Friday, 27 July 2012

The Autograph Man

by Zadie Smith

"These days there is most likely a name for that sort of thing... But in the late 19th century, with few exceptions, most people were still prepared to call it love.
A lot of things that are syndromes now had simpler names back then. That why some people like to call them the good old days."

I actually read this years ago, but just remembered about that.

Monday, 16 July 2012

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

Currently playing at OnStage Atlanta, in Decatur. I recommend.

It's just a little bitty pissant country place, nothing much to see
No drinking allowed, we get a nice quiet crowd, plain as it can be
It's just a piddly squatin no time country place, nothing to hide at all
Just lots of good will, and maybe one small thrill, but there's nothing dirty going on

Monday, 9 July 2012

High Falls Park

Choosing to go for a hike in 35 degree weather means a bit of research for a trail that is mainly in the shade and perhaps includes a waterfall or two.

Enter High Falls Park, near Locust Grove (really), south of Atlanta. We read a description of a hike near a river, beautiful water falls and a pool fot swimming. We pack some water, sun block and a couple of towels and head out in search of this:

Funny story: the "swimming pool" actually was a swimming pool, not a beautiful nature spot with calm water. And was a little more like this

But frankly, after that hike in those 35 degrees, you're just not that picky. 

Monday, 2 July 2012

Atlanta Weekends

This is what happens on a weekend with no previous plans.

A Friday night vodka tasting party with a couple dozen vodka varieties including PB&J, cake, cookie dough, pear, watermelon, gummy bear, whipped cream and more. A Saturday at 43 degrees spent in the pool, trying not to combust. Italian dinner at the restaurant run by Pisani with northern accents but a very good schiacciatina, followed by drinks at the bar patio with live music. More Sunday morning pool time. A horrible defeat in the Euro2012 final, watched at the pub with chicken wings and tears. Back to the pool to drown sorrows and said tears. And a pizza dinner to honour our country's great exports (note: the rest of our game-watching-gang went to a Spanish restaurant for the above-mentioned drowning. How very wrong). And, yes, 9PM grocery shopping on a Sunday, just because we can.