Thursday, May 2, 2013
mural juggling: Columbia Heights
Sunday, November 4, 2012
park{scenes} 1: meridian hill park
On Sunday afternoons, enjoy a drum circle and an array of slack-liners, acro-yogis and jugglers at Meridian Hill Park (a.k.a. Malcolm X Park) at 15th and Florida NW.
This is the first in a series of videos profiling parks in the D.C./Metro area. Please contact me if you are interested in appearing in future park{scenes}.
Thanks to Vanessa, Josh and Joel for sharing their talents with me and making a scene in the park!
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Yelp! review of life
[3 1/2 stars]
Dropped into this place on my half-hour lunch break - what a cute little spot! The bars on the window add a rustic, chic atmosphere to what would otherwise be just another dumpy take-out joint.
The guy at the counter kindly guided me through the menu and explained the combination buffet, it's a steal at $6.99! (hope the price doesn't go up from all the hype)
Anyway, I surveyed the options and decided to live dangerously and get the 'beef tripe stew' - NOMNOM right?
WRONG - how could anyone look at this monstrous bowl of despicable product and decide there was anything worth enjoying? And why didn't anybody WARN me that tripe is stomach???? I took one cautious bite and flung it straight into the trash. I think my coworkers were wondering what the suspicious smell emanating from beneath my desk was.
So to feed my growling belly FOUR HOURS later I forked over $9.50 for my regular Asian chicken salad from Au Bon Pain. So much for trying something 'ethnic.' The hipsters can have their bowls of mush. *Just sayin*
If I never go near this place again, I will die happy :P
Dropped into this place on my half-hour lunch break - what a cute little spot! The bars on the window add a rustic, chic atmosphere to what would otherwise be just another dumpy take-out joint.
The guy at the counter kindly guided me through the menu and explained the combination buffet, it's a steal at $6.99! (hope the price doesn't go up from all the hype)
Anyway, I surveyed the options and decided to live dangerously and get the 'beef tripe stew' - NOMNOM right?
WRONG - how could anyone look at this monstrous bowl of despicable product and decide there was anything worth enjoying? And why didn't anybody WARN me that tripe is stomach???? I took one cautious bite and flung it straight into the trash. I think my coworkers were wondering what the suspicious smell emanating from beneath my desk was.
So to feed my growling belly FOUR HOURS later I forked over $9.50 for my regular Asian chicken salad from Au Bon Pain. So much for trying something 'ethnic.' The hipsters can have their bowls of mush. *Just sayin*
If I never go near this place again, I will die happy :P
Monday, August 20, 2012
'round noon
You knew it was a lost cause, but nevertheless manufactured hope in a reality the District, for all its worldly influences, could never fulfill.
A wasp buzzed, pummeling itself against the window overlooking Dupont Circle. You used to drive a truck through that black hole after a few wrong turns, then regret it for the next ten minutes of painstaking navigation through clueless pedestrians and conniving traffic signals. At least that whip had a good sound system. Every job has its small sacrifices, and that one grew more insignificant with each moment you thought about your current task.
The opera playing from a public radio station seemingly mocked your hapless state, though you never had a way with such grand languages.
A lady in proper proportion to her two bullish dogs crossed Q Street in perfect timing with the oncoming traffic, which kindly enough let the trio pass. She kept on her way, you thought, but suddenly the dogs were tied beneath the intermittent green of D.C. sidewalks and the doorknob was turning, leaving enough time for several more civilians to survive the traffic before the door finally gave.
She entered.
You stared at the page.
She broke the silent eternity of a few seconds, declaring:
"The only reason I came in here was to get a smoothie."
You exhaled.
You knew it was a lost cause. But the smothered panini sandwich, the lentil soup served in the same paper cup as your cappuccino, and the smoothies - God help the fucking smoothies - mocked your premonition that D.C. would never proffer what New York stocked in abundance: a decent bakery.
A wasp buzzed, pummeling itself against the window overlooking Dupont Circle. You used to drive a truck through that black hole after a few wrong turns, then regret it for the next ten minutes of painstaking navigation through clueless pedestrians and conniving traffic signals. At least that whip had a good sound system. Every job has its small sacrifices, and that one grew more insignificant with each moment you thought about your current task.
The opera playing from a public radio station seemingly mocked your hapless state, though you never had a way with such grand languages.
A lady in proper proportion to her two bullish dogs crossed Q Street in perfect timing with the oncoming traffic, which kindly enough let the trio pass. She kept on her way, you thought, but suddenly the dogs were tied beneath the intermittent green of D.C. sidewalks and the doorknob was turning, leaving enough time for several more civilians to survive the traffic before the door finally gave.
She entered.
You stared at the page.
She broke the silent eternity of a few seconds, declaring:
"The only reason I came in here was to get a smoothie."
You exhaled.
You knew it was a lost cause. But the smothered panini sandwich, the lentil soup served in the same paper cup as your cappuccino, and the smoothies - God help the fucking smoothies - mocked your premonition that D.C. would never proffer what New York stocked in abundance: a decent bakery.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
gnus of the day
Have you ever read the gnu? No, not the gnus. I mean, just one, singular gnu.
That's what I thought. And herein lies the problem with our gnus media today: all herd, no homeliness; all hegemon, no hungry man; all homo-, no hetero-.*
Plain and simple, we've lost the gnu. The new gnus are just "gnus" gnus, and no gnus are good gnus.
If you're not seeing my point, think about the old gnus and how gnu they were for their time; now think about how non-re-gnu-able they've become.
Shocking, I know. To realize that if we don't rediscover our gnu media we'll quickly become slaves to the shallow gnusings of radio gnus, television gnus and huffy internet gnus.
It's not too late to repent, gnus-men and -women. Click off your gnus stream, burn your gnuspapers and find your gnu self.
I'll be there for every step of your journey, so if you're already stifling fires of hatred for my prose, get out while you still can.
*speaking of which, no hetero brosef!
*speaking of which, no hetero brosef!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)