Found Magazine at Shake It Records
Back in Cincinnati in one piece.
So Paul mentioned that Found Magazine was touring the country and would be up the street tonight. We braved the rain all met up. Mark, Eric, Paul and myself got some low carb (for the most part) vittles at Unos and then made it back to the record store to hear snippets from found letters, along with some acoustic songs inspired by said letters.
What a nice Monday change-o-pace, especially with the downpour.
Davy Rothbart, Point Guard for the zine delivered tidbits with a down to earth goodness and his brother performed a quick set. Some song about big booties stuck in my head.
Check out the magazine, buy the book. And also look on the website to see if they are coming to your town. They’re hitting all 50 states.
Yesterday was sublimely wet and the moisture in the air enhanced the changing foliage. There was also a lingering mist that gave me the feeling that I wasn’t in Cincinnati, but instead, some foreign place I could not begin to pinpoint.
After lunch, I decided to swerve into Mt. Airy park to check out the trees and just zone out for a while. A couple of deer wandered by, relatively undisturbed by my presence.
I collected leaves and my thoughts, then made it home to find the solution for a complicated production issue at work.
There’s a place out near where I grew up called Rousters that has the best apples. This orchard has crafted a particularly sweet and crunchy variety with a juicy white flesh and a freckled matte skin. They call ’em Krispy, and I’ve never been able to find their equal in the produce aisle of any supermarket.
Sometimes you have to get on a waiting list just to buy a bag of them.
Called em up today and they said they had them available. So I hit the road and rolled down the windows to let in the fall air, drove through tree covered backroads under the changing leaves, and picked up a huge bag and a half of these things, along with two gallons of cider.
I made some deliveries and got back home right around dusk, and I’ll be honest, I hadn’t stolen a bite of one yet. I was sort of afraid that maybe they didn’t taste as good. Perhaps my memory twisted them into something that was no more, or never was.
I’m glad to report, my memory is perfectly intact, I’ve several cores to prove it.
Where the gas station attendant doles out 40s in a horzontal dumbwaiter behind bulletproof glass.
Where folks just pass the money through and ask him to count it and tell them how much they have.
Where used appliances and pawn shops mingle with check cashing joints.
Where the streetlights cast shadows from the lone trees.
This is where I live.
Nachos with plastic salsa container
There needs to be nacho innovation. They’re a mess. All the glop is on top and the chips get buried. Maybe a nacho bar for the table, separating everything into neat containers with spoons.
Aside from this mess, the monthly get together with friends for vittles went quite well. Often the first Tuesday of the month conflicts with volleyball night for many of the folks, so we decided to combine the two.
I had pot roast, since it was the daily special and I figured it was made that day. Super salty gravy paired with sweet carrots and a hint of cinnamon steamed to mush.
Hooligans is pretty much Hooters without the orange shorts. There’s still busty broads, pantyhose and chicken wings. Outside, they’ve got a nice big sand volleyball court.
We finished our meal with little time to digest and see Team Love (I think that was what they called themselves) win their lot. Why that name? ‘Cause it’s lame and that’s funny.
The boat exodus from the big fireworks display
1.) Autumn is fast approaching.
2.) Time to put the white shoes away.
3.) I can’t take photos of fireworks.
The tickets were cheaper than the beer
The day ended with a spur of the moment diversion for me, joining up with friends for an early evening game of baseball. I hadn’t been to the new Great American Ball Park yet, but I didn’t need any other excuse. Perfect weather and four dollar bleacher seats sweetened the deal. In return for a great view of the game, we couldn’t see the jumbo video screen.
I learned a slew of baseball terms, and have immediately forgotten them.
I thought the Dodgers were from New York. I’m just fifty years or so behind, apparently.
Knirps for moisture
I’m starting to get a sense of what it’s going to be like working from home. I relish lunch and the opportunity to step out of my pad and walk around the neighborhood.
I’m finding it’s both exciting and scary, depending on the time of day and the block. For the most part though, it’s just fine. Today I spotted this Pride Parade float (pictured above) parked next to my alley.
It’s an adaptation of the Tyler Davidson Fountain on the Square downtown. Maybe it looks familiar from the opening credits of WKRP in Cincinnati…
Our city planners want to invest in retooling Fountain Square, while other urban areas in and around the city limits languish in dire need of development. The shores of Kentucky seem to be jumping through the political hurdles with ease. New restaurants and attractions open up each month facing the skyline from across the river.
I talk with folks from time to time that haven’t visited in a while, and I say, “Oh, Cincinnati has changed a lot over the past years.” And it has. Every once in a while, I believe it. We’ve even got a Craigslist now. (I didn’t happen to stumble upon it while looking for jobs in other cities, of course not).
I wouldn’t mind if a Beard Popa Sweets Cafe were to make it down here though, as we need more cream puffs. That aren’t on City Council.
Fun with food
Dinner club came and I forgot… I sat there clueless fiddling on the computer when the call came. “Where are you?”
Ooops. Folks ordered for me as I slipped on some shoes and high-tailed it to Andy’s Mediterranean Grill, just in time for hummus and pita appetizer.
The food was good. Seemed more like vittles you’d find in a food cart on the street, but the atmosphere was nice. Got to meet a new person, and I think we gave her ample crash course into our dinner table conversation.
At some point, hand jobs were mentioned.
It wasn’t me.
I finally had a meal at the Cactus Pear that agreed with me–the nacho salad, though I thought the Grade D steak was a little overcooked and tough.
I just skirted the charred bits and focussed on the topics at hand with Anne and Wendy. Even after our dishes were cleared we sat there for a good piece and caught up on (in alphabetical order): abodes, computers, concerts, happiness, jobs, life, love, travel, and what to wear to prom.