Foraging

On Easter Sunday, with no other plans to speak of, I decided to go for a hike and try and locate some fiddleheads, a much adored spring treat. I took my field guide to edible plants book with me, just in case I saw something else that might be snack-worthy. I'm 100% new to this in every way, so I really didn't expect to find anything. I walked over to Benson's hole and proceeded upstream. I imagine a lot of the area is private property, but I didn't encounter any fences or signs, so I just went along my merry way.

As expected, I found nothing. May have been a bit early for fiddleheads anyway. I'll be trying again as much as possible over the next few days. Fiddleheads should be popping up at any time. Wild asparagus too. I decided to proceed to town and forage the fridge at the non-profit office. I found half a bottle of champagne from a celebration we had had the week prior. Still fizzy, I took it home.

This made me think that maybe dumpster diving counts as no-trash food. It's already in the trash, at least I'd be putting some of it to good use and reducing some of the trash, without adding to it. It's a thought. Though the idea of creeping around the Price Chopper dumpsters at night really isn't at all appealing. If only we had a Trader Joe's. I've been told they have the best dumpster food. I tip my hat to Food Not Bombs on this one.

Round two of trash confessions

I don't have much to say about all this, other than I ate out a lot more than usual this week. The local sandwich place charges a fortune for these really yummy sandwiches. I think it might be to cover the cost of the half roll of saran wrap they use to pack up your sandwich. Sheesh. I'm tempted to ask them about bringing my own container, but in this case, I think my wallet will thank me if I just abstain from this place all year.

April 15: Straw and wrapper, napkin, empty potato chip bag
April 16: Paper wrapping from bagel, empty potato chip bag
April 17: Styrofoam bowl, plastic fork and spoon, paper plate, tiny paper cup, paper ice cream cup
April 18: Plastic wrap, paper bag
April 19: Foil wrapping, napkin

Coming soon: Recipes! I'm working on these tonight. Really. I am.

Bagels!

There's a local bagel place I really, really love. The bagels there are excellent and the people are are nice too. I never allow myself more than one bagel a week, because I consider bagels to be a bit of a junk food (vegan cream cheese? Totally unhealthy and delicious crap). I would like to continue my occasional bagel indulgences during my year of no trash, so I realized that I needed to address the issue of the bagel being wrapped up in paper.

I normally don't talk about my oddities. I don't mind mentioning them online, but face to face I try not to bring up all of my green habits at home, or my diet. Plenty of people don't know I'm vegan until we eat together, or someone else tells them. My choices are personal, they have nothing to do with anyone else and I don't judge others based on the choices they make for themselves. If people are curious about why I do the things I do, or live the way I live, I'm more than happy to explain, but I'm not the kind of person to just throw this information in people's faces. At least with my blog people can chose if they want to read all of these ramblings.

Speaking of which, I've rambled off track. Bagels. I went to Bagleworks over the weekend and I realized I would have to open my mouth and admit to my less-than-mainstream behavior if I wanted to keep my bagel habit. So I explained my upcoming project a little and asked if I could bring my own container for bagels. They didn't see the problem. And that's what's awesome about being a regular customer (I'm telling myself that to further justify my bagel habit). I would never have made that request while I was living in NYC. Never. Bagel problem solved.

Pass the tofu cream cheese.

The Ice House is for summers.

Spring spring spring! I went outside this morning and looked at our back yard, horrified to see a huge patch of sand. What the hell happened to all the grass? It has not been so warm or dry that the yard would just dry up.



Suddenly I realized I wasn't looking at sand, I was looking at a huge patch of very tiny, very light purple flowers. Our yard is covered in teeny little flowers! From far away they look like the color of sand.



It was sunny and warm all morning, despite predictions of rain. It's just starting to look cloudy now. It's been a perfect day for planting the High Mowing seeds I got for free courtesy of Ben Hewitt, author of The Town That Food Saved. He came to the bookstore to talk about his book and gave out some free seeds. I only got to watch the first half of his talk, but I can't wait to read the book. I also did not miss the opportunity to talk to him and make a fool of myself. I have such respect for anyone good at talking to people they have just met. I am always an utter failure.

Spring also means it's tag sale season around here. In the past few days I've scored a rolling pin, a black glass bowl (Designated Popcorn Bowl), a spice shaker, two pairs of pants, 3 hand towels, 2 shirts, and a Teflon-free frying pan (finally!!). I celebrated by making rice flour pancakes this morning, which promptly stuck to the frying pan and made a big mess. But they were tasty, and not full of icky chemicals. I also started the process of prepping the cast iron frying pans that have been in the trunk of my car for a million and a half years. I guess that extra half year finally drove me over the edge, because I can't wait to use them.

To add to this wonderful day of good news and happy blogging, we found out we could stay in our Ice House until September!! That means I get to live all summer with a stream in my backyard and Frenchman growing veggies all season!! Plus, the cheap rent means more of my hard earned money can go straight to my student loans, which is both depressing and uplifting.

Another tag sale this Friday in Manchester! Woo! Wish me luck finding a food processor.

I live in a Dorset horror flick

Driving home at night from the bookstore is a little freaky. The roads are dark and twisty and trees crowd in from both sides. They're the kind of roads where, if my life were cheap thriller movie, a ghost would suddenly appear in front of my car, or an ax murderer would pop out of the backseat (I guess it doesn't help that I never lock my car), or some psycho would start stalking me with his car and flashing his brights and maybe even run into me. Have I mentioned there's no police station in Dorset and no 24 hour businesses and basically no one around by the time I get home?

These are the kinds of things I was thinking about tonight while some asshole with NY plates insisted on tailgating me all the way through town all because I'm not going to speed. Sorry. Even if the roads weren't slippery, I probably wouldn't be speeding. What I don't need is a ticket, a deer plastered to the front of my car, or to slide off the road. And come to think of it, I bet that guy didn't any of those things either. Thus, I am a cautious driver. I also hate tailgating so much it's reason enough for me to just stop driving.

So I slowed down. He didn't get it. I brake checked him like nobody's business. No effect. If he had been any closer he would have been in the back seat of my car. Finally he passed me as we got into Dorset, 30mph speed limit, double yellow line. Good riddance.

The point of this post? Public service announcement. DON'T TAILGATE. It's annoying and dangerous and it will make people who don't even know you, hate you.

I know, I know, this isn't even a real blog post. But worry not! I have something special in mind for the weekend. Also I started a new book so amazing I want to memorize it and start reciting it on the streets like those crazy people in NY that are always yelling about the bible while everyone rolls their eyes and tries to ignore them. Yep, someday that nutcase you cross the street to avoid will be me. My parents will be so proud.

Ta ta for now faithful readers!

That green tidbit I promised to keep up with: So this one is stolen directly from the book Sleeping Naked is Green. It's just such a damn good idea that I had to take it up. During my morning showers, I do not turn on the bathroom light. There's enough sunlight coming in the window to see with, plus I love the calm and quiet feeling associated with darkness. Somehow it makes my shower feel more hushed. Yeah, I've been spending too much time around lighting designers. Anyway it's just one more little thing that can be done to reduce energy consumption in a daily routine. If I actually showered daily that is.

Bees!!! and a canker sore

I have this stupid canker sore. Not as bad as the one I had at the end of last winter though. At least I can eat and talk and be alive without thinking about this one. It really only annoys me when I brush my teeth. I feel like I'm making it worse. I'm not though. These things are all the same; they show up suddenly, stick around without changing for whatever period of time they seem fit, and they they disappear just as quickly as they came. They don't get worse or better, they are either there, or gone. This one is not gone. Maybe a few more days.

Whatever, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about the weather I think. There's a January thaw happening right now and it feels nice. The weather has been above freezing for most of the day and then everything gets icy again at night. The news man on the radio said that bees need a warm day or two every month to leave their hives and take a dump. I feel like my brain might need sunny days like that as well to take a spiritual dump. Whatever that means. I clearly need more sun.

I'm reading a book called Generation A (yeah, I put the plant book on hold and didn't update my website. Oh hush, you don't even care). It's all about the not-distant future where bees are extinct. No bees. None of those pollinators we've come to rely so heavily on. An exotic species in this country, but so are most of the crops we grow, so it makes sense. We've changed our eco system and it's working out. Except bees really aren't doing so well, so this book isn't so unbelievable. It's fiction by the way, not some kind of apocalyptic sustainability book.

Anyway this brings me to my next point: honey. I know, I know, honey is not vegan. I got it. But put the whining on hold for a second and let me point out my thoughts on my own personal honey consumption. I eat honey. I eat it rather frequently. I realize the issues with large-scale commercial honey farms (if you don't, then you might want to check this out). I agree with honey being an animal product that is collected in ways which I would consider cruel. I won't buy silk because I think silk production is cruel, so why include honey in my diet?

The reasons, which I have thought very hard about, are simple. I have terrible allergies in the spring. I can not function as a normal human being without medication. Medication is tested on animals in the cruelest ways possible. However! eating local honey in the winter can help your body become immune to pollen in the spring. It's like a delicious and sweet allergy shot to go with my morning oatmeal. If eating some honey in the winter, which I get from a beekeeping friend (who does not kill his bees, or clip their wings, or burn their hives) will mean that I won't need to purchase allergy medication, then I'm going to eat honey. I'm not buying honey from anyone else. I don't buy pre-packaged food which might contain honey and I pretty much cook all of my meals, so the honey thing doesn't come up often in my life. It would be awesome if, in a few seasons, I didn't need allergy medication or immune system building honey, but right now I'm certainly choosing the lesser of two evils.

I realize I'm probably going get a huge lecture on this at some point. The honey debate is a huge one in vegan communities and I would say that I agree with the non-honey eating vegans. I do agree with them. I also think that bees are important pollinators and if they do disappear (which they have been doing, though we don't really know why), we are pretty much fucked. So if my local friend (who worships his bees by the way), can raise a happy, healthy colony, then more power to him. He's an incredibly irresponsible guy and his hives will probably end up swarming and creating wild hives anyway.

Bzz

Colony House - Dorset, VT

On Friday The Logger's father came into town for a day so we all went out to lunch. I was somewhat nervous about meeting him, not because I was worried he wouldn't like me, I didn't really care about that, but because I was worried I wouldn't like him. He only sees The Logger once a year and he thinks his own son is crazy. I don't like it. But, he turned out to be a nice guy, and he was almost nothing like The Logger, which means he was actually a social person and easy to go to lunch with. The strangest thing about him was that he seemed genuinely interested in The Logger, how he is doing, what he is doing, how happy he is. But the man never calls him, he doesn't remember his birthday and he only sees him one day a year. If The Logger never called his father, they probably wouldn't ever talk. I don't really understand it.

While we were at lunch there was an old man sitting across the room eating a sandwich. When he was done he got up, threw away his trash, took some bottles and cans out of the trash can and put them into the recycling, then he came over to our table and picked up the tray that we had leaned against the wall. The Logger's father thanked him and he replied "We're all in this together man." And even though the guy seemed a little batty (he soon began chattering on and on), I was struck by it. I mean, I know that's true and I think most of us do, but I think we forget it. I think sometimes we need reminding. So maybe that's why The Logger's father doesn't really call, but he still really cares. Maybe he forgets and The Logger is his reminder.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

The entire Levis population of Manchester, VT has gone off to Aruba and Theo flew away to India, so things have become exceptionally quiet. Before Theo left he invited us to go to the Red Fox Inn. My reply was "mayyyyybe," which usually means no, but that my mind is open to be changed. When he told me that it was a reggae show, I decided to talk The Logger into going, because I figured he might like it. My idea of talking him into it went something like "OK, I've decided we're going and there's no use arguing because I'll win. Also, I'll pay your cover charge."

I also convinced Jason, the cook at the inn, his friend Brian, and Pedro to come along. Because if it's not worth the cover change and the drive out there, I'm bringing you all down with me. Well it was worth it. The band was called Gokh-Bi System, and they weren't actually reggae, so much as music from Africa that you can rock out to. They were great, and it was well worth dragging myself and The Logger out of the house after dark for it.

Last night we went over to the inn for dinner, because Jason was cooking. I've been missing vegetables a bit so I decided to indulge in some out-of-season yummies, though honestly the best thing for dinner were the mashed potatoes, which are not exactly an indulgence, considering we have tons of potatoes in the kitchen here. But it's nice to have good company and a professional chef to make them for you. Plus the asparagus and green beans were wonderful. I think when spring comes I'm eating nothing but fruits and veggies because I miss them so much. Just gonna go ultra-vegan.

I also went and took pictures of the Dorset Marble Quarry, because it looks amazing in the winter. In all honesty, the only reason for this blog entry was so that I could share these pictures, so I'll shut up and post them now.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

Last night Albert came over and asked The Logger and I to go with him to an inn that had closed a few months ago, to pick up a few things. From what I've been told, the inn was having financial troubles and it closed. They were unable to pay electric bills, or have someone drain the pipes, so they froze and burst and the building flooded. It is now condemned, but no longer flooded. The Logger insisted that Albert did not need anything from the inn and did not want to go, but I was eager to see the place and poke around a little, as I am prone to doing, so The Logger agreed, reluctantly, to go. Also, his car was at Albert's place and Albert wouldn't take him to go get it until after we went to the old inn to "loot."

Albert asked me if I had any flashlights, because there is no power in the building. I suggested we go during the day when we would be able to see, but Albert insisted that he didn't want to. I called him a criminal and then went upstairs to get all of my flashlights (electricians need these things!), because good criminals need backup and getting arrested would make for good blogging.

I've always been fascinated with abandoned places, even though abandoned places like hotels and hospitals, which are never dark or empty under normal circumstances, kind of freaks me out. While Albert was going through the kitchen with The Logger, I wandered into the dining room. The ceiling was falling apart and the floor was all wavy. It was easy to see that it used to be a great-looking place.


Dining room fireplace

There was also a snazzy little bar attached to the dining room. I went through the cabinets behind the bar and was surprised to see that there were still untouched bottles of alcohol. I had to remind myself that I was not in New York and that people in small towns in Vermont probably don't make a habit of breaking into buildings just to look for alcohol. Nor were there squatters, who would have probably drank the alcohol and then trashed the place even more, for whatever reason. No, the place was left pretty much untouched except for the flood. Even the final menu was written on the dry erase board in the kitchen, along with a shopping list.


A pretty little bar

I then moved out to the lobby area and picked through a bunch of computer parts and piles of office supplies. Again, this was a good-looking room with a cute front desk. It even had a snazzy little telephone booth.


I'm quite fond of this picture because it shows how straight I hold my camera. Precision and grace, I'm all about it.

I went up the stairs to look at some of the rooms, but didn't do much exploring. I admit I was a little freaked out sneaking around in the dark place alone. I didn't even take any pictures up there because the thought of looking into my camera and seeing something that wasn't actually there maybe terrifies me a little. IRRATIONAL FEARS! I'm good at those.

When I went back downstairs Albert was looking through the box of computer stuff in the front lobby. He asked me what several things were and asked me if he needed them, to which my reply was always, "No. If you don't know what it is, then you'll never use it." Albert seemed to have the intention of taking anything that wasn't nailed down. As someone who can't stand excess junk I only considered taking things that I thought would be useful: some tape and notepads for the house, a few old keys for my friend Lisa who makes shadow boxes, sheets of stamps, smoke detectors, and 4 reams of paper. Albert tried to talk me into taking some crap-tastic old desk chairs for my own desk (which I don't have by the way).

We loaded everything into the Jeep and minivan (except for an open thing of corn oil which Albert wanted us to take, but I hid from him because who knows how old that was and really, is corn oil that expensive anyway?) Albert asked us if we wanted to go out to eat, and I considered it for a moment because I hadn't eaten yet, until Albert said, "We'll go to Friendly's" and I suddenly realized I wasn't hungry. Not to mention I would not have let him buy me food anyway, because for some reason I've always found that awkward.

The Logger scored us a can of kidney beans and black beans, and also got two cans of refried beans for the chickens (because no one else will eat anything with lard). The chickens had an all-out feast.

Just to mention, Albert did give money to owner of the Inn, and she knew we were there. We weren't really breaking and entering, and then looting, and then rolling around in the profits like the filthy pigs that we are.

Teleion Holon - Manchester, VT

Woo! I forced The Logger to take me climbing in Rutland on Saturday. He used to be a hard-core climber but has not climbed in quite some time. I decided (in that way that I'm good at making decisions for other people) that it would make him happy to go climbing. So we went off to Green Mountain Rock Climbing Gym. Don't let the website fool you though, it's not really just $15 a person, there's an extra $10 charge for a "belay lesson" which isn't much of a lesson considering you belay with a Grigri, which is self-locking so it's pretty hard to drop someone if you're paying attention. I wasn't actually annoyed about the belay lesson, but The Logger really didn't need it. Oh well, goodbye extra $20.

I haven't really been climbing since high school, when I took a climbing class. I loved it, although I was never great at it. Being short and not especially physically fit makes climbing tricky, but no less fun. It's no secret that I love heights, because I have always been a backwards person. Anyway it was a little sad that once I got to the top of the wall the only thing left to do was come down. I would have loved to be able to traverse a little around the top of the gym, but the belay system didn't work that way. I suppose I could have traversed along the bottom, but what's the fun in that? The floor is right there, you may as well just walk.

The best thing about this whole experience was watching The Logger stretch out all his limbs and climb. The walls were pretty high, but as soon as he started climbing it really didn't seem that way. I was worried that it was too easy for him, so I suggested he try doing a course (only use holds that were labeled with a certain color in order to be more challenging), but he feels the same way about courses as I do about traversing along the bottom of a wall; why only use certain holds if there are others around? Anyway it wasn't too easy for him, he just made it look that way.

I would have loved to put up some pictures of this amazingly giant person scaling walls, but I'm pretty sure he would have been mad at me for taking pictures while I was supposed to be keeping him from falling off of a climbing wall. So I didn't bring my camera.

The day ended with an adventure of finding food in Rutland, which is impossible for whatever reason. Good luck finding a sandwich in Rutland after 4pm, because it's not gonna happen. Not even on a weekend. Especially not on a weekend. So The Logger triumphantly got Taco Bell and I waited until getting back to Manchester to make an avocado, chile, cheese burger. Vegetarian style, of course.

Cafe Terra - Rutland, VT

Last night when I got off the train I asked someone in the parking lot where Centre St. was and I must have misunderstood him, because I walked along the street, lugging my suitcase and never saw the place. When I got to a corner I realized I was not on Centre St. I called Back Home Again and explained where I was and that my suitcase had broken, so the person I spoke to came out to meet me. He grabbed my suitcase and I followed him back towards where I had come from. I can not remember his name now, but he was perfectly nice. I was terribly grateful to him for helping me with the suitcase. It was a two minute walk from where I was standing, but it would have taken me at least 15 to lug the suitcase there.

I promptly went to the Walmart and purchased superglue and duct tape for the suitcase.

I headed to the cafe, which is next to the hostel, and sat down to eat some homemade pizza. When I asked which pizza did not have meat on it the three people at the table looked at me with a mixture of awe and pity. I've gotten used to this by now and I laughed it off as I took a slice of the yummy veggie pizza.

I struck up a conversation with the men at the table and told them I had come from New York. They all expressed that they liked it there, but could not live there. One of them had tried and left after six months. He also lived in Tucson, Truth or Consequences, and about a thousand other places. We talked a little about Tucson and New York. All of them were very friendly and smiley.

The oddest thing about these people were that when I was introduced to any woman, I always smiled, but they never smiled back. I only got into conversation with one of them the whole evening and she was perfectly pleasant, but she seemed almost worn down. It was the end of the day, so I really shouldn't think much of it. I'm sure they get people in and out daily, so they don't invest a ton of emotional energy in them.

After dinner I moped the floors and then headed to bed. I really don't think I did much, so I was planning to come back down and offer more help for the morning, but no one is around yet. I walked to the bus station and got schedule. My bus doesn't leave for another hour or so, so I figured I'd grab some chai and give an update. Also, the room I stayed in smells super funky right now and I can't stand to be in there. It is a small, windowless room with three bunk beds and a bathroom. The bathroom doors have all been taken down which is kind of odd, but you can't see the toilet from the bedroom, so it wasn't a huge deal. The other women in the room did not seem at all interested in talking to me, so I fixed my suitcase in silence and climbed into a top bunk for a restless evening.


A view of the front of the place. The door on the left is the shop, the right is the cafe, and the middle leads to the hostel.


The bunk I slept in. It was missing it's ladder, so they had that small wooden guy in place of it.

SoBro House - Bronx, New York

Today was my first trip ever to Coney Island. I'm not sure how it is possible that I grew up in NY and I never came here, but I think it has something to do with my parents not loving me enough. Wow. I love it!! I'm so sad that they are ripping it all down! People talk about how run down and gross it is, but it's not really. It's just not updated like the rest of this city. But why would anyone want to update a place like this? I feel like it's classic. There are old arcade games, old rides, old boardwalks, old people... wait, no actually, it was mostly young people.

I guess I'm a little obsessed with the way things used to be in NY before a bunch of mayors came in and insisted on making everything so commercial. I like the older stuff. I would not have minded walking into Times Square and seeing a smut theatre where Mary Poppins now stands. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to put my values in theatre below smut, but as far as theatre goes, Mary Poppins is not it, and I'm not sure that Disney should even own any Broadway houses.

The wonderful thing about Coney Island is that it's a bunch of independent people who have set up shop there and run their own things. It's not just one big Astroland, it's a bunch of little parks with a handful of rides, and Astroland is one of them. Then there are a bunch of carnival games and arcades. One of those games is Shoot the Freak. Oh my god! How genius is a guy in padding running around while being shot by idiots with a paint ball gun and a $20 bill? Sadly, no one was playing while I was there, so I didn't get to see the action.

I did however, throw 25 cents into a fortune telling machine and got my fortune for the month of November. I'm pretty sure these things would be 50 cents anywhere else, so how could I pass up that kind of deal? The fortune was of course complete crap, but who buys those things for anything other than novelty?

Sadly The Cyclone was closed and I was not able to go on it. But it's a registered historical mark, so it won't be torn down with the rest of Coney Island. I hope it keeps running so I can eventually go on it. I love coasters, how have I never been on the world's most famous one, which was so close to my childhood home? You better believe I'm going to call my parents and accuse them of nothing short of child abuse by never taking me here.

Bushwick House - Brooklyn, NY

Are you aware that the Guggenheim has pay-what-you-wish Friday Nights? I was not! How awesome is that? I went down there with Ceora to see the exhibit: Louise Bourgeois. I had never heard of this woman, but her work is amazing. She's been producing art for almost a century and the Guggenheim had her work set out in chronological order around the spiral.

Ceora and I started from the top, the most recent, because the place was so crowded at the bottom. I would also rather start from the most current and work backwards when it comes to art because it seems so much more logical to me. You can get a sense of how the artist expresses herself now and then see what lead up to it. It just works out better in my head.

Well this woman is amazing. I you happen to be in NY, you should probably make a point of checking her out. It's sculptural, and sexual, and textural and you can tell she has an amazing sense of humor. The whole I was there I was picturing her making these pieces and chuckling to herself. They're incredibly powerful. I couldn't get over how heavy and grounded each piece looked, but they all also had a feeling of being so delicate and quiet.

Anyway, if you can check it out, you should. It's worth your time.

Bushwick House - Brooklyn, NY

I went back to the Metropolitan to see the Goya paintings. Love them, love them, love them! They have more now than they had last time and they took that silly bowl of fruit painting out of the room, which was not a Goya and really didn't go with what was in there. Now it's only Goya in that gallery. I only wish I could see his black paintings and the Third of May again. Someday.

While I was in there, staring, drooling, beside myself, some guy walked up and took a picture of these cats that are in the bottom corner of one of Goya's portraits. Odd. No idea what that was all about, but the guard in that room and I had a silent giggle exchange. After about a million years in the room, I finally left. Don't worry Goya, I'll be back again!

Last night I got into a conversation with someone about how I had never been to Wall St, or seen that damn stock market bull sculpture. She told me that I really needed to get on that, because how could I say I was a native New Yorker, if I had never taken the time to see my own city? Well it's true, but I've never had the time. I do now that I'm not working at the moment. So off to Wall Street with me, with a trip to Battery Park, because I love that park. The southern tip on Manhattan has always been a favorite spot of mine. I love how much history is down there.

Of course the Wall St. area was full of news vans. That area is hurting right now and the media is all over it. I didn't actually see anyone reporting, and other than hoards of people walking around, the area was uneventful. I do love the historic buildings and streets though. I wandered around for a while because I didn't know exactly where the bull was. Finally found it. It's bigger than I thought. And there were tourists taking pictures grabbing its balls. Hm. Figures.

After that I saw a few more memorials in Battery Park and went over to the world trade center. Not much to say. I have a hard time with the juxtaposition of tower wreckage and all the people rushing about like nothing happened. But what could I expect? People still have jobs, they still need to get from point A to point B and that's the nature of NY. It's been 7 years. No one has forgotten, but people get back into the swing of things. I guess if I was down there everyday I would too. But I'm not, so it's still a bit tricky for me.

SoBro House - Bronx, New York

I spent five hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art today. Wow. I didn't even get to see everything I wanted to see, so I need to pop back in tomorrow for a bit. I've never been able to see a great deal of what's in there because I never get to go alone and see it all at my own pace. I've been there many, many times, but always with other people, most whom don't want to spend an hour in the arms and armor section. Clearly these people do not know what is good for them.

The day started in true Krysta style. I had a bag of plantain chips in my bag as a snack for later, and a glass Snapple bottle that I use for water. The security guards at the front doors told me that I would have to finish my food outside and I could not bring glass into the museum. Not even if I planned to dump my bag into the bag check. I didn't want to eat my food then, or throw away my water bottle, so I put the food in the front pocket, which no one ever checks (a good thing, considering I usually have my knife in there), and then tried my luck with another security guard. Some people are just hard asses, and I was not about to throw away my food just because one security guard told me to. I picked one that was right in front of the bag check and he let me in without any problems, but told me to check my bag. Logic? What?

In my five hours there I began to have a dilemma. First of all, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to keep works of art all crammed together in a museum. Its hard to appreciate each work as unique when it's right next to another amazing and equally distracting piece of art. I also don't think it reaches as many people of different backgrounds as it should. How many blue collar New Yorkers ever go to the Met? Does a political painting mean the same thing when taken out of its home country? I think maybe part of seeing the work is seeing the place it was painted in and for. Art in context, what a crazy idea!

Don't get me wrong, I love being able to see so many of my favorite pieces of art in one place. I just wonder if the work would have a different affect on me if i was to see it elsewhere. I love seeing Calder and Koons sculptures as I walk around the city. They were made to be put there, so it works somehow. It's an amazing thing to turn a corner and discover a work of art you did not know was there. I think art has changed since museums became such a big deal. I wonder if pop art would have been the same without museums.

My other major issue with museums is the display of burial art. I am quite certain that the people in ancient cultures who spent their lives preparing for death never wanted their urn, sarcophagus, mummy, commissioned art whatever on display in a New York museum. I'm not really comfortable with the idea of someone's remains being made into art without their permission. I struggle with this though, because I understand the need for preservation. If everything was kept buried, some ass would eventually dig it up and exploit it in some way. I also think it's creepy how much value people put into a dead body. The idea that Alexander the Great may have actually had his body entombed in honey to preserve it, is just crazy to me. Nevertheless, I think it is important to honor the wishes of the dead, and I don't think the art world is super concerned with that.

All of the above being said, I had a wonderful and dizzying day of art. I got kicked out of the museum for closing right as I was walking into the Goya room. Curses! Save the best for last, and end up staying past closing time. Goya, I would go to Spain for you, so I guess I can just come back tomorrow. Save Spain for another day. Not sure I'd be able to hitchhike over the ocean anyway.

Nick's Apartment - Reston, VA

One of the things I checked out in DC was the Vietnam Memorial Wall. I've been a little obsessed with this wall since college because I think it is an amazing design. The designer, Maya Ying Lin won an anonymous contest with her idea, while she was still in grad school, and fought to defend her design for years. Many veterans saw it as morbid, or a sign of shame, because it was black.

Being there in person, I never got that feeling. It's quite amazing. You can tell the wall was made for the living, in order to honor the dead because it is such an interactive experience. Seeing myself reflected behind the names, and being able to touch them, changes the idea of the traditional memorial. In most cases, you can not touch a piece of art, but this memorial encourages the visitor to do so.

I admit that I am a bit fixated on memorials in general. I'm not quite sure why I find them so powerful. I know that is what they are supposed to do, but I don't know anyone who ever had cause to be given a memorial. I don't know any of the names on the Vietnam Wall. I don't know anyone who died in the Korean War (another amazing memorial in DC), I don't even know anyone who died in the current war. That doesn't change the fact that these memorials affect me. Perhaps because I value life so much, seeing all those names up there, it didn't matter that I was never connected to anyone up there, it's still such a horrible waste of life. These memorials should serve as a reminder that there is a high price to war and we are still paying it, even as we fight this new one. But I guess the president doesn't make many trips out to his own front lawn to remember any of this.

State Capitol Building- Austin, TX

Written Wednesday afternoon:

I'm currently in the state capitol building in Austin, TX, which prides itself on being 14 feet taller than the white house in Washington D.C. This basically sums up the atmosphere here. The entire building brims with Texas pride. Everywhere you look there are stars, the shape of Texas and the word Texas itself.

I really wish I had my camera because the details in this building are amazing. I've gotten some links in order to try and supplement the writing better. The hinges on all the doors say "Texas Capitol," when opened. The tile work on the floors is all about Texas history and heroism. The front entrance has the names of all the major battles fought for Texas independence laid into the floor. The doorknobs even have stars in them, as well as all the lighting. The rotunda is topped with a star 8 feet across (though it's so high up it looks much smaller)with the letters of TEXAS in each gap between the points.

The building itself is endlessly huge and I am grateful to be able to walk wherever I want. I took a short tour of the building to get a better idea of what goes on. It is clear that Texans have pride in their history and they have worked hard to preserve it. Most of this building has been remodeled to look the way it did in it's original state. The desks in the Senate and Representative meeting rooms are all original, as well as doorknobs, chandeliers and probably the hinges as well. One could spend hours in this amazing building wandering about lost.

My favorite part of the entire building is the underground areas that were added much later. When you are on those floors it doesn't feel like you are underground, because the windows were planned in such a way to let in massive amounts of natural light. There is an outdoor courtyard that has been dug out which flood the halls with light, as well as the skylights, which look up out of the ground. They look odd from the outside, because they are windows literally laid at ground level and surrounded with short hedges.

I'd like to spend more time in this building, but I've got to go meet Joe and Grace for dinner and a meeting of sorts with the caving group they are part of. We're to learn about cave fishing. I can honestly say I'm not interested in how to catch fish in a cave, but I am interested in Brazilian dinner and drinking with a bunch of crazy cavers. One of them owns chickens, which he is very fond of, and one of them is German, which I am very fond of, and one of them holds "Safety Meetings," which everyone is very fond of.

Grace's place - Austin, TX

Tuesday, after showing me his work place, Joe and I went around downtown a bit. We stopped at the river, but it was way hot and sunny yesterday and I had left my sunscreen at his place. Then we visited a friend of his who works in a headshop. Not a ton of excitement, but the best part was yet to come. Joe had plans to take me caving that evening.

I've gone caving with Joe a few times in Arizona. We've gone in some pretty cool caves and gotten plenty mucked up and bruised. I'm not claustrophobic and I'm relatively small, so the idea has always appealed to me. I am endlessly thankful that Joe is such a patient person, because I'm willing to try new things, but I ask constant questions and I take my time. I guess it's not all bad that I have the most interesting friends in the world.

The cave we went to is called Whirlpool. It is inside the city limits of Austin, right next to a shopping center, under the freeway. This came as a shock to me, because all of the caves Joe had taken me to previously had taken hours of desert driving to get to. Apparently the city of Austin has hundreds of caves, discovered when people try to build on them. This cave is locked to protect it. We went in with a guy named Matt as our guide, who gives tours of this cave regularly to beginners. There were 13 of us total, about half of which were not actually beginners, but I've noticed that cavers don't turn down a good cave just because it's not the most challenging one in the world. This cave isn't open for just anyone to come through, so they took advantage of the cave tour.

Whirlpool was given its name because it is in a stream bed. When it rained and the stream flooded, water drained into the cave and created a whirlpool, which is how it was discovered. It is a fairly straight forward cave with a pretty clear path of where to go. Some caves are like Swiss cheese, with endless passages to get hopelessly lost in. I have been in such a cave once with Joe, and gotten slightly lost, so this one was a relief. It was also a relief to have people who know the cave so well as our guides.

The cave was made up of many tight passages that required crawling, and often times slithering, to get through. These passages opened up into bigger chambers, which made the journey more comfortable. One of these passages was named the birth canal, because it was such a tight squeeze. It was best to go through on your back with your eyes closed, to avoid dust. You just have to feel your way forward and trust that you will come out in the end. It was about 6-8 feet of this, which is not so bad. I've gone through passages that seemed to go on forever and ever with nothing but sliding on your belly, using your toes to propel you forward, with no clear ending that allowed you to stand right up.

This cave had a lot of payoffs, in that hard work led to a comfortable place for the group to sit and chat, or amazing cave formations. In this case, the last room in the cave had an exploded geode, named Crystal City, that could be seen right up close. By shining your headlamp on it the little crystals glowed. Amazing, amazing the things that are hidden in the ground.

We entered the cave around 7:30pm and came out at 11:00pm. It was a long trip for such a small cave, but so worth it. I emerged covered in bruises and mud, but completely satisfied and energized. Starving, also.

After that it was off to shower and then meet up with Grace, Joe's girlfriend. Very nice girl, a little hard to read, but I think that's a good thing. We crashed at her place because she has an air mattress. She also has an awesome dog named Chloe who is currently laying on the air mattress with me.

Parents' Place - Tucson, AZ

I went out to a comedy club tonight to see my friend do his stand up act. What he failed to tell me is that he had to leave right when it was over to go to work. So that left me on the other side of town with nothing to do. I called my friend Marc who doesn't live far from there. We ended up going to a record store where I purchased The Streets- a grand don't come for free.

While at Zia, Jordan called and said he would meet us back at Marc's place. Jordan is a friend of mine from high school who I have not seen for a long time. The whole time I've been back in Tucson he's been "too busy" to hang out. So he finally comes over in his big-ass diesel truck. This is a secondary vehicle. Second to what? Another big-ass pickup truck. Keep that in mind, then throw in a little Jewish and a whole lot of computer nerd and that is the nature of Jordan.

We're all hanging out a bit, taking about whatever and looking at America: The Book, when we hear another loud car pull up. Marc says, "That sounds like Carlos." Jordan says nothing. I immediately demand to know if Jordan did, in fact, call Carlos. He giggles. What the fuck?

Carlos is a dirty, trouble making, slacker, pain in the ass. He is a petty thief and he'll have sex with anything that moves. And then he'll tell everyone about it, proud of what a stereo type he is. The last time I hung out with Carlos, he claimed to have me wrapped around his little finger. Right. Haven't talked to him much since then. I can say that as long as Carlos is around, you can be sure something crazy is going to happen.

As soon as Carlos got there Jordan started asking us to go to The Meet Rack. We headed over there in Jordan's truck (of all 4 cars in the driveway this one got the worse mileage and needed the most expensive gas, but what else could you drive to the Meet Rack?). The Meet Rack does not look like anything from the front, just a run down shack with shitty fences and a lot of old paint. The main door is on the side, where I was carded and given a stamp of the owner's name: GOD. Yep, he legally changed it. God is a weird bald guy. Looking at him one gets the impression that he must have every STD known to man, plus bad breath. He also curls up part of his beard like Dali's mustache. I like Dali, so I let the bad breath thing go.

As I walked in I heard Carlos mention how packed it was. It wasn't super full, but there were a ton of college boys and their under-dressed female companions. The place was very dark, making it hard to see all the newspaper clippings of God's run for mayor. Twice. The place is covered in pictures, road signs, string lights and dead animals. A dive bar like this would never happen in New York City. There are some nasty dive bars in NYC, but nothing like this place. The Meet Rack takes true redneck style.

When we sat down at the bar, Jordan and Marc ordered a pitcher of margarita, mentioning to the bar tender that they have "The Brand." This allowed them a small discount on all drinks. "The Brand" is a circular thing of sorts (I'm told it's God's face), on their calves. They had showed it to me earlier but refused to explain it. Yes, it's literally a brand. Burning, hot metal. And they paid $5 to get it. Jordan told me that when Marc allowed God to brand him, he yelled out "Pork chop sandwiches" instead of anything normal. And these are my friends. I love them. No, I don't need a brand, but thanks guys.

Jordan suddenly yelled "The Tour!" and told me I had to come on with him. God was giving a tour of the bar, which also happens to be is home. His bedroom is literally right off the bar. So is his Sex Room, which is filled with all kinds of weird kinky toys, including a wheel on the wall designed to strap a person to, a sex swing, a doctor's chair with stirrups, stocks, blow up dolls in cages, and "cum strainers," still not clear on what those were. The only rule in the sex room: No kissing a woman above the waist unless she's standing on her head.

The Meet Rack is full of all kinds of seedy crap. Next to the entrance is a wall of little round things: AA chips. Bring one in and you get a free drink. If a woman buys a condom from the vending machine in the bathroom, alarms, spotlights, whistles, whatever, start going off in celebration. There are bras hanging from all over the ceiling. I asked Jordan what these were for, but he didn't know and wasn't willing to find out for me. This was the extent of my exploration because the place was packed and I wasn't really willing to wander off alone, lest I stumble upon another hidden sex room and end up with my bra on the ceiling. Hey! That was an expensive bra!

I believe my words upon entering the bar were, "Jordan, if you guys leave me alone here, I'll kill you."