Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Philly

Streets of Philadelphia

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As a lifetime Philadelphian, I’m often asked (or just expected to know) what people should do while they’re here. Honestly, i’m often flummoxed – so much of what Philadelphia is to me is just scenery that passes by that i hardly know how to single out anything special. By the same token, i often flounder to suggest a day’s activity within walking distance other than the habitual trip to South Street.

Today proved that there is a little something more to be found, and it was the sort of day that bears recapping.

It all started out because we wanted to visit a sidewalk sale at Hello World that we noticed while driving by with Amanda the day before. Eleventh is one of the more pleasant walks up from South Philly to the city, so we made our way there and headed north.

The sidewalk sale wasn’t much – the store had a motley collection of many nice yuppy things, but each collection was too slim for there to be many pickings. We didn’t feel like walking straight home after such a small excursion. We walked up Pine to 13th (Last Drop and a new(er) sushi place on facing corners) to peek into a guitar store i’m always passing. They had some nice electrics and a finely weathered mandolin, but nothing unusual (which is what i’m looking for – primarily a baritone).

Walking backwards (east) we browsed by a few shops before Elise stopped to ogle Soul of the Artist – something i always do on my walk down Antique Row. I had never been inside – mostly because i assume that everything on Pine Street is out of my price range, but Elise decided we should venture in.

I’m happy we did, because SOTA is one of the most fantastic owner-operated stores i’ve ever been to, in Philly or elsewhere. Frank gave us a friendly greeting, and let us know that everything he sold was made by an artist he knows and appreciates (a nice change from yuppy giftshops), and while we browsed he invited us to touch and explore his merchandise. Elise was entranced by a series of intricate puzzle-boxes (the best was almost a thousand dollars), while i walked away with a beautiful starred wooden keychain from this collection. The thing that will probably motivate me to return were a series of polished wooden clipboards and business card holders, all of which were eminently afforable.

Frank sent us packing with as many oblong business cards as we cared to have. (PS – the store on the corner of 10th has some good beers). We peeked into Ethnics Furniture, but it was disgustingly (and predictably) expensive. Must be nice to work in a store where one sale covers a whole day of operating costs.

We aimed ourselves towards South Street via 9th, and stumbled (literally) into the spectacular Broadcast Guitars, a new(ish) store owned by former BlueBond salesguy (and cousin of Anastasia) Rocco Renzetti. Though they didn’t have the selection of BlueBond, the store has a cozy atmosphere. And a cat. I thought i’d just take a quick browse for an unlikely baritone, but in my browse i found a solid and affordable Cort 12-string. I played it on a pure lark (what Bowie fan doesn’t love 12-strings?), but I actually really liked it. Rocco said he’d put fresh strings on it later this week so i could give it a better try.

(Don’t get me wrong, i LOVE BlueBond, where i bought my beautiful green workhorse. I just don’t feel comfortable browsing there anymore (even though they finally recognize me) with all of their various rock-school kids roaming around and trying guitars they don’t plan to buy. Right now they have a beautiful white Hofner bass, and a 12-String Taylor (3x as much as the Cort) that i haven’t even dared to touch because i (frighteningly) do actually have that much credit available to me.)

We wound down our shopping with a peek into American Pie / Abode, another store i had passed but never entered. They had a killer collection of Yelena Designs (including this wardrobe) – i think they’d hand over the whole set for an offer of $10k. However, i was a bigger fan of this hanging (sortof) armoire. I almost walked out with some nifty placards (one with a weathered “P,” the other with guilded sheet music) but for my reluctance to put holes in walls. We were helped the adorable Mandy.

Afterwards we wandered our way back for a quick stop home before swinging back out and encountering (to my unmitigated delight) “O,” an awesome sandwich shop WITH EFFING BUBBLE TEA splitting 9th and Passyunk with Geno’s (blech). They open early enough that i could probably snag a bubble tea every day on my way to work. And they’re only $3. I think i can keep them in business single-handedly.

(This is a wonderful place to eat after you’ve hit Pat’s or Geno’s for a picture and a less-than-appetizing cheesesteak. Any Philadelphian with a stomach that isn’t made of cast iron would much rather eat at Jim’s on 4th and South, though the best ones in the city are acknowledged to reside @ Tony Luke’s @ 39 East Oregon Ave).

In any event, that was our adventure, and now i’m home dreaming of the 12-string and pounding out way-too-hard-for-me Tori songs on the piano eight note by eight note. It was a good day to be in Philly, and now perhaps i’ve given you a few ideas of where to visit when i may have before been lax.

Philly Link-o-Rama

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I continue to be both flattered and amused by the range of terrific Philly bloggers on PhillyFuture – the Phlogging collective. Flattered because my fine city makes a fair showing for itself, considering that it’s not generally considered to be at the forefront of such electronic things. Amused because, if you are a Philly blogger, I AM YOUR GRANDDADDY. Or, really, considering internet years, possibly even older.

In any event, we’re directly related enough that it’s probably illegal in Pennsylvania for my blog to sleep with any of their blogs. Although, that’s probably considered sodomy here anyway.

(Actually, PA’s Sodomy law was struck down in 1980, though puzzlingly not repealed by legislature until 1996. Also, let’s not forget that our very own Senator Santorum defended such sodomy laws, memorably quoting, “If the Supreme Court says that you have the right to consensual [gay] sex within your home, then you have the right to bigamy, you have the right to polygamy, you have the right to incest, you have the right to adultery. You have the right to anything.” This was all partially in reference to Texas’s law coming under fire in 2003. The law (which was same-sex only) was eventually struck down in Lawrence v. Texas. (To see the Senator remarkably intelligently defend his comment from a legal standpoint (rather than a conservative one), watch this movie at the otherwise rather vulgar (but entirely warranted) Spreading Santorum.))

(Wow, look at me being all educational and stuff.)

Of the Philly blogs i perused the best layout was definitely Vintage – for a quick recap of their whole deal, check out their best of ’05 feature. (Similar happenings should be occurring here soon, but on a grander scale). 50 Bedroom combines political savvy with a humorous bent towards witty Onionisms. Also amongst the Brotherly lovin’ crowd, i was delighted to find a mom with solid opinions on (overhyped, hard to listen to) hip music. And, she used to live on Ross’s block.

In the “Um, don’t we live in America” category, Her Jazz blogs a story (with video) about cops breaking up a local DIY music show due to a misunderstanding, but subsequently FREAKING OUT and getting violent as they rough up the promoter and are captured doing so on dozens of camera phones. Notable quotable: “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but we have the responsibility as citizens to record this.” Watch the video (beware, it’s loud).

Back to political news, Philly’s Committee of Seventy has always wanted you to vote, but their Director of Civic Education wants you to get voted for by running for office (via Young Philly Politics). My friend Josh did just that by writing himself in for Judge of Elections, which he now is – for the next four years! Josh is probably the only Judge of Elections i’ll ever play laser tag with.

So, yeah, stop writing in Mickey Mouse. Or else…

In other news, i’m usually not a fan of gimmick weddings, but can a Philadelphian really beat getting married in front of the Franklin Institute Heart? (oops, i punned). That item was logged by ColorWhirl, who also pointed me to the wonderful (though non-Philly) Vegan Lunch Box – a mom who packs very yummy vegan lunches for her little one every day. I had soy taco sloppy joes for lunch today, and they were incomparable!

Vegan Lunch Box is up for Best Food Blog at the 6th Annual Bloggies. Way back when i had a discussion about the nomination process of the 1st Annual Bloggies with founder Nikolai Nolan. In retrospect, i was mostly pissed off that Trio wasn’t (and was never) nominated for “best non-weblog feature” in the days when podcasting meant nothing, let alone had it’s own freaking award category. But, i digress. I stopped being upset when Rabi (another vegan!) won the “best kept secret” award.

Which all just goes to prove my thesis that i am now grizzled and ancienct in blog-years. The end.

10 Degrees of Human Endurance / Our Founding Fathers

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I am ever so slightly turning into my aunt, who would leave the heat turned low on even the most frigid of days. It’s not about saving money (though, with the Philly gas price hike, it should be) so much as it is about human endurance.

I can endure my house at 57 degrees in a light jacket and jeans and stay quite comfortable. Is my quality of life going to rise commeasurately with the temperature if i eek it up a mere 10 degrees to 67? Or, if i plunge myself into debt to attain a summery 70 or 71? Will i have acheived a perfect state of bliss if i can wonder around in shorts, eating ice cream without threatening to shiver myself off of the sofa?

Today Elise’s step-sister came through Philadelphia with a college friend from Oregon. The two of them snatched me up on my street as i arrived home from work, before i could get my key in the door. We did a sort of remedial tour of Philadelphia landmarks under Broad street, which included a trip to the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall.

I was hesitant to join them at first, being the jaded Philadelphia lifer that I am, but there was something special about being in those places so nearly empty – without the school kids that usually pack them full. Somehow it seemed more real to walk inside from the cold to these empty, echoing rooms wondering which of our founding fires got to sit the closest to the fireplace. Because, if the day was cold, the Continental Congress certainly would be – there’s not too much to those walls.

That thought sustained my negligence of our heater through the evening, but it hasn’t carried me through to fitful sleep. Our bedroom, an addition to the house, hangs precipitously over our back door, my side of the bed exposed to the bitter elements on five sides. Even at my most endurant iron-man moment my resolve to avoid using our heat evaporates upon entry into the bedroom – especially without Elise and her heating pad to huddle up against to osmose some warmth.

It is wooshing now, up from the basement and through snaking ducts, making its way into the frigid bedroom in a futile attempt to ward off the cold surrounding our bed from almost every side. Not futile because it won’t get warm, mind you, but futile because i am much more likely to fall asleep on the couch while watching a movie than to wait until the bedroom gets warm before going to sleep.

I’m sure Ben Franklin had much heavier pajamas than me, anyhow.

Take a Chance, Make a Change

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Now that Philadelphia is experiencing a transit strike I count myself amongst this fine city’s proud cycling commuters.

If you were to ask me how I feel about this, i would reply “absolutely terrified.”

It seemed like a good idea yesterday, as Elise and I walked the three miles to and from work. It seemed like a good idea last night, as i whipped out my credit card at Target. It even seemed like a good idea this morning, as the adrenalin hit me as i sped up 5th street on my brand new bike.

Riding my bike to and from work may, in actuality, be a good idea. That doesn’t stop me from being so terrified, though. In this case, along with the vast majority of other cases, i blame my mother. She never taught me *how* to ride in a street. As far as i knew, only hooligans who didn’t value their own lives rode in the street.

Quite to contrary, commuting cyclists are by no means expected to ride on sidewalks. It’s considered to be more dangerous, and in some places it’s even illegal! Yet i have no concept of how to ride my bike on the street because i was never allowed to. In fact, now that i think about it, aside from trips to my grandmother’s house i can only recall two times i rode a bike while not under my mother’s supervision, and they were both in college. Not only do i not know how to ride in streets, but i only know how to ride with my mother barking things at me from her adjoining vehicle.

(Incidentally, i also blame my mother for a day-long Italian-mother guilt trip she laid on me regarding the fact that i am now taking my life into my hands by riding a bike, and that she is convinced i will be “doored” by a park car as many other unfortunate souls have directly preceding a trip to her ER.)

This morning i walked my bicycle at all points above Broad and Vine due to my vast mother-induced fears. This makes me, in the words of elderly bike curmudgeon John Forester, an unrider.

At work, I decided that i would not be bullied into unriding a $200+ dollar piece of aluminum around the city. I read the highly recommended Bicycle Safe for an absolutely unapologetic guide to avoiding the ten collisions most common to bike commuting, and the informative and spiffy Bicycle Coalition of Philadelphia informed me that all city bike shops were performing free bike safety check. A free bike safety check sounded like a wonderful way to assuage my fears, so i headed to the conveniently located Breakaway Bikes.

And, well, it didn’t, because i discovered that my bike’s wheel was noticeable bent and had probably been that way since i left Target with it last night. But, i left feeling empowered. I had went to a bike shop. I was becoming an informed consumer and commuter.

I’d love to say that the story ended there, happily. Unfortunately, and with a cruel sense of irony, i feel compelled to report that I fell off my bike twice – TWICE, the only two times i can ever recall falling off of a bike – both in the parking lot of Target as i went to exchange my bike. One was a full on, head-over-handlebars tumble that has left my left hip scraped, my right leg highly disfunctional, my left hand sprained badly enough that i wince every time i spot a guitar, and myself even less sure on two wheels than i was this morning.

In about nine hours i’m due to mount my bike and ride to work, and thanks to the convenient convergence of my mother and my own parking-lot clumsiness i am convinced that with every rotation of my gears i am spinning closer to a sure and sudden death. And, in this terrible sureness of my own demise, one thing keeps me aimed true for that pillow-padded saddle seat: if i commute six miles a day by bike i will eventually become both physically and conceptually more attractive.

Hopefully that happens before the death part.