Blog

Hi, I'm Ken. I like cats and frozen blueberries.


State House

I took this picture of the Rhode Island State Capitol on Saturday as SML and I were returning to the train station. We spent the afternoon in Providence, having lunch at a wonderful hipster establishment that served beer for less than eight dollars. It was something that both SML and I commented on, “Four dollar beers! DON’T BOTHER WITH THE WATER.”

Providence is unbelievably quiet and peaceful compared to Boston. Just last night someone was stabbed and killed just two blocks from my apartment. When I find a place nice, quiet, and far away from Allston I immediately insist that we move there and send a taxi for the cat.

SML was considering living in Providence, I think, and so I started sugar coating it suggesting that Providence was perfect because we’d only be an hour away from Boston, “An hour train ride! That’s all!” SML launched into a story about his school mate living in Connecticut two hours from New York City and two hours from Boston, who thinks that a short two-hour ride between cities is perfect. “It doesn’t sound perfect, it sounds like purgatory!”


Grave Yard

I took my first trip on the Massachusetts commuter line this afternoon to Salem, an eighteen-mile trip that boasted industrial scenery as well as a quaint town called Scottswamp. I brought out my horse laugh when I saw the name of that town because SML will call any sweaty place on his body the “swamp.” SML did not laugh like a horse when he saw the sign, but I’m guessing it was only because there were other people on the train.

I took this picture in one of the oldest graveyards in America, a small plot of land tucked into the near center of the city. It’s fascinating to me that these stones are still standing, clean even from vandalism. That may be because I’ve been living in Allston for the last year with a postal box telling me “u watch ur ass.”

Modern tombstones aren’t nearly as scary as these, which makes me wonder if it’s possible to get something like this made up for myself. It would have to look antique with water spots and a faded inscription, with maybe a skull near the top with angel wings. Maybe I shouldn’t post this here, I don’t want to go into Costco and see that someone has stolen my idea.


On the top

It's been awhile since I've picked up my camera, or blogged...gone to the gym, although I do manage my coffee every morning. I think I deserve some kind of reward for that.

I took this picture tonight while Charlotte was hanging out on top of the kitchen cabinets. She does this every once in awhile, I think because she's bored, but maybe it's because she likes to see how thin my hair is getting. And it is! Ever since I stopped using a sticky hair product made by VO5 my hair has been gradually falling out. The worst part about all of this is that my hair product is still, what SML calls "bonding", with the couch. It's creating large black spots on the back cushions, making it look like we stole one of our neighbors' front porch couches.


NYC

SML's parents came in to town this last week, so we packed our bags and drove an incredible six hours to New York. On trips in the past it has only taken somewhere between three and four hours, but I kept making us stop to dine at special places like Dunkin' Donuts and McDonalds.

I have always very much liked New York City, but everything seemed a bit too fast-paced and rude this time. We had an uncomfortable moment on the subway when a woman began yelling and cussing at another woman for pushing her children, an incident SML thinks he may have had something to do with when the subway car's doors closed in on him and trapped him in-between.

The hi-lite of this trip was seeing the musical 'Wicked'. I took this picture from the hotel room just after we returned from the show. It's all very romantic looking from this perspective, but I'm going to have to say I was very happy to return to the busy-but-not-too-busy streets of Boston.


The Gods of Golf

SML and I took a break from the fourth season of ‘Six Feet Under’ Saturday afternoon to visit the New England Sand Castle Festival. I’ve always wanted to visit something like this and even said to SML when we arrived, “I’ve always wanted to see something like this in real life.” I really do talk like this, like nothing is real unless I’ve seen it first hand.

We took the subway to the beach, both of us firing up our iPhones and losing ourselves in Tweets and RSS, something we do to pass the time as the train fights Commonwealth Avenue traffic. I raised my eyebrows and put my phone away when the man in front of us turned to face us and explained that 90% of the time that he gets on the train someone is either shuffling their feet or talking around him. Yapping, actually, is what he said.

“The Greeks believed in it too.” He said, referring to the gods and spirits that are constantly attacking him. He showed us his statistics, a pile of cards with scribbles in what I assume were his mathematical calculations of foot shuffling and yapping. “Tom Watson believes in it too, believes that the Gods of Golf will help him win the British Open.”

I wanted more than anything to look at SML and begin giggling. A couple of scenarios went through my head however, and I decided laughing at a crazy person could end in disaster. And who the hell is Tom Watson anyway? Am I supposed to be keeping up on golf now?

“What do you think of all of this?” he finally said, after making it clear that his many Gods are basically puppeteers, pulling strings; causing paranoid schizophrenics to sit near me on the subway.

“I don’t know anything about that.” I said, turning to SML.

“Well.” And then SML grinned. “ I just don’t see how there could be any other explanation.”