is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Next Stop: Your Trousers.
Next Stop: Your Trousers.
Here�s a shot I took by mistake when I was staying at James and Roderick�s in January. I like its composition and colors. Can you name something that you took by mistake a �composition�? Anyway, it's a cellphone photo.
I went out with Strauss on Thursday, and that was fun. Ever since then it�s been work work work, so not much to report. Strauss and I met in Center City (which is what downtown Philadelphia is called) and walked around talking. We passed a place called British Imperial Cleaners and he said (in ridiculous British accent), �We cleaned up the sub-continent, next stop: YOUR TROUSERS.� I laughed. Then we found a Korean restaurant, sat down and ordered the shit out of some Kimchee Bibimbap. Oh, how steadfast is my love of Kimchee. Then we realized the restaurant was one of those Philly BYOB places, so Strauss went across the street and bought some Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and it was very tasty. It tasted like FLOWERS. Apparently I had not had a Sierra Nevada for a long time. I thought I didn�t like it, and I was wrong. Anyway, the food was excellent, as was the beer, as was the company, a good meal all around.
Then we walked around some more, looking for a bar or something to look at. We found a Belgian bar, went inside, but they wouldn�t let us sit down unless we were eating because it was very crowded. I guess that's OK because they weren't exactly our peeps, though I'm sure the beer was good. Strauss said, �I didn�t realize Belgian food was so popular.� The hostess replied, �It�s the burgers.� And Strauss said, �OF COURSE IT�S THE BURGHERS. THE DAMNED BOURGEOUSIE HAVE TAKEN OVER AND THERE�S NO PLACE LEFT FOR A PROLE TO GET A DRINK.� I laughed, we left.
Then we found a bar called Drinker�s Bar. Strauss suggested we step inside, given our good fortune, that in such a large city we had managed to find a bar for drinkers. I protested that I�m not much of a drinker. We stepped inside and it was very smoky and there were lots of youngsters there, and they weren�t even all that attractive, and there was no place to sit, and not really any place to stand either, and we couldn�t hear each other speak or think because the bad music was so loud. So we walked some more, and we found a bar that was utterly empty, but they still wanted us to pay $7 to get in to see a band. Poor band. No one there to see them. If I were the door man I would have let us in for free so that they could at least have made some money off our drinking. One of the musicians pointed us down the street to another bar, but we couldn�t find that one, and happened upon a sports bar called Jolly�s, and, yes, that�s where we ended up. It had tables and chairs and all kinds of booze and that�s really all we needed. We talked some more, and had a drink. Then it was time for me to catch the last train back to the suburbs.
It's strange, is it not? I live in the suburbs! I never thought I'd let that happen. However it seems do-able to me in just now mostly because I don't really live "in the suburbs," I live in a quaker bubble of a beautiful college campus that keeps out the suburbs. My apartment is not some mass-produced condo or tract home, it's a beautiful old hardwood floored fireplaced huge-windowed marvel, and it contributes to the Bubble Effect. They're still there, the suburbs, and I'm reminded of it every time I get in my car to go anywhere (everyone else's car is MUCH nicer than mine, no one has anything resembling an interesting outfit on EVER, most people look at me like I must have come from somewhere else, and there isn't any temptation to buy anything because none of the shops stock anything I'd want). But, as I walked the few blocks from the old train station to my big old house, in the silence of a clear Pennsy night, I did appreciate how pretty it is, and how silent it is, and how to-the-side-of-it-all it is. A perfect place to get some work done, and to enjoy some solitude. One just needs to keep open the way out, and the train station is a great help with that (and that just may be the main reason why QB feels less suffocating than Amherst did. Oh the struggle just to get OUT of Amherst and arrive anywhere else!). So, yeah, I live in the suburbs. It's part of my current disguise.
10:10 p.m. - March 26, 2006
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