I’m leaving for Seattle in two weeks and I can’t walk.
To further the inconvenience of a resurrected back injury, I prematurely sold my couch yesterday. Which leaves me… the floor. The supercomf wonderful sleeper sofa Mon Frere intended to purchase from me did not fit up his staircase. There is this thing with Cambridge/Somerville staircases — these skinny Victorian houses with narrow flights. Ruby’s staircase is downright uterine; coming down the stairs and twisting through the vaginal pink ribbed walls you are deposited into the bright light of the next floor where someone is waiting to hang you by your feet and slap your bottom.
Continue reading i love this couch, but not that much
“Most rock journalism is people who can’t write interviewing people who can’t talk for people who can’t read.”
Jump played Paradise on Friday. So did the Features. I had a fumbled conversation with Rollum Haas. Big Tough Door Guy’s little heart melted at the hands of Mon Frere. I didn’t swallow my temporary crown. There is hope for humanity.
Continue reading rabbit in your headlights
Jaymiles, on why he can’t go see Andrew Bird next week:
“My faux pop/metal prom band Rokken is playing a rib joint in Beverly Hills that night. I can’t believe I just typed those words, in that order.”
This is encouraging. But Springfield?!
Lil’ Fella was missing this morning. Perhaps this bothers me more than it should.
At one point I thought routines were the enemy — to be sought out, identified and destroyed using chaos and uncertainty. But there’s that feeling, the “where everybody knows my name” feeling, that only comes after time, and whether you want to call it “routine” or not: showing up same bat time, same bat channel. Cheesy television theme song or not. You know, being a Regular.
Yesterday, a simple Thai iced tea revealed how deeply I am rooted in this neighborhood. It wasn’t just the iced tea, as you’ll see. But that began a chain of events that didn’t end until I sat down at this desk today.
Continue reading lil’ fella vs. the potted plant
I put my notice in at work today. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. I love my job. I love the people I work with. And being employed by Harvard University has its perks as you can imagine. I have an excellent working relationship with my boss. Yet I’m sitting in his office explaining to him why after only a year of service I am leaving.
Continue reading sing it, chan marshall
My stuff is breeding when I’m not looking.
On the topic of Stuff, why does garbage and dirty laundry always smell the same, regardless of its contents?
I left the house and when I came back, my stereo had bred with an old box under my bed, producing a brand new array of audio cassettes and 8mm video tapes. Where and why does one stash this collection, having neither tape player nor VCR?
Continue reading the care and feeding of stuff