought this end of the house, but neither of us did anything about it — and then, two weeks ago, my dad sent me an email with a link to a posh chicken coop… and I bought it. A week later, we went to a local chicken farm to get four chickens.

Meet Maggie, Florence, Poppy, and Currently Not Named:

Maggie (white) is a Coral hybrid, Florence (ginger) is a Colombian Blacktail, Poppy (grey) is a Columbine, and Unknown is a Copper Black (some kind of Maran, I think, a French bird). I’m currently thinking of some kind of politically incorrect name for the Copper Black, like Martin Luther King or Winnie Mandela. Or a black location (like Harlem, Compton, etc.)

Maggie and Florence are currently laying eggs (cream and light brown respectively), but the other two are still too young I think. The eggs are delicious!

For the first week they stayed in the coop/run thing, but this weekend they were allowed to free range for the first time. Judging by the noises they’ve made and the hours they’ve spent rummaging in the mud beneath our big trees, I think they’ve been enjoying themselves. We lost them earlier today — they’d gone half way up the drive and about two meters into the hedge/treeline. Had to go behind them and bang a pan to rustle them out.

Anyway, as I seem to be running the risk of turning into the farmyard equivalent of a mommy blogger, I should probably stop there.

Ireland! (You definitely want to click to see the full-size version of this photo.)

Just like my semi-infatuation with farmyard animals, I’ve always talked about going to Ireland and Scotland, but never actually been. I always thought it was a bit sad that I’ve crawled through ancient caves in Cappadocia, Turkey and hugged giant redwoods in Yosemite, but never seen the Giant’s Causeway or Ben Nevis.

Anyway, I received an offer I couldn’t refuse to visit the south west of Ireland… and so I went! And keenly!

The first two days, we had lovely weather. The second two days, there was so much fog, mist, low cloud, and rain that visibility generally ranged from 20 to 200 meters. But the food was good, the company was excellent, and what we did see was very pretty. Take Fungie, for example — a friendly dolphin who has been a resident of Dingle Bay for almost 35 years. He never leaves. His only friends are the hundreds of tourists who come to see him every day.

With all of the bays and inlets, the west coast of Ireland really reminded me of Norway and the Faroe Islands. I almost could’ve shot these two photos in the Faroes:

On the other hand, this is all we could see of the Cliffs of Moher, a few-mile stretch of cliffs that overlook the Atlantic Ocean and the Aran Islands. The Cliffs of Moher are, like, the number one tourist attraction in Ireland. I felt rather bad for the Asian tourists who had travelled thousands of miles to be greeted with a blanket of fog. At times, the cloud cleared just enough to see the outline of the nearest cliff. Really sucky.

This is what the cliffs look like on a good day:

Other things I did in Ireland, in no particular order: Ate my first mussel (as part of a seafood chowder thing); Received enough inspiration that I may have to update my Best Places To Have Sex guide; Watched the Euro Cup 2012 final from a swanky hotel suite; (Almost) did a doughnut on a beautiful beach; and… I went to a drive-in cinema!

So cool — it seems they’re experiencing some kind of renaissance at the moment, or something. You just drive into this big car park, face towards the screen (some kind of massive white sheet hanging over a scaffold tower), and tune your radio into a specific FM frequency. Voila! It was pretty cheap, and you can bring your own snacks, and obviously you can make out and stuff. It felt very… 1950s America.

The people in Ireland were very friendly. I’d definitely go again (especially to the north, to see the Giant’s Causeway).

As for general travel plans and other real life stuffs, I don’t have anything on the agenda for the rest of the year. I have a cool business plan up my sleeve that might require all of my attention for the next few months. The house is looking cool, but still unfinished. Writing is going well, though I don’t know how long I will find it enjoyable. I love writing — and I love people reading stuff that I write — but out of the 50 hours I work per week, I probably only write for 20 of those.

I think that’s about it for now! I need to go make sure the chickens are all cooped up for the night. There’s more photos on Flickr and Facebook of the chickens and Ireland, if you’re interested.

Wow, has it really been six months? Sorry about that. But I have lots of photos and news and other fun stuff to make up for my tardiness!

First, a house update. Since you last saw it, I’ve done quite a lot. The kitchen is now almost complete. My bedroom… has a nice (art decoish) bed! (But there’s still a lot to do upstairs). My conservatory is empty! I spent about 10 hours this weekend, dusting, scrubbing (with bleach and rubber gloves!), drilling holes, and doing all sorts of various man-about-the-house type tasks — I hope it shows in the photos (for more photos, hit up Flickr).

But most importantly, my new table arrived! Basically, I don’t fit under normal-sized desks. For the last 15 years or so, I’ve worked from a big slab of wood nailed between two wardrobes. I’ve always wanted a proper table, though — something solid, something that will outlive me and become an heirloom/antique. So… I approached an oak master craftsman and asked him to make me a 7-foot-long monastery-style table. The base is made from few-centuries-old reclaimed French oak, recovered from a chateau that was about to be knocked down. The top is “cat’s paw” (pippy) oak — I don’t think it’s reclaimed, though. The top is made from just three planks! (This doubles the price, or something stupid). It’s finished with some light oil, and bee’s wax — no varnish.

Everyone who sees the table seems compelled to just stop, stare, and… stroke. It feels so good. If you’re in the area, you’re cordially invited to come and stroke it.

I have some new art, too — a huge, 1.5×1.2m painting of the Isle of Wight. It’s on my bedroom wall — a lovely vista to wake up to.

The house is no where near finished, though! (I am fast learning that home improvements are never finished. Even when you think you’re done… you’re never done.) Next up is some painting — finishing the kitchen, and repainting the bulk of the house from oatmeal to white — and then reflooring the living area, probably with some nice light wood (maple, I think). It’s some fairly crappy laminate at the moment. Then I might carpet the conservatory… and I probably need to recarpet upstairs…

In other news, I was promoted! I’m now a Senior Editor — and as I recently turned 28, some would say the emphasis is on senior, but I insist it should be on editor. I don’t have much else to report on the work front. I’ve written/broken a few stories that have made it to national US press and TV, which was pretty cool. It sometimes feels like the job is a bit repetitive, but maybe that’s just the fact that this is my first full-time job. I don’t know if I can do this for 40 years, that’s for sure. At least I have more money than I know what to do with… yay. (I have been thinking about buying a boat…)

I miss travelling, too. When I freelanced, I could go anywhere I wanted, for as long as I wanted. Now… I can’t. I have thought about some kind of crazy scheme, where I rent a house in some weird location (like Thailand) for three months, then go and work from there. Need to actually get the wheels in motion, though.

While we’re on that topic of travel, though, I was in Gran Canaria a couple of weeks ago! And at the end of the month I’m going to Ireland! I actually took some photos in Gran Canaria — the first photos I’ve taken since America, basically. Six months without taking photos. Oops. I think I lost my mojo — maybe that’s the full-time job’s doing…

I’ve been thinking about politics again. Thinking it might be time to start poking around. Just a few fleeting ideas at the moment — nothing concrete. There are definitely a few angles I could take that would lead smoothly into politics, though. Will keep you updated on this one.

Still a bit lonely, too — not as bad as when I was in the US, but I’m still acutely aware of the fact that I’m alone for something like 95% of my waking hours. Again, I’m sure the full-time telecommuted job doesn’t help in this regard. People who work in offices have friendship and companionship made easy!

I think that’s everything. I’m hosting a LAN party next weekend — a bunch of guildmates are descending on my house from all over Europe. This will be the first time I’ve had lots of people over, so I’m a little excited and a lot scared. I have to go and order lots of extra teabags, milk, and toilet rolls — and lots of paper plates and plastic cutlery. Instead of a housewarming, I guess I’m having a LANwarming. Very fitting, for the king of geeks.

I have been alluding to this for a while, but a while ago — before I moved to the US for a few months — I bought a house. The arrangement is fairly complex, but basically I bought part of the estate from my dad. In the picture below, the right hand side is mine. There are also some grassy bits out of frame that are ostensibly mine (I’m thinking about keeping chickens in my garden; what’cha reckon?)

I used to live in the top left corner. My parents are there now. In essence, the main thing I’ve gained is my own front door — and, as a rather nice corollary, the ability to walk around naked.

Anyway, my new house is completely unfurnished. It doesn’t even have a kitchen. All I have is a couple of pink bean bags, a fridge (but no where to prepare food, so it just contains case after case of Coke at the moment), and my computers. Over the next few weeks… it will become furnished!

At this point, you should look at my House set on Flickr. It has a bunch of photos of my house, as it is today. Click through (or open it in a new tab!) then come back here.

The tiler is meant to turn up tomorrow, to do the kitchen floor — but, of course, he’s not returning my calls at the moment. On Tuesday, my kitchen units arrive — and my bed (I’m sleeping on some shitty, dilapidated double mattress at the moment — reeeeally looking forward to my new king-size thing). I’m going to put the units together myself. Figure it can’t be too hard. (Will get some help for all the plumbing and stuff.)

Sofas are due to arrive in a couple of weeks. One is a lovely dark blue (azure) Italian leather thing; the other is a huge swivel arm chair thing, big enough for a couple of people (wink). I already have a fridge, as you can see (it’s moving, once the tiles are down!)

Then I need to buy a worktop for my kitchen (leaning towards walnut at the moment), and then another piece of wood that will become my desk (I don’t fit under normal desks, and they’re generally not designed for the number of screens I have). The desk will go against the wall on the right side of the living room (where the fridge is at the moment).

My bed will be in the big upstairs room. Not sure what will happen to the smaller upstairs room; probably just storage, or a guest room. Or maybe that’s where I can keep my maid.

I don’t really know what to do with the conservatory. It’s beautiful, but not very good for computer work. I could just turn it into some more living space, but I don’t think I’d use it. Might be worth doing up in case I rent the house out, though.

The colour scheme is: light wood (as you see in the windows, staircase, living room floor), dark wood (walnut worktop), and slate/blue (kitchen floor, sofa).

I was going to write all about the Joy Of DIY, and how tearing out fitted wardrobes made me feel Incredibly Manly, but I think I’ll save that for another post.

I still need to buy a ton of stuff: appliances (oven, washing machine), a TV, tables and other assorted furniture, and just about everything that will make the place “homely.” Rugs, plates to hang on the wall, art for the walls — I need it all! I’m open to ideas and suggestions, if you have any.

This site will probably turn into a bit of a decorating/DIY thing for a while. To make amends, I will invite you to my house warming party. I have a swimming pool.

I started writing this post on December 8, almost one month ago. I meant to finish it while flying home, but… that didn’t happen. I then meant to finish it after I got home… but that didn’t happen. But now, by Jove, I am finishing it!

I’m writing this from the departure lounge of Newark Liberty Airport, but I suspect I won’t finish it until I’m in the air, winging my way towards London, England — my home!

I know that I promised the Three Thanksgiving Dinners story in the previous entry, but I was waiting on some photos of me and my long-lost, ruggedly Russian cousin Dmitry, who I had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner with — well, him, his wife, his kids, and a full bevy of septua- and octogenarian parents and in-laws. I have those photos now — and, despite the facial hair, you can see there’s no real physical real similarity between us — but mentally, oh! Why, Dmitry and I could almost be cut from the same gnarled stock.

Anyway, enough about him. I doubt he’d want me to tell you all of his dark secrets — especially the geeky ones. I should tell the story about how I very nearly ended up attending a Thanksgiving dinner for the friendless, familyless, and destitute at the local St Paul’s church — but ended up having a very heartwarming, Hollywoodesque day.

It all started with a tweet, with a tweet to my cousin Neil. This was two days before Thanksgiving — I tweeted him with the hope that he might be doing something festive up in Wisconsin, but it turned out that he was going to Amsterdam. Darn. But… it also turns out that Neil has done a fair bit of rooting around our family tree — and it just so turns out that a lot of my Russian-Jewish relatives ended up in New York or New Jersey. So, a day before Thanksgiving, just as he boarded a 10-hour flight to Amsterdam, he gave me Dmitry’s email address.

By this time I had also advertised on Twitter and Facebook that if fortuitous fate didn’t get a move on I would end up spending Turkey Day with a bunch of hobos who probably wouldn’t leave me any turkey.

First my boss told me that I should stop by his parents’ place — and then, a couple of hours later, one of my writers also told me that I should come for Thanksgiving lunch. I am always surprised by how many people call me friend. An hour or two after that, after he had confirmed my identity with Neil, Dmitry emailed me back to say that I would be more than welcome at his house — as long as I brought a bottle of vodka.

I plotted all three houses on Google, and they were almost lined up in a straight line away from my house — and all within New Jersey! What were the chances? I headed over to see my friends at Enterprise car rentals, picked up an SUV (a fancy, heated-leather-seats Ford Escape), stopped by the off-license to pick up lots of vodka and wine… went to bed… and then in the morning I set off to visit the first victims: my boss and his family… and his chickens.

<Insert one-month gap, while I change countries, move houses, buy furniture, and all sorts of other real life crap>

His parents live in a huge house, quite far off the beaten path — quite similar to where I live in England, I guess. It’s a big, red, hunting lodge-style thing, with lots of grass and trees all around it. His family is Sicilian, and they all have Godfatherly names like Salvatore, Giuseppi, and Annamaria. They congratulated me on my choice of gift-wine (a fairly expensive chianti) and, as chance would have it, fava beans were on offer for lunch.

After slurping down a few glasses of delicious red wine, I hopped in the SUV and headed along to the next port of call, a nice house in a neighbourhood of beautiful-but-slightly-too-ostentatious palatial abodes. If the previous household was decidedly Italian, this house was ALL AMERICAN. There were about 15 people in total, but 10 of them were busy watching Football (it is capitalized in the US, like Him). I don’t like Football, so I spent an hour or two chatting to my writer, his wife, and the occasional offspring that would emerge from the Football Temple to grab a beer/snack/etc. I had raw broccoli for the first time (dipped in some kind of sour cream-chive dressing).

I chugged down a few more glasses of wine (I had got them a bottle of “Coppola” — Francis Coppola, the director, actually makes wine now), I recalibrated my GPS thingee and headed off to Dmitry’s.

Dmitry is a small Russian man with a small Russian wife (OK, she’s not actually that small but she is called Olga). They have two kids, and a full brace of parents and in-laws (all of which were present for dinner). At the time, we figured we were incredibly distant relatives that had been slapped together by the thighs of Fate (or Neil), just for Thanksgiving — but later, after I left, we worked out that we’re actually quite closely related (third cousins, or something). Anyway, dinner was lovely (three courses of delicious Russian food, with a turkey thrown in for good measure), and Dmitry was pretty cool, too. It was a little bit odd; most of dinner consisted of me talking to Dmitry, with occasional bursts of Russian translation to the oldies. I spoke in a mix of fluent English, and self-conscious slow-and-loud expatriate pidgin English (not intentionally, mind you).

Like Neil and I, Dmitry’s a writer — but fiction, rather than the journalisticky stuff that I write. Somehow he writes English prose that makes my head spin and lips curl, even though Russian is his first language. I wonder if he actually has a solid command of all the crazy words he uses, or if he is constantly riffling through dictionaries and thesauri to find the right words. His wife, Olga, designs lingerie (for fairly fancy label, I think). The parents and in-laws came to the US 20 years ago, to be in the same country as their kids, but I don’t think I was told what they do/did for a living.

After a couple of amazing deserts (and only a tiny sip of moonshine; drinking and driving isn’t for me (but he could’ve at least offered me a glass of the vodka I brought him. Damn Jews…)) it was finally time to head out. The entire household watched me tie my bootlaces — a funny mental image that sticks out amongst the rest.

I drove home, full of familial, amicable love, and the warm glow that only moonshine and delicious food can instill. Three Thanksgivings, in one day!

* * *

In hindsight, I really should’ve written this closer to the time — way back in frickin’ November! — as I’ve forgotten lots of details since then. I’ll likely remember stuff if you ask me questions, though, so feel free to quiz me. Also, the photos in this post come from my Upstate New York road trip. The next post will have to be about that! I drove 1,500 miles in four days and visited seven states! If you want to get a head start, you can always check Flickr for (some of) the photos.

Happy new year, friends.

It’s a long weekend here in America, thanks to Thanksgiving — but as I don’t have any friends or family to spend it with, I’m just lounging around, sunbathing, reading some Philip K. Dick, tidying the house, that kind of stuff. In earnest, I’m a bit bored, and a bit lonely too. I wouldn’t say that things haven’t gone to plan, but… well, it turns out that I’m not very good at making friends. Or, well, at least when those people are my age. Younger or older still seems to be no problem at all — but my age… I can only assume that I need more practice.

Anyway, despite all that stuff about being bored and lonely, I’ve done a lot in the last month — and next week I’m doing a four-day road trip of Upstate New York! To Lake Placid… and beyond! It’s staying resolutely warm here on the coast — it was t-shirt weather today — but hopefully there’ll be some snow, ice, and clouds up there.

Last week I went to see the Garden State Philharmonic perform Mahler’s Symphony No. 1. It was surprisingly good. I sat next to two college freshwomen who had been forced to attend, for some music appreciation class they were taking (damn liberal arts students, huh!) I told them enough about the symphony that they no doubt got full marks for their essays. I hoped to be invited back to some crazy, teenage sorority party, but alas… no dice.

I talked to the conductor afterwards and geeked out — he’s a huge Mahler fan as well (this was his first Mahler symphony, so it was a big deal for him).

The week before that I headed down to Washington DC, to pick up a girl, and then head down into Virginia via the Shenandoah National Park. It really was beautiful up there. We had a ball. Then, as we crossed Virginia to the Chesapeake Bay, things went south (well, geographically east, but south in a metaphorical sense — and not in the good, euphemistic sense). I’m still not entirely sure what happened. It was a cold and chilly drive back to DC, anyhoo.

The week before that… hmm… I’m not sure. That might’ve been Halloween weekend? In which case, it was fairly crazy, and a reminder of what university life was like. If you follow me on Flickr, you probably saw a few photos from one of the parties I was at. Oh! I just remembered — I saw Sweeney Todd at the Paramount Theatre! It was put on by the Premier Theatre Company, which is semi-amateur, semi-pro. Sweeney himself was fantastic. Everyone else was pretty good. Not While I’m Around and Pretty Women (hot gay guy alert) get me every damn time.

Except some drunken nights of debauchery, talking to my cadre of Old Wise Men on the Wisdom Bench, eating lots of cake, and discussing LSD trips with the ex-Special Forces, Vietnam veteran downstairs… I think that’s about it for the last few weeks. I’ve been working hard. Made a few nice meals. Enjoying living on my own, but it ain’t easy, that’s for sure.

Damn, I just realized that I actually started this blog post to tell you about my Thanksgiving adventure — and I’ve written nothing about it… and I need to go to bed. I will tell you all about Thanksgiving tomorrow. Unless I magically develop a social life, in which case it might have to wait a few more days. Oh, I was at Occupy Wall Street, too! Damn, I have lots more stories to tell.

I had originally intended for this to be some epic catch-up post that chronicled the last two weeks of blog silence. A lot has happened, after all, including a run-in with Our Lord Himself. Unfortunately I’ve been going through photos of zombies and I haven’t left myself enough time to write much. I go to bed around 10pm nowadays. I usually wake up to the light of dawn lancing into my eyes. It’s nice, but I wish my landlady would hurry up and get me some blackout curtains…

Anyway, today I went to the Asbury Park Deliverance Center, a Pentecostal black church. Me and my friend Becky (a nice lady who lives downstairs) were the only two white faces there — and my face hovered about a foot above everyone else’s. Still, this isn’t some story about not fitting in or being kindly asked to leave — far from it! For four hours, I sat through a bible study (some Song of Solomon thing, about a virgin’s gushing fountain), and then three hours of prayer and singing and praising Jesus. I hopped from foot to foot and by God I bashed my tambourine with strength I didn’t know I had. Maybe I was fuelled by Him.

Yesterday I lumbered, dragged, grunted, and hung out with a horde of zombies at the New Jersey Zombie Walk. I have no idea how many zombies there were, but probably a couple of thousand. There were a lot of observers, too, like me. At least a couple of camera teams making documentaries. Seems zombies (along with vampires…) aren’t quite ready to leave the global consciousness just yet.

I took some fun photos. As usual, I think I was the only photographer there without a flashgun — and there were a lot of photographers. My photos came out much better than I expected. I’ve uploaded a few to Flickr, but I have a lot more to go (including the best ones!) This marked the first time that I’ve actually gone… into the field… and taken photos of people. It was awfully hard to tap the first zombie on the shoulder and ask if I could take their photo, but after that it was a lot easier — so… hooray! I lost my street photography cherry.

It definitely helped that they were dressed up as zombies… (and by the end I was just grunting loudly, pointing, and saying “braaaaains!”, and somehow they understood that as an order to stand still and have their photo taken…)

Ahhh, I went on a road trip last weekend, too! To Cape May! And Sandy Hook! I gazed at Manhattan and some bridge from across the Hudson River. I took a few photos, but I don’t think they’re very good. I also went up a lighthouse at Fort Hancock, but I tell you that purely because I’m proud that I climbed 100 steps without stopping. Go me. This road trip involved renting a car, incidentally — the first car I’ve ever rented, and the first time I’ve ever driven in the US. It was surprisingly easy and a lot of fun. I posted a photo of the car on Facebook, but if you missed it, here it is. It’s a Dodge Grand Caravan — a tank compared to my tiny Mazda 3 in the UK.

That’s all I’ve got time for. Lots more stories to tell, which I will no doubt forget to tell you about… just like when I went to Norway and Montenegro last year and said almost nothing about either. One day I’ll fill in all the blanks, I promise.