the last supper

How to have a classic American Weekend:

1. Pack everything you own into boxes.
2. Move it all 9.5 miles directly south.
3. Unpack everything.

And so begins our final farewell to the Maryland suburbs and finally, hopefully, a chance to stay put for a while. The DC house is nearly painted, the exterior work carries on, and the punchline of an enormous, 4-month joke is about to be delivered. ... something about "patience" or some rubbish like that. It's not funny anymore.

So, knowing we'd spend Friday night in a dizzy freakout of packing boxes, we had our sacramental Last Supper on Thursday, at that corner landmark that needs no introduction (photo above). The Stained Glass Pub. Home of the most unfairly hyped pizza in the state of Maryland (which is strange, with Armand's just down the street), and a great place for classic Murrlin' people-watchin'.

Particularly during Redskins games. hooboy.

As expected, the pizza was astonishingly bland and caused a moderate amount of visceral distress, and the people-watching was off as well, since of course, it was Thursday. And the Redskins were nowhere to be seen.

No matter! We're moving on, and I'll finally be back in the DC neighborhood which I abandoned, stupidly, for Syracuse some 16 years ago. Since then, such marvels as the Wonderland have cropped up, which will be MORE than sufficient to fill the void left by the Stained Glass Pub, and its Redskins...

Morris and the Mouse

It was the strangest thing I'd seen in a while... innocently walking with M through the fake streets of the newly face-lifted Silver Spring, and chanced upon a surly gang of Morris Dancers.

Meanwhile: We're preparing for an extended weekend in Disneyland. This will be a strange cultureshock, considering I'm in my late 30s, tend to be intensely quiet, and have never been to Disney-Anything before. Oddly, I'm looking forward to it: it's our Great American Vatican. It will likely be a joyful and surreal bloodbath of the Mind, and will have camera and notebook handy to record the devastation.

Bring it on, damned mouse, bring it on!

Shot, glasses.

Can beauty be found in the golden velvet hues of Agave Poison? That most psychotropic of alcohols (but for absinthe, perhaps) seems to promise much by its color alone: what lurks inside that brine of madness?

The rabbit-hole goes deep, and all rabbits are insane when they return to the surface. Perhaps they were humans once, sitting in a Maryland restaurant, studying the secrets lost in that golden chemical maze...

Be Where?

Alas, no inspired prose this time. A recent series of work-related deadlines has left me numb and lifeless in the world. To reflect this, I offer the above Public Health Warning, as etched by a concerned citizen at the Silver Spring Metro station. Beware. That's all... just..... beware.

Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to this Labor Day weekend's Progday in North Carolina. I'm not familiar with many of the bands on the bill, though I am fiercely interested in The Spacious Mind, who seem to be flying the SpaceRock banner as well as anyone. Other acts include Happy the Man, Mike Keneally, Glenn Phillips (founding member of Hampton Grease Band), Far Corner, and others... I'll be there with the camera & 2GB to fill. Expect a full report upon my return.

Until then, fellow Silver Springers, beware...

Privacy World

Evidently a summer resort for pathological shut-ins, "Privacy World" exists in a strange and nebulous Maryland territory, alternately known as Silver Spring, Glenmont, Aspen Hill, North Wheaton, and if you believe what the nearby fire station says, Kensington.

Come to Privacy World and wonder, discreetly, where exactly you are...