Wednesday, January 24, 2007


The universality of McDonald's warms my heart. Since I got here in italy, i haven't been so shy, more embarassed (I know shy and embarassed are kinda similar in italian, imbarazzato, something like that) when it came to ordering in a pizzeria, trattoria, osteria, allegria, et ceteria. I'm jsut unable to mumble the few italian words i know (we're talking about bad preparation here). But when I saw the big yellow "M" and entered, I didn't care. I was gonna stuff my face pretty bad. And i'm a bad, bad man. So I asked the cashier if he spoke english, and he said "un po". I thought: "I don't care if I look like the asshole who doesn't want to make the effort to speak italian in italy. It's fucking Mcdonald's!!"

So I stuffed my face, the good old north american way, and I don't feel bad about myself. I needed junk and I was fed junk.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

the train to Firenze is cool

I'm in Florence, people. Much better than half dead venice and this point. There was a very beautiful girl sitting in front of me in the train. She got on at Padova and stayed on the train in Firenze, so I suspect she's going to Roma. So very beautiful. I haven't told her a word. That could have ruined it. I know, I know. I'm lame. I'm a wuss. I don't deserve the title of master of the world (I never did, so I don't really mind). She wasn't the fashion magazine type. She was my type... and close to perfect as far as my type goes. That's the way she'll always remain.

"She's one of these italian angels, the ones that should be sculpted in marble. A painting wouldn't do her justice, because colors fade, and anyway, she deserves 3D."

I wrote that right in front of her. I should have dropped my notepad on the seat next to hers while going to the bathroom. Maybe I'll see her again in Roma. Who knows.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

I might just the only one to be alone. I'm the odd man out. I'm the outcast.

Please someone jump on a plane and come rescue me. Being alone sucks. I overestimated my love of loneliness. I love people. There you have it. I said it. I love people. I suck. Boo

I'm in italy...

therefore, I have to learn all over again how to use a keyboard. Life is hard. There's fog all over Venice, and even worse, the keyboard is way too high for me to type without having a back ache. It's terrible. I'll find better places to write, though, because this place sucks (meaning, the hostel). Hostels suck in general. But I don't want to spend too much. That's because I'm a careless guy, and if i start to carelessly spend money, I will soon realize this trip is costing much more than it should.

It sucks to be alone. The only meaningful conversation I've had in 6 days was with three guys near London bridge who wanted to film/interview me about morality and christianity. I declined the being filmed, but we still talked for half an hour. Conclusion: I'm going to hell, and maybe, just maybe, I've made them doubt themselves about their belief in God and how beautiful and absolutely true the old testament is, still to this day. It was fun.

Now in Venice, it's deserted, because it's the low season. Half the shops on the periphery are closed, i.e. in Giudecca, were stupid hostel is, nothing's open except the little snack bar next door whose food looks honestly delicious. Or maybe the pictures are photoshopped :P

I'll take the day tomorrow seeing Venice, the real Venice, not Giudecca, I'll come back for the night (not that I want to, but I already paid and I hate to carry my backpack everywhere. I travel light, but it's still heavy). Tuesday morning I'll checkout, go out with my bag, go to the train station and see what I'll do. I'll be looking at something towards Genova. If I find something early. I'll take it. If it's late, I'll put my backpack in a locker and go back into venice for some more exploring.

There. That's an update.

*Jedi mind trick* don't complain about the updates *end trick*

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Leaving tomorrow for italy. The weather is said to be finer than usual. I'm all set. Been waiting for this my whole life, bla bla bla.

I'm pretty much updating only for the sake of updating. I'm a blog whore. 23 seconds left. Time to say goodbye.


Friday, January 19, 2007

I just can't get myself to like London. I've seen it under many angles, and each time, I keep telling myself: "I could never live here."

The last thing I want is to come back to Quebec and think it's not so bad after all. I want it to be worse than the places I will visit during this trip. It would be a great news if Quebec, out of all these cities, sucked. It would mean there's room for improvement. Well, I've said that for years, but finally I'll have examples to back it up.

I'm gonna kick your arse, Quebec!

I love mocking the brits.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

London's getting better

I just spent the last three hours writing. It feels so good. And with the twist in the plot I had imagined months ago, I didn't know how I could pull it off, but the operation is a success! Writing is great. I'm awesome. I also wrote a postcard, and I think it is great so far. I have to get to work with the other ones, though. There's no copying here. Damn... talking about copies... I wanted to digitalize everyone of my postcards before sending them off, but I forgot to do it with the first one. And it is a very good one. So, whoever gets that first one, I'll have to see you to photograph it (close-up style... it's more for the writings than the picture. those are my memories after all).

Besides that... well, London is hollow, and I'm better than that. So, blah.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

And let there be blood..

The nose-bleeding hasn't stopped. It happened twice more today. I went to the doctor. Got a little cream I gotta stuff in my nose. I'm feeling terrible. Everything tastes like blood (or even worse, dried blood). Therefore, I lose appetite. Therefore, I eat less. Therefore, I grow weaker. I'm fading, ladies and gentlemen. Life is hard. London's a bitch. What's in the air? What the fuck is wrong with me? How much blood can I still lose?

Worse... people around here aren't high on moral support. I'm such a loveable guy... half-covered with blood, swearing in french, etc. People should be offering me their sleeves for me to wipe the blood off of my face. London's a bitch.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

First day in India... hmm.. London

I'm in London and I don't know how to type anymore. Those damned brits! Damn! I hope the net isn't filtered here like it is in China, or I'll Scotland Yards and MI-6 chasing my arse for the next few days. Yes, I said arse, I'm britishanized... even though I'm not sure I've spoken to any brit at all, so far. I talked to a couple of chinese. To a german. I've come to believe that 90% of the population here is Indian. But the monuments are still there to confirm that this is in fact London, and not New Delhi. I have yet to have any deep discussion on the metaphysics of quantum mechanics with someone as angry as his enlgish accent will let him. That's really why I came here in the first place, wasn't it (question mark here... I can't find it on the keyboard anywhere, which makes me wonder whether the brits sometimes ask questions).

Oh the adventures, so far. I doubted I would have "crazy" stories to tell about this trip, but I have already one, and it didn't take long. Once I got here in London, after my plane had been delayed 3h45, after my bus got to the airport 3h30 late because of the storm (by the way, the bus that crashed on the highway 20, near Drummondville, wasn't mine. I'm safe, don't worry). Well, once I got off the metro, which was the easiest part of the trip so far, I had to find my hostel, but I was nowhere near it, in reality. So I started searching, asking, and asking again. At one point, my nose started bleeding, itwas pouring. It was horrible. I finally found the hostel, but I was kinda weak by then, having lost an impressive amount of blood, and having not eaten a complete meal in a while (plane meals are crap on trays), I wasn't feeling really well. Well, well for it to make it a crazy story. Just imagine the face of the lady at the reception desk when she saw me arrive, the face half-covered with blood. I had to keep myself from laughing.

Anyway, I hope tomorrow's gonna be a little more productive and interesting. I did manage to see a few things today, but it was rather superficial. I'll keep trying. That's what I'm here for, after all.


Monday, January 15, 2007


I'm leaving today!

I'll keep you updated during the trip.

0 day.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

In less than 24 hours, I will be somewhere in the sky. I'm extremely stressed. I'm sick. I don't sleep well.

Things will be better once things get going. It's all the waiting that's killing me. I keep reminding myself that everything will be fine. But I'm nervous.

I need a massage.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Damn... still sick. Didn't sleep last night. I feel like crap.

3 days.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

4 days. Everything's going well. Shopping is done (I think). Laundry is done (drying actually). The only thing left to do is packing. Blah.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

5 days.

Quote of the day

I don't even butter my bread. I consider that cooking.
- Katherine Cebrian

Tuesday, January 09, 2007


6 days.

I would feel so unoriginal to say that I'm unorganized, that I'm messy. I would feel so unoriginal to say I'm stressed. I would be so unoriginal to say I'm bored.

I'm incredibly unoriginal.

Monday, January 08, 2007

One week left

7 days. As I had expected, I'm fighting the illness with unmatched efficiency. One good night of sleep and tomorrow I'll be well.

That was the good news. Bad news: I still have some shopping to do, including clothes, which I abhor with a calm, if invisible, passion. I have to clean my room a little, make sure I have all I need, and all I need is in order. Pack. Clean up my computer. That's about it.

Things would be much easier if I were an organized person. As anyone seen my plane ticket??

just kidding. It's right here.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Oh the dreaded...

8 days to go and I'm sick! Damn... I was doing so well. Now, sinuses are jammed, which gives headaches. Which means I'll spend more time in bed than what I'd planned. Ok.. I never really planned anything, more like expected. But the headache's annoying. And I know myself quite well, and usually, my sinusitis is only the prelude to something worse.

But when I woke up, I noticed the sinuses, and started to treat it right away. I decided to wear clothes this time, in order to keep my warmth to myself. I even put on socks. Then I treated it with real medicines. If all goes according to plans, I should be sickness-free in two to three days. I'm taking care of my throat, because it's usually the second part that goes down. If I can limit it to the sinuses, I'll be alright.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Spelling is sadly more important than baseball...

Is it possible that I may be so shallow as to reject a girl based mostly on her bad spelling? There was this girl I've dated three times two years ago, and I don't think I've ever really gotten over the fact that she couldn't write a sentence without making every words in it want to kill themselves. She was like a Slobodan Milošević, a Hitler, for words. A paragraph was an atom bomb. An entire email, a ruthless genocide. Is it possible that I've never given her much credibility because of that?

It basically means that I have to find someone who can write well. So now, it's a hot astrophysician, minoring in ancient history, loving baseball and architecture, desiring to travel and writing beautifully. It's getting harder and harder every day. Alright... I'm one to make compromises, so she doesn't have to be hot. I'll settle for cute. I can also live without her loving baseball, but she better cook instead! Damn... I really do need someone who can cook, otherwise I'll starve. The list's just getting longer. The search's just getting harder. Please, if you meet that girl, let me know. I need her.

And people, I'm leaving in 9 days, so for the postcard list, contact me. There are still plenty of spots, each empty one reminding me how much I don't have friends, you fuckers!

Friday, January 05, 2007

10 days and counting...down... counting down... as in a countdown... I count... down. Get it?!

10 days...

...and I'm bored. I hate waiting. Having to wait 10 more days until I finally do something with my life. I'm sick of waiting, because I've waited almost 24 years. Well, I guess I could exclude the first four years, because I wasn't really aware of myself. Also, I don't think I can count the following fifteen years, because even if I had tried to do something with my life, I probably wouldn't have been able to, due to my being a minor, moneyless and hairless. Ok, maybe I give hairs too much importance in regard to my deficiencies. But it would explain why I went through this seemingly atemporal depression during the approximately four years I didn't get a single haircut. Even today, although I have shorter hair, I am depressed, and perhaps that the fact I only shave every month or so has something to do with it (and I'm not like these teenagers and young adults who don't shave just because they have nothing to shave. I just carelessly grow somewhat of a beard, until I get annoyed by it and decide to shave).`
I shaved today, yet I don't feel better. I'm bored. I hate waiting. Wait for something good to happen. What if I go to italy, spend a month and a half actively experiencing life, discovering the world and meeting new people, but nothing happens? I mean... well, I mean something. A friend told me to come back with pictures and crazy stories. What if nothing crazy happens, therefore no crazy story to tell? What if my trip is eventless? What if all I have to tell are my impressions, my recollections of places I've visited and just tidbits and anecdotes? Perhaps on my last day, if nothing has happened, I should just go in the street and try to get mugged. Or raped. Rape could be fun. But I have to find a woman willing to rape me, because dude rape isn't something I want to experience. What if beautiful landscapes and historical architecture, and inspiration and writing, and new interesting people, don't satisfy me? What if I need more? What if when I come back, I just sit down here again, feeling bored and lonely again. Waiting for something to happen and hating waiting. Waiting some more. Start a 25th year of waiting for something to happen, not really expecting anything to actually happen.

I quoted Lord Lyttelton a few days ago: "Love can hope where reason would despair." I do hope a lot. I'm a dreamer. If all my dreams were about having my hopes shattered, someone would have found me hanging in a closet by now (actually, that wouldn't work, because the bar in my closet is 3½ feet high, and I'm more than 3½ feet tall). But my dreams are sweet and hopeful. They tell of love, fun and success. But when I open my eyes, reason settles in, and it gets hard to think of love, fun and success, because what I see is a 24 year old solitary, bored and single for over five years, two-time college dropout. This is no picture of positivism and glory.

One could say that I'm desperate for something to happen soon. That one is me, by the way. I said it.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

11 days...

Quote of the day

"We've heard that a million monkeys at a million keyboards could produce the complete works of Shakespeare; now, thanks to the Internet, we know that is not true."
- Robert Wilensky

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Do you know the world you live in?

By the way, I leave in 12 days.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Quote of the day

"Love can hope where reason would despair."
- Lord Lyttelton
13 days

Monday, January 01, 2007

14 days before I leave.