Fidgeting.

I’ve gotta get myself a Russian visa…

I’ve also got to determine a place to go to on the 11th of July. Berlin, perhaps.

Em and her dad are hitting up Germany in the next few weeks, so I’ll most likely go along. Maybe a week early.

I’m still feeling homesick, in a weird way. It’s probably because I don’t know what to do at the moment, so just going home sounds very tempting. Then again, it’s mostly the food that I miss… I think?

Fuck it. I don’t know. I don’t really care. Blah blah blah. I’m not even sure what I’m saying.

Anyway. Tallinn’s still nice. The sun never sets here now. It’s pretty trippy. Really buggers up your body clock. It can be 11:30pm before you realise it and then you’re still not tired.

There’s still so many Australians around here. It’s kinda funny.

I’m gonna make cheese and salami toasted sandwiches now. I might have a beer, too. Rockin’.

Montmartre

I haven’t even updated my own journal, yet here I am informing all of you about my antics! Talk about getting my priorities mixed up.

After my last update on Saturday I went wandering past L’église Saint-Eustache, taking a few happy snaps of it and the surrounding gardens. Not much else happened during the day apart from my purchase of jellybeans and beer to keep me entertained as I whiled away the afternoon and Parisien humidity in my hotel bedroom.

That evening (although it was still as bright as a typical Sydney day at 3pm) I blindly walked in the direction of Montmartre. As I went back past Gare de L’est and Gare du Nord I walked through a quaint market filled with fruit and vegetable sellers, cheese stalls, butchers and fishmongers. The fish stunk from being exposed to the heat for the entire day, causing me to gag as I hurried past them.

There was an increase in commotion and commuters further up the road. I turned into a densely crowded street of what appeared to be predominantly tourists walking by a carousel. My curiosity forced me to investigate.

They weren’t there to ride the carousel. They were there to marvel at the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur (Basilica of the Sacred Heart). It sits high upon a hill overlooking Paris. Definitely something one has to see for themselves as no words can describe it, inside and out. I spent some time listening to people pray as I sat on a pew with Jesus looking down at me from a dome above the altar. I’m sure he wanted me to purchase a souvenier coin from one of the vending machines surrounding the church’s exit.

I returned to the road and the ubiquitous French restaurants, passing by a cemetary that I would have entered if the entrance wasn’t on the direct opposite side of where I stood. The Moulin Rouge had to be somewhere. I knew it. For some reason there didn’t seem to be any street signs to give me clues as to its location. I was about to give up and check my map but resisted defeat.

Deciding it could be time to get some food and perhaps (on the off chance) find something interesting to do, I walked south, past the cemetary, into an area named Clichy-something. It was humming with activity. That’s if you call eating in restaurants a humming activity. Spotting two dressed-up young Frenchwomen walking by, I (in an act completely out-of-character, I assure you) began following them in the hope that they were going somewhere interesting to do something interesting. My discreet prowling lasted for about 30 minutes as I shadowed them off the main roads and eventually into a back street. They disappeared inside a non-distinct residential building and left me alone and lost with nothing to show for it.

I spent an hour walking back home via yet another direction only to return disgusted with the lack of Paris’ nightlife on a summer Saturday.

Blargh.

This keyboard sucks hairy, sweaty balls. Hot.

Never go wireless, kiddies.

First night out to the Townie for a long time. Just been out with palmy, enjoying getting drunk and smoking Winfields (don’t tell mum). Fuck this keyboard makes me want to cry.

We got free cheese twists from the bakery tonight. palmy paid for a cheese and bacon bun/loaf thingy each, too. Somehow we managed to nab a throwaway sourdough loaf, too. Good times.

I’m drunk. Like the olden days. I really should go to bed as it’s 5:20am. 5:22am to be precise. Meh.

I leave in just over 4 weeks. Anyone going to miss me? I suppose most of you won’t notice, especially since I’ve been somewhat offline lately. Partly pussy-whipped, partly no keyboard. Whatever.

I’m going to continue updating this LJ during my travels, as I’m too lazy to set up a gay travelling blog anywhere else in the meantime. I might check out travelpod, but I’m not that keen on it. Lazy, etc. I’m sure you’ll all be riveted to know what lame shit I’ve been up to.

In other news, my pussy whipping of spending time with Emily is fun, as most men know but hate to admit. Actually, it’s only fair that I confess that I would have updated/been online more if not for my broken keyboard, but that sounds like a weak excuse. Anyway…

Palmy’s addicted to World of Warcraft again. Fag.

I’m too drunk to care and he knows it.

Yay.

I’ve been listening to more music. Synthpop is the best. I’m very into De/Vision and Fischerspooner (just the Odyssey album, especially “Cloud” these days ;)) at the moment. Pirate them if you want a thrill.

Tally ho until the next time, lovelies.

Wind.

It’s windy tonight. Well, it was.

I’m bored, tired, mildly inebriated (thanks Margaret River cabernet sauvignon MR02 cleanskin) and lonely. I just found out palmy is staying at his parent’s place tonight, so I have the place to myself. That just makes me feel more bored.

Today I was meant to write a lot of emails and deposit a cheque. At least I bought washing powder. Now I just have to go to the effort of putting my clothes in the dryer.

My main achievement was having a shower. The runner up was meeting up with Winesoc people for dinner up the road (hence the wine). I ate a beef panang. It was tasty.

I hate being tired but wholly awake and bored. I feel like I should be doing something. Something important. That something is probably sleeping. I don’t think eating all these Natural Confectionary Company lollies is helping me approach slumber. Oh well.

I really wish I had a jaffle iron. It’d give me an excuse to buy cheese. It’d give me an excuse to eat more toasted bread, too.

Here’s my prediction: I’m about to find a song that makes me look cool to display as my current music; pick a current mood that sounds vaguely accurate; post this entry; sip more wine; stand up and put my clothes in the dryer; walk downstairs and eat more lollies (I placed them there tactically); sit around for a bit on my PC again and then finally, perhaps, watch a movie on it.

Wow.

MSN.

redknob: i'd probably be eating something nice
redknob: but the cupboards are literally bare
redknob: and it's too cold to go to the shops
redknob: plus i already had 1 and a half big servings of reheated macaroni and cheese
redknob: so i've probably eaten enough for the day
Eri: hehehe
Eri: ive never eaten macroni and cheese before
redknob: i must remember to buy toilet paper tomorrow, lest we end up in an unfortunate predicament
redknob: you're missing out
redknob: it's one of those good old comfort foods
redknob: except i'm eating it as a survival food
redknob: so it seems distinctively less filling but somehow bloating
Eri: hehe yeah
redknob: in the way that only microwaved reheated pasta can
Eri: oh don't forget that toilet paper
Eri: that would suck!
redknob: yesh
redknob: it would
redknob: you know
redknob: i always have high hopes whenever i'm about to go to the supermarket
redknob: then they always come crashing down around me when i see that there's never anything that good to buy in them anyway
redknob: i keep expecting for there to be some magical awesome product you can buy
redknob: that meets the expectations of the unclear dream i have of finding something truly awesome whenever i go shopping
redknob: instead i usually end up with a vanilla malt oak
redknob: this shit is good, i should write it in my journal