UK CEREAL VARIETY PACK EXTRAVAGANZA!!!

Day 1: Rice Krispies Multi-Grain, Formerly Rice Krispies Muddles
Box claim: “Helps Boost friendly bacteria”

I went out to get dinner somewhere, and came back with a bottle of concentrated orange juice and a pack of eight tiny cereal boxes.

It’s culturally educational.

First of all, the only place the juice mentions that it's concentrated is in tiny print on the back of the bottle, where it warns against giving it to toddlers without dilution; the juice, you see, is so concentrated, like a black hole, it would absorb the infant, causing a baby implosion. It’s That Sweet ®. Anyway, I’m too lazy to ferry water, so I’m enjoying my extremely potent juice right now, sip by sip. And has my structural integrity been affected by the antimatter OJ? Not yet, thanks to multi-grain Rice Krispies! With friendly bacteria!

It’s really quite a suspicious cereal, actually. Snap, Crackle, and Pop, the three onomatopoeic advocates of the traditional Rice Krispies, are featured on the box as they bodysurf down a deluge of cereal, smiling, jazz hands in the air. But the trio avoids eye-contact with the viewer. In fact, their gazes are diverted in every portrayal on the box. Curious.

Upon inspection of the cereal, their embarrassment becomes understandable. The Brothers Krisp never had much sympathy for health food; rather it was the powers that be, perhaps Kellogg Himself, that pressured the three into creating this multi-grain nonsense. Multi-grain, of course, means brown, bland, and beneficial. Trust me, kids.

Anyway, Multi-Grain Rice Krispies bear no resemblance in shape, form, or taste, to Rice Krispies as the new world knows them. The cereal is cheerio-like in crunch factor, features two shades of brown, and four wild and wacky shapes. Luckily for the brothers, the shapes are unquestionably delightful: tree, fish, star, and person. Yes. The tree is of the genus Christmas, the fish is very similar to a goldfish cracker, the star may in fact be a sea star, or a five-legged cephalopod of some sort, and the person is a little humanoid. Delightful. Snap, Crackle, and Pop trumped themselves and designed a cereal that represents all of the universe and beyond the infinite. Perhaps they were trying to compensate for the boring multi-grain flavor, I don’t know. The box mentions that it was original called Rice Krispie Muddles. To muddle something is to jumble it, to befuddle it, to mix it. What they’ve muddled is cat food shapes and grain, soul and body. To quote Walt Whitman, “I totally dig it.”

FINAL RATING: two and a half marmosets

And now for something completely different

I’ve so oft wanted to see Europe, to witness for myself the aged, foundational buildings of western society, and not at the second oldest university in England, I find myself more speechless than inspired, which is likely the same thing when all is said and done.

I’m sitting under a tree, under the clouds, within reach of a sharp breeze, about fifty feet or so from the River Thames. I feel like some kind of Cheshire cat in this striped sweater. The water is smooth and silent, the grass and trees are dimly green, and the geese seem to be enjoying the waterfront view. Rain looks to be imminent; I’ve learned, however, that the rain comes and goes cloud by cloud, without the sky ever making a real commitment. It’s sort of like a la carte rain, piece by piece. This tree, of course, will protect me from any impetuous showers, for a time, until the leaves become sopping wet with obese drops of fresh water, at which point the tree will rain on me regardless of the skies contemporaneous desires.

Mornin' Starshine

So, I hadn’t really anticipated that I might be overwhelmed at all by all this. Well, overwhelmed isn’t the word. It’s all the anxieties and troubles that come with being a freshman, all over again, tenfold. By which I mean, I don’t know how to get anywhere and am always lost, and I don’t really know anyone so I’m always lost alone. But that is more melodramatic than I mean to sound. Oh, also, I almost walk into the path of oncoming buses every time I go out, because I look in the wrong direction when crossing the street. But I’m getting the hang of it. Also, whenever I’m buying something, I almost unintentionally fake an accent, as to, you know, speak their language. But I don’t.

However, this was such a beautiful morning. Latte at Queen’s Lane Coffee Shop, long walk along the Thames, and meandering in a graveyard. After a pass through photoshop (to adjust brightness, contrast, hue, saturation, and all that jolly stuff), I’ll have the pictures to prove it.

I’m only going to have classes one day a week, not including my yet to be scheduled tutorial. I’d prefer not to have all my classes (all two of them!) on the same day, but ah, whatever. And my tutor doesn’t have an email address, which makes me suspect that she’s a small, intimidating, scowling old woman, as opposed to a youthful grad student, which is who I would’ve expected. Ah well, I’ll have to call Ms. Dodd up to schedule a meeting. Or maybe I’ll have to use a telegraph or carrier pigeon or something. And does classes once a week mean I'll be lollygagging about? Hmm, well, I'll have three 8-10 page papers on renaissance literature, eight 6 page papers on Shakespeare, and one art/architecture paper. Lollygagging indeed. I'm completely uninterested in renaissance literature, but when in Rome, you know...

The grocery store down the street is closed until Friday, so I’m surviving on various hotel-sized soaps which I happened to bring until then, because I’m far too lazy to seek out an alternative store. Frankly, I’m not above bathing myself with hand soap. It’s what our ancestors did. That also means I don’t have any food here. Food’s for suckers anyway.

Tonight I have a formal dinner at Corpus Christi, which happens to also be my assigned college (meaning I’ll have access to their libraries, and can perhaps ignore all the signs that say CLOSED TO VISITORS). Dress code: “smart.” Pardon? Smart people wear things like sweater vests, but that’s probably not what they mean. But it does probably mean I shouldn’t wear my shirt that says COW.

Scotland on Friday, til Sunday.

Pictures

Etc. All are 800x600, meaning you can zoom a little.

Room with a view

 

Okay.

So, the Stanford House is obnoxiously quaint and discombobulated. It is composed of a few old buildings gluesticked together, gluestuck, and creaks like a octogenarian breakdancer. Little stair cases go up down left right, and countless "fire doors" seperate everything. Some doors I have to shove with the weight of my body, which makes me suspect that English folk are particularly strong, or imprecise craftsmen. My room is nice. It rumbles when large trucks and buses buzz by, and one side of the room is curved slighly upwards. It's visually almost imperceptable, but I set my glasses on the little dresser, and they slide away. Room keys are dungeon-style treasure box opening wonders of yesteryear.

The town, or at least, the immediate area as I percieve it, is overrun with twenty something year olds looking entirely stressed and hurried, with huge innumerable buses constantly roaring in the streets. But the Oxford term does not start for a few weeks, so these people are not necessarily students. (The city wasn't formed around the school, the school sprung up within the town).

Itinerary

Because you totally need to know. Sunday 3:35pm out of LAX, direct to London, arrive Monday 9:50am (2am PST). Get to the OX around noon, barring any unforeseen stupidity on my part.

How is my luggage so heavy? It's full of clothes. Clothes aren't heavy. Except maybe lead vests. But I don't have any vests in there; vests are too formal.