My jet lag is traveling backwards. When I got to San Diego I slept and woke up at 4 am. Not that far from my usual get up of 5 am, I thought I could push it up an hour or hour and a half and be done with it. But the Jet Lag had something else on its evil brain, and has thus begun going to backward. I woke up yesterday at 3 am. Woke up today at 1:30 am.

I'll probably have to travel reverse fashion through the whole day, through nocturnality and back to being diurnal, albeit with old Grandpappy waking hours of 5 am to 8 pm, with a good long snore-belting nap at 1 in the afternoon.

And here I thought that was as weird as my sleep habits could get. I am vampiric now. Ah, good ol' 24 hour Lestat's coffee house. How I love thee.

Thanks again, and see everyone soon.

-Ollie

Inspired by all of the Self-Portrait, Nude, paintings Egon Shiele did I though I'd give a crack at it.

Ah, yeah, nasty, nasty, dirty, woo.

The Motley Crüe fans will recognize that one.

We're heading to the airport tomorrow at noon. My beautiful girlfriend is picking us up at 9:30 p.m. and I'm going to sleep for three days.

Does anyone know if the airport is affected by the fires? I've only heard about this today.

The Viennese breeze around town in the crisp air wearing only thin sweaters and maybe a pair of boots with fur lining the ankle. Ron and I look like we are mounting an expedition to some base camp, we've both bought scarves and gloves, and we're each in knit caps and all sorts of woolens, and we still shiver curse and creep along when we walk, with our necks and shoulders pinched up in a very Frankensteinesque hobble. We can see our breath and we drool and run from shop to shop like this and we curse, "Holy shit it's cold!" and wonder how 12-year-old Viennese girls walk around in fleece pullovers, no gloves hats or scarves. "They must be used to this or something, I'm about to die!"

As it stands, we don't have much to do. We don't want to spend much more money, walking is painful, we're all museumed out, and we have two days left. Biking would have been a good activity, something to do, but you've got to be kidding. I'm not making any more cold wind around my body than already exists.

I'm catching up on reading. We walk and ride the subway to the center of town once a day or so and we have a couple beers in the hostel, by the grace of god, there's a good bar in this one.

Four years ago I think I met one Asian fellah, Japanese kid named Yoshi. In this hostel in Vienna there are enough Chinese here to have their own cliques, their own tables, they are insulated, only speak to each other, and boil stinky noodles.

On our train from Budapest to Venice we had a car full of Chinese. At the Croatian border they were tossed off. The Chinese protested, and the bulky Eastern European border guard repeated "China need visa Croatia. No visa. Get off train." The Chinese pleaded. "China need visa Croatia. No visa. Get off train." One weighty Chinese woman asked her what they were going to do, they were being tossed, at the stroke of midnight, at a tiny border village train platform in Western Slovakia. "What will we do? Where do we get visa? Do we have to ride back to Budapest? Where will we go tonight? Where will we stay?"

"China need visa Croatia. No visa. Get off train."