Sunday, May 22, 2005
Just Another Summer on the Hill
When the ex-boyfriend's best friend looks right threw you in an empty bar and immediately extends a fist pound to your new boyfriend bartender, it hits you that you have no reason existing in a stark Beacon Hill Pub on a Tuesday evening.
Certain places have the great capacity to suck one in. Beacon Hill Pub is one of them. Empty or packed, there are always new friends, old friends, strangers about to become friends. Drinks to be had, and hovering over the dingy toilets in this divey establishment.
Recently re-named as "Blackout Pub", BHP has served as a safety net for all things underage. I am now legal to drink and officially a resident of Massachusetts. I no longer pose as Melanie Schechter, the jewish girl from Long Island. However, I still manage to crave the craziness, and comfort that is The Pub.
My relationships mirror those of the bars in which we attend. Only people i ooze with confidence around see me with my face on get to spoil me with the Pravda rejects at Gypsy Bar. Comfort is where the people who know me best, allow me to kick their ass seven times a night at Hoop Fever, at the hole in the wall on the dodgy end of Charles Street.
" Hey, did you just score a 58 "
" yeah, its not something I brag about to often"
" I played semi-pro basketball and my high score is 55 "
" Thats funny, but I have a friend that tells all new ladies he meets in divebars that he is a semi-pro football player. He really is on the Merrill Lynch flag football league."
" Point taken, play you for a beer? "
Certain places have the great capacity to suck one in. Beacon Hill Pub is one of them. Empty or packed, there are always new friends, old friends, strangers about to become friends. Drinks to be had, and hovering over the dingy toilets in this divey establishment.
Recently re-named as "Blackout Pub", BHP has served as a safety net for all things underage. I am now legal to drink and officially a resident of Massachusetts. I no longer pose as Melanie Schechter, the jewish girl from Long Island. However, I still manage to crave the craziness, and comfort that is The Pub.
My relationships mirror those of the bars in which we attend. Only people i ooze with confidence around see me with my face on get to spoil me with the Pravda rejects at Gypsy Bar. Comfort is where the people who know me best, allow me to kick their ass seven times a night at Hoop Fever, at the hole in the wall on the dodgy end of Charles Street.
" Hey, did you just score a 58 "
" yeah, its not something I brag about to often"
" I played semi-pro basketball and my high score is 55 "
" Thats funny, but I have a friend that tells all new ladies he meets in divebars that he is a semi-pro football player. He really is on the Merrill Lynch flag football league."
" Point taken, play you for a beer? "
// posted by .elle. @ 5:14 PM
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
In the Waiting Room
I love the form teacups take when stacked. It reminds me of Alice in Wonderland and how I could never finish the entire movie as a child out of sheer boredom and predicicality. Walking through the streets of Beacon Hill I have noticed how small people request small things. Little boys want to watch the trucks that are constructing a new side walk. White haired girls dressed in Oilily ask for a scoop of ice cream or a piece of bread to feed the ducks in the public garden. The innocence and simplicity of children in the city is the most intriguing aspect of meandering through The Hill on a flip flop and polo shirt day.
I have recently been told by a large handful of beautiful people that I am the strongest person they have ever met. Nice Compliment, too much pressure. My father has enstilled in me the most amazing ability to be completely self-reliant. I can make a three course meal out of six ingredients, drive a stick, change a tire, catch a fish, grow tomatoes, build a fire, start a boat with a screw driver. I have also learned from my father how to constantly be aware of my surroundings. This has overlapped into city life with complete necessity.
It is may, and if I had made a different decision with my life, I would be meandering threw Beacon Hill sans Starbucks but with a stroller of my very own in tow. With a small person, requesting only small things with nothing more than a wimper.
But for now, I will grab my Venti-Non-Fat-Chai and be the observer I have learned to be from my father. I will notice the marigolds in someone's one square foot of earth at the bottom of their stoop, I will listen to small people request small things and dance with the people on the street, smiling, while i'm waiting for my appointment with change.
I have recently been told by a large handful of beautiful people that I am the strongest person they have ever met. Nice Compliment, too much pressure. My father has enstilled in me the most amazing ability to be completely self-reliant. I can make a three course meal out of six ingredients, drive a stick, change a tire, catch a fish, grow tomatoes, build a fire, start a boat with a screw driver. I have also learned from my father how to constantly be aware of my surroundings. This has overlapped into city life with complete necessity.
It is may, and if I had made a different decision with my life, I would be meandering threw Beacon Hill sans Starbucks but with a stroller of my very own in tow. With a small person, requesting only small things with nothing more than a wimper.
But for now, I will grab my Venti-Non-Fat-Chai and be the observer I have learned to be from my father. I will notice the marigolds in someone's one square foot of earth at the bottom of their stoop, I will listen to small people request small things and dance with the people on the street, smiling, while i'm waiting for my appointment with change.
// posted by .elle. @ 5:11 PM
