9 days without booze

I stayed at home the whole of the weekend. I did nothing. I sat and I stared for a while, then I finished reading Obama's book, 'Stories from my father', then I saw a couple of CSI episodes, both Kill Bill on Saturday and, on Sunday night, I watched the documentary 'The Armenian Genocide'. It was a DVD that'd been here in the house for months and for the lack of options I decided to watch it. Not only did I watch the whole thing, I also clicked on the interview with a French historian about the war. It was an hour-long interview and after about 20 minutes I thought 'What am I doing? The Armenian Genocide?' I took it out of the computer and put it aside in disbelief. It was about 9:30pm and I started thinking about what I would be doing at the same time if I lived in another place. In Brazil I would be definitely drinking a beer with Adri, or watching cable on a 28" widescreen TV set. In London I would be at All Bar One reading The Observer sitting at table 25, drinking Staropramen or Edelweiss, waiting for Adri to finish his work (and giving him a little hand with the table-cleaning at the end) and set off to Holborn to Whetherspoon (aka 'the rat bar') or, towards the end of our time in the city, O'nealls; or I would be sitting in the TV room watching some program on a 32" widescreen set.
I wanted to cry but I didn't wanna make any noise. I went to smoke a cigarette at the window, sitting on the sill and looking at people walking from and towards Kazimierz. After a few drags, a light rain started to fall but it didn't seem to bother any of the pedestrians, they just kept slowly walking and talking, most of them British tourists. I tried to think of a solution, I reached down but there was nothing there.
I found two CDs with pictures in my box that I brought from London, one with pics from L.A., the other with pics from England. I looked at the L.A. pics and for the first time in days I was able to smile, remembering the things that'd happened there. The Snake Pit shots, Ro and I leaving the beers at the table with a coaster on the top of them to 'save' them while we went outside for me to have a cigarette. Then the pic of the guy who gave us a lift to where Andre was, I was positive that we would make it for a last pint but my watch was 20 minutes late. I guess the name was Todd, I'm not sure, good-looking guy, though. Then we went to Andre's place and he gave us the (worst) Beers of the World. I specifically remember us drinking 'Maldita', that was an accurate name, alright. I moved on to the Disney pics. I waited five hours until the guys came from a meeting in a neighboring town. That was fun... The roller-coaster which caused us to laugh for hours. The Splash Mountain moment that unfortunately isn't officially on record, but for sure is something that we'll remember forever. The party where Ro was in drag and the neighbors threw eggs at us because the music was too loud. One egg almost hit Ro and the police were called. The officer took a pic with Ro and his face was as red as Marlboro-red. We then decided that the party was over and got us a few souvenirs, as in beer. Ro opened up the bag and on 3 I desperately started to fill it up with bottles of MGD.
Pretty Woman's hotel, with my pants covered in ketchup.
My England pics with Ricardo, Claudinha and Fernanda. They were the ones who convinced me to go to Oxford and Cambridge on a day-trip. It was Sunday so there was nothing going on in the colleges, but at least I can say I've been there. Cambridge in summer must be great. We went in March and it was still kinda chilly. Pics at Walkabout on a Monday night, when the beer is a pound a pint. Pics at Belgo, the Belgian restaurant, where I first drank the 12% alcohol beer and the famous fruity beers. I would end up drinking the cherry and raspberry ones on occasion at All Bar One.
I'm not online now, but I wonder what I wrote after six months in London. I was probably complaining all the time. Maybe it's some sort of 'the six-month test' that you have to take to see if you'll be able to survive in the future in a certain place. The difference now is that here's not London, you know what I mean? Here's not Paris, here's not L.A., here's not Sao Paulo.
I really need some booze, any kind, whatever that can get me drunk and going.
Nine days is a long time for a person like me.