Status Report
physical status: the unbeatable cold is just about beaten. maintaining tea intake.
academic status: wittgenstein-induced fatigue has set in, but i made it through tutorial today, and i've checked out my reading for this week a full four days ahead of the standard timeline. looking up.
river status: blue flag. it's been red flag all week, due to the heavy rains, which means nobody gets to row. this had the upshot of my having nothing to get up at 6:30 for on tuesday, but i also missed the land training (on rowing machines) wednesday night due to aforementioned wittgenstein-induced fatigue. but now that the river is blue flag again (heaven knows how that happened--the rain certainly hasn't let up) saturday's outing should go ahead on schedule.
limericks status: 35. you can see my brilliance at oedilf.com using "browse limericks by author", if you're into that kind of thing.
sleep status: above-average nocturnality. gonna do better tonight, i promise.
political status: just filled out my ballot, and feeling chock-full of civic virtue. retaining my right to secret ballot, i'll just mention that it's a beautifully split ticket, and i'll be pleased to send it off in the morning so the authorities can disregard it with the rest of the absentees. 'cause everybody knows the elections are settled by the evening of voting day. right?
vocal status: the choir should have my resplendent tenor back in action tomorrow, lord willing.
weather status: dark and wet. all the comforts of home.
discovery status: did you know they had daylight savings in britain? i mean, i guess i should have noticed by now that i would be seven hours off instead of eight if they didn't, but it came as a surprise to me. didn't ben franklin invent daylight savings?
unknown intruder status: so here's a funny story. the other night this bloke wandered into the computer cluster, where i was pretending i wasn't writing limericks while my supper cooked. fiftyish, thick-bearded, alcohol on his breath, and not a straight answer in him. as you probably know, i would make a very poor authority figure, but i did my best to impress on him that, no, he didn't live here, and it would be best for everyone if he went back outside. communication, you'll have to understand, was a bit hairy, since between his irish accent and the alcohol i could barely make out anything he said. and next, somehow, instead of showing him the door, i was sitting down with him for supper in the kitchen. i had put more eggs to boil than i intended to eat, anyway, right?
so the two of us had supper (a simple meal--thick slices of bread with butter and hard-boiled egg) and as time went by, he drank lots of water, and i got accustomed to the accent, he grew more intelligible. and so i listened. gerard told me the history of ireland, his own story--his family fled to england to escape the violence in northern ireland when he was thirteen; odd jobs had taken him to france, holland, and algeria--the merit of the socialist cause, his ex-catholic atheism, his views on the gulf war, the rosenberg trial, capital punishment, and president bush. i didn't talk a lot; i didn't need to. eventually i told him i needed to get back to my studying, and he said he'd just sit and have some more water. so we sat together for another hour at the kitchen table while he read the newspaper and i read wittgenstein. finally i declared that it was bedtime, and so he went to the bathroom while i collected my books, and i said good night as gerard walked out the front door to the high street.
stephanie (programme administrator) sent an email out the next day reporting that an intruder of unknown intent had got into the stanford house, and for everyone to please be careful about closing the door behind them, and that if anyone should get in (while the instinct to be friendly is laudable) it is best not to entertain them, as they might remember and try to return.
i d'know.
blog status: updated.
academic status: wittgenstein-induced fatigue has set in, but i made it through tutorial today, and i've checked out my reading for this week a full four days ahead of the standard timeline. looking up.
river status: blue flag. it's been red flag all week, due to the heavy rains, which means nobody gets to row. this had the upshot of my having nothing to get up at 6:30 for on tuesday, but i also missed the land training (on rowing machines) wednesday night due to aforementioned wittgenstein-induced fatigue. but now that the river is blue flag again (heaven knows how that happened--the rain certainly hasn't let up) saturday's outing should go ahead on schedule.
limericks status: 35. you can see my brilliance at oedilf.com using "browse limericks by author", if you're into that kind of thing.
sleep status: above-average nocturnality. gonna do better tonight, i promise.
political status: just filled out my ballot, and feeling chock-full of civic virtue. retaining my right to secret ballot, i'll just mention that it's a beautifully split ticket, and i'll be pleased to send it off in the morning so the authorities can disregard it with the rest of the absentees. 'cause everybody knows the elections are settled by the evening of voting day. right?
vocal status: the choir should have my resplendent tenor back in action tomorrow, lord willing.
weather status: dark and wet. all the comforts of home.
discovery status: did you know they had daylight savings in britain? i mean, i guess i should have noticed by now that i would be seven hours off instead of eight if they didn't, but it came as a surprise to me. didn't ben franklin invent daylight savings?
unknown intruder status: so here's a funny story. the other night this bloke wandered into the computer cluster, where i was pretending i wasn't writing limericks while my supper cooked. fiftyish, thick-bearded, alcohol on his breath, and not a straight answer in him. as you probably know, i would make a very poor authority figure, but i did my best to impress on him that, no, he didn't live here, and it would be best for everyone if he went back outside. communication, you'll have to understand, was a bit hairy, since between his irish accent and the alcohol i could barely make out anything he said. and next, somehow, instead of showing him the door, i was sitting down with him for supper in the kitchen. i had put more eggs to boil than i intended to eat, anyway, right?
so the two of us had supper (a simple meal--thick slices of bread with butter and hard-boiled egg) and as time went by, he drank lots of water, and i got accustomed to the accent, he grew more intelligible. and so i listened. gerard told me the history of ireland, his own story--his family fled to england to escape the violence in northern ireland when he was thirteen; odd jobs had taken him to france, holland, and algeria--the merit of the socialist cause, his ex-catholic atheism, his views on the gulf war, the rosenberg trial, capital punishment, and president bush. i didn't talk a lot; i didn't need to. eventually i told him i needed to get back to my studying, and he said he'd just sit and have some more water. so we sat together for another hour at the kitchen table while he read the newspaper and i read wittgenstein. finally i declared that it was bedtime, and so he went to the bathroom while i collected my books, and i said good night as gerard walked out the front door to the high street.
stephanie (programme administrator) sent an email out the next day reporting that an intruder of unknown intent had got into the stanford house, and for everyone to please be careful about closing the door behind them, and that if anyone should get in (while the instinct to be friendly is laudable) it is best not to entertain them, as they might remember and try to return.
i d'know.
blog status: updated.
Posted by Jeff on Thursday, October 28, 2004
2 Comments:
Jeffrey, you rock my world.
I guess I never told you about my lengthy conversation with an inebriated farm worker in Mexico... in Spanish. I'd say you had the harder one, though, with the irish accent. I expect that's tough to decipher.
Anywho... kudos to you for your hospitality skills (even if the authority figure business needs some work :)
-Brian
That's my trusting Mr. Russell. I am glad that you seem to be doing well, and glad that you post these so I can keep tabs on you. I miss you. Glad to see you're being you.
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