Dept of Mea Culpa

I know, I know I've let thousands, dozens, singular individuals down.
I haven't written a worthy update on my travels in some weeks, for shame. I have reasons:

-For about two weeks while I was living in Christchurch I was running on fumes, zero dollars, zero place to live. I didn't shower for a solid two weeks, surprisingly I didn't smell that terrible (I don't think), and it was the tshirts not the underwear that went first. Now I am living in a dope apartment downtown, in this really funky urban alley full of old brick buildings refurbished for the gentrification set, complete with backalley cafes, russian vodka bars and postmodern metal sculptures. Also the best shower pressure since my grandparents place in Nanaimo.

-Some of you on the world leader deathwatch maillist, mighta come accross the little gem that's been on page 15 of every newspaper in the world, that in addition to superbowl festivities the city of miami is preparing for a celebration at the football stadium (the name escapes me) for the imminent death of Castro. HAHAHAHAHAHA, a death celebration ha. But as you know I am backing sharon in this toss up and andrew duncan has the aforementioned cuban. so despite the hilarity of this I still crave the hizbollah chants that will rock through the arab world when, right under castro's nose, those israelis pull the plug. but it looks like I may lose.

-thirdly and this one really bummed me out to the tune of cheap champagne, beer other bad things I won't list because I've heard my mother occasionally peaks in on things here. I got rejected from that bastion of scholarship U of T, fuckers, they obviously don't know who I am. Anyway, I had sorta talked myself up into thinking I might get in, and this kinda blasted the ego, deflated more likely, similar to a used/unused condom if you catch my drift. So now I have a whole year of not doing what I want to be doing and that is a jarring mindfuck in the midst of our collective quarterlife crisis. I am so bummed, I might click a wee button that dr duncan filled me in on and take a minor in finance over the summer in montreal, see how bank of oli feels about that one, not great I imagine.

Anyway, I've been reading "the innocents abroad" on the advice of my uncle, and some really hilarious shit about travellors keeping journals and other stuff, really worth a read, laugh out loud funny, (Its by Mark Twain check it out) but in my downtrodden mindset I really wasnt feeling up to writing down everything that came into my head, some truly misanthropic venting and self loathing (ie hating the world) coupled with despair and the feeling of treading water in a swimming race really didn't need to be recorded in a place that is supposed to be filling in friends on the (mis)adventures in enzed.

Am I over it all? fuck no.
Sidenote: my sister sent me some cheering up emails. They worked then I had a David Cross moment, where I was like 'wait a minute, thats bullshit to make me feel better, it's not true. then I felt bummed again'

but enough: the weather's fine and the beer, tho watery, is cheap.