Gonna brush up my French for the next few weeks, and go to the Association of Québecois in New England pre-party for the Fête Nationale on Georges Island – I think the ferry from Boston is $14 round-trip, or free if you RSVP.
While we’re on reviews, I want to give due glory to the Hypnot—I mean, to Mike’s City Diner in the South End. Anywhere with breakfast combinations called “Intensive Care” and “Emergency Room” has got to be good, and it didn’t disappoint. They serve breakfast all day on the weekends.
It’s on Washington St. right off Mass Ave, so from points north you might take the #1 bus.
— Mike’s City Diner
1714 Washington St. Boston, MA 02118
Thursday I had lunch at Boston Billiard Club, in part because I wanted to check out the pool situation. Turns out an hour of table time is only $3 before 5 pm! Add that to your Saturday afternoon cheap entertainment list. (After 5 it’s $10 weekdays, $12 weekends.)
What I know for sure is that this week, there will be a gallery opening at the peerless (in Cambridge at least) Broadway Bike School featuring art by two of the bike mechanics, around 8 pm. Wine and cheese will reportedly be on hand.
What I don’t know is what day. My friend who is friends with people there says it’s Wednesday, and this blog says it’s Thursday. So to be on the safe side you should come tomorrow, and the worst thing that will happen is you’ll have to buy a patch kit or something to not feel like a jerk. And then come back the next day.
So on Easter Sunday I moved from Seedpod Co-op to a friend’s house in Cambridge near Central Square.
Settling into the room for the first time tonight.* Although instead of unpacking, I’m mostly writing emails and blog posts.
To end on a positive note, first a few reasons I’m sad to have left Seedpod.
No longer being with the totally awesome people who live there. If you don’t believe me, consider that they do thingslikethis. (Note the next show.) Seriously, if you don’t mind the commute, check them out for vacancies, which are more frequent around summertime.
No longer having an amazingly well-stocked kitchen, at a reasonable cost, without having to personally shop all the time.
No longer living in the most diverse neighborhood of Boston.** And not just because of all the good pho on Dot Ave. One part of why I wanted to move there was unease with the almost unconscious tendency of college-educated white kids like me to stick to mostly-white neighborhoods.
And a few random reasons I’m happy to live on Laurel St.:
I’m a short walk away from such vintage and thrift establishments as the Great Eastern Trading Co. and (a bit further) The Garment District, even though the men’s section at the former is mostly just polyester disco shirts you want to buy but can hardly ever wear.
Shopping for myself, which means I can eat (a) what I want, and (b) at the level of frugality/expense that I want, which tends to be more polarized than how the average coop eats. Though I’m not off to a great start. I did my first grocery shopping tonight, and I think I didn’t fully realize that, when I went home, I wouldn’t have anything to eat but what I bought. My dinner ended up consisting of chocolate, Irish Breakfast and Hennepin. I suppose you could do worse.
Being. so. close. to. Cen. tral. and. Har. vard. and. Da. vis. and. M.I.T. and. down. town.
(No, that’s not my house pictured, it’s just some random photo from St. Louis “Hotness Confirmed” Missouri.)
*I haven’t unpacked since then because I’ve been doing a freelance book design project, which I think might be my last. I loooove me some typography, but I find it a bit unsatisfying as paid work. I need a lot of time to really suss out creative ideas, and that’s difficult with commercial projects that have, you know, deadlines. And it’s perhaps inherently frustrating as art because you can’t easily be creative without distracting the reader from the words themselves, which results in a constant battle to be normal without being boring. I’m happy I once got to set a book with Sauna however.
**Because Dorchester is so huge, it’s divided up into multiple other neighborhoods, so should the whole thing really be called a “neighborhood”? It’s more like a borough. Except we don’t have boroughs.
A year ago, at the talent show of a big young Quaker conference in Burlington, New Jersey, I wanted to play a song called “Jorge Regula” by the Moldy Peaches. I chickened out though, because I wasn’t sure I’d remember the lyrics. But last weekend I played it at the WinterCon “Talent Optional Show,” and a good time was had by all.
It’s about nothing, really, but it captures something of the “food & creative love” vibe of those sorts of gatherings. It’s also call-and-response, which, with the audience on response, allows it to be participatory. Which I like.
Saving the self-deprecation for the end of the post, musically it was nothing to write home about. The guitar part is pretty much ape-simple, but I could still feel my musical rustiness in the strumming. It’s good to get practice being on stage though.
I read a story once about a famous Chinese musician who was visiting the West, and was taken to a concert hall to hear the finest in European classical music. After the concert, he was asked what piece he liked the best.
– The first one, he said.
– You mean the Beethoven? his hosts asked, humming a few bars of the first piece.