Wanderlust yet again

I'm watching Raging Bull right now and missing New York.

I'm gazing across the room at my book of Edward Hopper and looking forward to standing before Nighthawks.

I'm perusing travel sites in planning for a possible swing o'er to London in November.

It's hard to be so distant. But all in all it's not a bad place to be in.

Almost famous

So as of 9:45 PM EST tomorrow night, this article will appear as an Editor's Pick. Now I get to be a diva. Snap!

When you're here, you're chattle

I wish I were at Coney.

Not right now, as it's currently the dead of winter, but I wish it were warm and I was getting ready to take a spin on the Cyclone. Grabbing a few dogs at Nathan's. Perambulating on the boardwalk and wishing I could've been around while the parachute jump was still operational. I wish, I wish, I wish...

It feels really cold right now.

We had a brief visit to hell today. Lunch at the Olive Garden. Yes, we got a gift card for Christmas. The joint opens at 11:00. We got there at about 11:20, and there was already a twenty minute wait. For the fucking Olive Garden. I hate to tell you, but the food isn't that great. Since we were there for an early lunch, the earlybirds were mostly of pre-war carbon date, and I had several near encounters with walkers. With the lobby completely overfilled, we decided to stand it out in the foyer. Since we were in the capital of Maine, the entire lobby reeked of smoke and made frequent runs outside to catch a few tokes before their buzzers went off. Since it's currently the dead of winter, the door frequently opening and closing was less than desired. Finally, our buzzer honked. I think it was Anthony Bourdain that said you can tell the quality of a restaurant by how many burners are on. At the Olive Garden, I would bet that...well...I would bet that there are a lot of burners on. As soon as you're seated, you get the feeling that you're being rushed out the door. No wonder, with all those fucking lemmings waiting behind you to get a table. Our gal was somewhat pleasant, and attentive to the amount of parmesan we wanted on our salads. But I sure as hell didn't feel like family. I got the sausage and peppers rustica, and it was fine. Was it worth the hour expended and the chop-chop vibe and the neanderthals jabbering away on cell phones at their tables? Well, we had a gift certificate.

Good thing this Olive Garden is right next to one of the only Barnes & Noble's in the state. We had another gift card...

Shit.

Diet schmyet

This place is fucking amazing. Amazing. Oh my god, I still have a boner. Like, that good. Really. It's that good. Amazing.

A snippet or two

It's Thursday, January 12th. On Thursday, January 12th, 1888, the Children's Blizzard raged across Minnesota and the Dakotas, killing hundreds, mostly children caught unaware by a brief January thaw. It just happened that I had checked the book out, and it just so happens that I'm up to the arrival of the storm in the book. Kinda eerie how I stumble into timing like this. At any rate, read the book. Fascinating and very well written.

Almost 8:00 PM and I'm not far from bed. We've been hooked on this extraordinary series, so it's been 11:00 and later all this week. I'm old. Jesus.

Wanderlust

Props,
originally uploaded by Westbye.

How’s this for timing? We were listening to The Essential Sinatra: The Columbia Years on the ride in today. As we drove past the airport a US Air shuttle took off, likely bound for La Guardia. Travel and good weather seem like a long way off, and I’m fighting off a mild January depression. What should come on the juke as I was desperately wishing I were on that plane headed for the Apple? “Put Your Dreams Away (For Another Day)”.

Thanks, Frank.

Playoffs: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Heading into halftime with a 7-3 lead in a grind-out game of posession and field position. This is good stuff. I have consumed a copious amount of so-called "Wings of Fire." Um, quite. I can take a few more scovils than these wings offer. Not that said wings weren't tasty, but wings of fire? Maybe if you're recovering from a heart attack...

In any event, the companion Miller Lite is lovely.

I love these moments. Distractions from the cold reality of January are welcome.

Bits, pieces, shits, grins

There is, for some inexplicable reason, a giant flood light that washes out cars from behind at our turnpike entrance. It's quite unnerving, as it feels like a giant semi is about to end up in our trunk. This setup is, however, good for some sick-ass humor, like my wife stating tonight that she "felt all Karen Silkwood."

She's a bitch, she is.

Our public works department is vacant. We were told on the phone that absolutely there would be Christmas tree pickup today. What did we find still sitting on the snow bank next to my driveway? Fuckers. On the other hand, I managed to get our tree lights back into their original packaging with nary a tangle. Recompense comes in all forms.

No alarm and no cleaning tomorrow. I'm in favor. Maybe I'll recover my ability to write updates...

fin'

fin',
originally uploaded by Westbye.

There's a giant hole in my heart and my living room...