If the post title compels you to start singing that song by the Killers, by all means, do so. Yesterday was chockablock full of things to do. First, at 11 am, I helped a climbing friend move back onto her college campus; she recently had ankle surgery and is on crutches, so a helping hand was needed. I got sweaty very quickly; it was humid and we got everything moved out of the house, into cars, out of cars, and into the dorm in 2 hours and 15 minutes. Intense.

Then I went down to Princeton to meet up with my friend Sara to pick up something she was holding for me (technically, for my mother - but I was happy to play liaison) and then hang out for a bit. We wandered around the Princeton University campus for a while. It’s lovely. Quite lovely. Drew University in Madison, NJ, also has a lovely tree-filled campus, but Princeton kicks its ass with architecture (in some cases, Gothic - which is gorgeous) and sculptures on the grounds. See below for photographic evidence of the sculpture and the architecture:

"Big Figures" by Madgalena Abakanowicz

Alexander Hall at Princeton University

While in Princeton, I also had some delicious gelato - a scoop each of roasted cashew, Anjou pear and SWEET BASIL. They were all quite good - the flavors were amazing and unexpected (esp. sweet basil). The consistency, while good, didn’t quite measure up to the awesomeness of the gelato I had at the Capogiro Gelato Artisans locations in Philadelphia.

Around dinnertime, my brother joined us since he lives about 10 minutes outside of Princeton. So we went and had some Indian food for dinner, along with a fairly tasty Shiraz - Fools Bay Dusty’s Desire Shiraz from the university liquor store across the street. BYOB is nice.

We walked around a bit to make sure we were all OK to drive… stopped and had tea at a Starbucks… and then went on our merry ways. I got home around 10:30, so it was a fairly long day.

And today is all about cleaning. More purging of stuff. I’ve got two more boxes of books for Goodwill, as well as two bags of clothing… and possibly a whole pile of CDs. We shall see how inspired I am to simply throw shit out. I am quite a packrat, so I know the dangers of deliberating too much over whether or not to keep things. Most times, I just have to tell myself, “NO!” and chuck it.

In the long run, it will make it much easier for me to load a moving truck in the coming months (a search on Craigslist today yielded some decent results, so I just have to prepare myself for “comfortable financial readiness” so I can afford to buy any missing niceties and not screw myself by biting off more than I can chew - as I’ve done in the past).

Have you ever heard a name as fantastic as Coffin Colket? There was apparently a period of time in the not-so-distant past where the names Sarah, Emma, William and Coffin were plentiful. OK, well the last one was not AS plentiful as the others, but it’s interesting, no? I have seen it in pictures. Like this one:

Now that my non-migraine-but-still-horrible headache from last night is gone, I’d like to finish telling about my fun weekend in Philly. Sunday was cemetery day. Laurel Hill Cemetery, as a matter of fact. It was lovely. There was conversation about zombies and daylight and whatnot, but I’m truly not creeped out by cemeteries. Nor am I morbidly fascinated by them. Laurel Hill is a historic site full of amazingly beautiful (and yes, sometimes eerie) monuments and tombs and graves and headstones.

Some more info:

Today, Laurel Hill is… an estimated 78-acre tract of land that is divided into three sections—the North, Central and South portions of the Cemetery—that were each founded at different times in the site’s development. Laurel Hill is one of the only cemeteries in the nation to be honored with the designation of National Historic Landmark, a title received in 1998. Countless prominent people are buried at the Cemetery, including many of Philadelphia’s leading industrial magnates. Names such as Rittenhouse, Widener, Elkins and Strawbridge certainly pique local interests, but Laurel Hill also appeals to a national audience. General Meade and thirty-nine other Civil War-era generals reside here, in addition to six Titanic passengers.

So there. I’ll be posting more photos in the future. It’s just hard to choose  — and until I get my ass in gear and do something fun with Flickr or the like and get a slideshow embedded somewhere, I’m doing it the low-tech way, homez.

After walking around the cemetery, taking photos for a few hours, we were pretty damn hungry. I asked Sara where there was a place with many food choices that was open on a Sunday. She said something about Reading Market; the look on my face must’ve said something like, “What are you talking about?” or “Carry on… this name intrigues me…” because she was like, “Have you been?” and I was all like, “No!” and she was like, “OK… we’re going!” And we went to Reading Terminal Market. Since it was a Sunday, the Amish were not there selling fresh homemade ice cream and such.

I did manage, however, to have a delicious turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce sandwich. And buy some linden honey. And observe many many chemists eating lunch and milling about talking ’bout chemistry stuff as the American Chemical Society’s annual convention was taking place at the convention center across the street. In terms of convention food? They WIN. I’ve worked a fair share of conventions and trade shows in my day and the food selection at most convention centers (I include NY, Boston and DC in this grouping) is abysmal.

Once lunch was gotten, we… umm… went to get more gelato at Capogiro. And then walked more. Checked out the fountain and the LOVE sculpture at JFK Plaza. Sadly, I did not get any good photos of this as I left my camera in the car whilst we got lunch and didn’t return to get it between. I took one with my cell phone. Here’s what that produced:

A wee bit grainy. Oh, well.

And then, I basically got packed and went home. I still haven’t recounted the misery of the voyage there and back. It was a bit of a suckfest - BoltBus and Greyhound both. Another day perhaps. Another day.

was telling a friend at work about my weekend in Philly; she remarked (not at all unkindly), “you had quite the hipster weekend!”

I will recount the stories of my annoying travel at a later time; it’s over, I got there and back safely, with my head intact despite a voyage on a Greyhound bus. And a BoltBus. I did both and neither experience was particularly good. At all. ANYWAY.

After arriving in Philadelphia at 10pm on Friday night, that night was spent eating and talking with my friend Sara - and her cat Gus. Here is a small photo of Gus. He’s photo-worthy, despite his more than slightly cranky-whiny demeanor. He was also uncharacteristically friendly towards me this weekend; normally, he does a sort of bipolar thing where he’s all rubbing up on your leg, seeming to say, “PET ME!” - only to turn on you and hiss the moment you pet him. NOT SO, this weekend. I got to pet Fluffy McCrankyPants several times.

Saturday morning, Sara had a haircut at American Mortals. Their motto,”Mullets, not bullets” sort of says it all. Fun cool hipster hair styling. They’re a bumble & bumble salon, so extra points from me. While Sara got her hairs cut, I sat and observed two stylists figure out how to play rummy 500 or ‘Go Fish’, debate the finer points of cribbage (Ben Franklin’s favorite card game, FYI) and we also discussed knitting, childrens’ books (”Everyone Poops”, “The Gas We Pass”). It was good times.

Then, since we were in the area (that area being the Rittenhouse area of Philly, a well-known shopping area), we decided to do some shopping and get lunch somewhere along Walnut Street. A shop that caught my eye immediately was one called Ten Thousand Villages. They’ve a few locations, but we were at the Philly location. The idea behind this store is that it’s all fair trade goods made by village artisans. I’ll post photos tomorrow, but I found a lovely aqua shawl (to replace the sweatshirt I always put on at work when I’m feeling chilly - this is a far better choice professionally) and a chunky blue/turquoise necklace. Not real turquoise, but I’m OK with that.

We stopped at a few other shops including Urban Outfitters, Anthropologie, and the farmer’s market at Rittenhouse Square. The Amish were out in full effect with beautiful flowers and produce and brown eggs. I wanted to take photos, but I was conflicted; I wasn’t going to buy any produce since we were going to be walking around for a few more hours and it would get gross and wilted. Knowing that I wouldn’t be buying anything, I felt that photographing their wares would be a bit like theft. Also, I’m just crazy.

After looking at tables and baskets and boxes of beautiful produce and flowers (white eggplant including one that looked like it had a nose, all manner of apples, daisies that looked as though they’d been splattered with red paint - but weren’t), we were pretty damn hungry. Sooo… we walked back down Walnut Street to a lunch spot that had captured our attention later - Maoz Vegetarian. Think of it as Chipotle or Qdoba, but instead of a burrito, it’s falafel on a pita. There’s a fixins’ bar where you can top off your falafel and pita with tasty veggie toppings like pickled baby eggplant, tabouli, cucumbers, tomatoes, cilantro sauce, hummus, tahini, etc. You get a side of Belgian fries (yes, served in the paper cone; yes, served with the large crunchy salt crystals; yes, covered over with foil). Delicious. I’m excited to see that they have locations in NYC.

We did some more walking and it was getting pretty hot. If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen - or get some GELATO. In this case, gelato from artisans. That’s what the sign says, anyway. The artisans part. Not the kitchen part. Capogiro Gelato. They also have a location or two in NYC. They’ve got lovely flavors like fig, thai coconut milk, peach, blackberry, chocolate with caramelized hazelnuts, dulce de leche… incredible. I had the bolded flavors. Not all on Saturday. Nope. We went back for more on Sunday.

With our tummies full, we took the train back to Sara’s region of Philly. Here’s a shot of the Market East station. I love the color. Shellac-alicious red bench against the green tiles. Mmmmm.

That night, we went to Chestnut Hill, a slightly more yuppie shopping area in Philly. We walked around, but most of the shops were closed since it was after five. So we had dinner. Delicious dinner at a Persian restaurant—Shundeez Persian Restaurant, where I ordered Addas Polo, half of a Cornish game hen served with basmati rice, flavored with lentils, onion, raisins, dates, cinnamon and saffron. It was delicious. Absolutely delicious. Amazingly delicious. I will be working to recreate this dish using couscous. Tomorrow.

We also went to the Borders store there. Sara and I met and became friends when we were both working at a Borders store here in NJ (sigh, in our younger days). When walking out of the Borders, we started singing “Memory.” As in, “from the musical Cats“. As in, “immortalized by Miss Barbra Streisand.” We did it.

Thankfully, the streets were pretty empty and we didn’t end up with a string of alley cats following us back to the car. We went back to her apartment and talked to Gus, had some tea, and started watching Vidor’s Gilda (one of my favorite noir films and one about which I wrote a couple of papers in college film courses). But we were tired and I think Sara nodded off, and I soon thereafter. The next thing I knew, it was Sunday morning.

Speaking of Sunday, I’ll write about that tomorrow. This is a long-ass post and Sunday held magical wonders like the Reading Terminal Market and Laurel Hill Cemetery. And Target, but Target is a sort of everyday magical wonder.

I don’t want to be back (home, from visiting my friend Sara in Philly), really, but getting back was such a pain in the ass, I am relieved to be back.

More tomorrow when I will probably break it up into two posts: 1) to describe the comedy of errors and ineptitude that was using a bus to get to Philadelphia and 2) to talk about all the fun stuff we saw and did while there. I took many photos.

Here’s my current favorite of the batch - it’s a little bridge/trestle on the way to the Chestnut Hill area of Philly. We were just driving by and I stuck the camera out the window and tried to get as steady a shot as I could; I think it came out pretty well:

I’ll post photos of Siren Festival specifically in a day or two… computer access issues. I’ve popped a whole bunch up onto a public Picasa gallery, if’n you’re interested. Linky link link.

Coney Island is just an interesting place to use your rods and cones. People-watching, coupled with the craziness of a boardwalk/carnival… just interesting. So here are some photos.

Ghosts of My Friends arrived today - how I love the Royal Mail! I’ve taken a few photos of the interiors, but this is my absolute favorite segment so far… it forms a clear face with arms and shoulders sort of shrugging and going, “What??”

On May 25, 1909. Almost 100 years ago. Crazy.

Here’s a link to the Picasa album where I’ve posted more photos and will continue to post them. I need some help if I’m to take better photos - just someone to hold the book open without letting his/her fingers show too much and so that I can get them in a place with better lighting.

Some of these photos suuuuck for now, but I’ll get there. I’m just too excited NOT to snap them.

Go, pay the money, see Wall-E.

Just do that for yourself. It’s as good as “they” say it is. It’s as good as I say it is. I laughed and my friend was laughing so hard she snorted. I didn’t notice if she was crying, but I was damn close - and THAT DOES NOT HAPPEN. TO ME!

It is, as the title of this post states, a charming dystopian vision. I’m not going to tell you anything you wouldn’t learn from a preview or a non-spoiler review - but it’s quite stunning and has been called “subversive.” I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I suppose if your political leanings are along the conservative pillar, you might.

Picture it: the future. The planet Earth is one big garbage dump - literally. Our rampant consumerism has taken us to a point where we can’t handle our own garbage anymore, so we just up and leave the Earth and decide to come back once the robots have cleaned up. Here’s where we meet Wall-E - Waste Allocation Load Lifter, Earth-Class. He’s one of the robots left behind to clean up the mess; actually, he’s the last robot left to clean up the mess. The others have run down and he’s working the place alone, save for his pet cockroach-type insect. He’s fascinated by our detritus; watching this little robot investigate our trash with child-like glee (yes, even for a computer-animated robot - he’s quite expressive) cemented a smile on every face in the theatre.

Anyway - he’s going about his business, doing his job, when a spaceship lands near where he’s working. It leaves behind a shiny new robot (who was designed/conceptualized by a designer for Apple - there are many Apple connections and references throughout) named EVE (Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator). Wall-E is enamored of her instantly - but she’s all business and on a mission. From there on, it sort of becomes your traditional “robot meets robot, robot falls in love with robot, robot loses robot, robot must save robot” story.

What kills me is how expressive the animation team was able to make these robots through (not despite) their limited vocabularies/speech (the entire movie is very light on dialogue and EVE’s entire vocabulary, for example, consists of only four words) and through their eyes since they have no other facial features - mouths, ears, noses… it’s all about the eyes. And I’m a sucker for that anyway, so I was basically conquered when I saw the trailer months ago.

Sometimes, working within constraints and limitations (whether actual, artificial or self-imposed) leads to incredibly good results.

Anyway - yes. The love story is sweet. The hero story is noble. The social commentary is wicked. When the people of the future resemble the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man more than actual human beings and the world of the future resembles what Mike Judge presented in Idiocracy, something is being said.

Next up: might see “Mongol” tomorrow… and will definitely be ponying up the extra cash to see “The Dark Knight” in IMAX two weekends from now.

Below is a picture of what I made from Shrinky Dinks last night.

I am not entirely crazy about how the flower came out, but I love the leaves. I might make more since I think those would look awesome as earrings - strung two or three to a small chain? Or as a drop necklace. Yeah, the ideas are brewing.

I used my lovely German colored pencils for vibrancy. They really are the best colored pencils. I got my first set of Staedtler pencils when I was visiting Poland in 1990 or ‘91 (so, uh, when I was 11 or 12?). My grandmother took me to an art/stationery store where I got a set of those pencils and some blank notebooks so I could draw and write. It was just after the fall of communism in Poland and the stores were still running on the “everything is behind the counter -you must ask to see it” model. I remember that that was really weird to me - that I had to ask to see something, and that there was a sense of expectation of long consideration from me. I would just say, “Yeah - I want it” and hand over the money.

That was still something shop clerks and people in general weren’t used to - that sort of throwing around of money. But I was some little kid from America who just knew that her dollar was worth a lot more there and got all excited when she went to exchange money. And the whole time, I was figuring out how much things cost in American money because it was like everything was on sale. I recall that the exchange rate at that time was something like 8 złoty to a dollar, and a few years later it was up (down) to 4 złoty to a dollar.

I should confirm this with a family member since it seems kind of crazy.

This shot of the Golden Gate Bridge is being shown right side up. I was just bending backwards about as much as my back would allow when I took this photo. Do you feel the vertigo I started to feel?

Oh - and hello, pretty blue sky as seen from the top of Coit Tower. I love the way the shadow curves.

I don’t know how many people consider this drain worth photographing, but my friend and I did. There’s a waterfall/fountain in Levi Strauss square in San Francisco and this is where the water disappears… just like that. I appreciate how the camera caught the little splashes of water inside. I have several versions of this shot because that’s how I roll.

For a variety of reasons, I don’t have the energy or time to write a full summary (perhaps this weekend) here is one story from Coachella I shall share since I told it to two friends over lunch today and feel like telling it again. Telling stories is a useful distraction and my grandfather was a man who loved to tell stories - of (his perceived) glories of Communist-era Poland, sneaking kielbasa across country lines, going fishing with a bottle of vodka, bread and some lard for sustenance… and man, could he make some good pickle soup. Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.

Coachella story:

My friends and I arrived at the festival grounds (Empire Polo Club/Field in Indio, California) late on Thursday night. Friday morning, I was up at 7:30 to hit the shower mobile and feel clean again. Shortly after returning to my tent (around 8:30 in the morning) I heard some loud talking in the not-so-distant-distance. The voice was that of a young woman - perhaps 19 or 20 years old. It was a sitcom voice; what you would think of as a “Valley Girl” voice from an 80’s movie. A voice not dissimilar from the “Oh. My. God, Becky. Look at her butt…” chick in the beginning of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” video, except a lot higher in pitch. The voice yelled:

HAPPY COACHELLA, EVERYONE!
THIS IS MY FIRST MUSIC FESTIVAL EH-VAR!
THIS IS MY FIRST COACHELLA!
I’M A COACHELLA VIRGIN!!!

Followed by about a minute of silence. Then we would all hear, yet again:

HAPPY COACHELLA, EVERYONE!
THIS IS MY FIRST MUSIC FESTIVAL EH-VAR!
THIS IS MY FIRST COACHELLA!
I’M A COACHELLA VIRGIN!!!

She was working the campground, walking up and down the rows, making sure that EVERYONE knew it was her first Coachella. I can only assume she was trying to make friends/attract attention. This was also my first Coachella and my first proper music festival, but something (common sense? pride? old age? East coast cynicism??) prevented me from engaging in this behavior.

(A shot of the campground and mountains nearby.)

After about 30 minutes, she was far enough away to stop assaulting my ears. But the next morning, around the same time, she was back. This time, a Brit (from Manchester, actually) staying in one of the tents near me replied, “Cheers, mate - you said the same thing yesterday.” (Yes, from Manchester, and yes, he did say “mate.”) The girl was all flustered and embarrassed and Mancunian Man just said, “No worries - have a great festival.”

When back on the festival grounds, I noticed a LOT of people greeting each other (these deep new-found Coachella friendships) by saying, “Happy Coachella!” I guess it was “a thing.” It didn’t catch on with me. It’s that East coast attitude, I suppose. I think we were making sure to represent Cynicism at this event and balance out the effects of all the hippies in attendance.

Case in point: we totally and completely avoided Jack Johnson.

Anytime someone mentioned that they’d come to Coachella to see him, it was understood in our group that any additional words falling from this person’s lips would be heavily discounted and their taste in other things was highly suspect and questionable.