oh, boysie.

so, i'm trying to update my pictures to flickr. but, this fool left his laptop in the heathrow airport. i'm going to try to upload the pics to my flickr, but i dont know how well that'll work. maybe tomorrow?

yeah?!
yeah?!

trust me, there's ALOT you need to hear. and you will before tomorrow.

<3

caio/bonjour/'ello.

this is jeff emerging after a seventeen-minute long excretion. his reading material: midsummer’s night dream. i don’t believe this is what shakesphere intended.

this is me, finishing a research presentation i have to do on pompeii. i cannot determine what my mouth is doing.
this is my belly, as it is being itched.

we current sit in a hotel in manchester, new hampshire, our home away from home-home. tomorrow, we begin traveling across time zones foreign to both of us. right now, we wait. we wait so that when we arrive, we're awake.

ilaria will be accompanying us, as well as eight other people that might find their way onto this domain.

tomorrow, we begin to document the reason why this was created.

i can’t promise daily updates, but i can promise as many as possible. you all should check back as much and possible.

because this is sure to get interesting.

in the mean time, peep the flickr for a bunch of stuff that should have found its way up earlier, but didn't in preparation for tomorrow.

but it's going to get interesting.

a quick ride

he doesn't smile; he can't. but if he could, he would have. the best i could muster from him is the occasional smirk. it didn't leave his face, even while the subaru slipped out of gear, or while he hugged corners i wouldn't think of accelerating on.

it didn't matter. he spoke quick, without hesitation, and i whipped my head from side to side. it was tough to keep up with him. former employers. businesses that friends had owned. bars he hustled at.

it didn't matter. i occasionally shook my head and was consistently left speechless as the sun set. we didn't get out of the car when he spoke of the narrow streets he rode his bike down, and rocks he and his fiance would sit on and be quiet together.

several times, he admitted he believed in ghosts.

he lifted one finger off the steering wheel to point at the police station where he was born. he tells me this is the place where he'll first take his daughter when she's old enough to understand its significance.









he told me, "one day, i'll tell my daughter everything."

i told him, "maybe we could give you something else to tell her."

manchester explorations

it's going to be a terribly long week. i mean, it's already been a terribly long night, but since i don't think i'll be around too much, i figured i might as well make a post whilst i still have some energy.

this pictures are quite old, and are from two separate trips i took to manchester; one with laura, one with ben. on one i found a bunch of neat tags in an alley (i'll always love manchester for it's alley graffiti. it's such a nice juxtaposition to what you see in new york), and on the other the graffed-up remains of a blacksmith shop that seemed to implode due to an electical fire. the ashes smelt fresh. it was intense.

she's very attractive, they tell me.

don't worry. he didn't do it.

(i don't know why this makes me so happy.)

so as botany kicks me in the ass, enjoy your next few days. i plan on taking a bunch more lovely pictures before i go home (friday night is the annual writer's party as the crouse residence. sure to be a night of great moments), a few when i'm home, and then... well, i'm not going to tell you where until i actually leave. but in 13 days i begin the best three weeks of my life, and i plan on documenting every day of them.

sleep is for the weak, they say.