Make some new amends

Feeling sorry for yourself is so easy. It's a trap. Displacing responsibility for problems that are yours alone to solve offers false comfort. It's shirking, at its core. We must refuse to engage in it.

Rupert, Destroyer of Loaves

The dog has been into the bread, again, and I'm much less angry than amused. He has a fondness for all things that people eat, but for bread especially. He sits there in the kitchen, without any shame, awkward as always, with the evidence in plain sight. Empty paper sacks, or plastic bags with three slices left, and the rest having disappeared into thin canine air. I can't help but laugh in amazement.  What goes through the mind of a dog at times like this?


By the way, check out our new blog:

http://refugeinreason.blogspot.com/

an Allston hypothesis

In response to a query from John B——

Interesting topic for sure. I don't really have any data about Allston, so whatever I say is based on anecdotal evidence. I found relations between the students and the other residents to be mostly harmonious, although there's definitely sort of a sense that actual human interaction is to be avoided. This is not really stated by anyone, but it's an unwritten rule. When you see people on the street who are maybe hispanic, brazilian, or older asian people, you both ignore each other mostly, I think. It's basically respectful, but you're really acting like the other person is not there. In that way there are two separate worlds. People don't mix too much. Each group has its own stores and its own gathering places. The places that the groups have in common are probably limited to liquor stores, fast food joints, thrift stores (sometimes), and some ethnic restaurants where students might interact with the mostly immigrant community.

It's also interesting that while the students are certainly better off financially in comparison to the immigrants, they are also mostly interested in living on the cheap. There's definitely a certain type of person who is drawn to the neighborhood, usually more thrifty types among students. This may be a large part of the appeal of Allston; it's relatively cheap for Boston, and by taking advantage of some of the institutions that the immigrant communities have brought with them (cheaper ethnic restaurants, laundries, and groceries) students can save money. I also think that the privileged type of person that you find at BU, for example, might consider living in Allston something of an adventure. It offers cheaper living, ethnic flavor, and something of an art and music scene, plenty of bars, without the dangerous, violent urban side that places like Roxbury and Dorchester have. It makes you feel like you're "slumming it" in relative safety. And if you ever get tired of Allston, there's also Brookline right nearby, which is comparatively white and affluent, and probably even safer than Allston.

I do think, though that a lot of the students (and to a lesser extent, the immigrant community) don't give any respect to Allston as a place, precisely because they are usually not long-term residents. They are more likely to leave trash on the streets, break bottles at random, and make noise at night, because they sort of don't consider Allston a real place. It's just a place where the poor immigrants live and where people go to party and temporarily live cheaply during their college years. It is not, in this mindset, deserving of respect; it's not a 'real' neighborhood. I'm sure that this is also partially because people often come to Allston to visit the bars, and so are intoxicated. This is unpleasant for people like me (and I imagine for older, long-term residents), who just want to live quietly, go to work, and occasionally enjoy some of the many restaurants.

I hope that helps you some. Let me know if I can provide any more information, or if you want me to expand on any of these points.

-Allan

Because the drum line's goin' wild in the San Francisco streets

A swirling mess of elbows and backs, while you try to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror for fear of embarrassment on your own behalf. Strangely attractive people all over the crowded room, being somewhat self-consciously quirky.

The gentleman at the front likes to remind people periodically of the evening's title, "Soul-le-lu-jah", which is not as clever as he might have hoped upon further review. The music is loud and archaic and punchy, stunning. There is a crush by the end, and we emerged dazed to greet the fresh air.

Am I asleep or awake?

It's beautiful today.

It's OK to cry.

It's wonderful when you're here.

It's a crime to forget these lovely things I've known.

It's a letter you ought to write, to let someone know you're thinking of them.

It's your life.

It's worth it, and worth fighting for.

strange abstractions that come out of my head from time to time

I'm not afraid to be myself. I guess that's the biggest thing. It feels like being free. It feels like I'm finally coming into my own, like I'm right where I ought to be. And maybe that means recognizing that there isn't anywhere in particular that you have to be, and that right where you are is just fine.

Feels great,

Affirmation.

Heigho, the tale was all a lie

The Jaguars are playing Sinatra's "My Way" at their stadium after losing to the Colts. What exactly is the statement that playing that song makes? They lost 'their way' to the Colts, who had nothing to play for, having already locked up the best record in the AFC (by the way, Sinatra is on tape saying that he hated "My Way", but that it bought him a lot of pizza pies). Personally, I played "My Way" after I graduated from college, which I definitely did do, by the way, graduate from college that is, because really, I got through college, or 'university' as they say in Britain, my way. My father seemed to think the song was a good joke, to be shared with people in conversation. I was perfectly serious about it. I messed up a lot, and I didn't really warm up to the whole college deal until at least sophomore year, but I did it, and I did it my way. If this comes off as self-centered, it's because it is. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but hey, I graduated from college. That's something that I did. Count how many times I used 'I' in this paragraph, or how many commas there were. See if you can do that, college graduate.

Peyton Manning, in the post-game interview, was at pains to point out that Jim Caldwell is the coach of the Indianapolis Colts, and that the team follows his directives. He was so emphatic that it almost seemed as if he had something to hide. I mean, Peyton Manning is clearly the coach of the Colts, right? Caldwell does not blink his eyes. This has been said before, but we can't be sure that Caldwell isn't an android. I'd just like some evidence that he's alive, and running the ole football club. He's sort of Peyton's beard so that he can deny that he is actually controlling the team. And why not bring back the player-coach? It worked for Bill Russell.

And a note: I hate when people call something a 'journey'. Just so sanctimonious, it seems. And how good are athletes at talking without saying anything? Why don't the reporters just skip the interviews and write responses to their own questions? It's pretty obvious that we all know in advance what an athlete is going to say.

Brothers always come first

Top 5 songs from Your Favorite Weapon by Brand New (Which nobody who likes Brand New probably listens to anymore, but they should)

1. Logan to Government Center (Which has the added benefit of at least having a Boston-related title)
2. Seventy Times Seven
3. Magazines
4. Soco Amaretto Lime
5. Failure By Design

Honorable mention to Secondary, Last Chance to Lose Your Keys, Jude Law and A Semester Abroad, Sudden Death in Carolina, and Mix Tape.

Not an easy list to make. Also, there was absolutely no reason to make this list! But I did it anyway! That's how committed I am.