M.I.F.I.I.W.R.D.I.A.B. ("Moms I'd Fuck If I Was Really Drunk, At A Bar - J.W. Redden.
Tonight the great city of Cambridge swallowed up another three of my precious hours which I spent in foolhardy pursuit of that goddamned Bukowski bar without directions. Curse you Google! I spurn you, MapQuest!, said I, but sadly, I was met with the same heartbreak that greets me each time I say something vague along the lines of, "I think it's somewhere between Central and Davis square!" It never is. It never fucking is!!
I'll find it someway, mind you. Anyways, sometimes it's not the destination it's the journey and what not. Will and I find ourselves on Paul Revere's Ride (apparently, judging by signs) and in Arlington Heights (the creme de la creme of Arlington), amongst experienced highway professionals and place unknowingly in front of several pressingly beautiful urban vistas. No bar, but a tutorial on telephone book delivery and the ways it can help get me under a barrel when I am over one, modern novel conversation and a demystification of the random honking patterns of twenty and thirty something males, in relation to females of all ages walking on the road. That cleared some things up, but I still think I might write that open letter to McSweeneys. Haha. So, all in all, a very productive evening.
And, he mentioned Tori Amos which caused me to download that old standard, "Silent After All These Years". I thought that since I haven't listened to it in about three years, it'd be one of those things where I'd magically relate to the lyrics as a grown-up, lyrics that as a pre-teen or teen I'd only begun to decode. But no. Not really. It's still about paper cups full of screams and crackers and quarters and "there" wherever that is. It's still beautiful, though.
Truly, I have been keeping busy. Not only has the work for BCF been more clearly delineated, but I've had the opportunity to go to both Alison's and Katherine's sweet digs in the respective villas of Prov and Boston. I'm so jealous of their accomodations, but I do love my campus even if it means a potentially ant-infested flat with weird looking carpeting.
Meredith and I, industrious as always, grabbed Alison and Nurse Jen for a jaunt up 95 to go to said Tufts party at which point we go to observe Katherine's habitations. Good sangria and a convenient 45 minute jaunt from home. Katherine has a fainting couch! Meredith, Jen and I recently also came face to face with the first Junior class of 2003. By which we mean. A baby. Birthed by someone we graduated high school with. Hey, I guess it is biologically possible ... oy. So these are diverting times. I'll miss these kids during my Berkshire jaunt.
Watched Munich with the family tonight before the jaunt to the mythical poet bar. It failed to impress me. Tony Kushner, in case you weren't aware, writing a movie is a lot like writing a play .... eesh. You have to include at least a little bit of character development for people not your protagonist and give the audience some reason to care and not just come away from the film making fun of your stereotypical Israeli background music .... I give it two out of four stars, most of these stars are for Eric Bana's sweet acting and Spielberg's "Hey Look I Am A Director of Films" shots, such as the shot-out brains of a guy on a white wall suddenly becoming clouds in a twilit sky. I can't go ahead and say that's not cool. I actually said, "That was cool," which I think caused my parents some concern because probably they assumed I was referring to the act of the brains being blown. Sigh.
I ate a pastry tonight entitled the Pavarotti. Apparently, the real Pavarotti carries around about 50 Louis Vuitton satchels filled with prosciutto, pasta and parmesean, items which he thinks can cure anything, including a bad complexion. Hoooo man ....
Eli Kramer is cute. Especially when he says things like, "Hiiiii YAH!!" and explains that he has two stick-puppets he made, one of a small box of tissues, and one large of the same.
Italian's over. I took the final this morning which I suppose counts as my one piece of productivity today. It also means I can tell you a lot about "a few apples" vs. "some apples", "the italian-UH scholastic-UH system=UH" [shoutout to those of you who remember Ms. Noble] and regular and fucked up verbs. It also meant that I could understand the Italian conversation the dude in Munich had with the grocery store owner before he got killed, collapsing on his groceries in a beautiful Spielbergian splash of violence and colors. He had asked to use the store's phone, by the way. Haha.
Aaaand Alison Janney is my new hero ....
I'll find it someway, mind you. Anyways, sometimes it's not the destination it's the journey and what not. Will and I find ourselves on Paul Revere's Ride (apparently, judging by signs) and in Arlington Heights (the creme de la creme of Arlington), amongst experienced highway professionals and place unknowingly in front of several pressingly beautiful urban vistas. No bar, but a tutorial on telephone book delivery and the ways it can help get me under a barrel when I am over one, modern novel conversation and a demystification of the random honking patterns of twenty and thirty something males, in relation to females of all ages walking on the road. That cleared some things up, but I still think I might write that open letter to McSweeneys. Haha. So, all in all, a very productive evening.
And, he mentioned Tori Amos which caused me to download that old standard, "Silent After All These Years". I thought that since I haven't listened to it in about three years, it'd be one of those things where I'd magically relate to the lyrics as a grown-up, lyrics that as a pre-teen or teen I'd only begun to decode. But no. Not really. It's still about paper cups full of screams and crackers and quarters and "there" wherever that is. It's still beautiful, though.
Truly, I have been keeping busy. Not only has the work for BCF been more clearly delineated, but I've had the opportunity to go to both Alison's and Katherine's sweet digs in the respective villas of Prov and Boston. I'm so jealous of their accomodations, but I do love my campus even if it means a potentially ant-infested flat with weird looking carpeting.
Meredith and I, industrious as always, grabbed Alison and Nurse Jen for a jaunt up 95 to go to said Tufts party at which point we go to observe Katherine's habitations. Good sangria and a convenient 45 minute jaunt from home. Katherine has a fainting couch! Meredith, Jen and I recently also came face to face with the first Junior class of 2003. By which we mean. A baby. Birthed by someone we graduated high school with. Hey, I guess it is biologically possible ... oy. So these are diverting times. I'll miss these kids during my Berkshire jaunt.
Watched Munich with the family tonight before the jaunt to the mythical poet bar. It failed to impress me. Tony Kushner, in case you weren't aware, writing a movie is a lot like writing a play .... eesh. You have to include at least a little bit of character development for people not your protagonist and give the audience some reason to care and not just come away from the film making fun of your stereotypical Israeli background music .... I give it two out of four stars, most of these stars are for Eric Bana's sweet acting and Spielberg's "Hey Look I Am A Director of Films" shots, such as the shot-out brains of a guy on a white wall suddenly becoming clouds in a twilit sky. I can't go ahead and say that's not cool. I actually said, "That was cool," which I think caused my parents some concern because probably they assumed I was referring to the act of the brains being blown. Sigh.
I ate a pastry tonight entitled the Pavarotti. Apparently, the real Pavarotti carries around about 50 Louis Vuitton satchels filled with prosciutto, pasta and parmesean, items which he thinks can cure anything, including a bad complexion. Hoooo man ....
Eli Kramer is cute. Especially when he says things like, "Hiiiii YAH!!" and explains that he has two stick-puppets he made, one of a small box of tissues, and one large of the same.
Italian's over. I took the final this morning which I suppose counts as my one piece of productivity today. It also means I can tell you a lot about "a few apples" vs. "some apples", "the italian-UH scholastic-UH system=UH" [shoutout to those of you who remember Ms. Noble] and regular and fucked up verbs. It also meant that I could understand the Italian conversation the dude in Munich had with the grocery store owner before he got killed, collapsing on his groceries in a beautiful Spielbergian splash of violence and colors. He had asked to use the store's phone, by the way. Haha.
Aaaand Alison Janney is my new hero ....