September 2005 Archives

There's not a much better setting than the Boston Harbor for a chill wind, a bunch of screaming college/grad students, and a lively Beck Hansen rocking out with his even livelier band. During the more pensive part of the show ("Lonesome Tears"), his bandmates sat down for dinner on stage. Even though I was alone, it was the most fun I've had since Wilco, September 2004, in Nashville. Sorry, Of Montreal and Sufjan.

I wasn't sure about McRorie, his opener. He's a one-man act, strapped with synthesizers all over his body. After a few covers, he sang songs about partying and peace. I don't think the line "I'm gonna party while the world gets blown away" resonated with the crowd all that well, except for the few standing in the mob around me who decided to sing along. On the funny/stupid spectrum, he undoubtedly weighed heavily on the stupid side.

And I can feel the Yanks/Sox tension in the air. What I wouldn't give to go to a game this weekend.

and I find out that David Brooks is a Mets fan. This all happened at the National Book Festival in Washington, DC, this past weekend.

This is the selection of music WXPN out of Philadelphia has decided to play for me these past two weeks at work:

Beck - "Que Onda Guero" and "Girl"
Radiohead - "No Surprises"
Elliott Smith - "Miss Misery"
Sufjan Stevens - "Chicago"
My Morning Jacket - some song from "The Sandworm Cometh"
Talking Heads - "Blind"

I've been serenaded while filling in student parking information and purging student files at the New England School of Acupuncture. Such endeavors can be dull and tedious, but I like to spice them up by reading a little student history. Some of the more intriguing items are the various B.A.'s the students earned in college. One girl majored in Radio and TV production at UNC Chapel Hill. And now she's doing acupuncture? Others majored in English, which reinforced my belief that English majors can pretty much do whatever they want after college - as long as they go to graduate school.

This weekend I'm going to Washington, D.C. to visit siblings and to attend the National Book Fair. Look at http://www.loc.gov/bookfest/authors.html. David Brooks, Thomas Friedman, Tom Wolfe - I'll get to meet them all. Right now I'm in the middle of Bobos in Paradise by Brooks. As most of you know, his insight into contemporary culture is peerless. Can't wait to get that one signed.

This is all of us, plus Anna and Heidi, at the Deluxe Town Diner, Hope's place of employment. We are SO excited.

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I walked to the butcher today to reserve a chicken for supper. Needing the breasts split in half, I asked him if he could do it. "When you come back?" he asked.
"5:30,"I said.
"Come back at 5:30,"whimsically,"and I will split the chicken before your very eyes!"

This experience at lunch also brought to my attention the level of trust we neighbors have in each other. I tried to buy dried fruit, but alas, had no cash. They didn't take Visa. The counter guy, also Armenian, told me I could eat it now and pay for it when I came back for the chicken. Surprised, I left cheerfully and made every effort to return as soon as possible after work, so any suspicion of my untrustworthiness wouldn't linger. I'm glad I live in Watertown.

July 23, 2005

Think of it in one, long line.

Emerging from the subway the other day, I was comforted by the bells of the Park Street Church chiming "Crown Him with Many Crowns." I looked around and wondered if anyone else felt it like I did.

Tami managed to get two tickets for Sufjan Stevens last night, performing at the hip, rinky-dink Somerville theatre. I joined her there. Of course, it was amazing, and it was in a theatre where people sat and ate popcorn while they enjoyed the show. Sufjan's sheepish and poetic mannerisms enthralled me, as did the cornucopia of instruments and the birthday cake they brought out at the end for the bass player. I'll try to post pictures once I get them developed.

Today Hope and I ventured out to Old Ironsides (aka the USS Consitution), residing in Charlestown. It's the oldest commissioned ship in the world, and it's beautiful. I learned all about the conflict with the Barbaries in Tripoli in the early 19th century, an event that basically shaped the U.S. Marines as we know them. The navy teamed up with the rival heir to the throne of Tripoli (he lived in Egypt, I think), and attacked Tripoli, home of the Barbary pirates who would capture ships during times of war and peace, by land and sea. Thus, Old Ironsides has been undefeated since 1795.

Anyone who's curious about Beantown's demographics need do no more than ride the Red Line from Harvard Square south to any stop in Dorchester. I've completed it twice, and the change onboard is almost dramatic - from preppy and privileged to poor and disadvantaged. Read this article from the Boston Phoenix about the incompetence of the Boston police department. Apparently the number of murders here has risen significantly in the past 10 years, a trend that contradicts the lower rate of violent crime in most major American cities. Most of these murders occur in the Dorchester/Roxbury/Mattapan area south of Boston. People point to the police dept's inability to solve these crimes as the real culprit.

On a lighter note, my sisters, Anna and Heidi, visited me this Labor Day weekend. We saw everything. Everything includes the Museum of Fine Arts (with an amazing Buddhist temple), the Public Library, Commonwealth Avenue, the Public Garden, the Common, the Skywalk Observatory 750 ft in the air (from which we watched the Red Sox take on the Orioles), the JFK Library and Museum (very cool), Harvard and Davis Square bars and coffeeshops, Hope's Town Diner for pancakes, and finally, the Freedom Trail, which took us all the way through Revolutionary history to Old Ironsides in Charlestown. Monday meant that the boat was closed, however.

Most of all, though, we were disappointed that we couldn't pull a certain triplet trick, one we had never thought of but were suddenly presented with on Saturday. For supper we ate at Dick's Last Resort, a fitting name for a mediocre restaurant. I didn't have my ID on me, putting our identical nature to the test. Would the waitress believe we were triplets? Would she thus let me buy a drink? I got excited about convincing her. Unfortunately, she didn't ask to see our licenses. That tricky situation will have to wait for another time.

I'm now familiar with my bus and subway companions. I still haven't talked to them, preserving the ancient rite of staring down at one's feet while one commutes into town (if one has no book or Boston Herald to read). But I always thank the bus driver once I reach Hahvad Squaere.

Last night we welcomed more recognizable people - Keri and Tami, the last of the housemates. Hauling their things up two flights of stairs was no easy task, however, so we solicited the help of two worthy church friends, Oliver and Matthew. To thank them we ordered some yummy pizzas and talked with them about what it was like to winter over in Boston. "Embrace it," they advised. "It's not as bad as everyone says it is." It's not the South Pole, certainly, but it is, according to Hope's brother, "CanadaLite," and for that we must prepare ourselves.

The hurricane aftermath is unreal. Read this by David Brooks (go ahead and read it now, before you have to pay for it), explaining how storms can expose racial and economic injustice. Good historical perspective.