Free Your Mind, and Your Brain Will Follow

It is not good, so they say, to be stuck in one's ways. I tend to agree, but all too often, I further tend to be too lazy to haul myself out of my, at this point, entirely too deep ruts. Usually, I settle into a routine and then find myself complaining bitterly about both the difficulty/necessity of altering it and the staggering ennui such routines inevitably engender. This is where my friends come in. They are often the helping hands that lift me (I ain't heavy; I'm your brother) out of the pit of mundanity I have dug for myself (even in foreign countries!). Sometimes, it's out of a sense of competition ("if X can do it and survive, certainly you can too!"), but most often it's because I am perhaps hyper-social, and I really don't find a lot of things fun unless there's someone along for them to be fun with. Therefore, I am truly thankful for my friends, especially the travel-minded ones who like me enough to encourage me to get up off my slothful ass and either accompany them on trips or take trips to visit them.

I had an absofuckinglutely grand time with the inimitable Kyle B. Gorman in Prague and Budapest, and my initial desire to recount it in blog form was thwarted by the fact that I have not at all mastered what certain travel writers call (I am not making this up) "The Accordion of Time" — the contraction and expansion of events and details for the purpose of effective narrative. Thus, recounting seven days of adventures in Eastern Europe would take... seven days. None of you has that kind of time. None of me has that kind of work-ethic. Instead, I leave it to the old on-line photo album, found, as ever, right here.

I had planned a trip back to dear old Bonn, but my pal Johannes decided to go to Cuba on the only dates I could have made it. He's coming here next weekend though (shit, I need to clean!) .

On June 27th I'll be riding a bus for 24 hours to get to Belgrade and my favorite ex-pat, Katie Woznicki. I'll be there long enough for a Fourth of July celebration and plenty of Tesla related mayham!

My last hurrah on the Continent won't technically be on the Continent at all, as I'm heading to the English Midlands and the home of everyone's favorite Shrewsburian, Tim O'Neill from July 10th through 14th. We are going to go to Liverpool, look at the special exhibition at the Beatles Museum on Ringo Starr's solo career, and then go home. Somehow, I will get back in time to board a train for Frankfurt Airport and go home.

This will not stop me though, as immediately thereafter, the Infamous Megabus will ferry Ian and me to mythical Chicago, where we will pick up Paul and head for the bloated confines of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, home of the Minnesota Twins.

I know that I come away from the next 5 weeks 100% flat broke. I only pray that I do not die.