BrockLi Soup

This weekend was CSH’s 30th Anniversary, so Dan, Rhubarb, Oompa and I drove up for a few days. As I’d hoped, it turned out way better than my last trip north. The ride up was a blast. BP threw a Friday-night party again, which was fantastic. I spent most of Saturday fighting a hangover, until the banquet at 6. The dinner was way better than any of us thought RIT capable, and we all danced for hours (or stripped). We did a lunch Sunday afternoon in GCCIS, then hung out on floor for a couple hours. My parents came out from Buffalo so we could do dinner (I finally took them to Mark’s), and then I just hung out with BP (and made pizza) until leaving Monday morning. The trip back was as uneventful as the ride up, and we stopped at Skeeters for lunch.

I don’t think I could have asked for a better weekend. I got to see all the people that didn’t make it up last time, met some alumni, and just spent the weekend relaxing and reminiscing with people I like. It’s nice to re-tell our stories and remember the good times; when you’ve only got a few days, it’s easy to forget the unpleasant aspects of day-to-day college life: the classes, the inevitable drama bred by close quarters, the abject poverty. It’s unfortunate that I can’t see these people more often, but it makes these weekends all the better.

Of course, the Monday after is always tough, but what can ya do?

You can look at photos, that’s what.

I almost forgot to get the pictures from this past weekend off my camera. Here they are.

Way back on Friday, Casey, Schmitty and I drove up to RIT for F-ed Up Movie Night (censored for the easily offended) (that’s you, Mom). They say the trip is half the fun, but they’re pretty much always wrong. Once in a while, though, I get to take a long drive with people I really enjoy, so this was a good trip.

The weekend was good - not great, but good. I got to see a bunch of people I missed, but I also had to see a handful of people I had no interest in seeing ever again. I suppose that’ll happen, though. I never made it to Mark’s for a plate, but I did get to do Dibella’s and Dinosaur BBQ, so it worked out OK. The movie night featured a pretty good lineup - The Silent World, Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story, A Dirty Shame, and Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance - and ended quite a bit earlier than usual (a welcome change, with the 8-hour drive home the next morning).

I did a lot of thinking and soul-searching over the course of the weekend. Arriving back in Rochester wasn’t the homecoming I thought it would be. I realized that what I really miss is the Rochester of two or three years ago, before friends started graduating and leaving town. There are still a good number of friends there, but there are also a lot of new folks that I don’t know well, and the whole dynamic has changed. It’s actually sort of a relief, because I don’t feel like I’m missing much by being a few states away.

I also decided that I’m not as happy here in VA as I thought I was and have been claiming to be. I spent four years living with close friends, and it’s been tough adjusting to my own place. I’ve got several friends in the area, but they’re spread out enough that I don’t get to see much of them.

I don’t know who Casey was quoting when she said, “Don’t expect to find it here if you don’t bring it yourself,” and I couldn’t say it better. I certainly can’t blame anyone else for the fact that I spend so many of my evenings hanging out at home. We’ve been seeing movies at The Drafthouse almost every Monday, and doing dinner once in a while, and I always have a great time. I want to see if we can’t start doing coffee or something the same time every week, further north in DC or out west towards Tyson’s Corner, so that more people will be close enough to join us. I definitely want to see the sights and museums in the District, and I’m entertaining the idea of starting a local chapter of the Sunday Night Film Club. I’m happy when I’m with people, so I need to take the initiative and get them together.

There’s a lot to do in this city, and there’s no reason for me to be sitting around being bored. I’m not sure yet that I made the right choice in coming to DC, but I do know I made the right choice in leaving Rochester. Sooner or later, this will feel like home.

Oh, and the birthday bit - I started this blog a year ago today, under my account on the CSH server (actually, the “We done moved” page is still up). I never got around to re-doing the design, or writing all the things that I meant to, so maybe those will be some last-minute New Year’s resolutions.

I spent the evening at another classical concert than was almost exciting as the first, but this time, it was chamber music. The first piece was by Beethoven, which was alright. The last was a Dvorak, which was OK.

But the second piece, Berg’s Lyrische Suite, made me want to cry a little bit. It was six movements of dissonant, pretentious, classical fan-boy snobbery. Really, I think the only people that like this guy are looking for classical indie cred. It was a creepy, dark piece, and while some parts sounded kind of cool, there was no musical theme or any kind of consistent idea or anything; normally, that would be fine, but not so much when you’re supposed to write a paper about the music. I thought it would be more fun if I imagined the musicians as clowns, but that just made it scary.

The show was at the Eastman School of Music, and since Darrin was on-campus at the time, we drove out there together. I wound up sitting next to a girl who’s a freshman here at RIT. She asked for a ride home, which seemed a little odd, but I’m the adventurous type! So we had merry adventures finding our way home, because I’ve never taken the same way home from downtown twice (mostly because I don’t actually know the way home and wing it every time).

In conclusion: I need to spend more time downtown, and I think I might like a sandwhich.

I know it’s a little late, but Lynyrd Skynyrd played here at RIT on Tuesday. I found out right before the show that Jeff Cosco Band was the opener. Boss told me, “If you like 80’s rock, you’ll like these guys.” I couldn’t have put it better - they had this mid-80’s southern rock sound to them, and they weren’t bad.

Skynyrd was pretty awesome. I’ve never been a big fan and I was absolutely exhausted Tuesday night, but I figured I had to go, just on principle. They played a bunch of songs I didn’t recognize, and a few that I did but mistook for others (I swear, three of their songs are the exact same until the chorus).

Watching them play was better than listening to the music. I can’t believe these guys are still doing what they’re doing at their age. I think they saved Freebird for the encore because they knew they would need to take a breather before it. The guitarist Bill Nighy with gray hair halfway down his back, but he was going ape shit. Freebird lasted about fifteen minutes. Those guys are way too old to be doing this stuff still.

Also: men reach an age where skin-tight jeans with skin-tight leather chaps are no longer a viable clothing option. Skynyrd has long since passed that age.

I own two umbrellas.

Two years ago I was living in Pittsburgh, and it was raining pretty hard one day after work. I walked a couple blocks to CVS and bought an umbrella to keep me dry while I waited for the bus to take me home. At some point, I misplaced it, so I got another one (thought I don’t think I actually bought that one). Later, I found the first, so I’ve got two now.

That isn’t the point.

Rochester is a pretty crappy city, so it rains about 75% of the time that it’s not snowing. I look out the window each morning, and if it looks especially miserable, I grab the second of those two umbrellas because it’s my favorite - it’s got a spring loaded release thingy, which I’ve always liked. The one from CVS is my backup, because I frequently forget to bring my umbrella home once I’ve taken it to work or wherever.

That isn’t the point, either.

The point is this: I forget to bring home the umbrella because it’s never raining when I go home. In fact, it’s never raining when I leave home. If I think to grab an umbrella, it doesn’t rain. If I forget it, I get soaked.

I’ve decided to make this profitable.

For a modest price, I will come to your barbecue, or picnic, or outdoor porn shoot, and I will bring my umbrella. You can even choose the umbrella, if you like - they both seem to be effective at warding off rain. This way, you have a delightful afternoon and I make a few bucks.

I recommend you get in touch with me soon if you’d like to make use of my services. My summer’s already looking pretty busy, and it’s sure to fill up quickly once word gets out that I am an invaluable asset to successful summertime events.

I felt that these guys deserved a special note. A bunch of us were helping Ryan and Cheston move into the new apartment this morning, and then we all went to Mark’s for lunch. On the way there, I was sitting in the front seat of Ryan’s car when we came up behind these guys on 15. Apparently these two don’t know anyone with a truck (or rope, for that matter) and were driving along hanging onto the mattress on the roof. The guy driving had one hand on the mattress, one hand on the wheel, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The girl was sitting sideways so she could hang on with both hands. We pulled up alongside them and they seemed to be having a good time so I wished them good luck. I thought it would be rude to pull up next to someone and take their picture quick, but they seemed like the type that would find the humor in the situation so I wish I did. You can get a better look in the next two shots.

First of all, I’m drunk, so please excuse typos.

The best evenings start with no plans at all.

Heewa and I decided to go see The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which was better than expected. They changed a lot from the book, but it was still pretty funny, and some scenes were just stunning. And Marvin wasn’t at all how I pictured him (this seems to be the general consensus).

We stopped by the carnival for a bit, since it’s Spring Fest weekend and all, but it was just plain disappointing. Sharon called to say she was heading to A-Street with Jen and Kelly, and that’s where the excitement began.

We started at Daisy Dukes, which was cool, but not quite what I expected. Then we hit Bar Fly, which had decent music, but I’m no dancer. Then we wandered down to A-Street Pub, which was awesome. They played a lot of fun 80’s tunes, I met all sorts of cool people (including the owner of The Roost), and the drinks were pretty cheap. Some guy offered to lick Jen’s back. Schmitty, Lindsey, and Justin Ricci both showed up. I had a number of drunken arguments with guys on the smoking patio. A fella gave me a piece of gum on the way out. It was a good place to be.

We went to Tahou’s after. I don’t think I had been there since almost two years ago, when Resig was extra drunk and we told him to say terribly offensive things to the guy working the counter.

It was an outstanding evening. I spent far more than I expected, but it was worth it. I got to play body guard, and I love hanging out with those chicks. I did the Marlboro survey again and got a free Zippo for Schmitty. I had a real garbage plate for the first time in (I think) years. And the bartenders made my Jack and Coke’s with extra Jack when I asked. Sometimes, Rochester is good to me.

You can get a rough estimate of humidity based on water condensation on the plumbing above a urinal.

Apparently today is the first time in 12 days it’s rained. That really has to be a Rochester precipitory record.

(Also, “precipitory” is a word now.)

Saturday afternoon, Brie, Kidder, and I took out all the trash that had been accumulating in our pantry for the past couple months. Housing had asked everyone to park elsewhere that day so that the lot could be completely plowed. As we tried to work our way to the dumpster, one big earth mover, a couple little John Deere tractors, and at least 4 pickup trucks were flying around the lot, plowing snow into the grass. It took be a couple minutes to work my way across the lot without being hit. Trucks were flying all over the place, just narrowly missing me, each other, and the cars that hadn’t been moved.

Kidder was standing there by our building, just watching. “Ya know,” I said, “this reminds me of our hockey games. Everybody’s doing the same thing and trying not to run into each other.”

Kidder replies, “It’s all fun and games until someone loses a Subaru.”