big shoes

lincoln unclenching

a few years back, my buddy barack got himself a fancy new house down in the district. i’d been meaning to get down there, have a look around, see where life and ambition had led my old friend since our days of knocking on doors and flyering for community board meetings, but you know how it is. and then last week i was in town on a travel job, put up in a fancy hotel on the hill with a few hours to myself, and figured i ought to have a look around.

[ what there is to see, below the fold. ]

the kingdom

Isaac beneath a shady palm

my dad and baby brother [ above ] took me to orlando, that immersive capitalist dystopia where the dream that every last inch of everywhere might someday come under private ownership has been very nearly realized, where each place is carefully crafted to advance the brand identity of its steward, and where the commons (to the extent to which any space here can be called public) are beset by an equal and opposite tragedy: the insidious tyranny of commercial concern.

[ viva la resistance, below the fold. ]

the district sleeps with its phone

counting the cars

i don’t have an iphone or whatever. a “smart phone?” a “data plan?” my phone just does phone stuff. and i wonder how many years i have before this paragraph is utterly incomprehensible (rather than just largely incoherent).

[ babble on, below the fold. ]

imagine me and you and you and mecaf

penobscot bay

i love maine. grego’ and rachael are both mainers, and i spent as much of my early twenties as possible stomping around their homeland, climbing on katahdin and lusting after odd old instruments in bar harbor and drinking pumpkinhead ale in portland and trying to keep my lunch down, or at least inside my own zipper car, at the blue hill fair.

[ more of maine's myriad merits, below the fold. ]

deep in the heart of sunday

boots reading

you’re looking at boots, curled up in the window seat, reading michael pollan and trying to hold down airport food.

[ travelogues of foreign lands, undiscovered internets, forgotten hearts, and san antonio, below the fold. ]

a.p.e., rinse, and repeat

girlcate loves her some grugere

breakfast at tartine is so totally worth the wait.

[ other matters of interest to the wandering northeasterner, below the fold. ]

there and back again

the departures gate

we staked out a little den for ourselves in a corner of the departures gate, unpacked our lunches and laptops, and considered how much better a place in which to travel this world would be if all airports made internet and beer so readily accessible. i snapped a few final photographs, set them transferring, and curled up with my new yorker while girlcate searched for the bathrooms and keera foraged for beverages. it’s nice to have fellow travelers to watch your bags while you pee or wander the duty-free shops, and to buy you potato chips while you watch theirs, and to ask you incessantly if you’ve remembered things you need to have and checked things you may not.

[ do's and don'ts, below the fold. ]