Mobtown Blues

2008YIP: Days 30-36

Day 30: Conversation with a Composer

I'm an unabashed fan of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra's new music director, Marin Alsop.  She's a brisk breath of fresh air, just the jolt of energy the BSO needed.  Here she talks with violinist Mark O'Connor at the Baltimore Theatre Project as part of the "Conversation with a Composer" dialogue series she initiated.

Day 32: UCC Hymnals

Those of us who've been meeting to sing Sacred Harp in Baltimore every Thursday for the past four or so years are grateful to the pastor and congregation of the First United Church of Christ in Fells Point for allowing us to use their beautiful old sanctuary as a regular singing space.

Day 32: The low and heavy sky

I'm drawn to the television antennas looming over Woodberry.   They lend a sort of 'La Jetee' / William Gibson-y aspect to the skyline.   

Day 33: Massanutten Mitch say, "Six more weeks!"

K is the only person I know who demands a gift for Groundhog Day.  This little fella was UPS'd by the good folks at Build-a-Bear, and came with his own flop hat and pajamas (for hibernating).  Since the name "Punxsutawney Phil" was taken, K dubbed him "Massanutten Mitch."

Day 34: Cathedral of the Incarnation

The church that we've been attending for the past few months.  Zut alors.  I think we're in danger of becoming Episcopalians.

Day 35: Lady Grey

I've been drinking a lot of tea of late.

Day 36: Here's Hoping

My Super Tuesday wish.  This is the cover of the December 2007 issue of the Atlantic Monthly.

2008YIP: Days 24-29

I've been remiss in posting the results of my pic-a-day project here.  Let's see if I can catch up.

Day 23: return of the lights

Day 24: only the straight gaze

Because what I want most is permanence,
What I do best is bury fire now,
To bank the blaze within, and out of sense,
Where hidden fires and rivers burn and flow,
Create a world that is still and intense
I come to you with only the straight gaze.
These are not hours of fire but years of praise,
The glass full to the brim, completely full,
But held in balance so no drop can spill.

- from 'Because What I Want Most is Permanence,' by May Sarton

Day 25: Donna's

 

Day 26: Greggo

My friend Greg plays a mean five-string.

Day 27: so much depends

"COUNTRY COMFORT IN LANCASTER COUNTY.  GENTLE  STYLE AMIDST A GENTLE LIFE GENTLE PLEASURES.

"Hotel Olde Amish Inn rooms are, equipped with most of the facilities. Like  Cable T.V. in room, Phones, Hair Dryer, Digital Alarm Clock with easy to read display at Night Time, Non Smoking Rooms, Individually controlled Heating and Air Conditioning, cable T.V, in room phones, Wake up Call Service, Refrigerator in some rooms. Luggage Stand, Space specially made  for hanging your Coat and Clothes, Ice Bucket."

- from the website of the Olde Amish Inn, Ronks, Pa.

Day 28: Believe

A revenant of then-Mayor, now-Governor Martin O'Malley's "Believe" campaign.  I was never really clear on what, exactly, we were supposed to believe in.






Day 29: The Hippo

The grey lady of Baltimore gay bars.

Day 22: The Coming Robocalypse

 
A few weeks ago my coworker and I were standing on Read Street discussing our shared love for "doomsday" films.  Both of us have fond if chill-inducing memories of The Day After, in which the Reds nuke Jason Robards and the inevitable post-mushroom-cloud gangs of looters roam the irradiated fields of Kansas. 

We agreed that aliens-take-over movies are always fun.  'Independence Day' brought that whole theme to the multizillion blockbuster level, but I remain partial to more obscure, lower-budget examples of the genre.  A particular fave is They Live, a camp classic that has Rowdy Roddy Piper taking on the villainous visitors in our midst -- with a vengeance.  In addition to the sheer, guitless pleasure of watching an 80's pro wrestler blasting away at aliens with a shotgun, 'They Live' offers an unsubtle but enjoyable critique of mass-media culture and Americans' bland, obedient complacency toward it.

Complacency is a major theme of another satire, 'Shaun of the Dead,' a zombie comedy par excellence.  I don't know about you, but I like my zombies brainless, slow, shambling, inexorable, and easily dispatchable by fire and .36 caliber buckshot, the way they're portrayed in 'Shaun.'  The cunning, lightning-quick, ferocious predators depicted in '28 Days Later' are a little too disturbing and freaky to be entertaining, as far as I'm concerned.

The cataclysm that produces the psychopathic zombies in '28 Days' is a virus, another standby of apocalyptic fiction.  A similar bug sets in motion the chain of events featured in 'The Stand,' Stephen King's epic tale of decent, multicultural, Midwestern liberals fighting for their lives against evil biker rednecks led by a cackling, charismatic figure in jeans and cowboy boots.  It's like the end of the world comes, and Obama voters are pitted in a struggle for the survival of civilization against the forces of Ted Nugent.  One of the many things I enjoyed about the 1994 miniseries adaptation of The Stand is the fact that it stars Molly Ringwald.  Molly, if you're reading this, call me -- my longing for you is undiminished since it was first kindled back in the 8th grade.

K is partial to monster movies, which I can either take or leave.  She prefers the old Godzilla movies, the cheesier the better.  I haven't seen 'Cloverfield,' although I was intrigued by the whole YouTube twist on the end of the world.  But I heard that the film is fairly uninteresting beyond that gimmick, and that it rather crassly exploits September 11, so I don't plan to add it to my queue anytime soon.

Being something of a religious studies geek, I'm drawn to apocalyptic films of the Biblical variety, and I'm inevitably disappointed by them.  I think that the main problem with films like 'The Seventh Sign,' 'Prince of Darkness,' and 'The Reaping' is that they set the bar dauntingly high and they just can't manage to clear it.  Let's face it, we're talking about Ultimate Good duking it out mano-a-mano with Ultimate Evil.  That's a lot to ask anyone, much less Demi Moore, to carry on their shoulders.

But most of all, my coworker and I decided, we like movies in which the robots take over, or threaten to.  Think of the classic films in this subgenre: 'Terminator,' '2001: A Space Odyssey,' 'The Matrix,'  'War Games,' and more.  Heck, even 'I Robot' was rousing fun before Will Smith got in the way.  (Although Smith does deserve credit for starring in a robots-take-over movie, an aliens-take-over movie, and, with 'I Am Legend,' in a virus/zombie/vampire movie.)  I think the appeal of AI-gone-amok flicks is the tantalizing thought of technology that millions of us use everyday suddenly going haywire.  Most of us don't have our fingers on the ICBM buttons or work in a lab with deadly airborne pathogens.  But many of us rely on computer brains to serve us up games of solitaire and inform us in polite yet slightly contemptuous voices that we've overshot the exit for Route 896, so it's not too much of a leap to imagine our laptops achieving consciousness and turning on us.  And after all, wouldn't that be a fitting fate, a just and poetic recompense for our technological hubris?

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.  But I hold with those who favor rock-'em-sock-'em robots trundling down the street, bleeping and blooping cheerfully as they crush everything in their path.

Day 21: Happy MLK Day

 
Yessir. Nothing honors Martin Luther King's legacy more than half-price sliders.

Oh, wait.  I can think of something that might.  Check out Barack Obama's MLK Day speech at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta.

Day 20: dananananananana FUEL-MANNN!!!

 

I don't know.   I just like robots.

Day 19: Bolton Hill

 

The Baltimore neighborhood of Bolton Hill has some of the most striking Victorian architecture on the East Coast.  The layout of Eutaw Place, the site of these rowhomes, was based on the Champs Elysees.

Day 18: gelato and a smile

 
Last Friday our friends introduced us to Peter's Inn on Ann St.  From the outside, it looks like your standard Fells Point neighborhood bar.  Come to think of it, from the inside it looks like your standard Fells Point neighborhood bar also.  But the food is far from the Reuben-with-fries fare that one might expect given the setting.  I had a duck leg confit that all but melted in my mouth, K enjoyed the tuna tartar with seaweed salad and scallion pancakes, and we started off with some of the best steamed mussels I've ever tasted.  Best of all?  None of our entrees was priced higher than $14.

After dinner we took an evening stroll and perhaps managed to walk off one or two calories, which we promptly put right back on again with a stop at Pitango on Broadway Square for gelati.  I chose the hazelnut, which I found creamy, silky, and sweet without being too sweet.  The service was refreshingly courteous and friendly, as if the women behind the counter actually enjoyed interacting with their customers. 

In between our first bottle of wine and my last cup of cafe Americano, the conversation spanned the gamut from Ellen Carey to Tila Tequila.

I've had worse evenings.

Day 17: This is the poem of the air

 
I was so excited by the first real snowfall of the season the other day.  As soon as the flakes started to come down in earnest, I put on my coat and hat and went for a long walk around Mt. Vernon Place, relishing the way the snow turned the world white, knowing that it wouldn't last.

Searching for a fragment of text to pair with this image, I came across this uncharacteristic poem by Longfellow.

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

from 'Snow-Flakes'
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Day 16: In Memory of Davey Allison

 
I've driven past this mural for years.  To the extent that I thought about it at all, I guess I figured that Davey Allison was a local boy who did some stock car racing, that perhaps he was a relative of whoever owns the adjacent gas station.  It turns out that he was something of a NASCAR legend.  Shows what I know.

From www.daveyallison.net:

"David Carl Allison was born on February 25,1961 in Hollywood, Florida. He was the son of racing great Bobby Allison and his wife Judy. Davey was born on the eve of Bobbys first Daytona 500. He was the eldest of four children, sister Bonnie, brother Clifford and sister Carrie. In 1963 Bobby moved his family to Hueytown, Alabama, which was later dubbed the 'biggest little racing town in the land'.

"...Davey had some friends and accompanied him to races. They became known as the peach fuzz gang. On April 22, 1979 the peach fuzz gang along with Bobby Allison and a couple of his workers accompained Davey to his first race in Birmingham. Davey finished 20th. His first win came after six starts at Birmingham on May the 5th.

...1987 was the turning point in Davey's career. He raced for Ranier-Lundy's Winston Cup team starting only 22 of 29 races. He gave a new meaning to the word rookie and there has not been a rookie to match his rookie season to date. Davey became the first rookie to sit on the front row for the Daytona 500 qualifying second at 209 mph. With only 10 career Winston Cup races to his credit and in only the second race of the season he scored his first pole position. He racked up five pole positions and three outside polls for an unprecedented eight front row starts. He won his first Winston Cup race at Talladega and followed with a second win two races later at Dover to become the only rookie drive to win two super speedway races in a rookie season. Davey almost won three more races that season only to finished second by less than a second, one second and two seconds. He finished the season 21st in points earning Rookie of the Year and holds the record for rookie earnings.

"...Davey was tradgically injured in a crash while trying to land his helicopter at Talladega Superspeedway on July12 ,1993.  David Carl Allison 32,died on July 13, 1993.  Leaving an emptiness in the sport of Winston Cup Racing and an emptiness in the hearts of race fans across the world."

Day 15: Cox Street

 

I've taken so many pictures of Hampden, you'd think that I lived there.