Overly nostalgic

My first visitors in London were two American-African friends: Nate & Julie Overly.

Approximately one year after headlining one of the only weddings I've ever actually enjoyed attending, the duo visited London for a week -- Julie to attend an educational conference (she and Nate both teach at the International School of Tanganyika in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania), Nate to ... wander around the city, visit me daily for lunch, and nap frequently.















(Starlets, take notice: visiting me in London guarantees a post dedicated to you on my blog w/ pictures -- promotion that's sure to be viewed by literally tens of people!)


Highlights from the week included:

Monday: It was probably 50 degrees, but Nate & Julie live in Africa. They were very cold, and also don't really own that many warm clothes anymore. So they borrowed jackets and scarves from some friend, who was a woman. So Nate walked around the trendiest part of London in drag. I introduced Nate & Julie to my shawarma guy, then we walked through Picadilly and on Oxford/Regent Streets until we tired ourselves out.

Tuesday: Nate & Julie went to see the musical Wicked. So I went out for my colleague's birthday, which ended with me walking most of the way home at 3:30am because I missed the last train and my knowledge of the bus routes is kind of hit or miss. I did potentially meet someone who can get me tickets to see Arcade Fire next time they're in town.

Wednesday: Watched the England v Andorra game in Covent Garden. Met these chaps (pictured below) who were in town on business (and by business I mean on strike against English/EU work laws which apparently allow immigrants from Eastern Europe to saturate the labor markets -- showing up in London and going to the pub is sure to make a statement!). After another pathetic display by England, we finished off with a nightcap of Baby Guinness at The Angelic in Islington.















And that was pretty much it. See you in a few more years on another continent my globetrotting, big-game-hunting friends. Lovely to see you.

Oh, and as for the review of Guinness Red -- that happened on Thursday afternoon. Per Nate (and I can confirm) it's pretty unremarkable. It's kind of like an imposter Guinness -- kind of reddish, but definitely recognizable as a Guinness -- thick and frothy. Not nearly as satisfying or good for you (just making things up at this point).















If you're looking to try a new refreshing beverage with a chromatic name, I'd suggest Kronenbourg Blanc. The French have done something right with this one. It may supplant Hoegaarden as the best summer brew.

But if you're determined to do something new with Guinness, go with a Baby Guinness over Guinness Red. But I'm not going to tell you what that is. My mom probably doesn't like it when I talk about this stuff.

Fashion (a)musings

Tomorrow I'll post pictures from Nate & Julie's London visit, as well as the promised review of Guinness Red (CliffsNotes = not good). It's raining today, which leads in nicely to some random musings on accessories and style.

Umbrellas
Name a more dangerous accessory. My friend Brad Miller could never understand this because when he walks down a crowded street on a rainy day, all he experiences is occasional random dryness. When I do the same, I'm constantly aware of pointy umbrella tips narrowly missing my eyes and face over and over again. It's amazing what a foot of height will do to change your perspective (Brad is incredibly short even for an Anglosaxon).

But even Brad would agree that children have no right carrying an umbrella. They simply don't have the presence. They're never going to be successful at staying dry and not running into people.

Backpacks
This was a real anomaly in the States, but here I see at least one person per week running while wearing a backpack. Are they on their way to/from the gym? Are they Scandinavian? It doesn't really matter. There's no excuse for it. Running is fine, backpacks are fine, but both at once is ridiculous. End of story.

Oversized sunglasses & boots
Humungous shades are popular here even when the sun is not out. (Which, like Goshen IN is never.) I'm undecided. Like a lot of fashion trends, I'm fine with them if they're worn by the right people in the right situation, but more often than not this isn't the case.

Same general party line with boots. They're definitely worn excessively here, and a wise person once said "it's never the right temperature for a mini-skirt and Uggs." We'll say they're fine in moderation, but only for the ladies.

also only for the ladies...
Leggings
I'm for them.

Hoodies
Hoodie gangs are giving a good 1/2 of my mild-weather wardrobe a bad name. If you didn't know, London is full of little dangerous packs of youngsters wearing their hoods up. They do things like stab people and also less serious stuff like jaywalking. So wearing your hood up puts you in poor company. A real shame.

Haircuts
I don't know where to start. And I need one. Brad Miller once TRIED to get a fashion mullet at a London salon and failed. I'm going to try NOT to get one and hope I succeed. My job probably depends on it.

Tuxedos
No experience with these here as of yet, but this is something I've wanted to bounce around for a while: Are these really that nice? The short answer is probably yes, but I'd reserve that for those gentlemen who own their own and have couth (mind the bowtie and stick with black). But the rental community bothers me. Why is it nicer to wear a rental tux that doesn't fit me and has probably been worn to a high school prom than to wear a nice suit that I own, has been tailored to my exact size, and has been worn only on the most special of occassions (business meetings)?

Just consider it.

Hope that was helpful.

Guinness Red?

Holy cow. Color me excited. The color red would be appropriate.

I first learned to love Guinness when I went to Ireland after graduating from college. Drinking one is a lot like eating a loaf of bread. And it's nice seeing someone put so much care into the pour and preparation, as Irish bartenders often do -- a nice contrast to American bartenders who pre-pour in plastic cups and then demand a tip.

Nate Overly, one of my good friends from college who has been visiting London this week, has guinea pig'd the new release for all of us. Report to follow.

Jiminy

The World Cup is on. The Cricket World Cup. I've actually been paying attention in the hopes of figuring out the rules. They're down to eight teams, which they call The Super Eights. That's so lame that they have a name for when there are eight teams left. We would never do that.

I think I generally understand the game now and I like watching the highlights. All I know is, I'll never coach the Pakistani team. Their coach got MURDERED. DURING THE TOURNAMENT.

At first they thought it was a heart attack. But then they decided he was strangled. Possibly by a hitman, but then there were no signs of forced entry so it could've BEEN A PLAYER (or at least someone he knew). Geez. Apparently there has always been an undercurrent of potential match-fixing in Cricket, and this may have had something to do with that.

The other day I was trying to explain Cricket to another American and I realized I sounded like a 5 year old.

Dear %$*^€"&(£!

Dear Apple,

Thanks for finally fixing my MacBook. I'll pick it up today on my way home from work. I agree with your assessment: buying a brand new computer and then not being able to turn it on was an unusual problem. And having to get it fixed instead of just replaced since I bought it in New York and now live in London was a bit of a hassle! Hopefully next time I spend two thousand dollars in your store, I'll have the good sense to pick one out that works. My bad!

I enjoy your commercials.

Love,
Eric


Dear Sainsbury's,

I'm new to London, so forgive me for not knowing how UK grocers operate. That said, those pizzas I bought said "Buy 1 Get 1 Free" pretty clearly right on the box. I guess I learned my lesson -- just because there is a sign that says "Buy 1 Get 1 Free", which the actual product packaging confirms, there's still some work to be done in order to actually reap the rewards of that deal when paying. My cashier was very insistent in this instance that "This is not the one that's for sale. That one is gone." Thanks for clarifying! And sorry for holding up the line.

Love,
Eric

P.S. My Tesco MVP card should be arriving any day now.


And Happy Birthday mom!

Google me

And then Google yourself.

It's something that's great to do in your downtime or just during your regular stalking hours. How else could I have found out that in 1999 my dad won 2 ounces of pure silver bullion in a drawing at a conference?

Of my results, my favorites are:

1. Esquire Magazine (my submission was published in the 1 June, 2003 issue in the "9 Most Remarkable Things in Culture this Month" column, as #3: Best Free Idea Sent to Esquire):

Two sets of Siamese twins fall in love with the twin who, with the sets facing one another, is diagonal.

A bit blue perhaps, but it really would be an interesting and sad phenomenon. Also nice to know that just a few years ago I was one of the most remarkable things in culture, if only for a month.

2. BusinessWeek (they called my company for a quote on how banks would come out after the Hurrican Katrina disaster):

"From a bank's perspective...it's good economically in the same paradoxical way that a war is good economically for a lot of people," says bank research analyst Eric ________ of SNL Financial in Charlottesville, Va. "Natural disasters historically have been a boon for banks because they'll be lending and speeding up the processing of loans."

I just like that I used a war analogy and used the word paradoxical correctly. Also, this article was translated into German. And so was my quote:

"Naturkatastrophen wirken für die Bankenbranche immer als Segen. Sie kurbeln das Geschäft mit Krediten an."

Brilliant. I know German.

3. Damien Rice's website (the Eric ________ Collection):

www.damienrice.co.uk/pictures.asp

Great artist. Great taste in photographs of himself and his band mates.

4. CNNsi.com (letter to the editor, in reference to several incidents during the 2003 baseball season when fans stormed the field only to get beat up by the players):

"It's too bad nothing will be done about removing these unruly fans and players. The reason: If you take them all away you've got no one left."

I hate baseball. In retrospect I wish I would've been a touch meaner.


5. Blogs -- several of them, with several results.

My brother's fantastic music blog:
http://cemusic.blogspot.com
My friend Brad's fantastic random musings blog:
http://millerphoto.blogspot.com
My other friend Brad's fantastic travel (b)log:
http://bradhoffmanphoto.blogspot.com
My blog (not sure how this even came up since I've intentionally tried not put my full name on it anywhere in the interest of future employment:
http://er-uk.blogspot.com


If you really feel like going all out, maybe try a Google Image search of yourself. If you try one with my name you're in for a treat.

And if your name didn't return any results, maybe it's time to start putting yourself out there a little more, you know?

Transport for London

It's not really a question of IF i'll be hit by a bus while living here. It's more a question of when and how hard.

Also just learned that the Tube map is not to scale, which makes sense in retrospect, but also makes me feel silly for believing it was.

I'm no Sloaney Pony, part 2 of what turned out to be 2

Few more football notes -- England is not good. McClaren's side just lacks imagination. They've got too many reliable workhorses but only one who can in any way be considered a gamebreaker, and not only is he being played on the wrong side of the pitch (I'm talking about Lennon), he shaves his eyebrows.

They need Becks back, they need to get some time for Theo Walcott and some other youngsters, and they are really missing Ashley Cole as another player who can get forward and change the game. Or at least start Defoe -- he looked dangerous during the few minutes he was given tonight against Israel.

Not that the U.S. National Team has anywhere near the amount of quality as England. When Freddy Adu goes to Europe next year I think we'll find out pretty quickly how far he is from starting and contributing at a big club. (By the way, did I ever tell anyone that I once emailed the owner of DC United with an email that just said: "I've got a brilliant idea. Write me back if you'd like to hear more." And he did. And then I told him that my brilliant idea was a tagline they could use to market Freddy -- 'What would Freddy Adu?" He didn't really like it.)

Oh yes, wanted to explain why I'm an Arsenal fan: because they're sooo not like England. They have gamebreakers and play the game at a speed that puts the other team on its heels. And they do so without being reckless. In fact, they do so with a degree of style and control that really confirms the whole 'beautiful game' mantra. Say what you will about the fact that they're a massive club or complain about the lack of English players on their side. They're fun to watch, they don't have any players as despicable as Rooney, Ronaldo, most of Tottenham, all of Newcastle. Arsene Wenger is the anti-Mourinho. He could very well be Mennonite.

I got on the bandwagon back in 1999. France had just won the World Cup behind the strength of the best player I've ever seen play -- Zizou. (I love the guy even more after the headbutt. I'm sorry. It was something I could've done. By the way Materazzi has continued to be a class act since the final -- he recently got an eight inch long tattoo of the World Cup trophy on his thigh.) But I could never watch Zizou play for his club -- he was in Italy and then later in Spain, leagues that don't broadcast games very often in the States. So I started watching his countrymen on Arsenal. There's also the whole -- I went to Africa a couple of times and love it there so I support players from the continent and Arsenal always has more than a few.

So that's it. That's the end of this 2 part series. If any of this stuff is interesting to you I'd suggest you read "How Soccer Explains the World" by Franklin Foer. Foer is a writer for the NY Times and covers the sport from a sociological/anthropological level in his book. He spans the globe and tells interesting stories about how soccer has shaped societies and how societies have shaped soccer throughout the years. So even though I think he could've done a better job of naming the book something less obvious, it really is well written and compelling. You'll never watch a game in the same way again.

Don't forget about the tickets.

I'm no Sloaney Pony, part 1 of at least 2

Learned some interesting things about soccer/football the other day.

Did you know that football isn't offered as a sport at most of England's public schools? And did you know that what they call public schools here we call private schools in the U.S.? Public (fee-based) schools are much more likely to exclusively play rugby and cricket, whereas football is the sport of choice at State (no fee) schools.

So it turns out that football is a class sport here. The poor play and the rich watch. Sounds a lot like college (American) football and basketball in the U.S. And the NFL and NBA too.

But it hasn't always been that way. Years ago football was a blue-collar sport from a fan perspective as well -- the marginalized played and the marginalized watched. Hooliganism became rampant and eventually government intervened, collaborating with police and the clubs themselves to make games safe and family friendly. Hooligans were banned from the grounds and disciplined harshly. Ticket costs rose accordingly as the English Premier League grew in reputation as a world class league. Today games are attended by families, ticket prices are more expensive than American football tickets (and they play about 10x as many games), and you don't hear much about hooliganism in England. Or so I thought.

A few weeks ago Chelsea and Tottenham played in the FA Cup (an English tournament that involves all teams across all leagues and lasts for several months). After the game, hooligan supporters of both clubs met in front of a bar in Chelsea -- a really chic one, referred to as the Sloaney Pony to those who wouldn't (or can't afford to) pay more than 4 quid for a pint, or who just don't like rich/fashionable/upwardly mobile people and places for other reasons. And they brought homemade weapons (bats, chains, pieces of wood with nails sticking out, hockey sticks) and they fought. In all, 7 people were hospitalized and more than 30 were arrested. The trendy inhabitants of the bar were terrified.

Did anyone else see this coming? The disenfranchised (in this case the club's staunchest supporters) didn't just go away like everyone hoped they would. Sure, some of them have written tell-all books about their lives as hooligans and reformed. But some also came back and started a fight in their former backyard. Chelsea used to be known to have one of the most vicious firms (English slang for gang, specifically with regards to football clubs), now they're probably the most cosmopolitan of all the teams in England.

Tottenham is another London club whose supporters have always had a reason to fight -- their fans are referred to disaffectionately as the Yids (north central London where Tottenham is based was primarily a Jewish neighborhood when the club formed), and opposing fans (even the family-friendly ones of current day) often make hissing noises to imitate the sound of a gas chamber as a cheer.

Sounds like a big mess, I know. More to come in part 2, including the reason I'm an Arsenal fan.

Please if you know anyone who can get me tickets to a game (any game), let me know.

Warning: thieves and pickpockets operate at this station

The other night I was waiting for a train (Circle line from Notting Hill Gate to South Kensington), when I happened upon a moral dilemna. AH!

Initially I thought that an old man was buying some candy from a Cadbury Egg machine (each Tube station in London has several of these chocolate egg-dispensing machines on every platform). After further inspection, I noticed that he was prodding the coin and change slots with a kitchen knife. Eventually all the change was released, which he collected in his pockets before walking to the next machine.

I didn't do anything to prevent this from happening, or happening a second and then third time, and now I'm trying to determine whether I should have. These were the variables that went through my mind at the time:

(1) He was old.
(2) Cities are unforgiving and expensive.
(3) He looked ashamed of what he was doing, so, despite the knife,
(4) he was harmless.
(5) But still, he was stealing.
(6) Then again, he was stealing from a huge conglomerate (pun intended)
(7) that makes chocolate,
(8) which makes people fat and sugar-dependant.
(9) And even aside from the fact that Cadbury profits from the collectively poor diet of the developed world and exploits the fact that people these days have no self-restraint when it comes to sweets, Cadbury is a massive corporation which means they are
(10) evil.

Not really all that compelling when I read this again. I probably should've just given him a few quid or taken him to dinner. I'm surprised I'm actually writing a whole post about this. I think it stuck with me because I remembered a case study that said that Cadbury was a peer to Wrigley, which surprised me. I thought they just made eggs but apparently they're pretty enormous. Also most Americans think that Hershey would be the premier globally-recognized brand when it comes to chocolate, but in fact they are not well known outside of the U.S. Anywhere else in the world, if you're eating chocolate, you're eating Cadbury.

I also don't like chocolate.

The New Yorker Caption Contest is a sham

This is old news by now, but I often find it hard to let things go, as indifferent or argumentative friends and ex-girlfriends alike can surely confirm. Especially things that seemed so right at the time, as this once did.

[A word of introduction -- The New Yorker (best magazine ever, regardless of your geographic location) has been hosting a cartoon caption contest. For the past year or two the last page of each weekly issue displays a non-captioned cartoon. Readers then submit captions (which I did within the allowed timeframe), the entries are rated by unbiased judges at The New Yorker (or so they claim), and ultimately the top 3 captions are selected (or so they assert) and displayed in a later issue (can't argue with that). Readers select their favorite caption of the 3 (true) and vote online (yep). The votes are counted (or so they profess) and a winner is crowned (I wouldn't really know).]

Tell me then, if they've passed over something great with my submission for the Cartoon Caption Contest # 86, 12 February 2007.


The cartoon:



My caption:
"Stay the course, eh?"

I know.

How a magazine with such taste and perspective could've overlooked this, and not even given it a spot in the final 3 is beyond me. Maybe they found fault in the Canadian-ish intonation of the hero. Maybe they thought it too obvious. We'll probably never know. And so the caption for this cartoon will remain, for all of history, the honorable if wordy: "I support our troops as much as the next guy, but do we have to let them play through?"

Congratulations Charlie Freund of Glendale, Calif., but you are no Freund of mine.

Random (a)musings

One of these days I'm going to not Mind The Gap. I don't even want to think about it.

In retrospect, I should've packed less hats and more shoes.

Speaking of shoes -- it's basically impossible to wear a pair over here that will get a second look from anyone. There is simply no shoe that goes too far.

Last week I visited Edinburgh. Scotland has the most redheads in the world per capita. Scottish people also consume the most beer in the world by the same measure. I was neither a redhead nor a drunk when I got locked on the rooftop garden of my hotel and had to be rescued after being spotted in the security camera.

Another interesting fact about Scotland -- in the early 1900s they were the tallest of all Europeans, on average. 20 years later their average height had declined by 9 inches. War = what is it good for?

Scotland also has really clean drinking water which they sell throughout the UK (London included). This fact, in combination with the above tidbit on alcohol consumed per person, has resulted in the expected amount of jokes regarding London's drinking water and the destination of Scotland's collective urine supply.

I tried haggis and I would recommend it.

My mom is my biggest fan

Yesterday was Mother's Day/Mothering Day here in the UK. As an expat, it's a bit of a toss-up as to which holidays I should celebrate, but this one in particular I'm happy to celebrate twice annually at the least.

And since my mom is my most avid reader and biggest fan, this seems like an appropriate venue to say Thank You, mum. I hope all your dreams come true. And I hope I can be as good as a son as you have been as a mom. If I can do that, that will be enough.

Love, Eric

Coins and the homeless

A wise man once said that the most awkward place to cross paths with a homeless person is on the way to the Coinstar machine. Another awkward place: London (or anywhere else that distributes coins of great value).

I gave a homeless man $9.

Four coins -- one worth £2, two worth £1, and one worth 50p.

I've certainly spent $9 and received far less in return, but this still serves as an unsettling confirmation that I have not grasped the value of my new currency.

Where I live

Literally tens of people have asked me to post pictures of where I'm living. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for my fans, so here now, are those exact pictures you've requested!!!

My borough. My weird hybrid apartment/hotel complex. The smallest car I have ever seen. I live in Chelsea/Kensington (not really sure which) for this month, which is cozy.










My master bedroom/hang out area/dining area/study & breakfast nook, kitchen/laundry, loo. I'm basically either here, at work, or just wandering around the neighborhood.










My Shawarma guy. My Shawarma. Where I go to buy cars. My grocer. Tube stop.










Emerging from the Tube at my office stop (Snappy Snaps!), pics from around the office...










Next time everyone wants a picture show I'll include some pictures of the office, some snappy snaps from my trip to Edinburgh, and a couple of the Swedish girls I've been dating on and off. Oh, and my new digs.

Things that are harder here

1. Phones. For me to call you (assuming you are in the US, which is where most of my readership reside), I have to dial 001, then your phone number. Also I have to pay Vodafone £150 as a deposit to make non-domestic calls, which will be returned to me once I prove my trustworthiness as a mobile subscriber (this process of rapport-building always takes exactly 3 months), plus another £150 as a deposit for the phone. For you to call me from outside of the United Kingdom, you have to dial 001, 44, then my phone number. If you're in the UK, you have to dial my phone number preceded by a 0, which makes sense.

2. Bank Accounts. To open one, all you need is a residence, a job, a phone, and preferably another bank account. (It should be noted that to get a residence or a phone, a bank account is required). There are no free bank accounts in the UK - no perk accounts cost £6.50/month. They also, hilariously, print ALL of your account information, including routing number and account codes, on the front of your debit card. Also, if you choose to apply for a credit card, you may be granted one with a credit limit of as little as £200 ($400), which you can pick up in exchange for a £200 deposit.

3. Not being broke. Today I bought a deli sandwich from a grocery store for £3.80.

4. Reveling in Duke's first round defeat in the NCAA tournament. Normally seeing this news would've resulted in me celebrating in outrageous fashion. Each year on the first day of basketball season, a small seed of dismay is planted within me, which grows into a heavier yoke as the season progresses. The burden: that Duke will win the tournament. While each loss in regular season play and the conference tournament are small blessings, only their elimination in March puts me at peace. This year that day came sooner than expected. If I were still in the US, there is little doubt that I would be shirtless right now, with a phone to my ear, catching up with one of my inexplicable Duke lover friends in a conversation that would almost certainly progress from playful banter to hurtful and tragic personal insults. As it stands, I see the score troll by but allow myself only a knowing grin. I'm already detached. Plus, I've got bigger things to worry about. The Cricket World Cup is on and someone's got to cheer against Australia. And tomorrow there is 6 Nations Rugby -- what a tragedy it would be if the French won. It would tear me apart.

July 1 is going to be the dog's bollocks

What else do I like about living in London? Aside from free games and activities like 'guess the nationality of a stranger', 'question the fashion choices of your peers' and 'gawking at Swedish girls', there's this:

English Smoking Ban to Begin July 1
LONDON -- A ban on smoking in movie theaters, shopping malls, pubs and other public places in England will take effect July 1, the government said Friday.

Prime Minister Tony Blair has said the ban is aimed at aiding Britain's smokers to quit and part of a wider drive to improve public health.

Big pond, lots of fish

My non-Facebooking readers are likely unaware of the following: I have only been to 8% of the world. I'm not proud of it, but it's true. See for yourself.

If you considered me a world traveler, you were wrong. As much as I'd like to have the frequent flier miles of a dignitary or a diplomat, I do not. I'm hoping to make a pretty big dent in Europe over the next few months, but even the whole of Europe doesn't really even measure up with ... I dont know -- Russia, Greenland ...

To assess your progress as a cosmopolite, go here: www.world66.com/myworld66/visitedCountries

There's also a version for the States, which is sure to make us all feel a little more road weary: www.world66.com/myworld66/visitedStates

Finally, for another way to view yourself in the context of the world, check out this site: www.globalrichlist.com. Enter your annual income and see how you rank. You'll probably be impressed with yourself. The fact that you have a computer to login and read this puts you in the top 1% of the world's population.

Now go to bed and think about how you can start being a better person when you wake up in the morning.

March madness

Why can't I do a wire transfer from Bank of America to a Barclay's account? They have a working relationship. Why do I need to be at a US branch office to confirm my identity? As soon as this gets worked out, I'm closing my BOA account. You should do the same. Globalization is a lie.

Words and phrases I've already used in conversation:

smashing
a bit
quite
cheers
brilliant
pint
quid

Words and phrases I've considered using and then reconsidered:
shattered
mental
manic
bloody
query
spot on
football (it just feels a bit wrong)

And I've not yet concluded a conversation with a falsetto sing-songy "bye", "cheers", "bye for now" or "cheerio". Be proud.

The Life of Pi

I'd bet most of you have read The Life of Pi. When I did, I thought it was true. And it really challenged me. Which did I believe in more: the possibility of miracles or the probability of a sadder reality? When I discovered it was fiction, I was at first pissed. Then I realized it didn't matter if it happened or not, but it did matter what I decided to believe in.

Life of Pi ends in Mexico, where The Castaways (from a recent issue of the best magazine ever, The New Yorker) begins: www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/02/19/070219fa_fact_singer

Believe in miracles, trust in the goodness of people, and subscribe to The New Yorker. Amen. I'm in Edinburgh if anyone is interested. And it is raining, exactly like I imagined.

Oh also

I got a place. Starting April 1. It's way nicer and bigger than I can afford. But I live on the corner of Caledonian and Copenhagen -- how sweet is that? And it will be a nice refuge from the city. It's in the borough of Islington (a 20 minute commute just north of my office, which is on Cannon Street in the financial district). The city centre is called Angel (also the nearest Tube stop). My Local (pub) is called The Angelic.

I have a small backyard.

You all just thought I was an angel, and now my address will reflect that formally: I am an Angel/er. Or I guess maybe I'm an Islingtoner, which is far more humble, but much less captivating.

Also close to my fav football club: Arsenal (whose season tanked right about the same time as I arrived, sadly). Hope to see you in the neighborhood shortly.

My proposal

I've never lived in a big city but have always pictured myself in one. Multiple reasons for that: I like having lots of stuff to do. I like meeting new people every day. I like not having a car. I like wearing a scarf and sunglasses and trying to look important but like I don't really care about being important. I like reading while riding public transportation. I like that I can date someone here and not have to worry about whether it will impact my ability to date someone else because in small towns everyone knows everyone and if there are two cute girls in the whole town there's a good chance they're best friends forever. I like sizing people up, and being sized up.

One theory I have is that cities beget tolerance based on the unavoidable proximity to lots and lots of people, generally, and an impossibly diverse mix of people, specifically. Small towns have charm, but they also provide easy escape and simple isolation. In a small town you have to really look for culture and make an effort to be inclusive; in a big city you can just sort of absorb it all, and you'd have to try pretty hard to be exclusive. And being around so many people makes us more responsible to each other. When public transportation is your SUV, and an apartment is your gated community, it makes sense that reflecting on the way we treat and consider others would be less peripheral.

Maybe I'm completely wrong, and if that's the case I'll know before too long.

It'll be good to think about these kinds of things and write them down to distract myself from how much money I'm spending.

Some context: a timeline of important events

08 March 1980
A child is born in Goshen, Indiana. He is 9 pounds, 6 ounces. His mother labors for all of 22 minutes. Beneath his jaundiced yellow skin, his eyes shine. He is Eric.

August 1994
Eric enters high school as a 5 foot, 75 pound freshman.

December 1996
Eric breaks the 100 pound barrier! Signs are made, parties are planned, those signs and parties are misinterpreted as teasing by vice principals, who reprimand the involved students for poor behavior.

August 1998
College. Harrisonburg, Virginia.

October 2002
After graduating and wandering around for a bit, Eric settles in the hopeful town of Charlottesville, Virginia.

01 March 2007
Eric changes his name to er-uk and starts a blog that will provide exciting banter and commentary on issues related to his move to London, along with random thoughts and provoking insights related to all things.

08 March 2007
Today. Another birthday, this time on the other side of the Atlantic.