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My "RUSSIA" T-shirt caused problems again today, after last year when I wore it in the Megabowl in Dundee and couldn't cross the room without being asked to fix a lane. This time, on the way back from a walk to the reservoir at Cleveland Circle, we stopped at the Russian shop on the corner to get some kefir. This is one food item available in America that I've really developed a liking for even though Whitney thinks I'm impossibly gay for drinking it, and everything went fine until I approached the woman at the counter.
"шахматный кефир водка Каспаров?" she asked cheerily. Taken aback, I paused for a second, and on the spur of the moment only just stopped myself from answering in German. I think my mind must have gone through the process of "It's foreign, so she'll understand it". But I stumbled a reply out in English instead so that the conversation wasn't carried out in a language that neither of us really knew, and I didn't even notice that she thought I would be able to understand Russian because of the T-shirt until I'd convinced her I wasn't.
After a slump caused by nowhere to submit them, my music writing has picked up again recently and I finished the first song from a new planned album yesterday. In fact I've even drawn up a likely complete track list and posted it on the two sites I submit them to. Not that anyone ever pays attention to journals there, mind you (after the first explosion, things reverted to having exactly two people look at anything I've submitted in the future). Maybe a subtle "Comment on my submissions, you otaku cretins" would convince them otherwise.
"шахматный кефир водка Каспаров?" she asked cheerily. Taken aback, I paused for a second, and on the spur of the moment only just stopped myself from answering in German. I think my mind must have gone through the process of "It's foreign, so she'll understand it". But I stumbled a reply out in English instead so that the conversation wasn't carried out in a language that neither of us really knew, and I didn't even notice that she thought I would be able to understand Russian because of the T-shirt until I'd convinced her I wasn't.
After a slump caused by nowhere to submit them, my music writing has picked up again recently and I finished the first song from a new planned album yesterday. In fact I've even drawn up a likely complete track list and posted it on the two sites I submit them to. Not that anyone ever pays attention to journals there, mind you (after the first explosion, things reverted to having exactly two people look at anything I've submitted in the future). Maybe a subtle "Comment on my submissions, you otaku cretins" would convince them otherwise.
