Archive for the ‘ Wetworking… I mean Networking ’ Category

Ode to my Neighborhood

Friday, June 3rd, 2011

Ok, I’m not really gonna write poetry. I’m no Vogon.

So I lied. (You’ll get used to it.) No Carpunching Gauntlets this time, but it’s only because I haven’t managed to trash pick or road rescue a pair of leather gloves yet. Give it time. The universe will provide.

The weekend before last, The Esteemed Goondocks (mah haus) participated in the first annual Porchfest. If you ain’t been told, Porchfest was a free music event showcasing artists from the area on the porches of the public. Our magnificent Count Sethula, of Goondocks Dungeons, slung delicious foods at passersby, while various and sundry bands sweated and wrought musicky havoc in the FUCKING SUN, CANĀ  YOU BELIEVE IT? A great time was had by all, but I completely failed to take pictures because I’m dumb like that, and because I can’t be bothered to wear anything with pockets to carry a camera in while I’m in leisure mode.

 

Here is one picture yoinked from thesapphiresun.com:

 

Can I just say I love my fucking neighborhood? I live in Ball Square, and prior to the ‘fest my delicious roommates flyered the vicinity in preparation for causing a neighborhood ruckus. I fully expected a bit of dour buzzkill from the older folks who abut us, but nay! Everyone in the ‘hood came out to play, and hung out on their porches to catch the music and the beautiful, nourishing sunshine. We were actually encouraged to repeat the affair as much as we like! I’m thinking that the future of the ‘Docks may be ripe with live band house parties, at least until we’re shut down and deemed an ‘unlicensed club’. Bring it on.

 

this blog moves like molasses

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

In January, that is. God I hate the cold. It’s not that I don’t find it manageable to ride in – I have only taken the bus once this winter, and that was to the Slutcracker cast party, because I fully expected to be too drunk to ride (which is a feat in itself) and I wasn’t off with my prediction. It’s just that everything is so sloooowed doown and extra complicated. In May you can just throw your shoes on, slap your lock under your belt and GOGOGO to wherever, when ever. In january you have to check your temp wiget, find extra socks, locate your thermal shirt, whine about the fact that your face muffler is still soaked with boogers, Cat-Crap your goggles. etc etc etc… so not necessary. I mean, necessary, but not in any way acceptable. Grumble.

Last night I rode to Coolidge to be a Tip Monster for the production SHOW – a film, burlesque/drag extravaganza and book signing with local photographer and long-time PRC supporter Henry Horenstein. Haven’t gotten around to unpacking my panniers yet, but I have the sneaking suspicion that a tub of silver glitter has exploded in there, because I was leaving a Tinkerbell trail all the way home.

I’ve finally linked all my hot hot cohort’s pages to my blaaargh so when I write about my exploits, you can follow the link and figure out just WTF I’m jibba-jabbin about. And ALSO, so you can check out all these fine performers and see what they’re up to on any given week, because if you haven’t yet you’re missing out, bigtime. So clicky! Go. DO IT.