Writing a blog isn't at all as easy I thought it would be. My problem is never that I haven't anything to write about. It's usually that I feel like nobody reads. Please, what is the point in writing if nobody is going to read? A good friend recently told me that if I'm a writer, I should write, regardless if anybody reads. So, I'm writing. It hasn't taken me any time to find that readers seem to like the rants. Entries like today's will get no traffic. People only seem to care when I have something clever to say or when I have a hair across my ass about something like children, local beauty, interiors, or maybe the random asshole that tries to run you down in a crosswalk. If we were meant to run for our very lives across Tremont Street, then it should be called a "crossrun", don't you think? Also, I still don't understand why women don't love to blow their men. But, I'm just talking... Since I've gone on a popular antidepressant, I haven't felt much like giving head myself. I'm going to ask my doctor to change that. It's just not normal for a gay man to feel this way.
I had my lunch with my buddy Hunter again today. The dining room was very busy because of the Chinese New Year. There was playing authentic music and a few servers were wearing gowns that appeared to have been bedazzled. I gave each of my favorite servers two dollars and they each thanked me with a bow for what they called "lucky money". I took my time with my tea today feeling happy that I never run into anybody that I know and I even said to Hunter that I felt liberated from having to sit together with people who dine to be seen by frequenting popular Southend restaurants. The kind that seem to taste the difference between a 12 year scotch and one that is aged 18. Here in Chinatown, there is no pretense and everybody seems to be themselves. I admire it. It's usually just the Chinese, a few Jews, and myself.
This last bit is just a side thought that hasn't much to do with what's above, but I like what I'm seeing and wanted to share. The Granary is nearly lost in the snow. When it's as covered over as it is, it receives few visitors. Narrow paths between the headstones are little walked. The whole scene is painfully poetic. Dead Yankees truly get to rest today. "Sun nien fai lok" John Hancock and James Otis. Samuel Adams and Paul Revere. "It's the year of the ox!".
-R
Monday, January 26, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inaugural Entry
This morning I had plans to post a very different entry. I didn't have much that I felt I could write about today's historical inauguration that wasn't already being said by all the pundits. My plan was to post a rant about how tiresome I think the use of the double entendre is in pop gay culture. But instead I stumbled upon something far more interesting and infinitely more appropriate to write about for today's blog entry.
After the ceremony, I made my way to the usual for Dim Sum and found that the city was nearly silent. The streets were empty and I was one of only three tables sitting in what is typically a decently busy dinning room. We all agreed that everybody was either at home or in their offices watching the events on television. After my lunch, I went to the bookstore to take one last look at what's available for 50% off in the rare books department. I came across an old issue of Harper's Weekly. Harpers was an American political magazine that featured both foreign and domestic news, fiction, essays on a variety of subjects, humor, and fashion. The copy that I came across was a year in review for the year 1861. An inaugural year, and the year that Abraham Lincoln was sworn into office (March 4, 1861). I sat down at the only place provided to browse a book that you're considering to purchase and began reading from a page dated March 16, 1861. There were illustrations depicting the parade from the White House to the U.S. Capitol. Also, there was illustrated pictures of Lincoln together with Buchanan in the Senate Chamber before he is to take his oath and give his Inaugural speech. I could read about Dred Scott and about current news from the seven states that had already succeeded before the Lincoln Inauguration. The controversies over the slave trade and the oncoming Civil War. The general feeling of a divided nation that isn't so unlike how Independents, Democrats, and Republicans feel today. I have had my own personal issues with the last eight years and do have new hope for the future of my own group of people, but in general, I feel that there is most definitely a collective exhale being taken, and feeling of unity that has come with this new Presidency.
This morning our First Lady, Michelle Obama, carried in her hand the Lincoln Bible, that until today has been housed in the Library of Congress. It is most likely on it's way back there now. It was the bible that President Lincoln used to take his Oath of office. I think that the symbolism used by the Obama Administration is pretty remarkable. I previously understood the importance of having the first black President installed into the White House, but I felt that I was personally missing the black experience. Having read in Harper's Weekly about the actual events that came to pass, presented to me within the social contexts of the period, really helped me to understand how enormously important today's Inauguration really was, and how far this nation has come. I also now feel my own personal connection and enhanced perspective on today's events.
Life is often so curious to me. Just this morning over coffee I had asked Brad to help me to understand the significance of the pomp being displayed for a man that has not yet taken office. How can we celebrate the success of something that has not yet come to pass? But the piece that I was missing I would later find on a dusty shelf within the pages of a period serial from 1861.
-R
After the ceremony, I made my way to the usual for Dim Sum and found that the city was nearly silent. The streets were empty and I was one of only three tables sitting in what is typically a decently busy dinning room. We all agreed that everybody was either at home or in their offices watching the events on television. After my lunch, I went to the bookstore to take one last look at what's available for 50% off in the rare books department. I came across an old issue of Harper's Weekly. Harpers was an American political magazine that featured both foreign and domestic news, fiction, essays on a variety of subjects, humor, and fashion. The copy that I came across was a year in review for the year 1861. An inaugural year, and the year that Abraham Lincoln was sworn into office (March 4, 1861). I sat down at the only place provided to browse a book that you're considering to purchase and began reading from a page dated March 16, 1861. There were illustrations depicting the parade from the White House to the U.S. Capitol. Also, there was illustrated pictures of Lincoln together with Buchanan in the Senate Chamber before he is to take his oath and give his Inaugural speech. I could read about Dred Scott and about current news from the seven states that had already succeeded before the Lincoln Inauguration. The controversies over the slave trade and the oncoming Civil War. The general feeling of a divided nation that isn't so unlike how Independents, Democrats, and Republicans feel today. I have had my own personal issues with the last eight years and do have new hope for the future of my own group of people, but in general, I feel that there is most definitely a collective exhale being taken, and feeling of unity that has come with this new Presidency.
This morning our First Lady, Michelle Obama, carried in her hand the Lincoln Bible, that until today has been housed in the Library of Congress. It is most likely on it's way back there now. It was the bible that President Lincoln used to take his Oath of office. I think that the symbolism used by the Obama Administration is pretty remarkable. I previously understood the importance of having the first black President installed into the White House, but I felt that I was personally missing the black experience. Having read in Harper's Weekly about the actual events that came to pass, presented to me within the social contexts of the period, really helped me to understand how enormously important today's Inauguration really was, and how far this nation has come. I also now feel my own personal connection and enhanced perspective on today's events.
Life is often so curious to me. Just this morning over coffee I had asked Brad to help me to understand the significance of the pomp being displayed for a man that has not yet taken office. How can we celebrate the success of something that has not yet come to pass? But the piece that I was missing I would later find on a dusty shelf within the pages of a period serial from 1861.
-R
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
My forehead moves!
This economy has just got to improve. This morning while I was shaving my face, I noticed that my forehead moves. I hate that. I am past due for a visit with Dr. Enzer, but until the economy recovers, Brad says that paralyzing and fluffing my face is the worst kind of extravagance. So, I guess my face is just going to have to suffer. I suppose if I have to get ugly in any town, Boston is the best place to do it. Btw, I beg you to discredit my theory if you truly believe that we as Bostonians make a huge effort to be sexy. (brushing your hair and putting on a clean oxford doesn't count). Also, this is the first time in my life that I have been concerned with how often I wear my favorite smell. I'm really going to have to make an effort to make this bottle last. Being conservative has never been one of my strengths, but I have to tell you, Brad rubs off on me more and more every day. If I have to endure a depression, I'm so happy that I'm doing it with Brad. I know that with him, I won't have to boil an old boot for dinner.
I went to the usual today for lunch. The girls were happy to see me and reminded me how empty the dinning room has been over the past few months. They work so hard and only receive a small portion of the money that we leave behind for a gratuity. I think that it's a shame because they're doing all the work by pushing those little hot carts around and wearing a much less attractive uniform than does the waiter. The waiter only seems to bring you tea and maybe a Diet Coke. I asked them if they were optimistic that things would change when Obama is installed. They didn't seem enthusiastic, but when I asked if they would have preferred McCain, they all burst out laughing and the carts began to move again, leaving me behind at my table.
I'm writing today from the Athenaeum. I arrived late, so I'm so happy that there is a place for me in the fifth floor reading room with a view of the Granary. Usually these spaces are already occupied by expired authors. Is it at all ironic that they're sitting with a view of a burial ground? Don't bite! I'm just asking. I'm usually the youngest person here and that isn't saying much as I'm 36.
I'm about to take a break and fetch a coffee or something with my friend Hunter. He's wandering around downtown somewhere right now. I asked him if he'd like to come inside, but he replied that he's too loud for the Athenaeum. It's okay though, I have a new book that I'm eager to explore just as soon as I return. It's called "Yankee Humor". I spent a small fortune on obtaining it for my collection. The Rare Books Department at the Brattle Bookshop is one of my favorite pastimes. I make a visit nearly every week. Taking into account that this book was most likely printed sometime in the 1870's, it's really not in great shape. I have older books that are in far better condition. But, I admire it's faded gilding and cracked leather. The type is small, but it has all of it's pages. So, I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my time here today reading a few chapters.
-R
I went to the usual today for lunch. The girls were happy to see me and reminded me how empty the dinning room has been over the past few months. They work so hard and only receive a small portion of the money that we leave behind for a gratuity. I think that it's a shame because they're doing all the work by pushing those little hot carts around and wearing a much less attractive uniform than does the waiter. The waiter only seems to bring you tea and maybe a Diet Coke. I asked them if they were optimistic that things would change when Obama is installed. They didn't seem enthusiastic, but when I asked if they would have preferred McCain, they all burst out laughing and the carts began to move again, leaving me behind at my table.
I'm writing today from the Athenaeum. I arrived late, so I'm so happy that there is a place for me in the fifth floor reading room with a view of the Granary. Usually these spaces are already occupied by expired authors. Is it at all ironic that they're sitting with a view of a burial ground? Don't bite! I'm just asking. I'm usually the youngest person here and that isn't saying much as I'm 36.
I'm about to take a break and fetch a coffee or something with my friend Hunter. He's wandering around downtown somewhere right now. I asked him if he'd like to come inside, but he replied that he's too loud for the Athenaeum. It's okay though, I have a new book that I'm eager to explore just as soon as I return. It's called "Yankee Humor". I spent a small fortune on obtaining it for my collection. The Rare Books Department at the Brattle Bookshop is one of my favorite pastimes. I make a visit nearly every week. Taking into account that this book was most likely printed sometime in the 1870's, it's really not in great shape. I have older books that are in far better condition. But, I admire it's faded gilding and cracked leather. The type is small, but it has all of it's pages. So, I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my time here today reading a few chapters.
-R
Monday, January 12, 2009
Ants
I have cousins in Rome that I used to visit often when I was in my twenties. I sometimes went with my mother and other times with one of my brothers and his wife. But for some reason this one time I was visiting by myself. My cousins were very busy working during the day and couldn't entertain me. I wasn't at all disappointed because I love to be alone. Truly it was like having a flat in Rome all to myself. They had left to work before I woke up and I knew that dinner was served at 9pm every night, so the day was mine! No problem. I had been before so I knew what buses to take to get nearly anywhere that I wanted to go. I also love to walk so I wasn't afraid to walk from one square to the next. My cousins live on Via della Pisana, which is kind of a ways from Piazza Venezia. It's about a 20 minute bus ride down Gregorio Settimo. I took the bus to Venezia and decided I wanted to walk all the way up the Via del Corso to the Piazza del Popolo. I was trying to explore the city on foot and understand its geography. It was late May and the sun was oppressive. My forehead and forearms where black by the end of my visit. I'll never forget that sunny day approaching the square from between the twin churches of Santa Maria in Montesanto and Santa Maria dei Miracoli. To me they say "Bernini" but they were both begun by Carlo Rainaldi and finished by Bernini and Carlo Fontana. I love them. I wanted to go further beyond the Aurelian Walls toward Villa Borghese but how to come back from there on the bus wasn't clear to me so I choose to turn around and walk down Via del Babuino. I walked until I reached the Spanish Steps. Then I aimed myself for Quirinale, somehow missing it, and found myself wandering below until I emptied out at the begining of the Via Nazionale, a very short walk from Piazza Venezia. This walk had taken me all afternoon already, because I had stopped here and there for a cafe and something cold to drink and watch the Romans buzz past on their Vespas. I love that noise. Sometimes I hear that noise now in the Southend because it has become fashionable here to have one. I always catch my breath a little when somebody passes me by on one. It evokes thoughts of Rome.
It was probably 4pm now and the sun was still so hot. Coming down from the hill I had such a remarkable view of the city. Its building materials reflect the light unlike any other European city. With the exception of the monument to Vittorio Emmanuel II, the tones of the surrounding city are so warm. I stopped at the gates that led to Trajan's Market. Since it was still early and I wasn't visiting any bathhouses that day (like you haven't) I decided to go inside. I took my time to imagine the goings on of a busy Roman market. There were cats everywhere and I followed one down a dark narrow staircase back outside into the sun. If you have ever been here you know that there is a colossal semi circle with the ruins of arched stalls where Rome could come to buy fresh produce from all her provinces. I sat down on the steps to one of these stalls and admired the ancient mosaic floors. I sat there for a good ten minutes with my eyes closed and my face pointed into the sun. It felt so good to be where I was sitting.
When I opened my eyes I noticed that I was sitting next to a colony of ants. Being as curious as I am I stuck a piece of grass into the mouth of their home. I watched to see how long it would take for them to notice what I had done. This was one of those moments where I felt like I was one of the idiots that Gary Larson illustrates so well. My face looming over a colony of ants in Rome. I just sat there for maybe an hour watching them rejigger that blade of grass and carry it away down into the earth and out of my sight. I think it might have been one of the most relaxing moments of my entire life. We've all heard the expression "Stop and smell the roses", but this was for me, a sweeter experience.
It was probably 4pm now and the sun was still so hot. Coming down from the hill I had such a remarkable view of the city. Its building materials reflect the light unlike any other European city. With the exception of the monument to Vittorio Emmanuel II, the tones of the surrounding city are so warm. I stopped at the gates that led to Trajan's Market. Since it was still early and I wasn't visiting any bathhouses that day (like you haven't) I decided to go inside. I took my time to imagine the goings on of a busy Roman market. There were cats everywhere and I followed one down a dark narrow staircase back outside into the sun. If you have ever been here you know that there is a colossal semi circle with the ruins of arched stalls where Rome could come to buy fresh produce from all her provinces. I sat down on the steps to one of these stalls and admired the ancient mosaic floors. I sat there for a good ten minutes with my eyes closed and my face pointed into the sun. It felt so good to be where I was sitting.
When I opened my eyes I noticed that I was sitting next to a colony of ants. Being as curious as I am I stuck a piece of grass into the mouth of their home. I watched to see how long it would take for them to notice what I had done. This was one of those moments where I felt like I was one of the idiots that Gary Larson illustrates so well. My face looming over a colony of ants in Rome. I just sat there for maybe an hour watching them rejigger that blade of grass and carry it away down into the earth and out of my sight. I think it might have been one of the most relaxing moments of my entire life. We've all heard the expression "Stop and smell the roses", but this was for me, a sweeter experience.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
RSVP?
Maybe a little over a year ago now, a new gay sat in my chair. He had just moved to Boston and from what I gathered, was lacking a circle of local friends. A goodlooking guy in his 40's he seemed kind of lonely so I thought he might both enjoy and benefit from spending a weekend with us at our house on the cape. There he would meet other gays and because Provincetown is so expensive he was mostly likely going to meet somebody his age. My thinking might have been flawed because I assumed he would want to meet somebody his age. For all I know, he might have been wild about twinks. But, I digress. After maybe a half dozen haircuts I felt that we had enough of a rapport that I could ask him to consider making the trip to the cape for the weekend. He seemed eager to join but wasn't very good at following up with a confirmation. Then, on the night before we were to depart for the cape he sent me an email saying that he had chosen not to come after all. Since the social calendar at the cape house is a busy one, we ask our guests to commit to a planned visit. Anybody who has ever hosted knows how disappointing it can be when you have prepared for your guests and then they crap out on you at the last possible moment. It's a waste of money that is spent on having extra food in the house and it's also very difficult to find anybody else to occupy the empty guestroom at so late an hour. The season is so short in New England and people have made their plans. I knew that this client had a weekend house of his own so I was shocked at his lack of consideration. It didn't take me anytime to compose a reply. I simply said "We make our choices" and clicked the send button.
I never heard from that client again. He did explain his reasons for choosing not to come, but I wasn't feeling much compassion for him since he had 8 weeks to have figured it all out. I would expect this sort of conduct from somebody in their 20's as they really would not have been in the position yet to understand the disappointment that comes in the wake of a last minute cancellation when you are a host. But, from somebody in their 40's who also owns a weekend house, was from where I am sitting, unacceptable.
Last night I went to the movies with my boyfriend and another gay couple to see Slumdog Millionaire. It was a pretty good movie, but I thought perhaps a little far fetched. Upon leaving the theatre we came across a group of friends that were waiting to see the next show. Standing there with that circle of friends was my former client. We were reintroduced and I went along with the charade. It was no doubt an uncomfortable moment, but I still had a bee in my bonnet over this past Summer's cancellation. I excused myself so that I could use the bathroom and hoped that when I returned the group would have disbanded. I felt conflicted because I really like and admire the new group of friends that he has found for himself. I'm not the sort of person to spend too much time flirting with resentment so I'm trying to reconcile how I feel about the whole event. The great thing about writing is that I sincerely feel better about the whole thing. I'm pretty certain that I'm over it now. I guess if I were to make any point with my little rant it would be to say that if you are ever graciously invited to anything, you might better RSVP early and seriously reconsider if you're cancelling at the last minute.
I never heard from that client again. He did explain his reasons for choosing not to come, but I wasn't feeling much compassion for him since he had 8 weeks to have figured it all out. I would expect this sort of conduct from somebody in their 20's as they really would not have been in the position yet to understand the disappointment that comes in the wake of a last minute cancellation when you are a host. But, from somebody in their 40's who also owns a weekend house, was from where I am sitting, unacceptable.
Last night I went to the movies with my boyfriend and another gay couple to see Slumdog Millionaire. It was a pretty good movie, but I thought perhaps a little far fetched. Upon leaving the theatre we came across a group of friends that were waiting to see the next show. Standing there with that circle of friends was my former client. We were reintroduced and I went along with the charade. It was no doubt an uncomfortable moment, but I still had a bee in my bonnet over this past Summer's cancellation. I excused myself so that I could use the bathroom and hoped that when I returned the group would have disbanded. I felt conflicted because I really like and admire the new group of friends that he has found for himself. I'm not the sort of person to spend too much time flirting with resentment so I'm trying to reconcile how I feel about the whole event. The great thing about writing is that I sincerely feel better about the whole thing. I'm pretty certain that I'm over it now. I guess if I were to make any point with my little rant it would be to say that if you are ever graciously invited to anything, you might better RSVP early and seriously reconsider if you're cancelling at the last minute.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Geek Chic
It used to be that I would poke fun at people who wore vintage eyewear. I never enjoyed having to wear glasses and I just wanted them to go away. So, I would choose frames that were almost frameless. Vintage frames seemed to call attention to the fact that you wore glasses and I was uncomfortable with that. You might ask "Why didn't you get contacts?" and my answer would be that I did try wearing contact lenses for a few months. I found that my eyes were always irritated. I was constantly rinsing my lenses. Working in a salon your fingers are often covered in hair goop and lacquer. Little particles of hair can become airborne when a dryer is turned on.
This entry is probably a few months late but it's about another pop phenomenon that I think is called "Geek Chic". I'm afraid that I myself am guilty of having jumped on board sometime this past Summer. It made me instantly popular at Tea Dance. Since I'm getting older, I needed a new schtick because taking off my shirt isn't working any more. At least not on anybody younger than me. Most of the new generation of gays don't seem to care much about fitness. They seem happy to have soft bodies and cover it all up in Vineyard Vines. I suppose I'd put that on too if I hadn't seen it come around the last time (1984).
Anyways, the geek trend has been building for some time and I knew it had reached it's tipping point a few months back when I glanced up from my workout at the gym and there was a talented Mr. Ripley at every station. I work out at the BSC on Harrison Ave and let me tell you that the gays really know how to take something to it's limits. There was one of us who even carried a book as a prop and would proceed to open it and read between his sets. I thought it was transparent, but it seemed to cast a spell on a few friends. Whatever...
I don't think the eyewear trend is quite over yet and I'm glad because I've found that my clients will do anything I say when I'm wearing mine. In this economy you need all the help you can get!
This entry is probably a few months late but it's about another pop phenomenon that I think is called "Geek Chic". I'm afraid that I myself am guilty of having jumped on board sometime this past Summer. It made me instantly popular at Tea Dance. Since I'm getting older, I needed a new schtick because taking off my shirt isn't working any more. At least not on anybody younger than me. Most of the new generation of gays don't seem to care much about fitness. They seem happy to have soft bodies and cover it all up in Vineyard Vines. I suppose I'd put that on too if I hadn't seen it come around the last time (1984).
Anyways, the geek trend has been building for some time and I knew it had reached it's tipping point a few months back when I glanced up from my workout at the gym and there was a talented Mr. Ripley at every station. I work out at the BSC on Harrison Ave and let me tell you that the gays really know how to take something to it's limits. There was one of us who even carried a book as a prop and would proceed to open it and read between his sets. I thought it was transparent, but it seemed to cast a spell on a few friends. Whatever...
I don't think the eyewear trend is quite over yet and I'm glad because I've found that my clients will do anything I say when I'm wearing mine. In this economy you need all the help you can get!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
"Single Ladies"
What is it about this ditty that can take a seemingly masculine gay who's driven to conceal his homosexuality and turn him into a gyrating Shane Mercado? I'm spellbound by the phenomenon. If you search "Single Ladies" on YouTube you'll find pages of people just fervent to take their crack at the illustrious video. Shameless mothers post their children, "Big Girls" do their rendition (not very well), young gays in every country, gangsters, dads, grandparents... It's madness! I'm half expecting to erupt into my own routine in the midst of a haircut today at work. I haven't seen people this exited about anything since, geez, I don't know when...
I'll post some of my favorites:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPbVoHs1gZ4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_lrKhmx2WU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGemjUvafBw
I'll post some of my favorites:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPbVoHs1gZ4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_lrKhmx2WU
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGemjUvafBw
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
MSNBC
Howard Fineman: Doesn't Howard Fineman look much better these days? I'm so happy that he has decided to grow out that "what was supposed to be brown" haircolor. It happens alot. Clients come into the salon with grey roots, about half an inch of "brown" hair, and the rest has become black. It's easy to fix on a female because I can always add highlights, but on a male, not so much. I always make an effort to discourage my male clients from coloring their hair. I think it looks desperate. It's probably something that I shouldn't do in this economy. I might need to reconsider how I feel.
Rachel Maddow: I love me some Rachel Maddow. She is so witty and often makes me laugh. I get my comedy and my news. I'm not so happy with her hair though lately. It wants some texturizing. I'd do it for her, but she doesn't know who I am. Besides, I wouldn't doubt that she has her hair styled by some lesbian hairstylist that she's very close with. It has been my experience at the salon where I work that lesbians like to have their hair groomed by other lesbians. The two that I work with have a huge lesbian following. I haven't ever asked either of them if what I'm thinking is actually a law, but now I have another thing to consider doing tomorrow.
Margaret Carlson: Margaret Carlson is one of my favorite talking heads on MSNBC. Whenever she's on I just can't control myself when I call out "Bjork!"
Chris Matthews: I was crushed when Tim Russert passed away this past June. He was the most fair and honest man on the news. Full of such remarkable integrity. Chris Matthews was formerly my #2 guy. He's since become #1.
Keith Olbermann: Keith's delivery often makes me uncomfortable. His reporting is too personal for me to love. I'll take my news with a little less tone please. But, I'm glad we have him. Somebody needs to counterbalance blathering idiots like O'Reilly and Limbaugh.
Michelle Bernard: I don't really have any criticism for this one. It's just nice to have your commentary delivered by such a beautiful and intelligent woman. She's so well put together that I'm always disappointed that I can't see her shoes. I imagine they're really good. I hope that she's not wearing white Reeboks down there. I hate that look. Every day at 5 O'Clock you can see droves of commuters still making that mistake. Please don't do it Michelle!
Andrea Mitchell: Another lady that I admire. She is so capable. I like her eye makeup too. I was a little angry with her though for appearing to enjoy herself too much at the Republican National Convention when she was trapped by the GOP balloon drop.
Okay, I've done enough blogging for tonight. Brad is beginning to call himself a blog widow. Is that a real term?
Rachel Maddow: I love me some Rachel Maddow. She is so witty and often makes me laugh. I get my comedy and my news. I'm not so happy with her hair though lately. It wants some texturizing. I'd do it for her, but she doesn't know who I am. Besides, I wouldn't doubt that she has her hair styled by some lesbian hairstylist that she's very close with. It has been my experience at the salon where I work that lesbians like to have their hair groomed by other lesbians. The two that I work with have a huge lesbian following. I haven't ever asked either of them if what I'm thinking is actually a law, but now I have another thing to consider doing tomorrow.
Margaret Carlson: Margaret Carlson is one of my favorite talking heads on MSNBC. Whenever she's on I just can't control myself when I call out "Bjork!"
Chris Matthews: I was crushed when Tim Russert passed away this past June. He was the most fair and honest man on the news. Full of such remarkable integrity. Chris Matthews was formerly my #2 guy. He's since become #1.
Keith Olbermann: Keith's delivery often makes me uncomfortable. His reporting is too personal for me to love. I'll take my news with a little less tone please. But, I'm glad we have him. Somebody needs to counterbalance blathering idiots like O'Reilly and Limbaugh.
Michelle Bernard: I don't really have any criticism for this one. It's just nice to have your commentary delivered by such a beautiful and intelligent woman. She's so well put together that I'm always disappointed that I can't see her shoes. I imagine they're really good. I hope that she's not wearing white Reeboks down there. I hate that look. Every day at 5 O'Clock you can see droves of commuters still making that mistake. Please don't do it Michelle!
Andrea Mitchell: Another lady that I admire. She is so capable. I like her eye makeup too. I was a little angry with her though for appearing to enjoy herself too much at the Republican National Convention when she was trapped by the GOP balloon drop.
Okay, I've done enough blogging for tonight. Brad is beginning to call himself a blog widow. Is that a real term?
Ann Coulter Anyone?
Ugh. This tramp again. You would think that none of us would pay any attention to a woman who's dangerously thin, wears severe makeup, tasteless miniskirts, and her hair inappropriately long for a woman over 40. But there she is appearing on all of the talk and lecture circuits giving birth to smear. Her books fly off the shelves and here I am writing about her! I simply hate her. But, do I love to hate her? This is a question that I ask myself about a few other people out there in the media. I feel this way about Sarah Palin and Shirley Phelps-Roper, but I'm pretty sure I'll write about them another time.
You know I wondered where she had disappeared to this past year when we were all consumed with the election. Well she's back and this time she flouts Michelle Obama. Check it out at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/03/ann-coulter-slams-michell_n_154947.html. From where I'm sitting I'm not sure she should be criticizing our new First Lady when she herself looks like a weak sketch of Jerry Hall. Reeer! *licks claws*
You know I wondered where she had disappeared to this past year when we were all consumed with the election. Well she's back and this time she flouts Michelle Obama. Check it out at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/03/ann-coulter-slams-michell_n_154947.html. From where I'm sitting I'm not sure she should be criticizing our new First Lady when she herself looks like a weak sketch of Jerry Hall. Reeer! *licks claws*
Monday, January 5, 2009
Dim Sum
My new friend Hunter is a down ass bitch. We met up this morning at the BSC and did a great chest workout and 30 mins of cardio. At some point about midway through my cardio routine I glanced over at him admiring Beyonce performing "Single Ladies". Afterward I was hungry and had Dim Sum on the brain. I'm finding out that Hunter is pretty adventurous because when I asked him about going to Chinatown with me he seemed pretty eager to join. Most of my friends would have said "Good luck with that". It's cool though, I'm pretty good about doing things on my own. We took the Silverline downtown to Chao Chow City, my favorite place for Dim Sum. The servers there are so nice to me and for some reason they remember who I am. When I come into the dining room everybody says hello. No joke, It surprises me every time. I ordered the regular. A hot bowl of tripe and an order of chicken feet. Hunter didn't sample any, but he didn't seem too put off by it either. He ordered taro shrimp, hargao, and some xiu mai. He hadn't ever had any of the three, but did pretty well before finding the fried tofu.
Not far from our table sat two Chinese women with two small children. One boy child and one girl. I usually pay no attention to children because I find them to be sticky and endlessly irritating. These two children didn't appear to be sticky at all, but they were being very loud in the dinning room and running from table to table asking for attention. Usually this sort of thing makes me angry because I don't think parents should indulge their children, but I said to Hunter that these children were not bothering me and my theory was that it was because the noise was in Chinese. It added an authentic quality to my lunch. I think Hunter even agreed with me when I said I felt that we were in an exotic country and not at all in downtown Boston. Is it possible that my theory holds any water? Are children hollering in a language that is not understood any less irritating? Discuss!
Not far from our table sat two Chinese women with two small children. One boy child and one girl. I usually pay no attention to children because I find them to be sticky and endlessly irritating. These two children didn't appear to be sticky at all, but they were being very loud in the dinning room and running from table to table asking for attention. Usually this sort of thing makes me angry because I don't think parents should indulge their children, but I said to Hunter that these children were not bothering me and my theory was that it was because the noise was in Chinese. It added an authentic quality to my lunch. I think Hunter even agreed with me when I said I felt that we were in an exotic country and not at all in downtown Boston. Is it possible that my theory holds any water? Are children hollering in a language that is not understood any less irritating? Discuss!
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Book Signing
Benoit Denizet-Lewis. A person I hadn't ever met before last night. (at least not in person. facebook is a remarkable thing) My buddy Matt and I went to a book signing together. Normally I'm too uncomfortable to go to these sorts of events, but I'm a writer so I thought that I should make the effort. Especially to meet somebody that has actually had something published. My problem is that when I find somebody interesting I want a private audience. It's hard for me to get to have a decent conversation with anybody at a function because you are constantly being interrupted by new arrivals. Since I haven't ever been the sort of person who enjoys the cliches of small talk, I make an effort to avoid situations where it has to be done. I've always thought that this very topic would make a very funny sketch for SNL.
I met Benoit on facebook. I suppose you could call it mild stalking, but I was browsing through my friends lists of friends. Since I'm attracted to athletic guys I clicked on his profile. After reading his information I found that we had a few things in common. His book "America Anonymous" was recently featured on The Huffington Post. www.huffingtonpost.com/rachel-kramer-bussel/exclusive-inyti-reporter_b_154774.html. I'm a huge fan of Arianna Huffington and follow that blog. The other thing that we had in common (and this one's a stretch) is that he studied journalism. I didn't study at all, but I like to read so I was interested. So, I requested his friendship. My hope was that I could get his advice on how to go about starting a blog or possibly even having something of my own published in the future. He accepted my friend request and even said that he'd be happy to let me pick his brain sometime after his book tour. I figured that if a person is willing to expose all of their vulnerabilities by writing a book about the perils of sex addiction than he must be a quality person that is interested in keeping his word. I didn't plan on buying a book, but after thinking about it I decided that it would be rude to ask for an audience with an author at his own book signing without at least having the book. Having a book to be signed is probably the best way to engage in a conversation with the person who wrote it.
I had worn a sweater to the function and a wool collar that I regret. The collar came off first and then my sweater began to feel uncomfortable and I still hadn't had the opportunity to make Benoits acquaintance. Matt and I did get to have a small conversation with Congressman Barney Frank. I was enchanted because I had witnessed that ugly confrontation that Congressman Frank had with the feckless Bill O'Reilly sometime back in October http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrfPMa3lONU. I like Barney Frank. He's a rational and very intelligent man. Granted, he does speak like he has a mouth full of popcorn, but so does our mayor and he's very popular. Nobody ever runs against him for office. It was a short conversation, but I was glad to have had it.
When it was Matt's turn to have his copy signed I choose that moment to decide that I too should have a copy of my own. When I returned a moment later Matt had let Benoit get away. He said that he looked hungry so he sent him away. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. By this time my sweater was really uncomfortable and I was about to expire so I interrupted Benoit with my apologies and explained to him that I was the random guy that he met on facebook earlier in the week and asked if I could have him sign my copy. (nice intro to somebody you'd like to know huh?) He seemed happy enough to do it, but I could tell that he was overwhelmed with what was going on. He signed it "For Rodin, I hope you like the book! Best, Benoit." It wasn't the introduction that I had hoped for, but I was happy with my book. And who knows, maybe he will contact me sometime afterall.
-R
I met Benoit on facebook. I suppose you could call it mild stalking, but I was browsing through my friends lists of friends. Since I'm attracted to athletic guys I clicked on his profile. After reading his information I found that we had a few things in common. His book "America Anonymous" was recently featured on The Huffington Post. www.huffingtonpost.com/rachel-kramer-bussel/exclusive-inyti-reporter_b_154774.html. I'm a huge fan of Arianna Huffington and follow that blog. The other thing that we had in common (and this one's a stretch) is that he studied journalism. I didn't study at all, but I like to read so I was interested. So, I requested his friendship. My hope was that I could get his advice on how to go about starting a blog or possibly even having something of my own published in the future. He accepted my friend request and even said that he'd be happy to let me pick his brain sometime after his book tour. I figured that if a person is willing to expose all of their vulnerabilities by writing a book about the perils of sex addiction than he must be a quality person that is interested in keeping his word. I didn't plan on buying a book, but after thinking about it I decided that it would be rude to ask for an audience with an author at his own book signing without at least having the book. Having a book to be signed is probably the best way to engage in a conversation with the person who wrote it.
I had worn a sweater to the function and a wool collar that I regret. The collar came off first and then my sweater began to feel uncomfortable and I still hadn't had the opportunity to make Benoits acquaintance. Matt and I did get to have a small conversation with Congressman Barney Frank. I was enchanted because I had witnessed that ugly confrontation that Congressman Frank had with the feckless Bill O'Reilly sometime back in October http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrfPMa3lONU. I like Barney Frank. He's a rational and very intelligent man. Granted, he does speak like he has a mouth full of popcorn, but so does our mayor and he's very popular. Nobody ever runs against him for office. It was a short conversation, but I was glad to have had it.
When it was Matt's turn to have his copy signed I choose that moment to decide that I too should have a copy of my own. When I returned a moment later Matt had let Benoit get away. He said that he looked hungry so he sent him away. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. By this time my sweater was really uncomfortable and I was about to expire so I interrupted Benoit with my apologies and explained to him that I was the random guy that he met on facebook earlier in the week and asked if I could have him sign my copy. (nice intro to somebody you'd like to know huh?) He seemed happy enough to do it, but I could tell that he was overwhelmed with what was going on. He signed it "For Rodin, I hope you like the book! Best, Benoit." It wasn't the introduction that I had hoped for, but I was happy with my book. And who knows, maybe he will contact me sometime afterall.
-R
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Yard Sale
Recently Brad and I decided to go to the gym together. I usually try to get my workout in during the week at 9am, after the morning rush has departed. I like to avoid waiting for a machine and something else that happens in the locker room that both Brad and I call “The Yard Sale”. Generally “Yard Sale” means that somebody can’t seem to contain their personal belongings inside the locker room. I’ll illustrate this scenario for you. I’m pretty sure that this probably happens inside of a women’s locker room too, but I have never confirmed that women are as piggish as men, so I can only speak from my male perspective.
A member has completed his workout and has returned to the locker room to shower. He will open his locker and it’s contents will quickly colonize the bench. (a bench that is for all members). He will then proceed to the shower and leave behind a pair of dirty sneakers, together with a pair of dress or street shoes that he means to wear out of the gym after he has showered. Also left behind are his dirty socks and his pair of dirty underwear left inside the shorts that he was wearing to work out in. Used towels are strewn about and there is an open gym bag on the floor. Sometimes the locker is open to reveal a coat, some clean clothes, and a little sack for grooming products, shaving cream, deodorant, etc. All of this is left behind while he showers with no concern that anybody else might also need to use that space. It’s like the person has no concept that there is anybody else in the world. It’s his own private locker room. It makes me crazy.
I guess I can leave room for the activity that goes on in the sauna because it’s in a contained space that I don’t use. However, I do feel sorry for those members that truly do want to use the sauna for the purpose of relaxing and not for random hookups that are so frequently posted on Craigslist under “Missed Connections”. *uses fingers to express quotes* What I’m going to tell you about today is perhaps the strangest behavior that I’ve witnessed in the locker room yet. One day, sitting there on the edge of a bench, absolutely naked, was a man that had to be approaching 70. Not at all in any decent shape he was carrying an enormous pot belly. He looked like a snake that had just finished swallowing a rat. He had his legs crossed and was very casually reading the paper like he was at the Century Association. Devil may care that he was buck naked and no show pony. The locker room was buzzing around him and it didn’t seem to phase him in the least. I let out a laugh straight away and motioned toward the naked newspaper reader with my chin while looking at Brad. Brad made a face that kids make when something is sour. What is going through the minds of people who are doing these sorts of things? Yard sales and naked newspaper reading. Naked shavers and naked nail clipping. Do I need to mention that they leave their nail particles behind for somebody to step or sit on? How about the people who sprinkle what looks to be corn starch all over the floor and leave white foot prints behind. ??? It’s madness. I think these people might think that their mothers are going to come through and pick up after them. I can’t figure it out. I used to think that I might say something to them, but who knows how people are going to respond to that sort of commentary. I've learned to just make jokes about what I'm seeing and now I guess I'm writing about it too.
-R
A member has completed his workout and has returned to the locker room to shower. He will open his locker and it’s contents will quickly colonize the bench. (a bench that is for all members). He will then proceed to the shower and leave behind a pair of dirty sneakers, together with a pair of dress or street shoes that he means to wear out of the gym after he has showered. Also left behind are his dirty socks and his pair of dirty underwear left inside the shorts that he was wearing to work out in. Used towels are strewn about and there is an open gym bag on the floor. Sometimes the locker is open to reveal a coat, some clean clothes, and a little sack for grooming products, shaving cream, deodorant, etc. All of this is left behind while he showers with no concern that anybody else might also need to use that space. It’s like the person has no concept that there is anybody else in the world. It’s his own private locker room. It makes me crazy.
I guess I can leave room for the activity that goes on in the sauna because it’s in a contained space that I don’t use. However, I do feel sorry for those members that truly do want to use the sauna for the purpose of relaxing and not for random hookups that are so frequently posted on Craigslist under “Missed Connections”. *uses fingers to express quotes* What I’m going to tell you about today is perhaps the strangest behavior that I’ve witnessed in the locker room yet. One day, sitting there on the edge of a bench, absolutely naked, was a man that had to be approaching 70. Not at all in any decent shape he was carrying an enormous pot belly. He looked like a snake that had just finished swallowing a rat. He had his legs crossed and was very casually reading the paper like he was at the Century Association. Devil may care that he was buck naked and no show pony. The locker room was buzzing around him and it didn’t seem to phase him in the least. I let out a laugh straight away and motioned toward the naked newspaper reader with my chin while looking at Brad. Brad made a face that kids make when something is sour. What is going through the minds of people who are doing these sorts of things? Yard sales and naked newspaper reading. Naked shavers and naked nail clipping. Do I need to mention that they leave their nail particles behind for somebody to step or sit on? How about the people who sprinkle what looks to be corn starch all over the floor and leave white foot prints behind. ??? It’s madness. I think these people might think that their mothers are going to come through and pick up after them. I can’t figure it out. I used to think that I might say something to them, but who knows how people are going to respond to that sort of commentary. I've learned to just make jokes about what I'm seeing and now I guess I'm writing about it too.
-R
Friday, January 2, 2009
Tina TV: Sexy Chocolate Siren
Growing up in clubland as a hairstylist I had at times gone around with some questionable characters, as you might imagine. There was one in particular that I got along with famously and for years we almost never parted company. Nearly every night of the week we'd be seen at whatever club was popular on that night. The friend that I am talking about was and most likely still is a transvestite and for the sake of concealing her identity I shall call her Pastry.
I met Pastry at a salon that I worked at in the early 1990's. She wasn't my client, but the client of a stylist that worked right next to me. I was very close with this other stylist and it was often that both we and our clients would speak to one another throughout the service. I became familiar with all of my coworkers clients.
Most times Pastry would appear for her appointments looking very androgynous. Sometimes it amused her to be out during the day wearing gangster drag. Pastry was black and made a very intimidating thug when she wanted to. Being intimidating helps when you're confronted by a group of angry and frustrated heterosexual college boys on the street after the clubs let out. Pastry could display an ugly temper when provoked and was agile in heels even at the end of the night, but that's another story for another time.
The salon that I worked for had a large inventory of wigs and hairpieces. We used the hair for photo shoots and platform work and when they were not in use we kept them in a closet that I had the responsibility of maintaining. You can see why Pastry was eager to be my friend. Every night of the week I'd put together some absurd hairstyle for her to wear out to the club. I remember causing such a commotion when we appeared on the scene, Pastry often having to duck as to avoid catching her hair on something because I had piled it up so high. I had added different colors and textures and often accessories like fabric and feathers to go with what she was wearing.
Pastry worked for a local designer that imagined he was Andy Warhol. The workshop was full of club children and wannabees. It was a fun place to hang out when I wasn't working, but it didn't seem like anybody there made any money at all. I think everybody might have been being paid in clothes until the gig ran out and that designer closed up shop. I had always wondered how Pastry made any money and this is where the title of this entry comes into play.
Pastry, I had later found out, was also an escort, spending a good deal of her day turning tricks at her apartment. She played all sorts of characters. I don't know why it had not occurred to me that this is most likely how she made a living. In retrospect it all seems so obvious, but I guess that's part of being in your early twenties. You haven't had enough experience to identify these sorts of things. One day while we were hanging out she was trying to compose a new ad for the Boston Phoenix. At the time I wasn't at all into writing but I told her that I'd be happy to help. Who am I to judge? I'm a hairstylist. I worked with countless drug addicts and I got along with them. Why shouldn't a prostitute make a very nice friend? (My mother would beg to differ, but I am not telling you that story today.) I took a pen and paper (this was before laptops) and I wrote on the paper Tina TV, laughing to myself because if you had ever read the classifieds back then you'd often read about some guy looking for a TV. I had always thought that it was a decently simple thing to find. They were always available in any department store. My guess was that this guy just wanted a bargain. Maybe a used TV. What I didn't know then was that TV was also an abreviation for transvestite. Since you had to pay for every letter you used to compose your ad, it made sense to abreviate. Anyway, Tina TV. I thought that it sounded so commercial. Like an advertisement for a doll that wet her pants when fed water from a bottle. Small children would point at the television while hollering "I want a Tina TV" over their shoulders at their parents. I went on, "Sexy, Chocolate, Siren". I thought that it illustrated exactly what Pastry was trying to say. Short and sweet, with only a few letters to pay for. She loved it and I had never written anything that anybody had paid any attention to in my life. I was so inspired that I wrote her ads for weeks. "Amber Rose: Delicious Dominatrix Demon". "Frivolous Fawn: Flirtatious Fete". I think she'd never been more popular. Seriously. But, like anything the novelty wears away and as time passes people change. I became less of a club kid and I began to see less and less of Pastry and today I couldn't tell you where she is. I do know however that if you look inside of one of my old journals that I used to paste pictures into and write down anything that made me laugh that I wanted to remember, you'll find that first ad there that I cut from the Phoenix when it came out.
While in the shower today I was thinking about how much I enjoy writing. I didn't always like it at all. In school I had always made a poor student so it seems so strange to me that writing has become one of my favorite pastimes. And, I sincerely think it all started with Tina TV.
I met Pastry at a salon that I worked at in the early 1990's. She wasn't my client, but the client of a stylist that worked right next to me. I was very close with this other stylist and it was often that both we and our clients would speak to one another throughout the service. I became familiar with all of my coworkers clients.
Most times Pastry would appear for her appointments looking very androgynous. Sometimes it amused her to be out during the day wearing gangster drag. Pastry was black and made a very intimidating thug when she wanted to. Being intimidating helps when you're confronted by a group of angry and frustrated heterosexual college boys on the street after the clubs let out. Pastry could display an ugly temper when provoked and was agile in heels even at the end of the night, but that's another story for another time.
The salon that I worked for had a large inventory of wigs and hairpieces. We used the hair for photo shoots and platform work and when they were not in use we kept them in a closet that I had the responsibility of maintaining. You can see why Pastry was eager to be my friend. Every night of the week I'd put together some absurd hairstyle for her to wear out to the club. I remember causing such a commotion when we appeared on the scene, Pastry often having to duck as to avoid catching her hair on something because I had piled it up so high. I had added different colors and textures and often accessories like fabric and feathers to go with what she was wearing.
Pastry worked for a local designer that imagined he was Andy Warhol. The workshop was full of club children and wannabees. It was a fun place to hang out when I wasn't working, but it didn't seem like anybody there made any money at all. I think everybody might have been being paid in clothes until the gig ran out and that designer closed up shop. I had always wondered how Pastry made any money and this is where the title of this entry comes into play.
Pastry, I had later found out, was also an escort, spending a good deal of her day turning tricks at her apartment. She played all sorts of characters. I don't know why it had not occurred to me that this is most likely how she made a living. In retrospect it all seems so obvious, but I guess that's part of being in your early twenties. You haven't had enough experience to identify these sorts of things. One day while we were hanging out she was trying to compose a new ad for the Boston Phoenix. At the time I wasn't at all into writing but I told her that I'd be happy to help. Who am I to judge? I'm a hairstylist. I worked with countless drug addicts and I got along with them. Why shouldn't a prostitute make a very nice friend? (My mother would beg to differ, but I am not telling you that story today.) I took a pen and paper (this was before laptops) and I wrote on the paper Tina TV, laughing to myself because if you had ever read the classifieds back then you'd often read about some guy looking for a TV. I had always thought that it was a decently simple thing to find. They were always available in any department store. My guess was that this guy just wanted a bargain. Maybe a used TV. What I didn't know then was that TV was also an abreviation for transvestite. Since you had to pay for every letter you used to compose your ad, it made sense to abreviate. Anyway, Tina TV. I thought that it sounded so commercial. Like an advertisement for a doll that wet her pants when fed water from a bottle. Small children would point at the television while hollering "I want a Tina TV" over their shoulders at their parents. I went on, "Sexy, Chocolate, Siren". I thought that it illustrated exactly what Pastry was trying to say. Short and sweet, with only a few letters to pay for. She loved it and I had never written anything that anybody had paid any attention to in my life. I was so inspired that I wrote her ads for weeks. "Amber Rose: Delicious Dominatrix Demon". "Frivolous Fawn: Flirtatious Fete". I think she'd never been more popular. Seriously. But, like anything the novelty wears away and as time passes people change. I became less of a club kid and I began to see less and less of Pastry and today I couldn't tell you where she is. I do know however that if you look inside of one of my old journals that I used to paste pictures into and write down anything that made me laugh that I wanted to remember, you'll find that first ad there that I cut from the Phoenix when it came out.
While in the shower today I was thinking about how much I enjoy writing. I didn't always like it at all. In school I had always made a poor student so it seems so strange to me that writing has become one of my favorite pastimes. And, I sincerely think it all started with Tina TV.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Is Boston Being Modern Again?
I am posting an entry from my journal from 2008. It's a topic that I had posted on facebook just after I had finished writing the entry back in October. It's a topic that I always wished more people had discussed.
October 27, 2008
Walking home today after having spent the day running errands, a visit to the Athenaeum, and a short bite to eat downtown with a friend, I followed Washington Street all the way home. Walking past the Archstone I looked across the street to my right to see the very sleek and modern profile of the new W Hotel on Stuart Street. Currently to the right there is an empty lot that allows me to see the W project from Washington Street. There was once theaters on both sides of this block but have all since been razed. I have been living in Boston for nearly twenty years and can recall the Pilgrim Theater, Club 66, and the Naked I, all of which have been demolished and the land redeveloped as the Archstone (I think a wasted opportunity to redevelop precious Boston real estate. A decent but remarkably dull condominium tower now dominates that block). I'm not saying that it was better to have had the bars and peep shows than to have cleaned up the former combat zone, but we tore down something authentic and replaced it with mediocrity so as not to draw attention away from what we think Boston should be. We haven’t always been recalcitrant toward progress. Our ancestors were very modern people. They built Boston in the latest fashions and after the great fire of 1872 they continued to rebuild Boston in the new styles. Recently I have been reading The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs. Reading it has helped me to understand exactly how flawed the thinking of our mayors and city planners was from the times of Urban Renewal. What bothers me, and particularly with regards to Boston, is that we are largely still making banal choices with how we are expressing ourselves as Bostonians. Like I have said earlier, we have not always been how we think of ourselves today. Preserving the 19th century all together seems to say that we as contemporary people have nothing to say about our current time, save that maybe we all believe that there has been nothing worth fully expressing since Victorian times. Seeing the W there with all of its glass veneer made me feel proud of my city. My hope is that Bostonians are beginning to appreciate authentic modern concepts again. I hope we can continue to do so. It makes the fabric of our city beautiful and interesting and I believe that our 19th century ancestors would be just as excited to see what I was seeing as they too were being very modern in their own time.
-R
October 27, 2008
Walking home today after having spent the day running errands, a visit to the Athenaeum, and a short bite to eat downtown with a friend, I followed Washington Street all the way home. Walking past the Archstone I looked across the street to my right to see the very sleek and modern profile of the new W Hotel on Stuart Street. Currently to the right there is an empty lot that allows me to see the W project from Washington Street. There was once theaters on both sides of this block but have all since been razed. I have been living in Boston for nearly twenty years and can recall the Pilgrim Theater, Club 66, and the Naked I, all of which have been demolished and the land redeveloped as the Archstone (I think a wasted opportunity to redevelop precious Boston real estate. A decent but remarkably dull condominium tower now dominates that block). I'm not saying that it was better to have had the bars and peep shows than to have cleaned up the former combat zone, but we tore down something authentic and replaced it with mediocrity so as not to draw attention away from what we think Boston should be. We haven’t always been recalcitrant toward progress. Our ancestors were very modern people. They built Boston in the latest fashions and after the great fire of 1872 they continued to rebuild Boston in the new styles. Recently I have been reading The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs. Reading it has helped me to understand exactly how flawed the thinking of our mayors and city planners was from the times of Urban Renewal. What bothers me, and particularly with regards to Boston, is that we are largely still making banal choices with how we are expressing ourselves as Bostonians. Like I have said earlier, we have not always been how we think of ourselves today. Preserving the 19th century all together seems to say that we as contemporary people have nothing to say about our current time, save that maybe we all believe that there has been nothing worth fully expressing since Victorian times. Seeing the W there with all of its glass veneer made me feel proud of my city. My hope is that Bostonians are beginning to appreciate authentic modern concepts again. I hope we can continue to do so. It makes the fabric of our city beautiful and interesting and I believe that our 19th century ancestors would be just as excited to see what I was seeing as they too were being very modern in their own time.
-R
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