The Walkmen Return

One of my favorite bands is coming out with a new CD on Aug. 19, but through the wonders of technology I just snagged it more than two weeks in advance.

No, I'm not a black-market buyer. In an arrangement similar to Radiohead's recent album "In Rainbows" download, the Walkmen put their new album online here and asked fans to pay $5 for the privilege. When Radiohead asked fans to name their price, I volunteered to pay 3 British pounds (about $8), so $5 for the Walkmen's "You & Me" sounded like a bargain, and proceeds benefit cancer research.

The download didn't take on my train ride into work, so I tried again on the way home. This time, success! I'm now in indie-rock heaven listening to the tracks as my train approaches New Haven.

Since this is my first listen, it's too early for full appraisal, but I can safely say that the Walkmen haven't let me down yet. Excellent!

If you're interested, the band's home page has some of its songs in rotation. As for me, it'd be a crime to miss the boys kick off their tour Aug. 18, when they play New York's Bowery Ballroom. Please, Liz, can I go? Please? Please?

Goodbye, Old Friend

Liz and I must bid a tearful goodbye to the red Honda Civic, which has given us so many great memories, from the road trip to Yellowstone to the time I side-swiped our garage on Second Avenue in Wausau. It carried me and much of my stuff to Poughkeepsie in October 2005. It carried our canoe everywhere we went canoeing. For a few weeks it carried me 45 minutes to the train station each day, back when we lived in Glastonbury and I had to commute to work from there to Manhattan. And it carried us to Bayfield many times, including, if I'm not mistaken, the weekend I proposed to Liz.

Purchased in October 2003 for about $5,000 from Sixth Street Motors in Wausau with just under 130,000 miles on it, we sold the car this morning at 195,000 miles for $1,800 to a nice older guy named Lee, who was buying it for his sister. He's picking it up this afternoon while we're gone, better for us lest we embarrass ourselves with an uncomfortable outpouring of emotion.

Is it odd to get misty over something as ordinary as a car? But we are Americans, dammit, and sentimental attachment to our vehicles is in our blood. I feel like a cowboy without a horse now that I am without my own car for the first time since college, though we still have Liz's car for the time being.

Completely unrelated final note: After our Cabin Weekend 2008, spent among the vast countryside of northern Minnesota and its lakes and farms, I found myself humming one of my favorite Talking Heads songs, "(Nothing But) Flowers," a kind of ironic fantasy of progress played in reverse, with urban real estate sacrificed for farmland and parkland. The song doesn't promote a "return to Eden" message so much as a contrary perspective on the "evolution" of modern society, that one day we might find ourselves nostalgic for skyscrapers and interstate highways and Honda Civics.

"There was a factory, now there are mountains and rivers.
We caught a rattlesnake, now we got something for dinner.
There was a shopping mall, now it's all covered with flowers.
If this is paradise, I wish I had a lawnmower. ...

"Once there were parking lots, now it's a peaceful oasis.
This was a Pizza Hut, now it's all covered with daisies.
I miss the honky tonks, Diary Queens and 7-Elevens.
And as things fell apart nobody paid much attention."

Cabin Weekend 2008

'Twas another successful cabin weekend on Marion Lake in Perham, Minn.

Despite spending Friday night in the airport and catching only about three hours of sleep before arriving in the magical place that is Joy's parents' cabin, it was a good weekend of catching up with friends and drinking too much.

Thanks to Tim, Joy's b-friend, and his skunky beer, Dave got a little sick, but it wasn't anything a nap and two brats couldn't cure.

We were not able to attend the annual weekend last year because of a lack of available funds and time off from work due to our pending nuptials.

But we returned mainly to find that we all can't hold our liquor like we once could....

It was a short weekend but one hell of a good one.

Pepe's

Well, we finally did it. We ate at Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana. It's suppose to be the best pizza around, and we've been meaning to eat there since we moved here.

Believe it or not, New Haven is known regionally for its pizza, mainly at two places: Sally's and Pepe's. Both cook their pizzas in a coal-fired oven, producing a very thin, crispy crust. Pepe's is the original, founded in 1925 by Frank Pepe, an Italian immigrant. The restaurant is especially know for its white clam pizza.

The problem, however, is that you can wait hours for a table. Dave and I decided to go for dinner there last night, but the line was out the door and down the street. So, we decided to try again for Monday lunch, and thankfully, we had no trouble getting a seat.

We had the original pizza, which is just tomato sauce and mozzarella, and put some pepperoni on half. We ordered the medium, which by any other standard is a large.

It is good pizza, the thin, crisp crust, not too much cheese, but I'm not sure I'd stand in line for it. It is, however, propably in my top five pizza places.

At heart, I'm a deep-dish kind of gal. But this thin crust was good. And thankfully, it wasn't like New York-style pizza, of which I'm not a fan.

Starry Afternoon

We finally remembered to bring the camera along on one of our New Haven excursions, and whaddaya know but the security guard told us the main attraction was off limits to cameras.

The main attraction these days at the Yale Art Gallery is Vincent van Gogh's famous "Starry Night" and somewhat less famous "Cypresses." Hopefully you all already are familiar with "Starry Night" — awash in deep blue, village nestled among hills, dagger-like tree in the foreground and yellow and white stars sparkling overhead — since we have no pictures of it to share. (Or, I guess you can click here.) Impressive, as were many of the other paintings in the gallery's modern wing.

Liz has an aversion to some of the more abstract examples of modern art. I'm trying to break her of that, not because I'm a modern art booster, but rather because I think folks should approach art with an open mind and then decide for themselves if they like what they see. Sometimes it's hard to break down the barriers of rational, linear thought so that you can truly see modern art or any art in its proper context. For example, you may look at one of Mark Rothko's two-tone color studies and think, "That's lame, just some colored rectangles." And you'd sort of be right — but still missing the point. Some art is merely a study of shape and form and color and texture, and someone like Rothko is known for his instantly recognizable approach to that puzzle.

Then there is Jackson Pollock, one of the great devils in Liz's art-going experience. She is right that his wild drizzling on canvas looks like something a child could have done, but this is deceiving. Pollock makes it look easy. He, too, is instantly recognizable because no one else has done what he did and no one else could do it as masterfully. And what has he done? Well, that's open to interpretation, like all great art. Mostly I like it because the fury of lines suggest chaos yet also, splashed against a monochromatic background, seem to follow a mysterious order. Some metaphor for life perhaps.

At any rate, Rothko and Pollock are among the rock stars of modern art, so it's cool just to say we've been there and seen it up close.

New Haven

We seem to spend most of our weekdays getting to and from work. I travel up to Hartford, driving about 90 miles each day. Dave goes down to Manhattan, spending nearly four hours commuting on a train.

That leaves the weekends to explore, and we find that the more we explore - the more we fall in love with New Haven.

New Haven has two contradicting reputations. Both are true to a point. One, it's a crime-ridden city. So far this year, the city has had a dozen murders. And for a city of only 160,000 people, I'd say that's high. Like any city with higher crime, it's a matter of knowing where you are and where you are going. We live near downtown, close to Yale. The neighborhood is, for the most part, safe. The biggest threat is getting our cars stolen.

The other reputation: If you want to live like you are in Manhattan but can't afford it, live in New Haven. True? I see a truth in it. New Haven is a compact city centralized around Yale University. With Yale comes arts, theater, great entertainment, clubs, bars, parks, beaches and outstanding restaurants all within walking or biking distance.

Dave and I haven't ever lived in a city together that offered so much as New Haven. Over the weekend, after a hike in East Rock Park with clear, stunning views of Long Island Sound and even Long Island, we realized how wonderful this city is.

So, I guess this is my ode to New Haven.....