Officially the trip was for the Tech-Boston College game, which Tech won 19-16 (yay) but my real purpose was to knock another record store off my list, Twisted Village. Yes, I actually keep such lists; Aquarius Records in San Francisco being #'s 1-5 on it in case you were wondering. Not to get sentimental or sound old, but record shopping is something I fear young whippersnappers will never get to appreciate. Much like total silence. Or patience.
While TV stocks hardly anything most of this audience would be interested in unless you're hip to the joys of noise, prog, avant-garde, free jazz and all manner of terribly interesting sounds---"It's not a place for us squares." sayeth Andy---I could have spent all day in that tiny basement store. Football's dumb and I'd much rather hear discussion on the merits of the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band or whether Kim Fowley's a creep than yet another blowhard debating whether the triple option is going to work.
Sometimes anyway.
Seriously, when you live (by choice) in the middle of nowhere and are into hopelessly obscure music that most sensible people would/do run screaming from, it's nice to find sympathetic ears and leave the world to the "squares" if just for a bit.
Andy snapped my picture digging through the racks, perhaps as a joke, but I quite like it; it's me in my element. The thought of lugging vinyl to a football game and then back on to a plane meant I stuck with cds; I still found enough to sate and provide TV with September's rent. For this daily bread, they were no doubt grateful. Through his amazing powers of persuasion, Andy was able to get my Dad to follow him across the street to Harvard and the awesomely old football stadium therein whilst I bought records. That site held as much interest to me as Twisted Village did them, if somewhat less noisy.
From the I-should-have-been-informed-earlier-dept., I learned that Harvard Stadium is "one of only three stadiums designated a national landmark" and "the world's first massive reinforced-concrete structure". It was all I could do to keep from jumping in front of a bus.
Nevertheless, Andy was blown away to be breathing in the rarefied air of such Harvard football greats as...um...uh...and the dude what pressure washes the stands. Oh yeah, they won the Ivy League last year. That and $2.50 will get the Crimson a cup of coffee at one of the myriad local Dunkin' Donuts. Awesome.
Afterwards, relaxing with a water (me)--Bostonians apparently prefer their beverages lukewarm, that whole refrigeration thing being best left to preserving meats or Kennedy jokes--ginger ale (Andy) and nothing (our Dad) we plotted our next move. It seemed as though our little hearts could scarcely take more excitement. Risk-takers that we are though we hit the Freedom Trail after a brief subway ride and took in most, not all, of the historic sites along the way. The trail, that is, not the subway. Aside from the aforementioned Dunkin' Donuts and some old concrete/steel there's very little in the underground that Lonely Planet recommends.
It's just a guess but I think we walked about 82 miles total. Interesting and gave us a chance to see quite a bit of the city including 352 Italian eateries in a 5-block radius. I kept my earphones in and my ipod on shuffle most of the time; you know how city sounds frighten me.
We also saw: the Old North Church, Paul Revere's house, a cemetery, tourists, the horse's ass on Paul Revere's statue, actual Bostonians doing actual Bostonians things mostly involving ipods, cell phones or blackberrys, more churches that probably have historical significance but whose markers required to much of an effort by me to read, a dude enjoying a smoke (as one does) after shooting some hoops, the laundromat where Paul Revere washed his pantaloons, some cars, trucks and things that go, breakdancers, a guy/girl duo doing a completely unnecessary and far too intense version of the already gawful "Love the One You're With", a Ferrari with a parking ticket, a Maserati with a parking ticket, the Old Courthouse which is brought to you now by Ruth's Chris Steakhouse.
Oh, and Andy was mistaken for a Pakistani by an insane, but friendly, street person who welcomed us to his country.
We did not see: the British, Paul Revere's outhouse, the Samuel Adams brewery, Bunker Hill, circus performers with any dignity, the left hand on the St. Francis statue, a massacre, Brad Whitford, the harbour, a Kennedy, Independence Hall, Ted Danson, a strangler,
Generally, I've found the demeanour of denizens of northern cities (NYC, Philadelphia in particular) to range from disinterested to downright rude and probably other "D" words, but I was rather impressed by Bostonians. I did not find that they talk funny nor was I told I talked funny, of course I had headphones in 90% of the time and said nothing the other 10%. We were only honked at by one cab and to the best of my knowledge the victim of no fingers, middle or otherwise or shook fists. My experience was that overall Bostonians are (whisper it) nice. I hope they don't get kicked out of the north for my saying so.
It's a great place to throw a revolution.
I still hate the Sox.
P.S. I really did see Fred Newman at Logan Airport. This made a great trip more greater.
2 comments:
You actually did see the old Boston Garden. Apparently you were too emersed in your iPod. Go figure.
glad to hear about the boston trip...sounds like a blast.
p.s. kim fowley is a creep. i read a magazine article on him once, and decided that i didn't much care for him. but that shouldn't come as a surprise to you.
Post a Comment