The Incidental Tourist.

Yesterday was EXCELLENT. I took the tube to Leicester Square, then wandered through the theater district to Piccadilly Circus. Then, from there, I explored a
couple blocks of Soho. Then I went in another direction, ended up at St. James Square. Then, from there, I went down Pall Mall and eventually ended up
at St. James Park and Buckingham Palace. Seriously. I didn't even mean to see it yesterday, and I just happened to wander right up to it. I've been keeping Miss Gibson's copy of the "London A to Zed" with me at all times, because it's one of the most useful books I've ever seen, but I suppose I should learn how to better use it since I just stumbled upon Buckingham Palace.

(The day before, outside Angel Station, I saw a Woolworth's store in central London. At the sight of that Nanci Griffith echoed through my head.)

Today, I was going to Westminster Abbey, if I can get out of the apartment within a reasonable time. But I still haven't found a way to properly sleep. (I had some green tea last night, as well as taking my pills, but I still couldn't get to sleep before 5 a.m. It was somewhat alarming, but my right leg - which I think has a cerebral palsy-caused muscle spasm that acts up only when I'm really active - began to ache while I was trying to sleep.)

Miss Gibson and I spent hours last night at this Japanese restaurant with a communal setting. I think it was called Wacamama's or something. She'll correct me if I'm wrong. It was wonderful. She and I were able to sit and have this long, meaningful chat about family, religion, relationships, work, education, the past, the present, the future, ambitions, dreams, who we are versus who we want to be versus who we thought we wanted to be, etc. And, at one point, I told her my worst sex story - the one involving my one-night-stand with the Stepford Homosexual in Augusta - and she howled.

Speaking of, my gaydar doesn't work at all here. Most every guy is attractive with trendy clothes and spiky, stylish hair and trendy framed glasses. London appears to be, moreso than Manhattan, a cute guy mecca.

Anyway, I was reminded again last night that Miss Gibson is one of the most beautiful, capable, interesting women I've ever known. And that detail is
hammered home to me every time I talk to her, write her an e-mail or regard for a moment who she is. I'm so glad she's here because, considering what I was
going through back home, it was good to have time with a close friend who understands and relates to me in addition to - what do you call this? - an adventure.

Anyway, I've got to head out if I'm going to get me to the church on time.

Bad joke. But sorry, I had to.