Okay, yeah, I've been pretty fail at writing in this.

This journeying abroad thing has become some weird balance of mundane and paralyzing, with the end result that there really isn't anything much to talk about. But yeah, day ... where are we, nine? Ten? I don't really know. Second day of Edinburgh.

Cities seem to make me shy, even shyer than usual, which is why I'm headed to Fort William soon. Edinburgh was a little less gorgeous once I got some sleep and came down off the Irn-Bru (I'm still going to have to take some of that with me, though; caffeinated stuff usually makes me feel like shit, but that was pretty fun), but it's still a fascinating place. Being on the Royal Mile can be pretty lame, as being surrounded by tourists being touristy makes me feel vaguely guilty by association. Don't get me started on the Americans in the hostel. And two-thirds of the shops are just selling the same lame souvenirs. (Although, God help me, it is very hard not to buy a cashmere scarf. I would never use a cashmere scarf in Cali. I do not care. It is so soft. So soft.)

Mainly what I did this day was bum around. Wandered around Princes St. and the gardens thereof. Ate a lot of pasties, too. I think I could happily live the rest of my life on pasties. Failed to buy comics (curse you, Monday bank holiday!), but saw an exhibit at the National Library about them. Highlight: the video of Grant Morrison rambling sarcastically, played on infinite loop. If you have to pick a Scot to talk about comics, he is definitely the right choice. In fact, if you have to pick someone to talk about anything, I would pick Grant Morrison, honestly. Also went to the National Galleries because they were there. Not the kind of thing I do normally, but I did see some interesting things, by which I mean John Duncan.

Chips for dinner (with probable chipper-made ketchup - much better than the chips, honestly), decided to forgo the hostel pub crawl. Stayed up late all the same. As you do.