Cambridge Diary

Beautiful blonde out walking a tiny pig. The leash is made of leather.

Maintenance man fixes a broken light. I pay him in a railroad spike bottle opener. He gives me a hug.

Spinning staff on the Common, a homeless man asks me to use my staff to rescue a pair of shoes he saw in a tree.

Next day: run into same homeless man in the library. I went from t-shirt to suit&tie so it takes him a minute to place me. He’s wearing the shoes. It’s nice making friends.

Found five dollars on the ground. Realized three beggars were watching me pick it up. Solomonic decision… ?????… profit!

Cashier puts in code for bananas instead of code for lunch bar. I save six dollars. That which we esteem too cheaply we value EVEN MORE, Patrick Henry.

Free coffee and cookies in the morning at the Cambridge Public library. Thanks, guys, but you had me with the free wifi.

Torrenting eBooks at 1mbps on a library internet connection. So meta. So meta.

Broke the wifi password at the Museum of Science. Stole bandwidth to run a system update on my Linux. For freetard justice.

Beautiful black girl. She is somewhere between 14 and 30.

Beautiful asian girl. She is somewhere between 12 and 50.

People in my building all wear ear buds until they get into their room. As a result I have not been able to say Good Morning to even one of my neighbors.

Why does everyone stop to ask me directions? Am I that approachable? Should I shower less often?

Showered, shaved, got all dussied up, went to glad-hand a local company in pursuit of a loljob. Office is closed. Because it’s a Friday in June.

Girl holding a cardboard sign asking for money for a cross-country trip. Realize I recognize her from Hampshire. Embarrassment.

Spinning poi with a really hot girl, old men keep stopping to take phone movies of her.

Spinning staff at 1AM on the Common, realize I have attracted an audience of several homeless people.

Next morning, the same homeless people are still there. Captive audience?

Very disturbed homeless man on a bike. Realize we are both wearing the same shirt. Fuck my life.

Sitting on the sidewalk outside Starbucks for free internet.

Walking around at night with a pocket knife, collecting flowers from in front of apartment buildings. Dinner centerpiece: a bouquet of roses, red, white, and pink.

A parking garage has a decorative garden next to its roadsign. Someone planted melissa. I pick a leaf or two every time I walk past and chew it. Then the whole world tastes delicious.

Water out of the tap is so hot it sets off the baking powder in bread. After baking, I have hard tack.

Five lightbulbs in new apartment. Three burn out within 12 hours of me moving in. I have no step ladder and therefore cannot change them. Shave using a book-light.

“I want to kiss you. Just once. Nothing more. But once.”

“I had an absolutely wonderful day with you. Now get out of here before you fuck it up.”

“One who would love you ought not to love constancy.” “That’s one of the loveliest things ever said to me” “Good.”

Walking a mile and a half each way to the library to get internet access. Realizing I am walking three miles just go blog.

Trying to plot the bus route to a town four towns north. Realizing it’s only three miles and walking it in an hour.

Locked myself out of my apartment during move-in. Friend had to use a latter to climb onto a sconce, then boost herself up from a lighting fixture, force my window, and climb into my apartment.

Realizing I am hooking up with someone who is dating a guy who taught one of my undergrad classes.

Getting hit on by a 35-year-old. Like, hard.

Spinning fire for 40 people. Half of whom are fire bums. The other half are engineering grad students and computer programmers.

Setting off the fire alarm by boiling water. Just like dorm times, baby.

Rental agent trying to get $800 out of me in fees – after declaring this to be a no-fee apartment.

Drafting a letter to the rental agent telling him I am rejecting his invoice. A small part of me fearing a fracas – and a large part of me looking forward to one.

Manning the grill in a backyard party in the suburbs. The house is owned by a poly foursome and half the people there are half naked. Still: America.

Finding a rollie chair by the side of the road. Taking turns pushing each other for about a mile.

Walking six miles to get organic laundry detergent.

Spinning staff on the MIT quad.

Getting my picture taken walking across the Harvard quad. Like, a lot.

Sitting and meditating in the gardens outside of the Harvard Divinity School.

Getting hassled by drunk Harvard Law students; ardently resisting the urge to beat them into Ben & Jerrys.

Going into a dozen Harvard Square bars; walking out again when I saw what they were like.

$11 boxes of quinoa at the bodega. That is to say, no.

Guitar practice at midnight on the Common; wishing I could play Midnight In A Perfect World.

Vlad Nabokov lived down the hall from where I am currently living. He lived there while Lolita went to press and Eugene Onegin was composed. No pressure.

I am currently sitting across the street from a building with a plaque on it. This plaque commemorates the King of Thailand meeting his wife, who was a nursing student living in the building. This plaque is paid for by the King of Thailand Birthplace Commemoration Foundation. And one wonders why I want to get out of the nonprofit sector.

All the wrought-iron fences around Harvard are cast. Lame.

The Cambridge Common contains about a dozen statues referential to the Revolutionary War, but none to the English Civil War. Very tempted to commission a statue, sneak it onto the Common at night, leave it there, and see if anyone notices.

Dozens of street musicians, so far the most talented was a guy with a bunch of plastic buckets and some drumsticks. He wasn’t busking. Just beating his drum.

Japanese girl spinning fire poi in a peach-colored dress torn off midthigh and a great smile ad blue panties. Not that I noticed.

Found a bench with green grass and nice shade and chickadees all around. And UNSECURED LINKSYS. Praise and honor.

Have yet to overhear one conversation in this town that didn’t make me want to snort a line of dicks. This will either get better when school returns to session… or else I will be needing both nostrils and longing for a third.

Cannot go fifteen minutes without hearing a siren. Truly this is the Land of a Thousand Ambulances.

Old man on the bench next to mine. Wearing a three-piece suit and patent leather wingtips. Keeps snapping in a jazz rhythm. Awesome or SO AWESOME.

Infinite foreplay loop.

Spinning with a cute girl. Guys approach her, offer to give her pot. Then come to me and ask if I have any pot.

Harvard Art Museum undergoing renovation. Whole collection sandwiched in to a space one quarter the size. Whoever put the David portrait of Napoleon Imperator next to the marble statue of Trajan: I want to have sex with you. Sincerely, David.

All the cabs here are Crown Vics. IE, cop cars. Pavlov is a sadistic bitch-ass ho.

Want to go into a book store just to get a recommendation, even if it means buying a book. Clearly the world needs to metadata manager harder.

All the programmers I’ve met here run Ubuntu. I thought more of them would run Linux. OH.

Stacks of XKCD books in the MIT bookstore.

Harvard closes most of its gates after dark. This doesn’t seem to encourage people from entering so much as leaving.

In addition to the two mounted smoke alarms, it seems my apartment is equipped with an internal alarm system. It produces a sound about the consistency of razor blade jello shots injected into the ear drums. I came home to find it on. There seems no way of turning it off. I am sitting on the sidewalk two blocks away and I can still hear it.

Two hours later: super returns my call. Tells me to call 911. Fire engine shows up. Three giant dudes come into my apartment. They find the culprit: maintenance man who threw out a ‘defective’ smoke alarm earlier in the day LEFT IN THE BATTERY. Neighbor status: presumably plotting my MURDER.

Women I’ve met twice just showed up at my apartment. Talked about how she’s been stalking me on Facebook. Stalkward.

Am paying $1 in rent every 26 minutes I am in Cambridge. That’s four cents per minute. Doesn’t sound like much. IT IS.

This last statistic compiled based upon data supplied by Rent.

Fireplace apparently decorative. Gonna be a cold winter.

Poly nerds seem very happy. Poly geeks seem very sad.

It’s my housewarming party, I’ll drink directly from a handle of Captain if I want to.

Air purifier makes a great window-fan. Purification of air: coincidental.

Need to stop ordering double espresso so as to get access to wifi. On the plus side: can now see through time.

Keeping lighted candles in the windows when I know friends are coming over.

Serving meals using entirely wooden tableware. Not like I have any alternatives.

Pretty much everything in this house was either handmade or found. I’d probably get more props for this if it didn’t all look professionally crafted and purchased.

Housewarming party: men drift into the kitchen and drink port. Women stay in bedroom and discuss electrical engineering. The best purdah.

Walking to the place with the unsecured linksys to sit on the sidewalk and watch three weeks of Zero Punctuation.

Seeing my first Harvard Square hipster. After looking for three days. And then realizing they went to Hampshire with me.

Calling everyone who asks me for directions Twoflower. Them not getting it. But not asking.

Cambridge library card = free admission to area museums.

Cambridge library card = ten free printouts. Per day.

Cambridge library card = access to a building with air conditioning and leather chairs.

Cambridge library card = access to a collection about one hundredth of the size of Harvard library. Or MIT. Or BU. Or BC.

Museum of Science with fifteen FOB Saudi Arabians.

Adolescent Saudi boys at a science exhibit on how to give a mammogram. With interactive components. That have nipples.

This one Harvard building becoming the center of My City; calling it The Duomo; walking by it every day; never failing to stop and stare and wonder.

Less than three.

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~ by davekov on 17 June 2011.

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