far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, March 12, 2009

Sowa (South of Washington Street) turns out to be a neighborhood down near the Southeast Expressway. Real damn urban, and not an area I'm familiar with. G. did an excellent of navigating Sat. afternoon traffic and getting us there, a teeny parking spot presented itself. So teeny the Subaru didn't quite fit. The driver of the car in front was there, G. got out and asked him nicely if he would inch forward enough to allow her to park. He did, me enjoying an example of urban cooperation instead of a display of urban indifference (or personal combat). Once out of car, it became clear that the temperature had dropped, the day getting colder, more raw. Which wouldn't have been a problem if I'd been dressed for Vermont. (The previous day's balmy weather had lulled me into leaving my thermals back in my temporary squat.) But we were quickly inside heated places, so what the hell. Galleries, artists' lofts, all that. Artiness everywhere.

After spending a while wandering through an impressively oversized building of artists' studios, hallways stretching on and on, finding the occasional studio open for intruders like us to poke our collective noses into, we headed back out into the cold. Moved the car (me and S. standing in a spot down the street to hold it, shooing away a couple in an overgrown SUV (her looking like she might be ready to fight for the spot until I pointed out that we were abandoning one down the street to move to this one -- ahh, urban life)). Hiked to a crowded eatery in the South End, managed (with the use of guile, patience and the occasional well-placed elbow) to get a table G. wanted. Inhaled a light meal of pretty good turkey chili, leaving space for the evening's main attraction: a Chinese meal at a joint near G.&S.'s flat, a place that produces a fine plate of spicy eggplant.

As we ate, I watched a gent outside in the street, dressed in old clothes, a worn thermal vest, wearing a knit cap bearing the Patriots logo. Sweeping up garbage strewn in gutters and sidewalks, dumping it into a wheeled trash can, doing a careful, thorough job. I commented on him, appreciating that someone was out there cleaning up rubbish in the cold. On the way out, G. spoke with him, he said without work like that he'd be home receiving disability pay, said he'd rather be out doing something productive. Seemed like a good guy -- I hope he's being paid a pile of $$$ for his labor.

A few hours later, after a pit-stop at the flat for relaxation and kitty-tormentingentertaining, we slid into a booth at the Chinese joint, a sizeable flat-screen TV across the aisle from us playing a grade B (maybe grade C) fantasy movie, sound turned off. Actors doing their best with the material, trying to emote believably -- your handsome warrior, your beautiful female in flowing, medieval outfit, your gray-bearded wizard trying futilely to put across a version of Gandalf (the kind of role that must now be a bitch, post-Ian-McKellan-making-Gandalf-his-own) In a cavern, carrying torches, dealing with magical traps and like that. ("I've got you," said one of them, "with my magical trap!" Another character said something about magical powers, I immediately overrode conversation between G.&S., repeating, "Magical powers! Magical powers!") The restaurant had the subtitles turned on, producing info-bits between lines of dialogue that seriously undercut the story's earnestness, like [both grunting], [both moaning], and [chuckles].

"Why," I said after that last one, "is he calling her 'Chuckles'?"

"Huh?" replied S. "He's not. It means...."

"R. knows," G. interrupted, putting a hand over one of S.'s hands. "Remember who you're dealing with." Which made me feel obnoxiously pleased.

[continued in next entry]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March snowfall, northern Vermont:




Espaņa, te echo de menos

rws 1:06 PM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
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February 2002
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October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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