It's about time I update this sorry blog. Sitting by the sweet, sickening stench of a vase full of daffodils with a raging fever, I pat my dog and wait for my tea while I count down the hours until my next dose of medicine.
What I'm really looking forward too, no jokes, is Cool Runnings on TV tonight. Jamaica has a bobsleigh team. Jah bless!
And now for the real update. Above, a picture of the real. That shit will mess you up, and I'm the puking truth of it (Note the Neishon bandana... Europe in the house!)...
The past month(s) have been covered in snow. From getting hammered in Park City, Utah to getting crazy in Ramsau, Austria (see previous blog posts) to literally blowing my own mind in La Joue Du Loup, France - everything was covered in copious amounts of fluffy white shit. Yeah, even the place I dare to call home had more snow in a week than it did in the past 25 years. Even my 9 to 5 office job was marked by the journey to and fro - trudging through whatever fell from the sky the night before, in freezing Utrecht.
I grilled some chickens, watched some Jersey shore, drank 'some' Jager, DJ'd a few terrible (and a few pretty good) sets, started rocking again with my b-boys, repeatedly slammed my head into a wall after seeing the new skills of my b-boys, printed some shirts, had some nights on the town, landed a rodeo, threw some beer in my drunk friend Beanz's beans, jumped out of a 2nd story window around 5.30 am in my underwear, redefined the word hangover, ignored what seemed like a lil' cold, spent the first week of my last semester of college reconnecting with the frat... and then all things went wahoonie-shaped.
That's where I live now, Kromhoutweg 39B. All my walls have already been covered in useless musical shit that nonetheless make it seem like I really know my trade. I'm pleased with the result, will take some new pictures soon. That ghostly shape on the last picture awkwardly navigating the ice to my doorstep is Raissa coming to collect some skitrip pictures. Oh god, skitrip...
But what has changed since leaving Cali? Are Dutch douchebags really not that bad in comparison to American ones? Have I put things in perspective the way I thought I would? Am I reborn in my own country after my short hiatus in Ameristan? Burgers or stamppot? All in all, what's the damn status quo?
It's something like this:
I took the best ingredients from the states, peppered my brethren with them, boiled them under a French sun and now I have to live with the consequences. Shit just got real.
However, I still feel like the real reason I'm ill is because I'm suffering from a serious In-N-Out deficiency, a lack of contact with my intellectual hippie bullshit bro, the French giant, the loaded skateboarding stoner Jew and the true Californian Ninja. But that just might be the fever playing tricks on my mind, who knows.
For now, suffice to say that even thinking about what happened last month gives me a spontaneous hangover. Who'd have thought. Maybe missing out on last night's extravaganza wasn't such a bad idea after all, but hey, we'll see what the coming months bring. So much for putting effort into a last semester...
I hope I run into something interesting enough to blog about again soon. Until that day, fare thee well!
