The Vestal Morons

Some of you may have noticed that there haven't been many updates on this blog for some time. Besides the fact that I one day woke up and suddenly realized that perhaps I should get a life, there's also the fact that we in Rome are immersed in the midst of finals, while trying to balance the difficult task of having as much fun as humanly possible. This blog has fallen a tad to the wayside. And so, to distract you from the fact that there haven't been very many pretty photos lately to allow you to vicariously live the awesome lives that we Romans lead and to alleviate some of the burden of your own mind-numbing existence, I thought perhaps it would do well to distract you all with this one. Julian has admitted that it is appropriate that he pay penance for not putting his own two cents into this blog on a more regular basis, but questions whether or not promulgating this photo to the world might be a little too severe. I think it is appropriate. Clint's suffering is pur

This is just way too cool not to put up. From the opera house. I just wish blogger would let it be a little bigger. (Courtesy of Danni Ampi) From the ballet several weeks ago at the opera house.

Vespers with il Papa. See if you can find Julian. He's there. Oh yes, and Monica, though you'd have to really know that blond head of hers to pick it out. Il papa. Both Kaitlyn McCarthy and Adam Wilson can make the enviable claim that they have been the first of all of us to come close enough to, and to actually touch Benedict XVI. Ask them about it. I'm sure they'll be more than willing to do so. St. Pete's Piazza earlier tonight. I love that place.

The Meaning of Mountains By Romulus Sometimes it seems to me this pilgrimage has been nothing more than a seeking after the tallest peaks and the most fantastic panoramas. In looking back I see that so far I have conquered four of the tallest peaks surrounding Assisi . In Valdobbiadene we four squires nearly conquered the pre-alps, hiking through the frigid air along the crest of the mountains to the wooden cross that marks the second highest point. From that lowly point we looked desirously at the cross in the distance that marks the highest; and more desirously still towards Switzerland in the West, and the harsh, ghostly points of the Alps looming above the plain in between. And then, in Siena a few weeks ago, built as it is on a large hill, approaching the full height of an Italian mountain, I promptly climbed to the topmost point; I was disappointed, however, when the medieval houses, thick, tall, and hedging in on the narrow cobblestone streets, afforded me no b

The Decimation of Mr. Wunch's Class By Kathleen Gilbert ( N.B. If ignorant, please refer to last week's article by Claire O'Reilly on the Cult of B.O.D. for background info before viewing this comic and enjoying ensuing hilarity)

Meet Dala. Composed of Sheila Carabine and Amanda Walther, these two girls are longtime friends of mine. Sheila is my brother's girlfriend of three or something years. They've just released their first album, called Angels and Thieves, under Universal Records, and this is me shamelessly publicizing them to Vestal Moron's reading public. Check out their website at www.dalagirls.com (designed by my brother). Watch their music video. Buy their album. And most of all, enjoy their sweet, smooth melodies.