Lack Of A Plan

So, the whole point of this trip was to fail to plan as much as possible. Unfortunately, this wasn't the brightest idea in the case of the film festival. Everything is sold out for the next couple of days. I got tickets to three films for Tuesday (No 2, 4:30, and Eleven Men Out). I will try to do the same for Wednesday, but I'm not getting my hopes up. I think there was something that I actually planned to be doing around 10 AM tomorrow, so crap on a crap cracker.

Things I miss:
My roommates. My friends. My iPod

Things I am surprised I don't miss:
My cellphone. My bed.

Yeah. My journal has seriously been working overtime lately. I've written so much since Star left me for a man in Paris. My writing has swung between terrible and fantastic with little room in between. Sometimes, there will just be random sentences firing around in my brain. Then later, everything will focus and the next couple of pages will be exactly what I wanted to say.

I realized a couple of days ago that I only write to complain or be angry or something. Which is weird, since I am actually having a good time here. I just find it difficult to write: Yeah, Alexander Platz. Good times. That shit is boring. I'd rather write about how my travelmate spilled soda on me on our last flight together. And how the male flight attendant was hot and changed my seat like I was a toddler who wet myself. And how we were total pains in the ass to him without actually meaning to be.

I am glad I bought some books in London. I just need that little bit of down time to read before I fall asleep.