Indigestion in Frankfurt

It's Thursday night, around 8:30 PM. Thought I would catch up with what I've been up to.

Wednesday morning I got up at 6 AM, had breakfast in Vienna at the hotel, and played it safe by getting down to the train station around 8 AM for my 9:15 train to Frankfurt.

On the train there was a lady across from me who pecked away, for the most part, on her Mac laptop. Eventually (I'm assuming) a grandmom and her 11-year-old grandson joined us.

I thought this was funny. In case of an emergency, you have to smash both panes of glass with that red contraption:

Around 10 AM I grabbed a double Snickers bar and a bottle of Coke from the dining car. Around 1:30 PM I bought from the dining car a chicken tandoori sandwich and apple juice. Turns out the latter was a seltzer. I don't know if it was the apple juice-seltzer, or a combination of my mid-morning snack, late lunch, lingering jet lag, and the moving train, but around 2 PM I felt really ill. It took a lot of effort to hold my lunch down -- I couldn't even nap.

With the six-and-a-half-hour train ride over, I walked across the street to my hotel. Not nearly as nice as the one in Vienna, as evidenced by my view:

Yes, that's a steel shutter you're seeing, along with barbed wire. According to my travel book, this neighbourhood is the worst one in the city. That would explain all the porn around here. My favourite name of one: The Sex Inn.

After checking in, I took a little nap, since I still wasn't feeling well. I got up around 5 PM and walked around the 'hood for something to eat -- didn't want to spend the night on an empty stomach. I got a avocado pita from a local fast food joint on a street corner. Most of it I didn't eat 'cause it didn't pass the eye test (shredded white lettuce, purple cabbage, and a slice of eggplant that looked like a tongue). I did eat the pita, though.

I spent the rest of the night either watching TV (flipping mainly between 1980s music videos and Al Jazeera . . . their Witness documentary series looked at a remorseful Bosnian war criminal) and wandering around the neighbourhood for Rolaids or Tums. Couldn't find either. I did buy an Oreo ice cream sandwich, which settled my stomach for a while.

I didn't sleep well. With my indigestion and the neighbourhood I was staying in, it was hard to catch any zzzzz's.

I got up around 7:30 AM today (Thursday). I didn't feel like paying $15 at the hotel just for toast, since my stomach still wasn't feeling too hot, so I went across the street to the train station and got a bagel -- couldn't find toast in there.

I hung out in my hotel room until 10 AM, waiting for someone to fix the safe; it was locked. They never showed, so I walked about a half-mile to the Städel Museum. Here's the bridge to get there:

They have an exhibit on Peter Paul Rubens. Good stuff.

I stayed at the museum a little longer than expected because it was raining. Once it cleared up I picked up an avocado sandwich and a lemonade at the train station. I ate in my hotel room and noticed they finally fixed the safe. I threw my laptop in there.

I took a cab to the European Central Bank:

I would've taken a tour, but you need to book it at least four weeks in advance. Funk that!

I then walked about a mile to the city centre, Altstadt. Frankfurt's streets are serpentine like Vienna, but it's harder to get lost here, probably because it's a fairly small city (only 775,000 residents). Anyway, Alstadt is a little touristy. It has a medieval area called Römer:

I then headed back to the hotel and hung out until 5 PM. I walked about to Römer and ate dinner at Haus Wertheym:

I ordered breaded pork schnitzel, which came with fries and salad. It was delicious! And the restaurant had a nice vibe. Tons of German beer mugs decorated the pillars.

The walk back to the hotel was shivering one. Temperature really dropped. Felt like it was 50 degrees. My Philly Union barely kept me warm. Maybe I should've brought my coat. Nah. Too much too lug around on those days when it's a high of 61 degrees.

I got a little lost, but the route was scenic. I was in some outdoor plaza that was pedestrian only.

Around 8 PM I hit the train station for a little ice cream sandwich and spent the rest of the nite writing this. Tomorrow it's off to Dortmund!

1 Full Day in Vienna

So, today, Tuesday, was my full day in Vienna.

I got up at 6 AM and had breakfast in the hotel. Not sure what I ate. It was a little on the sweet side, as well as yellow and chilled. I didn't want to ask in case it had eggs in it -- the mere thought of eggs would've made me nauseous. I chased it down with grapefruit juice.

Afterwards I hunted around for a pharmacy so I could buy toiletries (didn't bring them 'cause the TSA might trash 'em). Since I'm in a ritzy tourist area, they were 40 euros. Pricey.

Before I bought them, I took a picture of Saint Mary's Church, which is close to my hotel:

I showered at the hotel, then walked to Hofburg Palace:

I was going to take a tour, but they didn't start till the afternoon. Maybe I would come back.

I walked around some more, trying to find a store to buy a fußball jersey of Austria's national team. Couldn't fine one and by then it was lunchtime. There was a nearby outdoor food market. I got a falafel wrap and a can of Coke.

Next, I took a cab and asked him to drop me off at the nearest InterSport store. He deposited me in front of a store called Sports Direct, which used to be an InterSport. They didn't have any Austria football jerseys.

I found a taxi stand, but the cab driver never heard of InterSport, so I walked around and took another cab to my hotel. There, I wrote down the addresses of InterSport and the Sigmund Freud Museum.

I took a taxi to the latter:

And here's a close-up of the plaque with overhead flags:

The museum is where he practiced and I think lived at one time.

From there I took a cab to a Puma store because they Austria's football jerseys. They were a bit pricey, so I went to a different Sports Direct from earlier in the afternoon and bought the jersey I was looking for. It was on sale for 36 euros, I believe.

Taking all those taxies was cutting into my cash, so I tried walking back to the hotel. I got lost, which isn't that hard because Vienna streets are serpentine and maze-like. After about an hour, I gave up when I wound up at the main train station, which I'll go to tomorrow morning for my trip to Frankfurt.

Before I hopped in the cab, I took these two pictures. I thought this was cute at a small supermarket where I bought a clementine:

And here's St. Charles Church:

Back at the hotel I took a 20-minute nap. For dinner I went to an Italian restaurant around the corner and got spaghetti with meat sauce, and black Earl Grey tea. It was delicious!

After that, I saw this store front for a crystal joint. Pretty funny -- bedazzled household products:

At the hotel I counted my money. Out of the €1,000 I brought with me from the States, I'd spent €320 in Vienna. Yikes!!! Gonna have to take it easy in Frankfurt. Fortunately, the train station is short walk to the hotel.

Around 8 PM, I headed out to have my first Gelato. Make sense since Italy is south of here.

On my way back to the hotel, this made me smirk. No tobacco, just straight nicotine!

Vienna Calling

All right, it's Monday, 9:40 PM. Thought I would recap my trip so far.

Got up on Sunday at 5 AM. My sister drove me to the airport. I took a 10:35 AM to Toronto via air Canada. Below is a pic of the plane I was on.

I had about a five-and-a-half hour wait until my 5:55 PM flight to Vienna. The Toronto airport is pretty upscale -- reminds me of Paris' airport.

I ate lunch in a restaurant, LEE Kitchen. I got a bacon cheeseburger, which came with generous steak fries. Before I ordered, I double-checked with the waiter that I would pay in USD. He said yes (God bless Canada!) and when I requested the burger be cooked well-done, he said a government regulation has all meat cooked that way. Some Americans have stormed out of the restaurant when they can't get their meat pink or medium-rare. Fuckin rednecks.

I chased the burger and fries down with a large OJ. I was afraid indigestion was gonna set in, but my stomach was A-OK for the rest of the afternoon. That's how you can it's some good eats!

While waiting for my flight, I read a little and walked the terminal, which wasn't that big. I think it was only for international flights. I still can't believe on the plane from Philly to Toronto, the stewardesses had me fill out a Customs form -- nobody asked for it once I debarked.

I took Austrian Airlines to Vienna. Really nice airline. Not a lot of legroom, but they served pretzels and a beverage; a meal (I got pasta with a roll and chocolate dessert); and a muffin right before we landed.

I had an aisle seat. An Albanian, who lives outside of Toronto, had the window seat. He was a bit of chatty and had a serious case of halitosis. He watched the recent Star Wars movie with Luke Skywalker and kept asking me all these questions . . . he kept getting the Emperor from the old movies and the old guy from the new movies confused.

I took a cab to my hotel, Hotel Kaiserin Elisabeth. Got there around 10:30 AM. I had finished on the plane, which touched down at 8:30 AM, the book I was reading, Lisa See's Shanghai Girls, so I walked to the Post Office to mail it to the coworker who lent it to me. I sent it economy for €10; it's supposed to take two weeks. If she gets it before I'm back in the States, I wonder if she'll notice the two Canadian coins I threw in there because she loves the hosers up north so much (the coins were left over from when I ate lunch in Toronto).

It's a national holiday here in Austria. Thankfully some places are open. I'm in the Innere Stadt of Vienna. It's very touristy. I ate lunch at NORDSEE, which is a little on the fast-food side. I bought a pre-made avocado wrap and washed it down with stilled bottled water.

Afterwards, my room was ready. Check-in time was 3 PM, but I was able to go in there around 12:30 PM. The hotel has an 18th-century composer vibe going on. I napped most of the afternoon, since I'd been up for about 24 hours and hadn't really slept on the plane.

I rolled out of bed at 4:44 PM. A little before 6 PM I went around the corner to Kartner Street, which has a lot of boutique shops.

I ate dinner at this place:

Here's my receipt:

I got a giant piece breaded veal, a huge bowl (for me, anyway) of mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables (broccoli, carrots, and cauliflower -- I didn't eat the cauliflower 'cause I was stuffed). I drank a bottle of stilled water with it.

Hung out in my hotel room for a litte bit. Around 8 PM I went back out. Since a lot of places are closed, I went to a McCafe and bought a McSloshi, I think it was called: vanilla yogurt with berries, and you mix in nuts. It was pretty good, I'm ashamed to say. Afterwards I came back here. It's 10:35 PM. I'm going to bed. Have my alarm set for 6 AM. Lots to cram in tomorrow because the following day, Wednesday, is a travel day to Frankfurt . . . train leaves around 8:30 AM.

Auf wiedersehen!

Shikoff's sneaker suggestions

Been meaning to post this a while, in case I ever misplace the slip of paper from my podiatrist with his suggestions for crosstrainers:

Nike Air Crosstrainer Monarch IV
Reebox DMX Crosstrainer
New Balance 623
Asics Gel Crosstrainer

(and Rockports for work)

Over the Union

I went to the Philadelphia Union match last night. It may be the last one I go to, at least for this season. For months I was looking forward to seeing Chicago's Schweinsteiger play, since I'm a ManU fan, and I knew he wasn't making the trip for an alleged calf injury, but I went anyway, though I shouldn't have 'cause I was in Marlton, NJ in the morning to help celebrate my mom's birthday, and I was in West Philly in the afternoon for a side job -- long day.

I was kinda pissed about the ticket the box office sold me. I asked for the North End, but the inexperienced Union employee put me in the nosebleeds and I had to peek around a VIP building to see a corner kick.

Something else that didn't sit well with me was their little marketing campaign for fans to re-up season tickets. The one poster has the executive Earnie Stewart under the word strength. I dunno, he hasn't impressed me with signing Jay "no goals" Simpson and Alejandro "overrated & overpaid" Bedoya, however, Haris Medunjanin and Jack Elliott have been awesome (the former has a great left foot and vision, while the latter rarely makes defensive mistakes). Plus, the front office boasts their academy is their future, but they only play the youngins in emergencies when older players are injured or sub them in super-late. Truth told, though, Stewart's just the messenger. The real problem is owner Jay Sugarman, who's tight with the purse strings. I think ESPN colour commenter is right: Bedoya is a TAM player and the Union need three real DPs.

Anyway, I left at the game at halftime. Part of the reason I split, besides my bad mood, was that I wanted to see if the shuttle left early so I could catch the 9 PM train. As I feared, the shuttle bus didn't go anywhere until the final whistle. Fortunately, a millennial who worked on VAR left early too because the MLS had called in too many VAR contractors last night. He let me hop in his Uber for the ride to the Chester train station.

Maybe next year I'll just watch matches that looking interesting instead of following one team for the entire season.

Karen Armstrong's A HISTORY OF GOD

Some sentences I liked:

Chapter 3, A Light to the Gentiles, p. 91, last graf: "...today: many of the people who attend religious service in our own society are not interested in theology, want nothing too exotic and dislike the idea of change. They find that the established rituals provide them with a link with tradition and give them a sense of security. The do not expect brillant ideas from the sermon and are disturbed by changes in the liturgy."

Chapter 3, A Light to the Gentiles, p. 101, last graf: "Human beings are aware that something is wrong with their condition; they feel at odds with themselves and others, out of touch with their inner nature and disoriented. Conflict and a lack of simplicity seem to characterize our existence. Yet we are constantly seeking to unite the multiplicity of phenomena and reduce them to some ordered whole."

Chapter 6, The God of the Philosophers, p. 194, 1st graf: "Most Western Christians had a very limited knowledge of Islamic culture and were ignorant of philosophical developments..."

Chapter 9, Enlightenment, p. 295, 2nd graph: "...under the old agrarianate dispensation, when law was regarded as immutable and divine. It was a sign of the new autonomy that technicalization was bringing to Western society: men and women felt that they were in charge of their own affairs as never before. We have seen the profound fear that innovation and change had unleashed in traditional societies, where civilization was felt to be a fragile achievement and any break in continuity with the past was resisted. The modern technical society introduced by the West, however was based upon the expectation of constant development and progress. Change was institutionalized and taken for granted. ... The old conservative spirt...had been replaced in the West by a desire for change and a belief that continual development was practicable. Instead of fearing that the younger generation was going to the dogs, as in former times, the older generation expected their children to live better than they. The study of history was dominated by a new myth: that of Progress. It achieved great things, but now that damage to the environment has made us realize that this way of life is a vulnerable as the old, we are, perhaps, beginning to grasp that it is as fictitious as most of the other mythologies that have inspired humanity over the centuries."

Chapter 9, p. 306, 1st graph: "Religion, however, like art often consist of a dialogue with the past in order to find a perspective from which to view the present. . . . Religion and art, therefore, do not work like science."

Chapter 9, p.322: 3rd graph: "Social historians have noted that Western Christianity is unique among world religions for its violent alternations of periods of repression and permissiveness. They have also noted that the repressive phases usually coincide with a religious revival. The more relaxed moral climate of the Enlightenment would be succeeded in many parts of the West by the repressions of the Victorian period, which was accompanied by an upsurge of a more fundamentalist religiosity. In our own day, we have witnessed the permissive society of the 1960s giving way to the more puritan ethic of the 1980s, which has also coincided with the rise of Christian fundamentalism in the West. This is a complex phenomenon, which doubtless has no single cause."

Chapter 9, p. 341, 2nd graph: "In 1729 Jean Meslier, a country priest who had led an exemplary life, died an atheist. He left behind a memoir. . . . This expressed his disgust with humanity and his inability to believe in God. . . . Religion was a device used by the rich to oppress the poor and render them powerless. Christianity was distinguished by its particularly ludicrous doctrines, such as the Trinity and Incarnation."

Chapter 10, The Death of God?, p. 361, 2nd graph: "A negative image of the Prophet Muhammad and his religion had developed in Christendom at the time of the Crusades and had persisted alongside the anti-Semitism of Europe. During the colonial period, Islam was viewed as a fatalistic religion that was chronically opposed to progress."

Chapter 10, p. 361, last graf: "Freud had wisely seen that any enforced repression of religion could only be destructive. Like sexuality, religion is a human need that affects life at every level. If suppressed, the results are likely to be a s explosive and destructive as any sever sexual repression. . . . Repression of religion can breed fundamentalism, just as inadequate forms of theism can result in a rejection of God."

Samuel Johnson

I finished W. Jackson Bate's biography on Johnson. Some selections that caught my eye:

The Seven Years' War had begun. In political articles, he strongly attacked the policy of imperial and commercial expansion. The quarrel of the British and the French in America, as he viewed it, was the quarrel of "two robbers" for the land stolen from the Indians. Of the two, the French had at least the credit of treating the victim -- the natives -- with more consideration.
(Chapter 19, section 4, 3rd graph)

The truth is that something very serious was beginning to happen to him, and he was quite aware of it. The general reconsideration of life so common in middle age and the problems inevitable to it were something he had foreseen long before this. He had taken them into account and half assimilated them in advance, in protective preparation . . . But now, as he was entering his fifties, he was more vulnerable . The larger part of middle age could seem already behind him, and instead of his life being half over . . .it could now, by any optimistic calculation, appear two-thirds over, and most of it could seem a waste -- a history of disappointments, frustrations, regrets, and mistaken choices, none of it to be blamed on the work but only on himself.
(Chapter 20, section 1, 4th graph)

"Work and love," said Freud near the end of his own life, in Civilization and Its Discontents, are the only ways in which human nature can come closet to happiness or at least avoid misery. Freud adds, of course, that far fewer people really "love " than think they do.
(Chapter 21, section 5, 1st graph)

[Baretti] was put in Newgate Prison, where a rival Italian teacher soon called on him saying he wanted to take over Baretti's pupils after his execution and asking Baretti to write him a letter of recommendation.
(Chapter 24, section 2, 3rd graph)

Morris Trump

I'm rereading Morris Berman's Dark Ages America, which was copyrighted in 2006. In Chapter 4, "Pax Americana", in the Hot versus Cold Wars section, there's this passage (page 130 in paperback edition):

[Voters in 1980] were drawn to Ronald Reagan, a man who saw the world in just such simplistic terms, and who pledged to make America great again.

Looks like Trump owes some royalties to Berman ;)

Juan Cole

I read this months ago, and it's been bee-bopping in my head recently. Just might be the best paragraph Cole' ever written:

It is downright weird that we haven’t been able to find any evidence of intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, given how old and big it is.  It occurs to me that carbon-based life may have a tendency to evolve toward an intelligent species that discovers how to manipulate fire.  But in each case, it isn’t quite intelligent enough to avoid burning so many hydrocarbons that it cooks its planet and causes its own extinction.  Hence, no radio waves from these serial hyper-tropical worlds. 

"LBJ: Architect of American Ambition" by Randall B. Woods

I recently read that bio. Two great passages in it:

Chapter 11, A Populist Gentlemen's Club, p. 246:
The North and Midwest viewed the Southeast as the most backward part of the nation, the most resistant to change, and the most out of step with postwar realities. Southerners viewed the Northeast as economic exploiters and racist hypocrites.

Chapter 39, Tet, p. 818:
Reform is rare and difficult in the United States, a deeply conservative country.

thriller propaganda

Interesting point in recent New York Times Book Review:

American political thrillers, like American politics, can be awfully jingoistic. In the works of Brad Thor and Brad Taylor and similar writers, a heroic America often comes under existential threat from a bellicose Russia or China or North Korea. . . .  American thrillers function as a kind of propaganda, demonizing foreign enemies. . . .

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/07/31/books/review/inside-the-list.html?_r=0

Mussolini

On the 1% chance Trump wins in November, I've been reading Christopher Hibbert's biography on Mussolini, because a couple pundits I trust predict a Trump presidency would be less like Hitler and more like the Italian fascist.

Anyway, there are a couple quotes that cracked me up because they're so absurd, despite the horrible history of WWII.

In the "Diplomat" chapter, section 4, p. 109, an Italian ambassador complains to the Germans about lack of openness on the Nazi's aggression plans, a Nazi diplomat says that decisions "were still locked in the Führer's impenetrable bosom."

Later in that same chapter's section, p. 112, Mussolini is bitching about the Germans: "Give them enough sausage, butter, beer, and a little car and they won't worry about sticking their bayonets into people."

Speaking of Nazis, I would argue that the current state of American/European neoliberalism is a distant second to the Third Reich, with our history of slavery and Native American genocide. Plus, capitalism exploits the worst aspects of human nature: cut-throat competition, wasting of natural resources, and the rewarding of greed. Not to mention that in a couple hundred years we've treated Mother Earth like shit so that by 2200 we'll probably enter another Dark Ages. Seems like the id of the human race always reigns supreme and leaves devastation as its legacy.

Portland, OR: day 5

I didn't do much on Monday. Like Sunday, there was intermittent rain all day.

For breakfast I went down to the Skipping Stone Cafe for another large single pancake -- I could only eat about two-thirds of it. I was talking with the waitress and I mentioned that the cafe was briefly featured in Friday night's episode of Grimm and she said the crew eats in there a lot.

Around mid-morning I headed down to Voodoo donut based on the advice of a coworker of mine from San Francisco. I got a Portland cream-filled donut. It was delicious!

For lunch I grabbed a salad again at the Fred Meyers supermarket.

I spent the afternoon back at the hotel reading Amelia Gray's Gutshot, a strange short story collection. I could've went to the Japanese Garden, which is only about a mile away, but when it rained, it was ugly, plus the only other thing I wanted to do in town here was go to Lloyd Center to hang out at the ice rink, but I'm saving that for Tuesday because I'll have tons of time to kill with checkout time being noon and my flight not taking off until 11 PM.

For dinner I went down to 10th Street (I'm staying near 20th Street). I was in the mood for a gyro. Haven't had one since I lived in Berkeley when there was a Greek restaurant around the corner from my cottage. I bought my $5 lamb gyro from an Egyptian food truck (way cheaper than Berkeley) -- the whole block was full of food trucks, most only open from mid-morning to mid-afternoon for the lunchtime rush. It was kinda cool how were all on the perimeter of the block, facing the sidewalk; the interior of the block was for parking.

I took the gyro back to the hotel and ate it while watching the Manchester United match from Sunday. I don't know if I ate it too quickly or what, but I did not feel good for the rest of the night. I eventually had to go across the street to Walgreen's to pick up some Rolaids. I crawled into bed at 9:30, listening to some podcasts. Around 10:30 I crawled under the covers, praying I didn't have to fly 3,000 miles with an upset stomach. Does United tack on fees if you use more than one barf bag?

Portland, OR: day 4

On Sunday I went to the Chevron convenience store again and got a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal. The rest of the morning I did laundry because when I travel for more than a weekend, I do laundry halfway through so it's less stuff I have to pack. What's awesome about the place I'm staying is that there is a laundry room in the main building across the street. Today was the first day raining, but it was all good -- the laundry was only $1 for the washer and dryer each, and somebody left detergent, which had more than enough for my three small loads.

For lunch I picked an Italian sandwich with Boars meat at the Fred Meyers supermarket. Washed it down with a 7.5-ounce Pepsi. I had picked up an eight-pack at Fred Meyers when I first got here.

In the afternoon I took the blue light rail for about an hour to the Gresham City Hall. During the ride I saw a couple tents pitched on the verdant hillside. Looked like people were living there.

After I hopped off the light rail, I took a bus to the only Planet Fitness listed as in Portland. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, going to the gym doesn't sound like much a vacation, but it was almost 90-minute trip to get there and I wanted to see the other side of the city. I think it would be called the southeast side (my hotel is near the northwest side, I believe). Though I think the Planet Fitness is lying a little. It looked like they're just outside Portland, in the suburb of Gresham.

I had left my keys with my Planet Fitness ID back in Philly, but fortunately the girl at the desk was cool enough to let me exercise. I did upper-body weights.

On the trip back, I got off about a mile before the hotel and picked up a Qdoba chicken burrito. This was around 5 PM. I wanted to get it sooner than later because they closed at 7 PM, and I assumed around closing time there would be slim pickings.

At the hotel I showered then watched the DC United match while I dined on my burrito. The rest of the night I just stayed in.

Portland, OR: day 3

It's Monday morning. Let's see if I can remember what I did on Saturday.

Because I thought the Skipping Stone Cafe might have a queue, I went to the Chevron convenience store around the corner and picked up a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

Then I hopped on the light rail to Washington Park, which is the same stop where the Oregon Zoo is at. I headed for the 4T trail. Here's the beginning of it:

It was about a mile march to Council Crest Park, the highest point in Portland.

I thought I could catch an aerial tram, but I had to keep walking the trail. I went about another mile on the trail, then took a shortcut on a roadway, though it didn't feel like a shortcut, 'cuz it went on for a while -- probably another mile.

I eventually found the aerial tram, it was next to a hospital. Too much information time: thank god the building the aerial tram was in had a bathroom. I had to go something fierce. I couldn't really find anything on the trail, and there were a fair amount of people on the trail.

Anyway, the tram was a short ride, no more than 2 minutes. I tried taking a picture of the approaching tram.

I thought the ride was free, maybe a service of the hospital, because the operator didn't ask for a ticket, but when I got off I saw a ticket vending machine. I didn't buy a ticket. Does that make me a bad person? But I did buy a ticket for the Portland Streetcar.

The Portland Streetcar isn't part of the TriMet network that runs the light rail and buses. The Streetcar takes you through downtown. The one I was on went through the university. One part was really neat, it cut through a shopping district where people were sitting, sipping on their java outside of a coffee shop. There weren't any barriers or anything. The Streetcar snaked over the red bricks a few feet from the shoppers and sippers. Pretty cool!

Eventually I got off the Streetcar and hopped on the light rail. I went to the Fred Meyers supermarket near my hotel and got a salad for lunch.

My hay fever was acting up, with itchy eyes to the extreme, so I took about a 75-minute nap in the afternoon.

For dinner I wanted to go to a local Italian restaurant, but you needed a reservation. So I stopped in at a local pizza joint, Hot Lips, but they were all out of meatball sandwiches. I checked out SFNY Pizza, where I some slices Friday night, but they didn't do meatball sandwiches. I settled on a BLT from Jimmy Johns; I really didn't want to eat there 'cuz I hit it up all the time in Philly, but I was running out of time. I picked up some Lay's BBQ potato chips at the Chevron too.

Around 6:30 I headed to Providence Park for the soccer game. The Timbers played RSL. Good game. The home team was down 2 for a while. The match ended in a draw.

Great thing about your hotel being several blocks from the soccer stadium is you don't have to worry about driving or waiting for the train. Woo-woo!

Portland, OR: day 2

Before I get started, I forgot to write up something that happened on my first full day here . . .  Thursday, was it? After eating dinner at Qdoba, as I was ambling around downtown, I was standing at a stoplight and the road to my left was blocked off except for light rail. Some sedan goes through the green light but didn't see the two concrete barricades until the last second. He hit the brakes, though they didn't screech or anything, and the car never stopped moving. The driver-side window has halfway down, and front passenger window was all the way down. The driver goes, "Whoa, whoa!" His girlfriend/wife in the passenger seat, who looked like the crazy sister upstairs neighbor on that Jessica Jones Netflix TV show, screamed at him, calling him a "dumbass". Oh, and I think there was at least one toddler in the back seat.

Anyway, on Friday I hiked down to the Skipping Stone Cafe again. I ordered sausage links and a biscuit. The biscuit was huge, probably equal to three or four biscuits you have at Thanksgiving. Should've taken a picture. I finished it and the three sausages, though.

Like Thursday, I caught the bus back to the hotel. The rest of the morning I worked on yesterday's blog post.

For lunch I hit that sushi place. It wasn't as good as the first time I was in Portland. Maybe because this time it was at the height of the lunch rush. They just didn't have the nigiri sushi I like. Everything comes around on a conveyor belt. I ate two shrimp, two tuna or salmon, and two octopus or squid. The lemonade I washed it down with was perfect -- not too sweet, not too diluted.

In the afternoon, I walked downtown and took pictures of the Portlandia statue.

Afterwards I saw this crazy traffic sign:

What's that noise all about?

Then it was off to the Oregon Historical Society museum.

It was nice. They had an exhibit on Chinese immigrants and the hardships the U.S. government put they through. Reminded me of Lisa See's Shanghai Girls. And sadly things haven't gotten much better with Hispanics at the latest scapegoat.

Several blocks away was the exterior they use for the Portland police station on the TV show Grimm.

Before heading back to the hotel, I took some pictures of the Timbers stadium, since it's a few blocks from the hotel. Can't wait for the game Saturday night!

For dinner there's a pizza place across the street from the hotel called SFNY, which stands for Straight From New York. They sell slices, so I got a plain and a pepperoni. It was pretty funny, when I asked for the plain, the cashier asked, "Cheese?" It's like they're speaking a different language out here!

After dinner I watched an episode of Grimm and read some of Stephen King's Cujo. I fell asleep around 10. My bio-rhythms are still on East Coast time. You wouldn't think that would be the case; after all, I lived on the West Coast for two years. Maybe I prefer the Atlantic Ocean over the Pacific. . . .

Portland, OR vacay: travel day, and 1st day here

It's about 11 AM on Friday, March 18. Thought I would catch up on what I've been up to. I'm a little rusty on writing anything outside of an email, so the prose probably won't pretty -- just the facts, ma'am.

Wednesday I got up and drove straight to mom's house so I could park my car in her driveway. I didn't want to leave my wheels in Manayunk because I'd be taking up a spot for almost a week when parking is at a premium there, plus there was a chance it could get stolen; somebody seeing it in the same spot over the weekend might deduct that I'm out of town.

At my mom's house, I was going to take the bus to the train station, since it's at least a mile away, but my sister's husband, Bill, was next door helping his dad brew some beer (his parents live next door to my mum) and he drove me to the train station.

I got down to the airport in plenty of time. For lunch I had a bacon cheeseburger at Chickie & Pete's. Never ate there before. It was pretty, pretty good.

The flight was supposed to take off at 2:25 PM, but it probably touched off the runway closer to 3. The connecting flight was in Chicago. For dinner I popped in a Wolfgang Pucks and bought a hummus wrap. Never had hummus before -- it was all right . . . tasted healthy.

I landed in Portland around 8 PM PT. Like when I spent a weekend here in September '13 (when I was living in Berkeley, CA), I took the MAX red line. It's a light rail. This time around I bought a weekly transpass for $26. Not too bad, it works on the buses too.

It's about a 45-minute rail ride to my hotel, the Park Lane Suites, in the city centre. I stayed here last time. There's the main building on the one side of the street, and more rooms in a separate building on the other side of the street. I'm in the latter. I just may be in the same room as I was last time, room 227 on the second floor (duh).

Yesterday, Thursday, I slept in a little then went to the Skipping Stone Cafe. It's about a mile from the hotel.

Back in '13 I tried a pancake and a biscuit. They're both huge and I only ate about half of each. This time I got just the pancake.

Crazy thing about Portland, it only costs $3. I still couldn't finish it, though I did get about three-quarters down in my gut.

For the mile trip back to the hotel, I didn't walk too far. I caught the 15 bus, which drops you off a block from the hotel. I didn't have to slide the transpass when I got on -- you just show it to the driver. That's one of the things I love about Portland! Things are simple here.

After showering I hoofed it about a mile from the hotel to Powell's book store. I picked up  a travel guide and a book about moving here, since I'm thinking about it.

I grabbed the 20 bus back to the hotel and for lunch I wandered around looking for a sandwich. I popped in to a nearby supermarket, Fred Meyer, but their sandwiches had too much meat on 'em for my tastes. Before I left security had to escort one customer out of the store. He was a white male, late 40s or in his 50s, about 6'5", bald on the top of his chrome, and he was no more than 20 pounds overweight, though it looked like muscle that had turned to flab. He called one of the Fred Meyers employees a bitch and told her to her job. He seemed a little unhinged. I thought a scuffle might break out 'cause he sounded unnecessarily angry, but he left without incident.

I eventually bought a ham and swiss cheese sandwich at another nearby supermarket. More upscale than Fred Meyers; I think it's called Zanders. It was $5 for a half sandwich. Overpriced, but it was good. I ate it in my room.

After lunch I watched the Manchester United and Liverpool UFEA match.

For dinner I walked a mile to the nearest Qdoba. Yeah, I know I can have their chicken burrito anytime in Philly, but it's soooooo good.

Afterwards I ambled around looking for a sushi place to eat lunch at the next day. One of the busy streets I went down (well, by Portland standards, it was busy -- 10 people on one side of the street) had a closed Subway. Apparently a customer threw a chair (I saw marks in the vertical part the counter) and tried stabbing the cashier. The attacker got away. I was talking to one of the bystanders and wondered if the knifer was the same guy from Fred Meyers this afternoon, but the bystander said the Subway cat was a black guy.

As I was leaving, I saw this same guy as the one outside the Powell's book store in the morning. White guy, he was about 6'3", thin, had piebald hair, was wearing a suit jacket and had, I would guess, at least $300 specs. He had noted my Timbers cap and claimed he had family in Manchester, England and played goalie there for a god awful team.

Anyway, outside of the Subway, he gave one of the bystanders the finger and said that guy was an asshole. I did notice that unlike in the morning he didn't have a leg brace on over his jeans -- you know the kind, goes from groin to ankle, with velcro straps. He still had his guitar case and supermarket cart full of crap and knick-knacks.

I eventually found that sushi place. I think it's the one I went to last time I was here. Then I headed back to the hotel. Really tired. All told I must've walked close to five miles. Plus in the afternoon I picked up some allergy medicine. My hay fever is acting up. When I was here in '13, I went back to California with some allergy where my voice was messed up for weeks. Could have something to do with my broken nose when I got hit by that car on March 1, 2012 and my deviated septum. Hopefully if I keep taking the Walgreen's version of Zyrtec I'll be fine.

and another excerpt from John Keane's TOM PAINE: A POLITICAL LIFE

Paine was not a pacifist.  He recognized that in politics "turning the other cheek" can be a devilishly self-contradictory ethic that enables the strong to outfox or destroy the weak.  Yet he was also convinced that an ethic of "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" was dangerous, especially in politics, where its literal application invariably leads to mutual reprisals and escalating violence, thereby hardening the hearts of the combatants, destroying their civility, and forcing freedom into exile, condemning it to tramp other lands as a poor and hungry refugee.  Therefore, the use of violent means to defend liberty was only the lesser of two evils.

p.228, Chapter 7 (The Federalist), "Revolutionary Compassion"section

another excerpt from John Keane's TOM PAINE: A POLITICAL LIFE

Paine was no believer in self-regulating "free markets."  He was not an "ideological spokesman for the bourgeoisie."  He certainly believed -- in this he was remarkably modern -- that market mechanisms for structuring decisions about investment, production, and consumption through anonymous monetary exchanges could never be eliminated from the heart of civil societies without destroying the vitality and what Paine sometimes called "civil independent pride."  Industry, commerce, and agriculture regulated by means of money-based private exchanges were essential for a free civil society, if only to protect it from meddlesome state power.  But -- the qualification was of the utmost importance to Paine -- he refused to draw from this the conclusion that the various institutions of civil society should be ruled by impersonal "market forces."  Within this sphere, individuals should not be treated as private entrepreneurs whose talents and powers are presumed to be natural and whose conduct is guided by the bourgeois principle of differential cash rewards for workers and owners of property.  He was adamant that market exchanges must be controlled and nurtured politically.  A self-regulating market is undesirable.  It motivates individuals not on the basis of commitment to serve and be served by their fellow citizens, but through a mixture of greed and fear.  Market competition encourages citizens to see each other as threats and as sources of private self-enrichment.

p. 190, Chapter 6 (Public Insults), "Men of Wealth" section

excerpt from John Keane's TOM PAINE: A POLITICAL LIFE

...fear is a central ingredient of despotic regimes, in which fear of power always corrupts those who are subject to it and fear of losing power always corrupts those who are exercising it.

p.141, Chapter 5 (War), "The American Crisis" section, 1st graph

album review: HOME STREET HOME: ORIGINAL SONGS FROM THE SHIT MUSICAL

Shit musical, indeed.

NOFX's Fat Mike's musical is finally hitting the stage.  His label, Fat Wreck Chords, dropped the soundtrack on February 10.  And it's lamer than the transients lounging on Telegraph Ave.

Most of the songs are about drug-taking and the S&M scene.  I dunno.  I quit drinking three years ago, so my household ain't 420 friendly.  And as far as dating a dominatrix. . . .  Why?  Sex is awesome all by itself.  Why would you want to ruin it by adding torture to the mix?  Consequences of a post-9/11 world, perhaps.

And here's the thing: Fat Mike is a millionaire.  Him writing songs celebrating street life is like Stalin penning an ode to those victimized by empire.

But the million-dollar question is, "Who the hell would invest in this musical?"  Theatre productions are notoriously expensive, hence the astronomical ticket prices.  Maybe it's a vanity project for Fat Mike.  Gotta spend your Knob Hill millions on something, I guess.

The sad thing is what a waste this whole endeavor is (and the money I lost buying it).  Fat Mike has an unbelievable amount of talent rocking around in his drug-addled brain.  A cursory listen to NOFX's catalog proves he has an ear for harmony and melody.

If you're going to do a musical, how about one on the plight of today's working person?  With the 1%'s war on the middle and poor classes, a musical in that key could be what America needs right now.  Art should educate and engage, not simply entertain.  But, no, Fat Mike decided to salute the cult of self, glamorizing the pursuit of pleasure and the annihilation of brain cells.

It's not all bad, though.  Besides a kick-ass soundtrack title, Home Street Home (take that, Mötley Crüe!) has a few half-decent tracks.  "Three String Guitar" has witty wordplay, especially admirable given it's only 93 seconds long.  "Missing Child" is a beautiful ballad told from the perspective of a mother missing her runaway daughter (more songs in that vein would've been nice).  "Because I Want To" has splendid synthesizers straight out of an Epoxies outtake.  And while the last track, "The Agony of Victory", is a little too saccharine for my ears with its cliche "na-na-na" ending, it gives an excellent excuse to pull out NOFX's last great album, Coaster, which featured a far superior version.  Ah, to a better time, before a great American songwriter jumped the shark. . . .

new site

Hi, I'm now blogging at JohnStephenOsborn.com. See ya there!

Maybe I'm Still a Socialist

I just took down a few books on eBay that had views and watchers in the low single digits. I figure if nobody's really interested, might as well give 'em way. Literacy's like herpes -- it's best to pass it on.

Illiterate America

Further proof that the average American hates to read: I had a bunch of books on eBay but just took most of 'em down 'cause they had hardly any views. Each one was $5, which included free shipping, and a lot were in mint condition from fairly popular authors, like Robert B. Parker. Sad, sad, sad.

best headline of the day

Actually was in Tuesday's New York Times: "A Banker Who Unwinds by Photographing Prostitutes". If the link still works, you'll probably see a different headline. Ah, search engine optimization. . . .

1994

Since I'm moving and downsizing, I found this in one of my trunks. Postmarked April 8, 1994, it came from my college roommate (I graduated in '93). I thought it was witty:

Dear Friends,

It is time once again to gather together in a frenzy of food, booze and debauchery. On Saturday April 30th, there will be a mass gathering at the home of my birth. Festivities will begin at or about 3 p.m. Saturday and will continue through Sunday May 1st, culminating with an eventing with 7 Seconds at City Gardens in beautiful Downtown Trenton. Saturday's festivities will consist of a massive barbecue running the length of the day. Sunday Brunch will consist of fruit juice and aspirin. If you want to attend the 7 Second show, please send $8.00 and your name care of: [[my friend's address]]

Please remember to reserve your weekend for this event for without you, my loyal friends, my like is meaningless.

Fondling Yours,

Fishtown bound

Kinda jazzed. Looks like I'm moving to Philly's Fishtown borough (one subway stop from Center City). I checked out an apartment this morning and put some money down; haven't signed the lease yet. Glad to get out of the suburbs -- it's boring me to drink.

2013

We all know Obama is a coward
He's a wuss like Moe Howard
Once again no selection
Let's #OCCUPY the election!

Class Actress

Friday night in Philly in Fishtown, corner of Frankford and Girard Aves., around 9:30. A middle-aged white male yelled, "Same to you, asshole!" in one of those voices that send goose bumps up and down your spine -- the type of voice that's not only loud but also filled with unadulterated rage, the kind that leads to unpremeditated murder. The white male, who had the haggard look of someone who's borderline homeless, had said those words to a cab, which peeled right onto Frankford Ave. The white male stalked down Girard Ave. past a car or two to another cab. He got in, one foot in the street, and told the driver that the other cabbie was "a faggot". The white male closed the door behind him and yelled out the window, "He likes dick. DICK!!!"

And that's what I witnessed as I went into the bar/club Johnny Brenda's. I'd been there before with uneventful trips to and from my car. Maybe the 40-degree weather was what set that crazy cab passenger off.

I walked through the downstairs bar and went upstairs to the club. Johnny Brenda's website earlier in the day said the opening act, Prussia, were supposed to go on at 9:30. They walked on stage at 9:45. They must've already done a sound-check 'cause they picked up their instruments and got right into their half-hour set. I wasn't really into it; though, to be fair, I wasn't there to see them. These Detroit-ers had this synth-rock sound going on. Impressive how most of them were multi-instrumentalists.

After they finished up, the headliners took about 30 minutes to set up. While waiting, I did a little people-watching. I felt like an out-of-towner -- kinda true since I live at the tip of Northeast Philly, and even though it's only about 10 miles away, it's world's apart in the modern sense. My neighbourhood is full of sports-loving, functionally-illiterate, middle-class morons who rarely venture out of their row homes. The sold-out Johnny Brenda's was packed with 20-something hipsters; when they weren't murmuring in their low single-digit cabals, they were flicking through their iPhones, Apple lighting up their faces in the dark room so they could get their mobile fix, satisfying them until their technology-addicted brain craved more instant-gratification wireless activity.

Coincidence that I'm judgmental about technology while I do a blog post on Google?

Class Actress hit the stage at 10:45. (Hey, just like the Johnny Brenda's site said they would!) And they were amazing, thanks to the venue's sound system; one of the best for a place that size . . . about 300, in case you're wondering.

Class Actress have gotten pigeonholed with the label 80s synth revival. A bit unfair, I think. While synthesizers dominate their sound, singer Elizabeth Harper's voice sounds nothing like what came out of the Reagan decade. It's throaty with the allure of a siren, while at other times angelic, promoting Victorian values. And as far as the music goes, the two guys on keyboards play more like what you'll hear in a 2012 dance club.

The four piece (there was a drummer, too -- not sure why since it sounded like a drum machine drowned him out) started with "All the Saints". A wise choice with that catchy riff at the beginning. Still perplexes me why it's in the middle of their debut album, Rapprocher. Should be up near the front.

Their second song, I think, was "Keep You", which seems to be their big hit. A couple songs later came "Weekend", another danceable ditty popular with the kids.

They played for about 45 minutes with a one-song encore. "Limousine", I believe. It's about what to expect, since they only have an EP and album in their samplers, and the ticket was an unbelievable $12.53 (I bought it the Monday before the show after I downloaded Rapprocher from Amazon).

Now with all that boring music-geek shit out of the way, let's get down to the sultry stuff: Harper's stage presence. Jesus Christ! What a beauty, as The Tubes used to say. Not supermodel beauty, but the beauty of a performer whose sex appeal increases with audience adulation.

Unfortunately, winter weather prevented Harper from dressing salaciously. She wore black shoes, pants, jacket, and a white, long-sleeve dress shirt -- the kind with undone cuffs sported by knockout women and homosexual men. About halfway through the set, she lost the jacket. Yes! Gave her more wiggle room so she could run her hands through her lush dark hair and over her body, sans erogenous zones. Sexy performer she is, her shirt was undone two or three buttons, giving perverts like me in the crowd a peek every once in a while at her black bra. Good goddamn!

With visions of that class act, I skipped out of Johnny Brenda's to my Civic a couple blocks away. Plenty of cabs, no psycho white males. Lovely. . . .

creative wit

So I'm walking around the other during my break at work, running some errands. A group of kids are sitting at the bus stop having a conversation. In the middle of it, a girl says, "I'm not that very creative." This boy says, without missing a beat, "That's not true. I've seen how you dress." I laughed out loud. Couldn't help it.

Moscow companionship

Got my Moscow travel book in the mail today from Frommer's. Interesting little bit on page 64: "...foreign men traveling alone may be surprised by a late-night phone call to their rooms offering 'female company' for the night. If you make it clear you're not interested -- it can't hurt to mention it to the reception desk -- the solicitation will stop."

Um, yeah, I think I'll mention to the front desk not to allow those calls through.

Burr Tebow

I've been enjoying this Bill Burr video recently where he talks about Tim Tebow and salivates after some young laaaaadies. Funny stuff: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ST15FsGeUl4

Moscow, bitch!

I was only going to do Paris this summer while vacationing, but I figure since I'm over in Europe I might as well make a meal of it, so I'm gonna hit Warsaw, Poland and Moscow. Crazy thing with Russia is that their visa crazy. You need to fill out more paperwork than for a college's financial aid -- ya have to first to get a tourist invitation then a tourist voucher. One of these involves getting a sponsor, which a hotel can vouch for. It's going to be an interesting process. . . .

Stephen King's influence

Started listening to Stephen King's Insomnia the other night. Ever since then, I've had trouble sleeping. Coincidence? ;)

swordfish

Living up to my Boring Bachelor moniker, I thought I would blog about what I had for dinner. Picked up a T-bone-shaped swordfish steak at Whole Foods. I could've went to Pathmark or Acme, which are closer, but Whole Foods' high prices are warranted -- you do get what you pay for.

I don't think I've ever eaten swordfish, but it was amazing! Back in my thirties I used to eat seafood on Saturday nights (nothing fancy: like Mrs. Paul's and Gordon's frozen food doohickeys). I'm trying to get back into that habit, but having fresh seafood, along with vegetables, a small red potato and a mug of milk. Now them's good eating!!!

best birthday playlist ever!

My 16 years of Catholic brainwashing tells me I shouldn't brag, but I'm damn proud of this mix I came up with -- flows quite nicely:
Beatles: "Birthday" (1968)
Rocket From The Crypt: "Born in '69" (1995)
Police: "Born in the 50's" (1978)
Supersuckers: "Born with a Tail" (1995)
INXS: "Born to Be Wild" (1993)
Choking Victim: "Born to Die" (1997)
Vandals: "Happy Birthday to Me" (1995)
NOFX: "New Happy Birthday Song?" (2007)
Cure: "Happy Birthday, Simon" (1981)
Atom & His Package: "Happy Birthday, Ralph" (1997)
Models: "Happy Birthday, IBM" (1980)
Sugarcubes: "Birthday" (1988)
J Church: "Birthday" (1995)
Smiths: "Unhappy Birthday" (1987)
Replacements: "Birthday Gal" (1987)
Crazy Alice: "Birthday Card" (1996)
Mountain Goats: "Quetzalcoatl Is Born" (1994)
Insane Clown Posse: "Birthday Bitches" (2002)
Luke Campbell: "It's Your Birthday" (1994)
Cibo Matto: "Birthday Cake" (1996)
Underworld: "Born Slippery (Nuxx)" (1996)
"Weird Al" Yankovic: "Happy Birthday" (1981)
Altered Images: "Happy Birthday" (1981)
Steve Kilbey: "My Birthday, The Moon Festival (1986)
Kitaro: "Earth Born" (1975)

To Joke Or Not to Joke, That Is This Blog Post

I don't hear the word reputed too much anymore. Think I'm gonna go around and describe myself -- since I work in publishing -- as a reputed editor. No?