From Writhe’s Journal:

My knees are wet.
This, grey and unforgiving raincoat with rusty snaps only goes down so far and all the water is running off onto my faded black cargo pants. It’s still drizzling in Edinburgh as it was yesterday and the day before that and probably has been since the Middle Ages. It came down a little harder occasionally from fog colored skies. Today isn’t really that great. I woke up early after accidentally throwing my alarm clock off the top bunk at the Youth Hostel. I gathered my things and picked up my laundry from downstairs. I’ve been here for two nights. It’s a nice place with clean toilets and showers. I talked with a few international travelers while we watched an old movie in the common room/lounge. I ended up going to bed around 11pm and slept like a rock. I tried to take some cash out of the ATM, but it wouldn’t let me. I tried several times at several different machines. It would only let me take out £10. Shit. What have I done? Did I spend too much somewhere? Did my identity get stolen or has someone overcharged the card from some place I stayed? Dammit dammit dammit! Is there any money left in the account? I won’t be spending that much when I don’t have to pay for transportation on the continent, but until then, I’m pretty much fucked. I need to call Sven and sort this out.
I just stepped in dog shit. Wonderful. Seems like there are assholes all over the world that don’t clean up after their pets.
I wandered around the cemetery and the cathedral and came back to the hostel because it was raining. I’m sure all my pictures are going to turn out as grey as the day. Going out later to Cockburn Street to find out more information about the club Mission.

I’m on the bus to Belfast, Ireland trying to make it to Dublin by tonight for Club Tower. I hope I make it. Last night I went to a club night called “Dust.” It was decent enough. Edinburgh has a very young goth scene (as in a lot of young people). It turned out that the guy in the bunk next to me at the hostel was planning to attend as well with his girlfriend so we went together. They were from New York and the three of us had a blast together. We made a lot of friends and I got hit on quite a bit. That was flattering. I met this really cute French girl with a beautiful accent. Pale, dark hair, shorter than me and curves in just the right places. Dayum! She was with her smiling, giant, red-headed, Scottish fiancé, but that didn’t prevent me from thinking she was gorgeous. I think I told him that he was a lucky guy about 5 different times in a slightly drunken stupor. All he did was smile and say “thank you” each time.
The music wasn’t that great as they played a lot of popular stuff. Not “goth club” popular, but Top 40 popular, like Rage Against the Machine, Offspring, Marilyn Manson., and wuite a bit of head-banging metal. They also played the standard goth club stuff. It seemed like a jumble. It was especially bright for a goth club, particularly by the bar itself. The walls were mostly white with corny skulls painted in black. It was a nice little set up and everyone there was having fun.
We were invited to a gathering after the club, but the owner of the flat didn’t answer the door. All of the Scotsmen (and women) were adamant about having us come with them to drink at another bar that opened up at 5am. I would have liked to go. I needed to get up early to get breakfast before my bus. Someone gave the three of us £5 to take a cab to get something to eat and back to the hostel as it was a little far to walk this late at night. Wow! That was really nice of them!
I went on the Vault tour. It was OK. I should have taken the Ghost tour instead. Alright, I’m going to watch the scenery out the window and probably fall asleep again.

Same Day 7pm. This train seems like it’s going too slow. I slept all the way to Glasgow, waited for an hour for the bus to where I would catch the ferry over to Ireland. I waited in the ferry terminal too. I felt so insecure and unprepared in that wait. I was asking myself, “what the hell am I doing here?” Some people seemed to have better backpacks than me. “Better” as in more appropriate. Everyone seemed to be talking to someone else except for me. Why am I so anti-social in these situations? ‘ve learned that I cannot continue any conversation without saying “uh” or “um” or completely forgetting what I wanted to say or not knowing how to express my thoughts. I also can’t listen adequately. It may be that people have a difficult accent or they speak too fast or both. I just don’t understand. I’m just really bad with communication. Period.