"No TV and no beer make Homer...something, something"

"...Go Crazy?"

We didn't make it to the Tower of London yesterday, but Eric's bag finally arrived. Since our time was limited, we went to the British Musuem because you can easily spend five hours at the Tower of London, but it's pretty tough to spend that much time at the British Musuem. We only had about 3.5 hours at the musuem, but that was plenty of time. It's tiring walking through exhibit after exhibit taking in the legacy of colonial domination. At some point, your brain just shuts down and you have a complete inability to absorb any more information. I did like that Japanese kitana's and samurai swords, though.

After the musuem, we met up with the Prototype near where she lives. There is a nice posh pub there, so we went in and had dinner and drinks. It was a good time. I was pretty exhausted, though, and I don't think I was as lively as usual. Finally, around 11, they were closing. But, the Prototype and I wanted some alone time (or as "alone" as a club can provide) so we sent Eric and Lisa home on the tube and headed to a generic Aussie pub called The Walkabout. It's essentially like a low-rent TGI Friday's owned and operated by Aussies. The Prototype says it's the kind of place that the Aussies won't generally go in the homeland, but always go when they come to the UK. Go figure.

It was pretty damn loud in there, so it wasn't the best atmosphere. But it was nice to spend some time with the Prototype. She was only going to say so much with other people around and I was eager to hear about her Christmas trip to Paris and things of that nature. We stayed until about 1, which was more than late enough for me. I was dragging ass, so to speak - couldn't even dance properly (not that the music was our scene). Of course, I would have stayed out all night had I the chance...

I feel that I'm in a difficult situation right now - moreso emotionally than anything else. The Prototype, for what's it's worth, is very adept at checking herself emotionally. She does want a chance for us to date properly, but when I really pay attention, I can see the strain between that desire and the cold hard reality of the situation - which is that we may never have the opportunity. To me, I'm in a foreign place. I'm not the type to conceal or contain feelings for someone I like. But it's a fine line. You can't let on too quickly how crazy you are for someone, especially not when you have the Sword of Damacles hanging over your collective heads.

Generally, I think that relationships fall into two initial classifications: ones that just fall into place and ones that have trouble falling into place. Obviously, the first type is preferable. BUT, as I am always the contrarian and I have just received a very insightful email from a very good friend of mine that I will see in two days, I have a theory about the first type of relationships. See, women are wily - they like to see growth on a daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly basis. Sometimes, when things fall into place too easily, men have a tendency to rest on their laurels - or, more aptly, go with the flow. When you really have to work for something, it almost makes it more dear and enduring. Or, at least that's what I tell myself. As I continue on this road that I'm on, it will be interesting to see if my theory contains a shred of validity or not.

One thing I've really learned the last few months is how much of a total novice I am when it comes to women. I spend inordinate hours pondering women in general (or now in specific), relationships, dating, etc. I've had my fair share of significant and insignificant relationships. I'm not a novice in the sense that I haven't shared, bonded, and broken under the mantle of the fairer sex. No, I'm a novice in the sense that no matter how much you think you know, no matter how much experience you have, you really know nothing because EVERY WOMAN IS DIFFERENT. Damn them. They'll be the death of us all.

At any rate, I leave for Amsterdam tomorrow morning with Eric and Lisa. Since I will have unstable internet access and will be averse to spending precious resources on internet cafe's, I probably won't be updating the blog in real time. HOWEVER, because I'm the generous sort, I have several essays or diatribes that I've been working on since September. I've set up the blog to publish those in my absence.

Now, when you read these peices of "literature", realize that they reflect discontent and perturbations within my inner psyche, not a universal experience. The views expressed are my views; they were written by me, for me, not for some illusive audience. My only hope in writing these essays was that I would achieve some measure of inner satisfaction from expressing certain perspectives and ideas in a more concrete form. So if you find some of what I write to be oddly unfunny, that reflects an oddity that is in me. I was not trying to be universally humorous. I’m not comic. I was merely trying to entertain myself along the way.

In the end, these essays reflect my take on themes that dominate the American male during what I’ll dub the “inter-war period”, which is of course, the time you leave home for good and the time you marry. As I write this, I’m still in the midst of my own personal inter-war period[1] and I write about it because it’s what I know.

[1] I’m Germany, minus all the Nazism of course.