I can hear the soldiers whistling

Watched Svankmajer's Death of Stalinsim in Bohemia yesterday. Nifty little short animation. His films grow on me, despite the creepiness. Raw meat just shouldn't crawl around like that.

It's sunny today, still cool. I like it. I walk around in a tank top and I'm the only person with bare arms on the street. It's hilarious to be a foreigner sometimes. A drunk Frenchman asked me to the opera, switching between French and English while waving a glass of orange juice.

Across the street, a little military marching band practices early in the day. I get up to watch them after class, parading around the courtyard. Most of them are in uniform, yet randomly one guy will be wearing a sweatshirt and soccer shorts or jeans. Funny how all of the good looking men I see are married or in military uniforms.

Went to the Globe earlier, and it is such a nifty little place. Had the most delicious pasta and drinks, played on the net, looked at books. Pretty young gay boys dancing around behind the bar and sliding down the banister. Boys I think Miss Ang would definitely like. I did manage to get a little dictionary at Fischer this morning. I want to go back and buy a huge one before I leave, so maybe I'll give the little one to Patrick.

Tomorrow I promise to buy many postcards somewhere, and a pack of cigarettes. I feel bad for not sending anything, especially as I haven't taken a single picture yet. Damn camera. Oh well. It's okay. I will be coming back here. I will, I will, I will. Oh yes, I will.

Love

"Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it... It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more."

-- Erica Jong, b. 1942, American author

more rambling

I'm listening to a Czech woman sing a cover of an old Phil Collins song, Another Day in Paradise. Eerie to hear. I hear a lot of cover songs on the radio, mostly older American pop. It's awfully funny to hear Metallica in a restaraunt while eating my potatos.

The couple running U Keplera are from Croatia. I wonder how long they've been here. I listened to a loud American boy talk about capitalism with the them, and tech companies. I wonder how irritating it must be to have Americans tell you how you should be more like them.

Texas Death Sentence Overturned is the best news I've heard from America in a week. If Perry doesn't veto by June 17, a recently passed bill would bar the execution of the mentally retarded in Texas. Sad that we even have to argue about that.

There is one girl on the trip who likes to ask loaded questions. She makes a great show of being PC, of expressing "progressive, tolerant views" but if you happen to disagree with her.. well then the claws come out. I'm sure everyone knows someone like this. She irritates the hell out of me. Let me have my own opinions, and argue with me by all means, let me know how you think, what you think. But don't get on your high horse with me, don't act like I must be evil because I don't share your "enlightened" views. After all, I'm not on the tram at 3am telling you how you're going to hell for what you believe. Bah. And don't ask such things on the tram!! Don't even talk to me on the tram!

Sorry, I had to vent a little. Otherwise I'll knock her over the railing of Charles Bridge.

Reading Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle right now. Japanese detective strange modern out there story. Went to Anagram again today and bought a couple of books. Some short stories by a Russian emigre princess living in Paris in the 30s, and Skvorecky's The Coward. I may have to buy another suitcase to send home my books.

I think it must be American 80s night on the radio, I keep hearing these old songs and somehow I feel at home. The homesickness is only bad when I read my mother's emails or think about my giant bathtub. Because most of the time, I feel rather at home here.