SpaceTime Continuum no.1

THE SPACE:
19th Street at Connecticut Avenue NW, Washington DC.
THE TIME:
Tuesday 29july08 3:10pm. 90 seconds.

Lunchtime

Today's high in downtown DC was 72. Now that's damned peculiar.

But it did enable me to have a most enjoyable lunch-break. The kind I love the most, but never actually do:

A brief walk to Julia's, score a bottle of water and a vegetarian empanada (wacky choice for me: normally it's the saltenas or nothing), and saunter up to the benches in Dupont Circle. And feast happily while reading a book.

It was t-shirt weather, for crissakes.

The sky was deliciously gray (I'm no fan of direct sunlight, no idea why) and the wind blustered through the crowd like a hoarde of invisible hooligans: ghosts of a mad mob of Arsenal fans rushing the "visitor" seats during the match with Derby County in February of 1972...

Ah. No, that was the book, not reality.

But for once, it was nice to walk away from the melodramatic horseshit of magazine art-direction (where an attempted photo assignment involving two CEOs and their teams, to be shot in two cities by the same photographer in 24 hours, became a single shoot with just the one CEO because his team pissed off the whole thing with no notice and the other company got The Fear, as if they were about to be invaded by a barbarian army from 60 Minutes, forcing a complete artistic re-think for a cover story within 30 minutes)........

......to leave all that behind for an hour, and simply sit with the blustery gray ghosts, with good food and the air pregnant with the threat of afternoon storms, and read for a bit.

Not a profound experience, but as lunchbreaks go, I'd give it three and a half stars.

Pillows of bliss

Great galloping cornflakes, Batman...

HOW CAN IT BE that I've been a part of the marvelous city of Washington DC all this time, and I just now get to Julia's Empanadas?

Sweet baby Jesus and his tiny brown pies, MOMMY! I've been missing out!

For a humble $3.18 ($3.50 after taxation without representation), one can score a tiny pillow of bliss. It's about the size of a young cat's head, and it's filled to bursting with marvelous things (the empanada, not the cat's head...at least I hope not...anyway...)

My inaugural empanada was the spinach. It was an aromatic mix of spinach, ricotta, muenster and cottage cheese, pine nuts, and spices, all baked in a succulent crust that could be a meal in itself. And the whole thing is neat and tidy enough to eat on the hoof, which is the general idea. Takeout, baby. Get it and get out. Other options include chorizo, turkey with onions, Chilean beef, and folks seem to love the Jamaican style.

The location in the photo is Connecticut Ave just south of Dupont Circle. This means I've spent my life walking right past this place without giving it a second thought.

Therefore, ignorance is NOT bliss.
Bliss is therein, and will cost you a mere $3.50.

IDIOTAROD 2006: washington dc

Like the more popular Alaskan "Iditarod", this race requires raw stamina, bravery, and a heroic tolerance for beer. The idea is simple: A shopping cart, a theme, and a team. As many as possible. Freakishly racing through the streets towards the next destination and its pint of ale...

According to legend, the first IDIOTAROD was some 15 years ago in San Francisco. Since then, it has migrated to NYC and now, praise all that's holy, our own humble city.

The gathering of warriors took place outside The Front Page on New Hampshire Avenue at Dupont Circle, and exploded from there. Secret destinations (pubs) were handed out, and for the next four hours, bespangle'd shopping carts and hooting, costumed revellers were everywhere. Dignity in tatters, connecting the dots in an beer-soaked race to tie all the participating bars together before returning home as champions.

The most intriguing cart team was the FSM gang; devotees of Flying Spaghetti Monsterism (pictured above at the finish, holding aloft a sacred effigy of their noodly master). They came with propoganda and all the Pastafarian splendor you would expect from the Semolina Zealots. Utterly righteous.

It was almost as if the Flying Spaghetti Monster himself (itself?) approved of the whole scene: the day was a freakish 77 degrees...the first truly warm day of the year.

So we went blinking into the sunlight, to watch these true athletes confuse the tourists and locals alike. All teams eventually came to rest at TomTom on 18th Street, where further ale was poured, and the shopping carts dispersed......

I have seen the Olympics and it is us.

View the full set of pix here.