"It would be nice to have a soundtrack to my life. Because then I could go out and buy it, and I could tell what's going to happen. Like, if Barber's Adagio for Strings is on it, then I know someone's going to die."
"Like, 'hold on, why is the Imperial Death March on track 10?'"

Very little of importance, even though I'm still in St. Petersburg.

A little non-white-looking kid in a wheelchair on the metro last night said "Namaste!" to me quite enthusiastically. It gladdened me. I look Indian (because I am) even though, when people ask me where I'm from, I say, "America" (with all necessary declensions and so on). I guess one thing I liked was seeing a stranger express a smile, apropos of nothing. Maybe I miss that.

Lots of class today. Russian history lecture. Then conversation practice. Then grammar. It's an ostensibly, and most probably actually, useful grind. I suppose I'm the ax, then.

I may have finally acquired a tough city look. People have actually been saying "excuse me" and so on to me recently. That's new.

I guess I'm just slightly down for various emotional reasons that have little to do with almost anyone except myself. Maybe I'm in Stage II of the visit to the other country: Culture Shock. Nah, it's just non-euphoria. I suppose that's acceptable enough. I'm glad I know enough not to medicate away my melancholy.

Anyway, for the first time ever, I will tonight visit a Club. It's called Money Honey. It's a rockabilly club, frequented by St. Petersburg college students. I'm not quite sure why I'm going, except that my Russian peer tutor likes to go, and that I've never been to any club of this sort, in the US or in Russia. So there you go. Trying new things, hoping I feel better soon. Maybe drinking more water will help.

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First published by Sumana Harihareswara at