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Only in Baltimore would someone bum “bus fair” off of you while you’re on your cell phone, standing around a few other people who are not on phones and who do not get asked for change. Only in Baltimore, also, would you oblige with a smile.
I love this city.
Okay. So it’s windy. I live in a four-story brick apartment building shaped like an “L”. I live on the outside of the right angle. This is a sturdy building. Three blizzards this year. Wind was a sound shaking the storm windows and trees. Tonight, it is a vibration. Wow. I hope all the apartment roofs in lower Roland Park can take this. Everyone’s got some rain spout hanging off, or worse.
Also, Walmart’s coming to Remington/Old Goucher. Wow. I don’t know how I feel about this. But I know some “buffies” who love the Walmart in Cockeysville who are celebrating. They moved that fucker from the lightrail in Hunt Valley because, you know, people from “the city” were coming up and stealing shit. I’m sure none of these little white boys get off soccer practice and steal themselves a Red Bull, right? And of course we all know that the best get-away from crime is a mass transit train that leaves Hunt Valley station very slowly.
But at least it’s better than a car dealership. Yes. I said it. We have enough cars killing pedestrians in this fucking city, thank you.
I am not venturing out on my bike or on foot, and my bus line’s not running, either. Not that I’m upset to work from home, on my tiny laptop/netbook.
While the snow is falling like crazy, and my belly is full.
Mama and I have been commuting on the bus since we found out about Baby in mid-August. I love to cycle, but I’d much rather ride with Mama. Now that she’s on bed rest, that’s not an option. On the bright side of this week’s rollercoaster, I get to cycle more now, to work at least. Winter cycling is rewarding, and I could really use the exercise. Soon, Mama will get to ride again, too. And, in a year maybe, Baby also!
It wasn’t long before everything was either dirty or melting.
Getting tea today at a local cafe’, I asked for my change in ones (for the bus). I joked with the lady who works there, “I don’t wanna steal all your ones.” She showed me her huge roll of ones and said, “When I get home, I have like thirty singles. People ask me if I’m a stripper or a dancer. I’m like, ‘Thanks, I guess, for thinking I’m attractive enough to be a stripper.’”
I’ve blogged a lot about walking. I know. It’s something that I don’t do enough (because I am lazy and impatient) but something I enjoy endlessly.
Wednesday, I was at a community meeting at St. Paul Street and North Avenue in Central Baltimore. It was supposed to last until 7:30 or 8:00, but it was over at 7:04 for pizza and chatting. I’d already done my “networking” before the meeting started, so I bolted to catch my 7:53 bus at the train station. On my way from my chair to the door, I thought, “Why should I bullshit in my office until my bus? I can just walk!” So when I left the building, I made a left and headed for home.
Sure, folks will chide you for walking through “that area” at “that time of night.” Dude, 7:00pm dark is not the same as 2:00am dark — and I don’t walk around anywhere at that time (except once in Carbondale when we walked from the train station to home in the dead middle of the night after a trip to Memphis, with a tiny flashlight – but that’s another story). I didn’t see anyone sketchy and in fact was the sketchy person to lady who halted her exit from her car until after I passed her around 24th Street. And for two young ladies carrying their groceries home above 25th Street.
Instead of driving or sitting on an empty bus or pedaling uphill, I got to peak into the big, old, stately houses on St. Paul Street (think 3-story rowhomes with big basements), at folks’ bookshelves and holiday decorations. I greeted a dozen dog-walkers. I caught the exam-time buzz as I cut through JHU to University Parkway. I scared a guy on the section of University Parkway there the streetlights are out and where it is completely pitch black. And, at the top of the hill, I saw the warm glow of the LED star lights in our windows, on the corner of the building, where warmth, my wife and a pasta dinner awaited. In all, I walked 3 miles in 45 minutes. Not that far, but fast, and I was tired. That distance is small for a hike, but pretty long in a smallish city like Baltimore.
It was an exceptional night. I read before bed and slept like a baby.
We planned some similar fun walking for Saturday, which is itself worthy of a post.
This week: grey, rain, rain, rain, grey. With recently broken bones and my still-smashed right hand, I’m tempted to sound like one of those people who acts like crappy weather was invented just for suffering and just for their suffering at that. It doesn’t feel good.
However, in search of better times and making the best of what’s left of autumn, Mrs. P. and I will venture to our very favorite bookstore and perhaps have dinner somewhere in Charles Village, Hampden or Roland Park. I will have a waterproof messenger bag, so treasures will make it home unscathed. At least it’s going to be in the upper 50s/lower 60s. I hate when it rains just shy of the freezing point. Unless I’m cycling. I do get a kick out of that.
Curiously, Normal’s is on 31st Street, where I blew a spoke last Sunday and had to miss the ride I’d spent so much time helping to plan. Much better tidings today, I think.
My bike is out of commission currently. Yes, breaking a rear spoke on the drive side can make your wheel no longer turn without hitting the frame. No, this does not, as has been suggested, make me a wimp or perfectionist. It’s a matter of my understanding bike wheels, at least a little bit. Plus, there’s the empirical smack-your-ass part where my wheel literally does not turn. The shop will take care of it; it’s under warranty. It’s a good excuse to visit my favorite bike shop.
I need to get some new books and spend quality time with the Mrs. and our little belly/Baby. As if it’s not obvious, I’m growing increasingly less patient with people’s bullshit. A nice walk usually helps a lot.
Barry’s, Dan’s and mine. We were first to the Memorial Ride (read more here.)
Photo Friday: Three.
Being a good Baltimorean, Mrs. P., AKA Aunt Frankie, made a Ravens purple blanket for Little Z, AKA Zack Jr. This is him playing with Baby G.’s toy stash and enjoying the colorful rug in my living room last week. Also, rocking that purple blanket.
Little Z, by the way, said his first word that day: Dada.
Happy because he’s heading to the Tour de Greater Homewood/Jack Yates Memorial Ride on a beautiful Sunday. MORE INFO HERE! You should come, too!
Of someone riding my old (2005) bike. I found this photo on my old hard-drive (the one with Windoze). It’s my Dad. It’s during our move from Carbondale to Baltimore in August 2006. When our bikes were sitting by the little trailer, ready to get packed last, my Dad snatched my bike and took off. He wound up buying the 2006 model a few weeks later. Cycling is so damned fun that no one can resist and unattended bike.
It looked like this.
Took a long ride around the city yesterday and witnessed some overwhelming colors. Photo Friday: Autumn 2009.
Dear Baltimore Sun,
You should really moderate the comments on your website. They are threatening, poorly written, evenly more poorly reasoned, often racist and usually unrelated to the article they’re attached to. I understand their purpose: to give people a chance to respond and start a conversation. This is a good purpose. This is the best part of this Web 2.0 stuff. And if you moderated them and kept out the irrelevant, threatening, racist ones, this might happen.
But as it stands:
1) You’re paying for webspace and bandwidth for idiots to pontificate and then never come back, which is hardly a conversation. You’re paying for people to generalize about black people, to attack politicians in stupid ways, etc. You’re a newspaper! You’re supposed to edit what you publish!
2) People leave blatantly threatening comments; other people report them (multiple times); you never do anything about it. I assume you have a certain level of editorial integrity, yes? Why publish comments by people who can barely type legible sentences when all that clearly comes across is hate/racism/assholery?
3) There are people like me who refuse to read your website and paper because you seem to endorse this kind of behavior. There are other sources to read the same stories sans mean comments at the end about the kid who got assaulted by a cop, the man killed by an irresponsible truck driver, etc.
4) You lose money.
5) You lose readers and don’t get the news out.
6) 4 and/or 5 mean(s) that your purpose fails.
7) You’re contributing to the climate of idiocy that seems to sweep over Maryland whenever the state’s Republicans don’t get their way in elections.
Please don’t tell me about your belief in Freedom of Speech. Print the F word tomorrow morning if that’s what you’re about. Right there on the front page. And address it to JOHNNY so I know it’s for me. This has nothing to do with Freedom of Speech. It requires accountability, and there is none.
This is really and actually because you either:
1) Think this bullshit is Okay, in which case, I hope your paper fails, personally.
2) You don’t care what people write on your site, in which case, you should hire some bloggers (like me!) to run it for you.
3) You don’t pay any attention at all to what goes up on your own website. That’s just irresponsible to a terrible degree and doesn’t lend you much in the way of credibility and really means your paper should fail.
I look forward to some integrity and discretion from you in the future. And, seriously, thanks for being the only official news outlet to show up for the Ghost Bike last month (and I’m not being sarcastic; no stations came at all, only you).
Thank you,
This Dude
Just before my bike crash, I had a nice evening of coffee and cherry blossoms with my friend.
Photo Friday: Plants.
I think the press release might still be a little ways off, but this is a peak at the green roof on the university where I work.
Photo Friday: Urban Landscape.
One: The ways in which I have been spoiled today, culminating in a lovely sunset and cool evening (the end of summer?). From chocolate chip pancakes to delicious mattar paneer, this was a very yummy day. And there was also a fun dinner at Joe Squared last night, complete with French lager, Czech lager, Irish stout and chocolate cake.
Two: What I said I wanted since spring (when we decided to have a baby). I wanted Mrs. FP to be pregnant, and I wanted to know. With my party three weeks ago and the best news I ever received two weeks ago, I thought my birthday would be anti-climatic. But it wasn’t.
Thanks to everyone who made this three weeks of awesomeness. I am a very fortunate 30-year-old. Ahem, 29-year-old (again, ahem).
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