(no subject)
Princeton: I stayed at an apartment in the "projects": a collection of buildings for people visiting the Institute. I had never stayed there by myself, but remembered the nearby playground as one where I had played basketball with my dad when I was little. I saw grandpa and helen for dinner, and then hung out with Nora, who'd taken the train up from Philadelphia.
Princeton is an entertainingly bizarre place: a University town with no cheap restaurants and few bars, but seemingly a jewelry store on every block, and more sunglasses boutiques and wine shops than would seem healthy. With a distinctly fake and facade-heavy vibe to it, Princeton feels like the set for a Disney movie about Mandy Moore going to a fictional snooty school. Except it's not fake. Oh no.
Nora and I hung out at the ONE coffee shop we could find, and then walked down Nassau Street (yes, that's what the main drag in Princeton is called. Jesus.) to find what was described as the only bar in town: The Ivy Inn. We were carded and paid three dollars to enter, and then discovered a sweaty, hormonal stew of kids who couldn't have been more than 19. We parked ourselves at a table with some Rolling Rock, and watched the incoming-freshman-class-with-fake-IDs, strut and gyrate to the Timberlake/Fergie played by a DJ (who-have you noticed this with other DJs?- played each cut with a cocky, Oh-shit-I-surprise-even-MYSELF-with-the-mad-shit-I'm-playing, strut and swagger. It was quite entertaining, particularly when a tall, 60 year old man in a billowing cloth coat, bowler hat, and dance moves surely handed to him by Satan himself began dancing with seemingly the entire room. A woman tried to drag me out onto the floor to dance, and after my polite refusal, she fell into the happy orbit of this whirling mass of dance energy known as "that guy."
Nora and I left after an entertaining hour or so, and hung out on a park bench for a while longer until her cousin picked us up. The next day it was too hot to do anything outside. That evening I couldn't sleep, and went for a walk on the Institute campus. I wandered past the offices, and library, and down some terrifying concrete staircase into the ground, and back up again, and finally out to the pond just in front of the forest. I sat there for a little while and listened to the crickets, and the fish plop. The darkness became somewhat unnerving and so I wandered back into the main building and read the paper in the reading room. Grandfather clocks chimed here and there, and I kept feeling paranoid that a night watchman wound find me. Eventually I loped through the muggy night back to the projects.
The following day I made my way to Newark, and then down to Atlanta.
Atlanta was nice. I ate lunch with Steve Sigur, watched lots of Curb Your Enthusiasm with the parents, and hung out with the sister when she wasn't busy fluttering around getting ready to leave the country.
Back in the Kee!
Princeton is an entertainingly bizarre place: a University town with no cheap restaurants and few bars, but seemingly a jewelry store on every block, and more sunglasses boutiques and wine shops than would seem healthy. With a distinctly fake and facade-heavy vibe to it, Princeton feels like the set for a Disney movie about Mandy Moore going to a fictional snooty school. Except it's not fake. Oh no.
Nora and I hung out at the ONE coffee shop we could find, and then walked down Nassau Street (yes, that's what the main drag in Princeton is called. Jesus.) to find what was described as the only bar in town: The Ivy Inn. We were carded and paid three dollars to enter, and then discovered a sweaty, hormonal stew of kids who couldn't have been more than 19. We parked ourselves at a table with some Rolling Rock, and watched the incoming-freshman-class-with-fake-IDs, strut and gyrate to the Timberlake/Fergie played by a DJ (who-have you noticed this with other DJs?- played each cut with a cocky, Oh-shit-I-surprise-even-MYSELF-with-the-mad-shit-I'm-playing, strut and swagger. It was quite entertaining, particularly when a tall, 60 year old man in a billowing cloth coat, bowler hat, and dance moves surely handed to him by Satan himself began dancing with seemingly the entire room. A woman tried to drag me out onto the floor to dance, and after my polite refusal, she fell into the happy orbit of this whirling mass of dance energy known as "that guy."
Nora and I left after an entertaining hour or so, and hung out on a park bench for a while longer until her cousin picked us up. The next day it was too hot to do anything outside. That evening I couldn't sleep, and went for a walk on the Institute campus. I wandered past the offices, and library, and down some terrifying concrete staircase into the ground, and back up again, and finally out to the pond just in front of the forest. I sat there for a little while and listened to the crickets, and the fish plop. The darkness became somewhat unnerving and so I wandered back into the main building and read the paper in the reading room. Grandfather clocks chimed here and there, and I kept feeling paranoid that a night watchman wound find me. Eventually I loped through the muggy night back to the projects.
The following day I made my way to Newark, and then down to Atlanta.
Atlanta was nice. I ate lunch with Steve Sigur, watched lots of Curb Your Enthusiasm with the parents, and hung out with the sister when she wasn't busy fluttering around getting ready to leave the country.
Back in the Kee!