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dragonlady7Dave did all of his chem labs today. last weekend, he did them; this weekend he wrote them up. "Can you finish tomorrow?" I asked innocently at one point.
"No," he answered. "They're due tonight. If they were due tomorrow, I wouldn't've started until tomorrow. I'm doing them today because I have to." That's how he operates.
He finished around seven, and said, "Let's go do something!" So we went through the listings of every movie playing. None of them appealed, really. And when's the last time I saw a movie in a theater? Pff, probably Return of the King. I don't go out much.
So we finally just went out to a coffee shop. We each had something coffee-ey and sweet and flavored and elaborate at Cafe Allegro on Hertel (nearest strip to our house), and listened to some white, bongo-fueled accoustic, er, maybe blues (Dave recognized a Neil Young song amidst the bongo-rocking), and noticed that everyone else in the place was over forty. So we read Artvoice and After 50, inspected the belly-dancing fliers in the window, confirmed that nobody had so much as a poetry slam going on (I am looking for creative writing groups), and moved on. We went down to Cafe Aroma on Elmwood & Bidwell, right down in the middle where the Elmwood Strip intersects with the beautiful old Olmsted parkways (I covet those Victorians, you know I do; I want one with turrets, dammit. We almost rented the lower floor of one, but there was no parking at all, and it was slightly more expensive than the house where we live now. But roomier. And it had leaded glass and a mantelpiece. And the heat bill would have been insane with those ceilings). We had yet more coffee, and discussed existentialism. I haven't studied existentialism; Dave recently did, in the Required To Graduate, Only Two Credits, Takes Itself Way Too Seriously Liberal Arts Seminar he's taking, and he explained it in terms I could understand.
"You know the philosopher in the Moomintroll books?" he said.
"The Muskrat," I said. "Yeah. The one who was perpetually reading that book about The Uselessness Of Everything."
"He's an existentialist philosopher," Dave said.
"Ohhhhh."
So now I don't have to study it. Coffee shops are good for your mind.
We could've gone to a social satire burlesque at Neitzche's, but Dave was dubious, so we didn't. Instead we went for a walk along Elmwood, which was jumping... mostly with underage drunks. Funny, I thought that's what the Chippewa strip was for. Shrug. At least these ones mostly had clothes on.
So we came home, and I made us a quesadilla out of leftovers, and now we're both hopped up on caffeine and hoping to have a productive evening of nothing.
Still haven't decided about tomorrow. Should we drive down to Erie PA to see Indigenous in concert? (link is to an mp3 of their song "Cmon Suzie" which is an awesome song.)
"No," he answered. "They're due tonight. If they were due tomorrow, I wouldn't've started until tomorrow. I'm doing them today because I have to." That's how he operates.
He finished around seven, and said, "Let's go do something!" So we went through the listings of every movie playing. None of them appealed, really. And when's the last time I saw a movie in a theater? Pff, probably Return of the King. I don't go out much.
So we finally just went out to a coffee shop. We each had something coffee-ey and sweet and flavored and elaborate at Cafe Allegro on Hertel (nearest strip to our house), and listened to some white, bongo-fueled accoustic, er, maybe blues (Dave recognized a Neil Young song amidst the bongo-rocking), and noticed that everyone else in the place was over forty. So we read Artvoice and After 50, inspected the belly-dancing fliers in the window, confirmed that nobody had so much as a poetry slam going on (I am looking for creative writing groups), and moved on. We went down to Cafe Aroma on Elmwood & Bidwell, right down in the middle where the Elmwood Strip intersects with the beautiful old Olmsted parkways (I covet those Victorians, you know I do; I want one with turrets, dammit. We almost rented the lower floor of one, but there was no parking at all, and it was slightly more expensive than the house where we live now. But roomier. And it had leaded glass and a mantelpiece. And the heat bill would have been insane with those ceilings). We had yet more coffee, and discussed existentialism. I haven't studied existentialism; Dave recently did, in the Required To Graduate, Only Two Credits, Takes Itself Way Too Seriously Liberal Arts Seminar he's taking, and he explained it in terms I could understand.
"You know the philosopher in the Moomintroll books?" he said.
"The Muskrat," I said. "Yeah. The one who was perpetually reading that book about The Uselessness Of Everything."
"He's an existentialist philosopher," Dave said.
"Ohhhhh."
So now I don't have to study it. Coffee shops are good for your mind.
We could've gone to a social satire burlesque at Neitzche's, but Dave was dubious, so we didn't. Instead we went for a walk along Elmwood, which was jumping... mostly with underage drunks. Funny, I thought that's what the Chippewa strip was for. Shrug. At least these ones mostly had clothes on.
So we came home, and I made us a quesadilla out of leftovers, and now we're both hopped up on caffeine and hoping to have a productive evening of nothing.
Still haven't decided about tomorrow. Should we drive down to Erie PA to see Indigenous in concert? (link is to an mp3 of their song "Cmon Suzie" which is an awesome song.)
