Wait long enough and things get better. After 2 weeks of the worst living conditions of my life, I have been thrown into the best, even compared to Japan. Bolzano seems to be a culturally ambiguous enigma, constantly trying to decide whether it is German or Italian; the language constantly shifts, and all the street signs are written in both. The hotel is amazing, and the town is beautiful - a bustling Italian cafe-filled haven where outdoor seating is the norm, and live music is a given. How this competition has enough money to let us order freely from the most expensive restaurants, I will never know. Here is hoping that I wont get that yellow slip of paper under my door telling me I have to leave so soon.

I cannot write use any conjugated verbs because for the life of me, I cannot figure out where the apostrophe is on this fucking German keyboard. Anyway.

I am on my way to Bolzano in a few hours, after having been stuffed with ample marzipan to last me a few lifetimes. I will be there for the next week and a half or so. If you need to reach me, email me.

Only cultural fact about Germany even worth mentioning (I hate this country). All that public bathrooms in Lubeck have ashtrays right next to the toilets and they are all clean.

For a lot of people, the media can seem like an ignorant method of culture osmosis. But after watching City of God combined with what happened to my cousin Ella this weekend, I am forever convinced otherwise.

To whoever is up there, thank you for keeping her safe and thank you for letting her make it through that terrible night. Here is a synopsis.

Wednesday afternoon Ella and I came back from Caruarù to Recife because we needed to get some stuff there, arrange new meetings, and pick up my boyfriendthat was visiting us (he’s in our same master program). We were going to spendthe night in our usual hotel in Boa Viagem (that has been our base all thistime) and then we were supposed to go to Toritama, where we had scheduledalready a bunch of interviews for thursday and friday. But this neverhappened, because in the night between wednesday and thursday the bad thinghappened. Around 1-1:30am 3 people together with the receptionist came in ourroom with guns and asking us for everything we had. They first came in theroom where me and my boyfriend were, and then to Ella’s room. It was terrible:the door opened (they had another key) and we woke up under the threat of their! guns....I am still shaking. They told us to be quiet and we gave themeverything. They also spent more than half hour, I think, looking verycarefully in all our stuff, and they took a bunch of things (from the mostvaluable to the most weird you may think someone will take...). Then, theytied us up, hands and feet, with ropes and tape, and they told us that theywere going to do that in the rest of the hotel, so we needed to be quiet andwithout moving for some hours. Our room was the first one, then they went toElla—i still remember her screaming, i don’t think i will ever forget it. Theydid the same to her. And so to other 3 persons in the hotel. I was tied upfor 3 or 4 hours in total, i don’t know. A couple of times those guys cameback in our room, because i guess they were afraid that the police was coming. One of them also changed his shirt with my boyfriend’s t-shirt, maybe for notbeing recognized once escaped. We were so scared. I wa! s afraid that somethingcould go wrong for them and they could use their guns. I was worried for Ellaalone in her room. I was scared that we couldn’t make it through the night. Fortunately, I don’t know exactly how (i am still confused), the thieves left(they robbed an hotel guests’ car) and the police came. I just remember Ellacoming in my room and cutting with a knife our ropes. This was around 5am. After that we went to the police. They robbed us everything: Ella’s and mypassport, our computers, our digital cameras, all our money, traveller checks,my plane ticket, plus other random things.

For those of you who are compulsive blog-readers, indulge:

Myung - a quasi-existentialist blog, in the style of a post-modern Camus; includes complaints and third-person views of first-person situational status. Sort of an in-depth perspective and life-tutorial of an individual beginning a new chapter of life. www.myung.org

Stanley Lee - a comically entertaining version of a pseudo-Buddhist theory writer. Includes the usual blog-rants and conversation transcripts, but extends to self-reflecting ideas and esoteric Asian-American cultural identities. Sort of a cross between music, movie, and pop-culture reviews and reflective thought. www.leemur.blogspot.com

The Legend Of Claude Frank:

At times when the daily gruel and brunt work of perfection-obsessed competition playing/travelling, piano playing may occasionally represent more of an Olympic sport than an artistic activity. You practice hard, you play etudes for 1st rounds, you keep travelling wherever another opportunity might be.

Then there's Claude Frank - an octogenarian version of Frank Sinatra in charm - gnarled arthritic hands, Steve Urkel pants and matching piano key suspenders, with a legend and a history glowing from an aura when he walks into a room.

Claude Frank playing Schubert's B-Flat Major Sonata is a uniquely sublime glimpse to a humanity that emulates perfection - unadulterated by sin, swimming in the divine.

WTF. Even my mom is addicted to 24.

charcoalj: its crazy
car LOCO 69: did you rent it?
car LOCO 69: it's fucking crazy
charcoalj: we watch it for 12 hours staright
charcoalj: OMG-i was spaced out after seeing it in 12 hras staright

As Jeff says, David is the funniest FOB that was ever born. "You aren't true FOB unless you came to the states in high school." Excerpt from Jeff's blog:

The Korean Student Association (KSA) asked David to be an usher for their upcoming culture show. When asked if he’d be willing to perform the duties, he responded, “Naw man… You should ask Peter.. I can’t be Usher, I don’t know how to sing or dance.”

This made me smile. Because I am queer.

A father entered his daughter's bedroom and saw a letter on the bed. With the worst premonition, he read it with trembling hands.

Dear Mum and Dad,
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm telling you that I've eloped with my new boyfriend. I've found real love and he is so nice. Especially with all his piercings, scars, tattoos, and his big motorcycle. But it's not only that, I'm pregnant, and Ahmed said that we will be very happy in his trailer in the woods. He wants to have many more children with me and that's one of my dreams. I've learned that marijuana doesn't hurt anyone and we'll be growing it for us and his friends. They're the one's providing us with all the cocaine and ecstasy we could ever want. In the meantime, we'll pray for science to find the AIDS cure, so Ahmed gets better. He deserves it. Don' t worry about money. Ahmed has arranged for me to be in films that his friends Leroy and Jamal make in their basement. Apparently I can earn £50 a scene. I get a £50 bonus if there are more than three men in the scene, and an extra £100 if they use the horse. Don't worry Mum. Now I'm 15 years old, I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'll visit you and Dad so that you can meet your grandchildren.

Your loving daughter,
Aimee

p.s: Dad, it's not true. I'm at a neighbour's house. I just wanted to show you that there are worse things in life than denting the car. Sorry about your BMW. I love you. Aimee

And this was one of the easier trips (includes wait times):

Bus (New Haven to New York) 6 hours
Plane (New York to Heathrow) 7 hours
Bus (Heathrow to Stansted) 6 hours
Plane (Stansted to Bergamo) 2 hours
Bus (Bergamo to Milan) 2 hours

Milan: Though the exotic image of a post-modern Rodeo Drive was brutally thrown to shit, Milan is still, despite the graffiti riden walls and trash-covered streets, quite nice. Also, perhaps elevated by the fact that - through my dog-sickness and complete apathy for Europe in general - the two days in Milan I spent will be two of perhaps the most memorable of my life. Thanks for a beautiful time, and for a romantic way to let go...

Lubeck: Cute town, but I'm now stuck in the shittiest living conditions I've ever seen at a music festival. Counting the days until I can get the fuck out of here....

Since when did the fucking London immigration line become like an amusement park wait??

I'm fucking tired, I'm fucking grumpy, I'm fucking exhausted, I'm fucking unmotivated, and I'm in fucking no mood to be going to Milan tomorrow.

Destinations to be covered in the following weeks: Milan, Lubeck, Bolzano.

....and it all starts again.

All of my friends, save a few, have finally managed to destroy the once-stable rendezvous guaranteed to house at least a handful of friends: Berkeley. Everybody is leaving the Bay, and hopefully, starting a new chapter in their lives. Stanley is taking it kinda hard:

naryantek: carlos...i...i love you
naryantek: hold me carlos...hold me tight and never let go...

ok check it out:

Batman Begins, coming June of 2005, will boast an all-star cast to include Morgan Freeman, Liam Neeson, Gary Oldman (as Commisioner Gordon!), Katie Holmes, Tom Wilkinson (Fennyman from Shakespeare in Love), Michael Caine (gay stylist from Miss Congeniality) as Alfred, and Christian Bale as Batman/Bruce Wayne.

AND......... Ken Watanabe as the ninja warrior who trains Bruce Wayne to fight!

WUT!

I've devised a crude, fairly-accurate, and rudimentary method for people to determine who their closest friends are, in case you might have had a doubt. I've found, that at least in my case, this method proves almost 95% accurate:

Examine your Friendster list. If the amount of friends that you share with another person exceeds 20, he/she must be one of your closest friends. I find that this rule remains even with those people who have less than 50 people on their friends list. If he/she is truly one of your lifelong friends, then over 20 of his/her 50 friends will also be yours. [The corollary does not always prove correct.]

If a person on your Friendster is white, you share less than 10 friends in common with him/her.

Those "friends" with which you share zero friends in common - there are only a few possible cases:
1) this person is of the opposite sex, and he/she is a "skeleton in the closet," as it were.
2) this person lives in a different city from where you currently or formerly reside.
3) you have actually not had more than 10 total conversations with this person.
4) this person is a "friendster whore" - one who ups the count on his/her "friends" list for the sake of doing so. (and you couldn't say no)
5) on second thought, who the fuck is this person anyway and how did he/she get on my list?

Examine your list. Contact me if I'm wrong. Sometimes, the truth is that mathematical. Obviously there will be exceptions, but contact me if under 80% of your list does not meet these criteria.

Steve strikes back:

drungken munk ee: you dig it.
car LOCO 69: octopus jokes kick the shit out of monkey jokes any day of the week
drungken munk ee: are you kidding me?
car LOCO 69: i kid you not

drungken munk ee: A cop comes around a curve in the road and sees a bad accident.
A man and a woman both dead from a car crash. The accident seems to have no explanation but he looks up on the hill and sees a monkey waving his arms at him as if to say something.
The cop says, "hey monkey ... you know what happened?"
monkey: Motioning with his arms drinking a bottle of some kind
cop: "They were drinking?"
monkey: Nods head vigorously
cop: "What else?"
monkey: Mimes smoking a joint
cop: "They were smoking dope?"
monkey: Nods head vigorously
cop: "There must have been more. This is a very strange accident. Monkey! What else?"
monkey: Mimics sexual relations
cop: "They were screwing?"
monkey: Nods very vigorously
cop: "This still doesn't make any sense.
Hey monkey! What were you doing to know all this?"
monkey: makes motion as if he were driving and looking behind him...

Octopus jokes:

A guy walks into a bar with an octopus. He sits the octopus down on a stool and tells everyone in the bar that this is a very talented octopus. He can play any musical instrument in the world. He hears everyone in the crowd laughing at him, calling him an idiot, etc. The guy says that he will wager $50 to anyone who has an instrument that the octopus can't play.

The first one walks up with a guitar. The octopus starts playing better than Jimi Hendrix. So the man pays $50.

Another guy walks up with a trumpet. The octopus plays the trumpet better than Dizzie Gillespie. So the man pays his $50.

A third guy walks up with bagpipes. He sits them down and the octopus fumbles with it for a minute and sits it down with a confused look.
"Ha!" the man said. "Can't you play it?"
The octopus looks up at the man and says, "Play it? I'm going to screw it as soon as I figure out how to get its pajamas off!!"

Steve's reaction:
drungken munk ee: rah!
car LOCO 69: you like that
drungken munk ee: he's gonna get some octopussy tonight.
car LOCO 69: hahhahaha i knew you were gonna say that

The life story of my 3-year roommate, Myung:

I went to Walnut High School and graduated in 1999. I was a good kid in high school… I joined all the clubs, went to church, got involved in ASB… Did all the shit that you want your son to do.
The first two years of college were rugged. A bunch of bad shit kept happening beginning from the end of high school. I consequently became self destructive. March 1999, two of my good friends, Lynn Chen and Suel Lee died in a car crash coming back from a rave. I got my heart broken, for the first time, by a girl my freshman year of college. I shutdown my pride and joy, MP3site.com, in 2000, because I got dicked over by a company called Raremedium. My mom moved back to Korea. My other good friend from high school, Jason Cheng, died suddenly of a heart failure in March of 2001. Ironically, I searched for a way out of those dark years inside of a toilet bowl, yacking my brains out at one of two Korean drinking establishments (Koko House & World Beat) on telegraph. Both were shut down because they allowed newborn babies to drink Soju out of their bottles. I didn’t give a shit during those years- I went through my sophomore year of college without purchasing a single book or attending a single lecture. I shit you not.
There was no event that caused me to give a shit again. It’s just that when I hit rock bottom, I had no choice but to swim back up. My junior year, I started going to class, I found a job doing computer shit for campus.

Carlos , the incarnation of Beelzebub himself, transferred to Yale to study music.

I decided that I wanted to give my academics a second shot. That’s when I decided to pursue law. My Junior and Senior year were stable and I brought my 2.0 GPA to 3.010…

I’m ready to start fresh at law school.