Klipspringer 5 Crashes an After-Party

So I've been back in Gloucester for a little while right now and have made it down to Boston for a couple of days this week to see and participate in events associated with the DNC. It's been fun. I got to see Michael Moore twice on Tuesday, as well as got handed a lot of flyers and buttons and stuff in Harvard Square. And walked through a good chunk of Cambridge. After the second time I heard him (both times in Cambridge, the mayor of which gave Michael a key to the city at the first event, a free screening of Fahrenheit 9/11, which I got into by being patient and some invited union members having extra tickets), I walked over into Boston and helped a couple young women my age visiting the convention from Michigan navigate the cross over the big mess of road at the Boston end of the Museum of Science. I became a sort of guide for them, being a comparative expert on city geography, and we ended up walking together for a while, then hanging out, getting food in Faneuil Hall, and eventually going to the Red Hat (a bar) to watch coverage of the convention. There we ran into some college-age guys from Illinois that they apparently sort of knew and we hung out until it was time to go or miss the last subway. So the girls headed off towards their homestay in West Roxbury and the guys got on the B line with me and headed to BU. I continued to the end at BC and proceeded to hunt for my friend Jeff, who has been taking some classes and working in the library and stuff there this summer. Unfortunately his door was closed and everyone inside seemed to be soundly asleep. Fortunately, the guy across the hall was trying to do laundry and gave me his couch. Actually, the door to his room was open and he came by just as I was starting to write a note to announce that I would be sleeping on the couch and I hoped that would be okay. But Reyn (sp?) was extremely cool, we talked for a while and then finally got to bed about 2.

The next day I woke up, went home, found out my mom didn't know that I wouldn't be coming home, went to the dentist, yaddah, yaddah, yadd...

So yesterday I went back into Boston, first for a couple panel discussions by and about progressive groups. When I got there the Reverend Jesse Jackson was giving a speech, which was cool. It actually went a little slowly and was not altogether cohesive, but he closed with what was probably my favorite point, saying that "America is a liberal idea". Then there was a break, then another panel. After that I got my mom's car out of the garage, found out that the low rate they'd been advertising only applied to evenings and weekends, and went and found myself a parking place by the esplanade. I thought there was going to be a concert and fireworks that night, held over from the day before, and the natural equation for me was concert+fireworks=esplanade. Not so. For a while I thought that it had actually been Wednesday, but I found out later that I was right about the date. So I missed it, but that's okay. I had taken the book I'm reading (the DaVinci Code, how mainstream, but hard to put down nonetheless) and ended up just sitting on the esplanade watching people jog, bike, row, or otherwise by, but mostly reading for a few hours. Then I got up, dropped my stuff off in the car, and went for a walk to try to find fireworks. It turned into a big meander across the Commons out to the docks area and then up through the North End looping right to where I was heading, back to the Red Hat. There was a line outside this time, so I missed all speechifying, just chatted with other people in line until it all ended. Then I went in and had a Harpoon IPA for dinner, finally. I was pretty hungry. By then it was all pretty boring, so I left to start heading back to the car and directly across the street ran into Rob, one of the guys from Illinois. He said they were going to be meeting up with Sarah and Betsy, the girls from Michigan and the other guys, Dan and Mike, so we hung out for a while. Then it seemed that the event to attend was the Illinois delegations post convention reception in the Hilton. So we went there on the green line and walked right in to the Belvidere room, with an open bar (beer, wine, and soft drinks only) and plenty of cheese, veggies, and crackers, which probably at best evened out the calories I'd burned (and would burn) walking. Anyway, it was a fun, ritzy event, and it didn't even matter that I was from Massachusetts. And of course there was an added advantage to it being the Illinois delegation. I got my picture taken with Barack Obama! Boo-yeah! Anyway, we were there for a lot longer than it felt like, and then spent more time hanging out downstairs, in and out of the building, one highlight of which was a discussion of dead bodies with a drunk Chicago policewoman in a bright red dress. Sometime between 3 and 4 we all found each other and managed to leave. As the T had by this time been shut down for a while, I offered to give them all rides to where they were going. Which first meant we needed to get back to my car. My sense of direction, particularly in Boston, is an interesting combination of observation and intuition, but infrequently like looking at a map in my head. Although if I actually have a map I can use it, although I think it's more fun when I don't, as long as I'm not in a hurry. Which, generally, I'm not any more. What this all boils down to is that we probably didn't take the absolute shortest way the 10 or more blocks it was back to the car, but before too long a I found us on Newbury street, remembered that the street I was on should cross a good long ways up, and, with a stop in front of Condom World, we made it to the car. The good thing about this was that in the car was a map of the metro Boston area, and so, with only four or five missed turns, I got everyone home. Let me here note that, while I had had a few drinks, that was many hours in the past. I was just very tired. And if unless you can drive in Boston without ever messing up once, don't judege. So after exchanging contact info and dropping Sarah and Betsy off at the Chestnut Hill T station, I was finally able to head home. I made my way back to Boston and got on the newly reopened I-93/Rt.1 N sometime around five and tried to get home before I hit the bottom of a sleep cycle. A little bit later I woke up to find myself jouncing along the left-hand shoulder of Route 1, but managed to pull back on to the part that's meant for driving before having an unfortunate encounter with a concrete barrier. That kept my eyes open for what may have been as much as a mile, maybe even two. For the most part though, that trip is scarily blurry. I do think I spent an inordinate amount of time in between lanes though. I just wish that I'd been awake enough to realize a) that my mom had borrowed the shop van and b) that since she had the van at home not only did she not need the car first thing in the morning, but she couldn't use it anyway. Because all I wanted to do was pull over somewhere and take a nap. By the time I finally got home I was actually awake enough to brush my teeth and take off my clothes, but that was about it.

Okay, end of story time for tonight. Oh, if you're wondering and I didn't already say it, I'm not actually up at 3:10 in the morning, I've just decided to publish in "universal time", i.e. Greenwich Mean Time. So I started this at 11:10. But now I'd like an earlier bed time. Good night.

Klipspringer 5 in New York

After spending some more time lying around the house and sneezing, I set off one Friday afternoon into the sunset. Kind of, but more south. Anyway, I took a 4:30 train into Boston from the station directly behind my house, and then started to walk in the general direction of South Station, thinking that I'd try to find a train or bus headed to D.C., because that's where I felt like going. While walking, I found myself in Chinatown passing by a large, very diverse (don't even start, it's just the easiest and fewest words to put there, or was) group of people who seemed to be waiting for something on a sidewalk. After walking a little further, and realizing that South Station was just a couple blocks away, I further realized that I was right next to ticket booths for some of the Chinatown bus lines, "charter" buses which regularly travel Boston->NY for $10. At first I was going to continue on to South Station, but my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to get the bus to New York instead. So I got a ticket, headed over to the particular street where my bus would be coming and in short order found myself headed south-west. Now, I'd been hoping that whoever sat next to me would be interesting and talkative and maybe even be able to offer me a place to stay, since I really had no idea what I was going to do about that. Unfortunately, the friendly-seeming, young guy of South Asian descent who sat next to me promptly passed out and proceeded to spend the next four hours adjusting positions so as to remain as close to asleep as possible. What little I did find out about him was that he was a student travelling to visit a friend, and that he had been, despite appearances, sleeping well. So we got into New York some time around 11pm and I really had no idea what to do. As much as I'd told myself that I'd just need to go up to someone and ask for help, I couldn't quite bring myself to walk over to a complete stranger and ask if they had some spare floor space, so I picked up my back pack and set off wandering aimlessly down Canal Street. I knew I was in Chinatown, was pretty sure that that was part of Manhattan, but the part of Manhattan I was at all familiar with consisted primarily of numbered streets that went straight in one direction or another, which these streets most certainly did not. Thus, when two girls of about my age approached me and asked that I take a picture of them in front of one of the streets of Little Italy, I did and then, after a slight hesitation and a brief explanation of my situation, asked them if they could tell me where I was. They were extremely helpful, sketched out a little map and gave me the address of a hostel. During the ensuing conversation I learned that their names were Natasha and Christina, that Natasha was a student at Middlebury and lived in New Jersey, that Christina was German and visiting Natasha, whom she'd met while Natasha was taking some time off from school and visited Germany, and that Natasha was showing Christina around the city. Well, by the time that had all been worked out, they were comfortable enough with me that Natasha offered to give me a ride around show me the few places Christina hadn't seen yet, and drop me off somewhere, so we headed off towards the car, asking a few people along the way for directions to the street we were looking for, including a waiter and a limo driver. Eventually we reached the car, and we began the last part of the tour, stopping at one point like good tourists to take pictures of the Empire State Building lit up all red, white, and blue. Eventually, it then being in the vicintiy of midnight, it was deemed about time to head home and therefore time to drop me off. As we headed toward the hostel they had recommended, Natasha expressed some regret that she was so far out of the city and couldn't, therefore, offer me a place to stay. But, thinking it over, she said that, if I would like to, I could stay with her and then she could take me to the bus which could take me back into the city the next day. I of course accepted the offer with as little hesitation as surprise and politeness necessitated and from there we proceeded on our way to Mahwah, NJ. My staying over, however, required a decent cover, as Natasha was fairly sure that her mother would be less than thrilled about the bringing home of a random guy picked up off the streets of New York. So we began discussing possible connections. I didn't know anyone else at Middlebury, but she knew an Emily at Bowdoin. Which wasn't particularly helpful for me. From further clues that she gave I thought it must be someone that I know, but she couldn't remember the last name and I was blanking. In the meantime, Natasha remembered that her mother was planning to go into the city in the morning, and called home to verify this. As it was the case, and her father and brother were away for the weekend, she decided that rather than go to the trouble of having to explain my presence, I could simply slip into her brother's room, sleep there, and not come out until after 9:45 the next morning, at which point her mom would have left. This made sense to me and is what happened, although as we pulled up to the house Natasha remembered Emily's last name: Glinick! Who I've known and worked with in the theater for a year and a half! Apparently Emily's ex-boyfriend was a good friend of Natasha's at Middlebury. Or maybe it was a friend of a friend of Natasha's. In any case, they'd met a couple times, and if need be I had a semi-legitimate excuse for being there. After we went in the house and I was introduced to their friendly golden retriever, named Simba, I took my stuff up to her brother's room, brushed my teeth, and went to bed, hardly believing, but thoroughly relishing, my good luck.

The next day I woke up almost late enough, examined the brother's book collection and read my own until the appointed time, took a needed shower, grabbed some breakfast out of the fridge (Natasha had made it clear that I was welcome to food), and read about Marlon Brando and other stuff in the papers. I then found the computer with internet access (Natasha and Christina were just getting up at this point), and used the Bowdoin alumni stalkernet to find people I know who might be in New York. After a while, it being by then past 1pm, we headed to a nearby town where we could window shop, get coffee (Dunkin' Donuts), and I could grab a bus into the city. I got in during the middle of the afternoon and proceeded to walk around midtown Manhattan, trying to find people who I wanted to run into and who might be able to provide me with a place to stay that night. One person had moved out of his posted address and I accidentally interrupted a voice lesson. When I finally found a place with a doorman who let me use a cell phone to try to call people, it turned out that everyone was away for the fourth of July holiday, or just wasn't at home. When I finally reached an actual person I was excited, but then it turned out that she was in Maine, which wasn't so hot. At that point I decided that I was done with New York and traipsed off towards Chinatown to catch the next bus to D.C. Around then I noticed that my right knee was starting to feel kind of painfully wonked from miles of stomping on concrete carrying a fairly heavy backpack. But it wasn't bad enough to keep me from getting to the bus and setting off for DC. I like omens, mostly because it's fun to pick them out or make them up in retrospect, but there does seem to be some truth to them too, and as much as previous day had seemed full of signs of good fortune, so too was this day pointing toward a bunch of not so happiness. But I took the 7pm bus to DC oblivious to this. Oh, let me just say, before ending, that I recommend travelling in the middle part of the day, when it's hot, or overnight if you have to. But don't travel so that you get into a new place late at night. That's just stupid. Anyway, the story will continue later on, in Washington.

The Origin of Klipspringer 5

Well, I chose the name many years ago towards the beginning of online gaming. At some point I had created the name "coldek" for Microsoft's, um, Hot Zone (?), but it lapsed, and so I later created the name klipspringer 5. Since that time I have created many now-lapsed accounts in that name. For an explanation of what a klipspringer is, see:

http://www.honoluluzoo.org/klipspringer.htm

The 5 is just because the name sounds better that way. I did a project on mountain environments, or something like that, in sixth grade and did a report on the klipspringer as my animal. I was most fascinated by the fact that it could stand stably on one square inch of rock. My choice of the name had very little to do with symbolism and much more to do with cadence and originality, although some may recognize a fondness for high places. Now I mostly find it a fun way to self-reference.

Before I continue the backstory, let me just say that I'm probably going to need to get to Colorado either very soon or by September, and if anyone could give me a ride, or knows someone who could give me a ride, I would be immensely grateful and would definitely help with driving and gas, etc. And it could be from anywhere. Heck, if I can get a ride to anywhere from wherever I am right now (Gloucester, north of Boston, at the moment), that's pretty much always cool.

But to catch up with our hero, in unfortunately brief but I really don't have the time or patience to recount 2 months in the kind of excruciating detail I'm capable of... Following graduation from Bowdoin this past May 29th, he spent another couple weeks at Bowdoin, mostly working for the theater department as they moved from the Industrial Park to Fort Andross, but also doing some waitstaffing and a lot of hanging out. From there he returned to his Gloucester, MA home, spending some time there and also going to visit my grandmother on Nantucket... wait, I already covered this in a previous e-mail... but not everyone who might come here got that... but soon hitched a ride to Lancaster, PA with a friend working at a summer camp at Franklin and Marshall. From there I took a train to Philly, where I spent a couple days visiting friends and then promptly got a ride back to Gloucester, because they were heading up to visit and work.

Klipspringer 5 Enters the Blogosphere

Well, I hope the campish style of my titling and otherwise isn't overly off-putting to my kind and gracious public. Actually, as I write it I find myself rather bemused that I should write anything so blatantly stylized, but truthfully it is and will be a kind of conglomeration of styles and I will be bouncing around without much direction except for occasionally when I find something I enjoy and stick with it for a while. So a few words of warning: Just because I'm writing something strangely, funnily, absurdly, etc., doesn't mean that you shouldn't take it seriously, and just because I write something with a serious tone doesn't mean that it should be taken entirely as such. I do have a sense of humor and an interest in expressing myself in a wide variety of ways, it just all tends to be focused into rather straightforward and polite speech by a desperate fear of being made fun of or not being taken seriously. Suffice it to say, I find both my seriousness and the imitative mocking of my seriousness (by myself) to be amusing. Oh, and I have what may be an unfortunate fondness for excessively over-modified, multiply-compounded, hyper-explanatory run-on sentences. Sorry. Dinner.