This Nonsense Has Got To Stop

P.S. I've been off all week, thinking yesterday was friday. Loretta's coming TONIGHT. and I'm still going to try and get her to see HAIR tomorrow night.

"Hair" Stage Manager- Nancy Harrington

Nancy Harrington saw the original Broadway production of “Hair” with her high school boyfriend from front-row seats, which makes it thrilling to be working on the new production, she said, adding, “I grew up listening to ‘Hair.’ ”

As the show’s production stage manager she supervises the stage managers, sound operators, wardrobe personnel and other technical staff as well as the large cast. The job involves seeing to a slew of details every day, and on some days it might even require facing the audience.

“One evening Gavin came off stage, and he wasn’t feeling well,” she said of the actor Gavin Creel, who was nominated for a Tony as Claude. “At intermission I determined that he couldn’t go on for the second act, so I went out and told the audience that this wasn’t happening, and that we were going to have someone else joining the tribe and playing Claude for the second act.” Part of her job is to keep the understudies rehearsed and ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Such tasks are common for production stage managers, but “Hair” presents some show-specific challenges, since the performers spend a fair amount of time in the audience, mussing audience members’ hair or standing on their seats. “There are technical things you have to be sure of,” Ms. Harrington said, “that the seats are fastened down, the handles are fastened down.”

Production stage managers can become stern taskmasters, but Ms. Harrington is loath to create a lot of rules, she said, especially in a show about breaking them. “To be able to keep everybody in that hippie spirit, you need to be sort of loose and open,” she said.

She was struck by “Hair” decades ago and has found this revival equally revolutionary in its way. “The director, the musical director, the choreographer, all of the assistants and all of the stage managers are female,” she said. “It’s just terrific to see that because it never happens.”

source

We're closing in on casting. The first rehearsal is on Saturday from 10-1, although I also have to show up tomorrow from 10:15- 12. It's amazing how rehearsal can go from 0 to 60 in just a week, though. After Loretta leaves, we star the 8 hour rehearsal blocks.

Oh and she doesn't know it yet, (or maybe she will...Hey, Lo! If you're reading this). I'm dragging her to see Hair. This is a) Because every theatre person I've talked to has said that I have to take her, since she's from the Bay Area and this is the original Broadway Revival Cast (oxymoron, much?) and b)I have no one else to go with, and seeing Hair all by my lonesome is like going to a comedy film. It's fine, but not nearly as much fun.

So I'm going to say that I'll pay for her ticket if we go. That's how badly I want her to go with me.

I've got some new ideas for writing, so I'm hanging up the sinking ship of a plot, and I'm turning back to my play. Here's hoping it goes allright.

oh and they're filming right outside my window. Too bad the weather is disgusting.

That's the best I've got.

Callbacks were last night. I got to the theatre at 4 and it was dead silent. I thought "Oh, well. This will be boring like the other day."
I was wrong. So incredibly wrong. Another SM turned AD was there and as soon as I walked in was all "you can't wear shoes."
... I can't wear shoes? Turns out, they had just repainted the floor, so I wasn't allowed to wear shoes until the very first person arrived. Considering I was bounding about in Valentine's Day striped socks, it made the rest of my black on black ensemble a bit more lively.
Grabbed my shoes when the first person arrived and slipped them on and by the time I looked up, there were about 20 people just chilling there in front of me.

Good thing I had made those extra copies of the schedule. And good thing I had already printed out a sign in sheet. Not a good thing that nobody told me there would be two other auditions happening, so that I ended up the only stage manager directing about 50 people in a small hallway. Considering most of them are actors either auditioning for or in the company, they knew each other, so I had to stand on the middle staircase and stare down at them to get their attention.

So those first 45 minutes were hell, but then I figured out a system and was able to make it proceed relatively smoothly. That is, until we fell behind schedule (callbacks ALWAYS fall behind, it's inherent to the system) and I found out that there was to be a Reading directly following. With 4 people still to be seen, we ushered them back into the dressing room and had their auditions in rapidfire succession of one another. Meanwhile people are starting to enter for the Reading, I'm trying to get people's conflicts (and 4 people leave without contacting with me, so who knows what's up with them).

And then, we finish. And the Reading starts. So we sat in the hallway and drank the wine that was left over from the mingling the actors/writer/audience did prior to the show.

The Stage Manager said I was remarkably on top of it all, and that I have the makings of a good Stage Manager. That was promising. I also admitted that before every rehearsal or audition that I'm involved with, I have a panic attack or feel amazingly nervous. It usually wanes a bit halfway through the rehearsal process, then picks up again when the show starts to come together. She told me that's normal, most directors, except for the narcissistic asses feel that way, but it's what gets you to prepare emotionally and physically for the process.

I think it was a good choice to work this as my first show. Hopefully, it will run smoothly, and I'll meet people. But if not, at least it's another thing to add to my resume and contact book.

And now, I'm going to get some coffee, go and write, then hopefully see the 8 pm showing of Hair tonight!

Reasons I love theatre

1. Calling rehearsal before ten is tantamount to Chinese Water Torture.

2. Every day is Casual Friday.

You may or may not have noticed, but I changed my blog name to Elitist Hippies.

http://elitisthippies.blogspot.com/

It may not have anything to do with theatre, but it's probably the most appropriate description of me.

But sometimes, when I'm bored and it's late out, I sit around and wonder "wouldn't an elitist hippie just be a hipster?"


P.S. I miss my Hayley bird

I need to send emails, contact my director, and do another dozen or so things that could potentially help me in some way or another.


Or I can continue sitting here at 2 pm on a saturday, watching the best of We Love the 70's and drinking lukewarm coffee.

And outside, some guy has re-wired his horn to whistle whenever he honks. And he will.not.stop.

P.S. I cannot wait until the episode of Being Human tomorrow.




I need to make friends.

On the way back to find out which show I would be working on (the answer is, I will be an unpaid stage manager for Midsummer Night's Dream, thank you very much), I ran into a cast member for Hair. The theatre I'm working at is right down the street from the Hirschfield theatre, where Hair is being performed. I still haven't seen it by the way.

On the way back, about 20 minutes ago, I'm relatively certain that I walked passed Gavin Creel, hidden under a black jacket and a beanie.

Long story short. I want to work there.
Yeah, I know, patience: good things come to those who wait. But I want it now. I am the Veruca fucking Salt of theatre and I don't want to wait. If I get this next internship for the summer, it's the last internship I'll ever be taking. I just want to be mediocre in what I love, and make slightly enough money to survive.

I understand this means eventually getting a PhD and being a teacher.
I'm allright with that.

And walking back, it was really lonely knowing that I would be spending the rest of the night sitting at my computer. But I guess I'll just get back to writing. I want so badly to jump into the fray, to immediately work on a big name show, even though that's impossible.

Hello, Union, my name is Katie. I haven't been invited to this little shindig, but I'd love to gate crash.

I wonder where I'll be in 5 years. That means I'll be 28, almost 29, and I can't stomach the idea of still being... this.


Hey Alan Ball, hey Toby Whithouse, teach me your ways! Make me wonderful and fabulous.
And why are all my idols, men? One of whom doesn't even live in the same country as me?
This does not bode well.

That said, there's a really nice fella named Michael and the place where I work. and My director seems pretty cool. I'm going to sit in for callbacks on Monday. And I have to call my friend and let her know that my schedule's completely shot to shit.

And now, food. All I've eaten today is half a granola bar and a cup of coffee. At least film and television get food provided.

It's 3:47 pm, do you know where your children are?

If you're my mother, you'd say "probably doing something to screw up her life fifty years down the line."

And she'd probably be right.

Second interview and it went decently, and I have to return to the 45th street theater at 5 to find out who I'm working with.

But the other interview, the one with the Public for the Summer Production Assistant internship with Shakespeare in the Park, that one went moderately okay. She kept asking me why I want to have an internship, and I have the sneaking suspicion that even if I get it (which I won't find out until mid-March) I will be the oldest one there.

Maybe I'm cranky and today is one of those days. One of those days where I can't for the life of me figure out why I didn't just suck it up and go to grad school 2 years ago for International Relations and Conflict Management. Why didn't I? What's wrong with me? I wanted to be in the arts, good job, Kate. Here's a cookie and a pat on the back because someone dropped you on your head and some point during your childhood.

It's just that I don't have connections, I don't have the experience, I don't have... well, anything. I think, maybe I should go to Los Angeles and see if I can get a Production Assistant job. I have no experience there either, except all the asm and tech work I've done. And Hell, it's 80 degrees down there, while it's 30 here.

I haven't even been here a month, so it's not like I have any idea what is even going on.
But what am I going to do if it doesn't pan out? Am I going to ultimately be a 30 year old attempting to get an intern position. I have no other skills. Say it with me now,
I am completely lacking in skills.

Good grief, sometimes you wake up and feel like the biggest failure in the world.

I've also gotten hooked on
http://anonymousassistant.wordpress.com
this site.

Man, I don't even know anymore. It would be nice to know at least one person here. Just. One.

Maybe more later.

First day of "work" tomorrow, and here's hoping I don't muck everything up too much.
I think I'm just learning the layout, getting to meet everyone, etc, but who knows. I'm supposed to be there from 10-4 (I think...basically just until someone says "Katie, go away"), but I have to leave between 1:40 and ~3 for an interview with The Public Theater for an internship with Shakespeare in the Park.

Anxiety!

Will update tomorrow with hopefully good news.

laters

P.S. If anyone ever asks what my favorite part of a show is, I'd say the rehearsal process. Because then you get things like this:

I have a theory, it could be...

10 points if you know what I'm referencing.

Anway, just popping in to make two points.

1. I supposedly have the assistant stage management gig. Hopefully. They want me to come in on friday, and I'm waiting to hear back from them because of my inability to move another appointment that I have at 2 pm. So hopefully that doesn't shoot everything to hell.
But anyway, its to be the assistant stage manager for a director from Germany who's doing Midsummer. Hopefully there are attractive men on (or off) set, I mean...
That definitely shouldn't be something that I fixate on.
So cross your fingers and toes, and hope for the best!

2. You may or may not have heard...read... about how I'm trying to write a book. I've written plays just fine, short stories have gone swimmingly. But this novel thing, yeesh. The problems mostly lie in the fact that I hate description and imagine anything and everything as a film or play, which means emphasis on dialogue and narration, and an inability to stomach things like character description or just how grey the sky is on a Tuesday morning.
I have my ideas, I have an arch that goes for more than one "book," but I just can't get it written down.

So my first thought was, "Hey, Katie, why not just say damn it to hell and write the thing as a screenplay. You can always turn it back into a book later. And you love dialogue." Okay, great. One problem solved.

Second thought, "Yo, you need more people, especially since you have this ridiculous love of knocking off characters midway through the story. I get it, they're plot vehicles. You also have the nasty habit of letting the good guys die, and letting the antagonists remain amoral assholes. So more people, please." Fixed that problem as well. Now, I've got a whole 'nother band who appears every so often. Minor characters in the first book (or part, or whatever it is you want to call it), several of whom become bigger in the third part.

Now the third thought, and the one that I've been wrestling with all day. If I am to write this more as a screenplay, than I need to make the actual locations logical and grounded. I need the visuals just in terms of my own writing abilities. Not to mention, as a reader, I love to be able go "Okay, yeah, I'm with you on that, I know where that is" when reading a book or watching a film. Examples being Children of Men (London), Being Human (Bristol), True Blood (Louisiana, ignore the fact that 2/3 of it is filmed in that other LA... Los Angeles).

I love that connection, because it means less work for the writer, less work for the reader, and a fully fleshed out idea of the setting. In the earliest incarnation of my concept, I had it set 60 years in the future in London, but that just didn't jive. So I set it in a limbo world, present day, that looks like every major city and none of them at the same time. I loved that idea, really I did. For awhile. Due to my own lack of experience, stubborness, and let's face it, laziness, it got old.

So in the rapid fire brainstorming that I've been doing for the past week (and I've had a lot of time to do that, what with being in New York and having no friends or job to speak of), I started to think about what I love about those shows and films that incorporate the "set in a city near you" sort of mentality.

And I just figured out the answer. And of course it lay right there, with my Twilight Zone dvds. I love reading a book and thinking at first "Oh Hey, that's New York/San Francisco/wherever," but then realizing that something is amiss. And we all know that The Twilight Zone is the Godfather of that mentality. Thinking about that, brought to mind one show that I saw in London. In order to get the show we had to go way out into the dockyards, these monumental industrial revolution era slums that now lie completely empty and barren across the Thames (except when a theatre company rents one out for a showing of Faust, that is). It's bizarre because you can see how busy everything is, just across the river, but right there is as empty as the day is long. Walking around is beyond bizarre because it feels like you're in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. And that emptiness is crushing and scary as hell.

Long story short, I combined that vision of London, the juxtaposition with the cramped and thriving living quarters all throughout the city with this empty shell, and the Twilight Zone one-two punch and thought "why not set it IN London. But not just London, but an inverted city. The bustling sections that we know and love are empty, the controlled area where few live, and the empty sections that no one ever goes to are over crowded with undesirables."

Yes, this isn't a particularly novel concept, but hell, it sure does ground a story.
And since I already read/write/see things as though it's already a film, I'd know exactly what locations I am talking about.

I guess it always comes back to London for me.




Ignore the switch in verb tense and my inability to spell. I could care, or I could go and re-plot, re-set, and re-watch ep2 of Being Human.

And now for a break from your normally scheduled programming

MITCHELL: You want to watch The Real Hustle?
GEORGE: Oh, I’d really like that…

(Mitchell gets up and turns the TV on)

MITCHELL: (about The Real Hustle) It’s not on.
GEORGE: Yeah, it is. It’s on at 10:30.
MITCHELL: No, they’ve moved it.
GEORGE: They’ve mov- No, you’re kidding me?
MITCHELL: Oh, I don’t believe it!
GEORGE: No, I was looking forward to that.
MITCHELL: 10:30, Thursday! That’s Real Hustle time. A fucking child knows that!
GEORGE: Can I not just have one good thing in my life?
MITCHELL: It just drives me insane when they move stuff around!!
GEORGE: I saw a preview. They were going to do a con about cashpoints..
MITCHELL: Really?

(George nods and starts to cry)

MITCHELL: I would have loved that..(shouting at the tv) YOU BASTARDS!! (he throws the control remote away) ARGH!!

(George keeps weeping)


MITCHELL: I’m doing the washing-up!! Is everyone happy now?! FUCK!!


I totally understand that feeling. And now, I'm off to write.

I just had my first interview in New York! It's for the Michael Chekov Theater Company at the 45th Street theater. They're a small off off broadway theater, and I'm up for an asm/sm position for A Midsummer Night's Dream and Love's Labours Lost.

I was panicking this morning. I wasn't sure if I had the right location for the interview, and was prepared to wander about in circles. It didn't help that it's snow/rain and slushy and icy as hell. This was also my first time taking the subway all by my lonesome.

But no fear, I took a xanax, put on some music and headed out on my merry way (almost sliding right off the sidewalk in the process). I got there a bit early, which was good because I of course got lost. That is until I realized that Hair is playing right down the street from their theatre.

So I made my way upstairs, where the Artistic Director and another Director were working on casting for Midsummer. The girl came in and we went on back and began the interview. It was only supposed to be 10 minutes and lo and behold, 45 minutes later she ran out to get the Artistic Director to come and meet with me.

Turns out, he's from the Bay Area as well. In fact, he dated the Saratoga High School principal's daughter back in the sixties. We chatted and he said that I was "very Northern California" and I said that I took that as a compliment.

Then I waltzed out of that place, on a high and hoping that I got the internship (it's only an internship because they can't pay and realized that they desperately need an ASM or a stage manager).

So here's hoping! I have another interview for the Summer Shakespeare festival, that I would die to get. Actually, I would die to get both of these internships. But who knows!

I'm incredibly late on this, considering they're already onto season 2 and all, but Being Human has got to be one of the best tv series out there.



It's a BBC show, though (unfortunately) SyFy has the rights to make an American version because God forbid they just play the original version.
Let's just say that it starts as a joke. And by a joke, I mean: A vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost get a house in Bristol. They become roommates. Hijinks ensue.

It's the perfect balance of comedy, drama, supernatural. It's what made Six Feet Under and the early seasons of Buffy so damn good.




And now I'm going to get back to watching the second season...

You've only been here a week, your argument is invalid.

It's frustrating. Wavering between being mildly okay living here and wanting to buy a ticket and get the hell out of here as fast as humanly possible. This morning, I was okay. Now, now I'm sitting on the couch of my illegally subletted (is that even a word?) apartment watching Bones and wondering what the fuck I got myself in to.

I marathonned 2 seasons of The Secret Diary of a Call Girl, and haven't even mustered up the energy to leave the apartment. I feel utterly pointless and wasteful. I couldn't even bring myself to write. I'm so exhausted every single moment of the day, but I don't sleep. And when I do sleep it's because of sleeping pills.

I'm nervous about my interview on tuesday, but at least then I'd be doing something. I just feel so aimless.
I really need to get back to writing.

This pointless sob story of an entry brought to you by a saturday night in New York City, and a girl with no friends.

I seriously thing my inner monologue is a (more?) depressed Woody Allen.

I've applied to 9 jobs and internships this week, and have heard back from 5. Out of those four, two of them had said that they're not checking resumes (yet) because they are for their summer programs. Two others have said that they will check my resume and cover letter at some point in time and possibly get back to me. And one, one responded and asked to meet with me on Tuesday at 3 pm for an assistant stage management internship (it's unpaid so they call it an internship).


That's right, I have my first interview on Tuesday.
At 3 pm.
With the Michael Chekov Theater Company.
Excuse me while I freak out.

After all this went down, I went out to Brooklyn with my roommates to a place called Bar 4.


(Not my pictures, obviously. I barely had time to get ready, let alone contemplate taking pictures while there)

There was an open mic night going on, with three different bands/singers. The first two, amazing. One was a folksy joni mitchell mixed with Corrine Bailey Ray, and the other was like a female Possessed by Paul James. And then came the third group. It was like hipster rejects had descended upon the bar and it was not good. The lead singer was wearing a micromini red dress, with white knee-high socks with lace and brown character shoes. I mean... WHAT? Evidently, that's the look for hipster bands, and all I can say is no thank you. I get that you're trying to be that chick from gossip girl, who has a band and tries to look like Debbie Harry, but it's not working out. It didn't help (or maybe it did help) the fact that the bass and drums were so loud and the chick's mic was so weak that we could barely hear her. She looked like she was midway between freaking out at everyone and screaming, or breaking glasses over people's heads.

So we left half way through the set, and I accidentally left my scarf on the seat. Of course, I could have gone back to get it, but after ditching a set that would have been slightly awkward. And by slightly, I mean, this lead singer chick was sassing all the patrons. And not in a good way.

Subway back, got back at 1, when I finally ate dinner (and lunch). Finally, New York Pizza!
Oh good God, it was the best pizza i've had in ages.
Back to the room and we all talked for about 2 more hours. Talked about all the clubs and bars we want to go to, talked about illegal subletting, talked about where we'll be in 5 or 10 years, talked about going to see The Wolf Man and getting frozen yogurt tomorrow.

You know, good stuff.

I may not know if I'm going to be in this city a year or even six months from now, but at least my roommates are good people.

Thoughts on the The Real Housewives of Orange County

Why are these women in my city, why are they destroying everything I hold dear.
And why are they so incredibly tacky.

Breanna, Vicki's daughter, is the only reasonable person on the entire show. Well, her and Don.

I made the mistake of making a photograph of my dog my desktop.
I made another mistake at listening to the Last 5 Years.



I've applied to 4 jobs and 2 internships so far. I'm going to try and get 4 more internships and 6 more jobs before sunday. I need to do even more, but the stress of turning them in just makes me postpone them more. That in turn makes me feel lazy and wasteful, every day I haven't done something is just another day that I haven't taken advantage of being here.



It's lonely applying to all this stuff. I wish I had it already, or had some friends, or something to make the transition easier. The snowstorm didn't help. Today was my first time out in two days, and it was muddy and disgusting and it just made me miss home.

Things will be better tomorrow.
Though it's going to be the exact same as today.
I need to get back to writing. Maybe if I can be productive in the morning, I can go to the coffee shop down the street in the afternoon.
And people keep saying I'm brave, but I don't feel particularly brave. I don't know how brave it is to feel so desperately homesick that you feel like you're walking around half empty. If I'm brave, then why the hell does it take all my energy just to send a cover letter. I'm so far behind on everything.

Anyway, enough rambling. My room (now decorated)

larger size




And now I shall go and watch Secret Diary of a Call Girl

Because how can you be said when you watch that?
Answer: You can't.

It's snowing! If it were raining, it would be pouring... but it's not raining. It's snowing.
It's a good thing I'm taking Vitamin D and washing it down with coffee. I've discovered the beauty of instant coffee. After the initial mistake of 3 heaping tablespoons instead of 1 tsp, I've figured out how to make a halfway decent cup.

I applied to 4 job openings at New York University yesterday. Since then I've been searching through idealist.org, craigslist, yahoo jobs, and individual websites trying to find something... anything. I have a shortlist of 20 right now (excluding internships and theatre jobs). I'm going to try and do 10 today and 10 tomorrow, or at least work my way through that list by the weekend.

Depending on the weather, I'm going to try to get back to writing, go back to the Met, and see another show before the end of the weekend.


Closing note: I've discovered that Hulu has the entirety of My So Called Life uploaded.
cha-ching

There's a snowstorm on the way. Don't know when it's supposed to start, but it's dark and gloomy and cold.

The weather more or less mirrors how today has gone. After seeing Shruti off on the shuttle at 3 am, I couldn't sleep. Finally slept between 5 and 10:30, with another nap between 11:45 and 1. Then I set out to clean my room, where I discovered a massive amount of dust. And when I mean dust, I mean, more dust than I thought was possible, and I think I've inhaled most of it.

I need to find a vacuum and a duster somewhere. Everything smells like dust right now. Anyway, I pseudo cleaned while munching on Swedish fish and leftover pasta. Makes for a great lunch, let me tell you.

Since 3, I've been working on job applications. Specifically the NYU job application forms. It took about an hour and a half to fill out the main NYU form, and now I'm trying to rapid fire type up a cover letter. I hate cover letters. Nothing makes someone sound more like a jerk than a pretentious, self-indulgent, cover letter (and what, a blog isn't?).
I'm going to try and apply to 5 jobs tonight. Tomorrow 5 more, plus 5-10 theatre jobs as well. I just want a job so that I don't feel lonely. That's the worst.

And it's a good thing that I'm taking Vitamin D. Especially because of all the gloom outside.
I don't feel like I'm living here yet. I still feel like I'm living at home and good God, do I miss it. I miss everything single thing, down to the utensils and the length of the carpet in my bedroom. And my dog. I miss my dog so much. It's the kind of "missing" where I feel that if it doesn't let up soon, I'm going to go crazy. And it's only been a week. I wonder if I'll be able to make grad school up here. I only applied to schools in NYC and LA, but suddenly I feel like the Pacific Northwest and all it's naturey, hippie glory is where my heart really belongs.

And I'm only 23 but I feel so old.

More pictures later, when I'm procrastinating.

The Pod Hotel, the apartment etc

The Pod Hotel and the first day in New York.











I love Indian food. I could eat it every day for the rest of my life.

Yes, our hotel room didn't have a bathroom in it. There were 4 bathrooms on our floor (of about 20 rooms). But they were cleaned every hour, so it wasn't so much as "youth hostel" as "really cheap but nice hotel." I definitely would recommend it to my friends.
Also, as you can tell, it's Fashion Week. But you'd never know, it's completely dead over there. But maybe that's because it's 20 degrees outside.

And what everyone's been waiting for... my apartment!

The view from my "front door."


it's a busy street.

Lofted bed! I can stand underneath without even hitting my head.

See that air conditioner? That means that every noise outside I can hear crystal clear inside my room. Sound proofing? What nonsense.

My closet. Not big. but nothing in this city is big for under 2 grand.

Our living room.

Our living room... with light.

My flatmate Lindsey's room. and the fridge.

Look at that blue wall. HOT. too bad we don't have much kitchen space. but we do have a dishwasher!



The other roommate lives down that hallway.

Pictures of my (now: pseudo) decorated room and trip to the museum, later.

It's the second to last day that Shruti is here. The day before the "snow" we saw Next to Normal, and this evening we saw Billy Elliot. Her first time, I saw it with the original cast in London.

We also went to the Met and on the bus ride saw John Waters. As in Hairspray- John Waters.
As in, "Oh I love Hairspray, I'm going to watch something else he's written/directed...[next day]... HOLY HELL WHAT DID I JUST WATCH" John Waters.

He was a bit creepy. I made eye contact and then busied myself listening to Passing Strange while Shruti said he was staring at us. It was awkward. Then this gaggle of Spanish people got on and basically sat on him, which made everything better.

The Met was amazing, I can definitely see myself spending days there. Especially when I feel lonely or homesick. That's what I did in London and that's what I'll do here.

I'll also start uploading all those pictures I've been saying I'd upload. So here's Part 1. Washington D.C.












Sitting there for an hour and a half. Not fun, my friends. Not fun.





Later... The Pod Hotel and New York! (And my apartment, of course)