When I Get Home

Another contribution from Tyler:

you ever been playin tetris and youve come to an epiphany? you realize that everything that happens in tetris pretty much relates to how life goes.  it starts out REALLY easy, as time goes on it gets harder.  sometimes you get a raw deal, and sometimes everything works out great!<–(that is horsesh*& by the way if you watch it all the way through youll understand)  but in the end you always get a game over.  BAM!

We’re in Louisville with little time to type, but it’s been a while so here goes. We went to a few bars in NY, gave 7 dollars to the Delaware bridge troll, spent a night in DC and saw to a fiery jazz trio, drove 10 hours through beautiful mountains, and last night gambled on a riverboat. We just got back from breakfast at a great establishment called Barbara Lee’s and we’re headed to a hike. We’ll give more details soon, but darnit we’re just having too much fun. Also, maybe some pictures up tonight.

Topic of the day, crotch beer. After hanging around for most of the morning with no pants on, (pants are for standing not laying or reclining) I finally broke down and strapped some denims on. While hoisting my dungarees I got an all too familiar waft of old beer. Turns out these pants were victims of a spill last night and I’m paying for it now. Laundry is abundent and washing machines limited. So my crotch will be tempting beer starved ladies from New York all the way to DC, where we will be later today.

Also on topic today, songs that encourage early morning drinking. Roadhouse Blues, Any Meatloaf song, Gin and Juice, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies’ Zoot Suit Riot, Tubthumping, Tears in heaven, Jurassic Park’s theme, Beer for Breakfast, Whiskey in the Jar, Pacobel’s Canon (Taco Bell), and this song

The Big Apple. The big red juicy apple, filled with hurried people and the sounds of car horns. Despite signage on some streets admonishing horn blowing at the cost of a hefty fine, the sounds fill the air. Some cars just seem to honk for the novelty of honking, or just being noisy. Because if they weren’t belching out brass like tunes no one would know they were there. If these drivers, predominantly taxi drivers, want due attention at the push of the center of their steering wheels maybe they should get a little more creative with horn sounds. A horn tribute to Paginini would certainly get my attention, and probably earn the admiration of other music lovers as well. Or a horn that says what the driver really means, like: You dumb mother fuck@r, your in the way. A little on the lengthy side i know but one can not be brief in the use of expletives for he then runs the risk of looking unlearned in the art of profanity spewing, and not knowing how to swear in the city would leave you like a de-clawed house cat in a den of ROUS’s (rodents of unusual size).

Last night we saw a great live show from the Super Seaweed Sex Scandal, an experimental Jazz, dare i say fusion, six piece jam ensemble. The sounds achieved were analogous to a STOMP band with out a definite time signature, with a few King Crimson like climactic moments. The musicians were obviously all talented and no two notes were predictable. The hour long scripted cacophony was driven by a very talented drummer who somehow incorporated his entire body, a bow, and a light sprinkling of angst into his playing.

Today we are gong out to see the free side of New York, or what little of that side we can find. The Smithsonian and whatever other museums/exhibits/demonstrations we can find. Then tonight, we go out to Brooklyn.

Real Quick. Sitting on a couch in Mandsfield CT. Just experienced Burlington at its absolute bead-iest. Had a nice little sunny day drive with some Red-Bulls given to us free just for writing an e-mail. Planning the next step. Kentucky then Florida or the opposite? Best not to think too hard on it

Currently I’m thinking about blue skys and blue seas and maybe a drink with an umbrella and a citrus garnish, but we are taking our sweet slow time stopping every where we can on the way. Next stop upstate New York (maybe… maybe the city, maybe no NY at all we will see) unless we find something shiny on the way that draws our attention elsewhere. Also Wednesday if you read this, I hope your wrist heals quickly so you can get back to your painting.

Today we took one last stroll down Church Street before getting in the car for Connecticut.

Here are some pictures from Mardi Gras. It was a great day of transvestites, pin stripe suits and feathery masks. Oh, and Jimi Hendrix was there.

Today is the day of Burlington’s Mardi Gras. The parade is at 3, but people are already pouring into the city for celebrations. Our time in Burlington has been pretty low-key so far. We’ve been getting our bearings and resting up.

The first night here was spent scrambling for a place to stay. I had a radio interview to do in Colchester which wasn’t getting out until 1 in the morning, and it was tough to find a night owl to put us up for the night. Our one hopeful fell through, and so we found ourselves on the lap of luxury at a Super 8 watching “The Secret To My Success” (one of Michael J. Fox’s most under-appreciated movies.) We slept through the free continental breakfast, but convinced the nice girl behind the counter to reopen it for us. After waiting exactly 30 minutes we hit the pool and hot tub. From there we drove around until we arrived at Ethan Allen park. We walked around for a few hours and saw his tower and his gazebo. Apparently his homestead is also somewhere on the property, but it managed to elude us.

Our second night was spent at trivia at Nectar’s (the bar where Phish got their start). Our team didn’t win, but we did get a t-shirt that says “SOCO and Lime” which Chris was pretty excited about. From there we went to a bar called Esox. All of the bricks in Esox’s dive atmosphere have been written on by patrons. The furniture was sparse – a few rickety tables and chairs thrown haphazardly into dark corners. The bartender was a weathered middle-aged woman who was exceedingly polite. For a few hours we played pool and picked classic rock songs to play off of the juke-box. My brother decided to break the atmosphere by picking the juke-box’s only Avril Lavigne song, “Skater Boy.” This was immediately vetoed by the entire bar, as the bartender quickly moved to turn the song down. It was as if our cover was blown but we were past the point of caring.

Last night Chris and I parted ways for the evening. I stayed in and watched the Olympics with my brother and his friends. After some Bob Costas heckling and a lengthy discussion about the nature of curling, the five of us found ourselves watching the biathlon in complete silence. It was generally agreed that we had no idea what was going on in the sport, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless.

So now it’s off to Mardi Gras.

Here some pictures from various stages of our trip from Montreal to Burlington. All these pictures are highly volatile and should not be clicked on lightly. Feel free to download them and photoshop images of your self into them, if you feel like your missing out on the journey. Free Gelato to the best photoshop entry. Bonus points for violence and/or nudity.

We’re getting backed up on pictures, so here are a bunch from our lengthy jaunt in Montreal, and the apartment we stayed in.