Sorry about yesterday's sentimental post. Sometimes I've got to affirm the orthodoxy of The Moaning Christian with a trenchant and perfunctory confession.
Last night was shaping up to be another shitty reflective minddirge. We were heading out to what seemed like sterile grounds for a party, the Olympic complex. To make matters worse, we paid four euro each to head up to a Space Needle-like tower, where one hapless bartender was making people lattes and pouring mediocre beer. I put on my usual affected silence and my I'm-not-pouting pout, complete with terse and unfunny quips. My mom and sister had a good chat, and eventually my sister and I did too. The fireworks were the most memorable since my July 4th in DC four or five years ago, though. I don't think there were any city fireworks; it seemed like everyone had bought a thirty minute supply, and just before midnight the entire city erupted, a show in every neighborhood. I have never seen anything like it in the States. Literally every part of the city was drinking and shooting off fireworks.
[Think deep thoughts about democracy and peace;
End Scene]
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