Moving and Shakers

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Sparing no expense for this journey began with booking a flight on Spirit Airlines. If you're looking for comfort, try something more luxurious like the back of a flatbed pickup truck; otherwise, Spirit is a great place to wantonly spend money. Like most American businesses who, in the face of a wintry economic climate, try to grow profits by charging more money for the same old shit (forget the logical solution of charging less to entice you to buy more), Spirit is among the many commercial air carriers who have taken to extorting a premium for checked luggage as well as on-flight amenities like snacks and beverages ($3 cup of ginger ale, anyone?). But Spirit boldly takes it one step further: they continue to gouge for each carry-on item you have, effectively encouraging you to bring nothing on board and have zero to eat or drink. It wasn't long ago that a passenger with no luggage who refrained from eating and drinking for an entire flight was probably going to storm the cockpit and kill us all, but perhaps that's all part of Spirit's master plan -- when everyone looks suspicious, no one does. So, now that I think about it, we can breathe easy in the warm embrace of safety that accompanies such an environment. In light of this revelation, I retract my earlier statement! Spirit Airlines is the most comfortable!

(Lest we forget that I'm traveling with a companion, E observed that "the emergency exits on this thing are probably coin operated.")

Eventually we did land at Logan International, and though it wasn't long before our ride showed up to take us to the middle of nowhere, I'd like to speak to the afternoon I spent in downtown Boston on a business trip just a few weeks ago:

In the North End neighborhood (where you’ll find the Paul Revere bell tower and the site of the famous Boston Molasses Flood of 1919) sits an unassuming cafe called Theo's Cozy Corner. Don't pass up the opportunity to try their moqueca, a Brazilian seafood stew I haven't had since I was in South America avoiding puppet shows.

"Hey. You were saying something about 'the middle of nowhere'?" We’re presently bouncing around New England to visit some friends who happen to not live in populated areas. The first stop was a wedding in Amherst, and though the ceremony itself could certainly be described as “colorful,” I’m afraid the highlight of Western Mass has been a dilapidated house.

Josh and Becca have been producing kids in recent years so they decided to buy a new home. And by “new” I mean “old.” It was built in the mid-nineteenth century by Shakers, a community (some say “cult”) of religious celibates, ostensibly women-led, whose primary use for the house was packaging garden seeds and not having sex. Celibacy can only get you so far when procreating, so the Shakers died out long ago -- but the house eventually fell into the ownership of a woman named Jean Brown, who spent several decades collecting a macédoine of art, furniture, newspapers, clothes, books, luggage and other random crap, all the while rubbing elbows with the likes of John Lennon, Yoko Ono and various members of the Dada and Fluxus art movements. Brown died in 1994 and the house was left in an increasing state of disrepair until Josh and Becca bought it for the price of a regular house. And though Jean Brown’s perfectly comfortable furniture remains in the house, they hadn’t had a chance to spend the night here -- until our arrival.

There are four bedrooms which, not unlike every other room in the house, feature a small wealth of shelves, drawers, cabinets and books, each of varying content. There are countless stacks of postcards, magazines, photographs, handwritten poetry, typewritten poetry, collages, sculptures, probably some microfiche, an unlabeled VHS cassette that will maybe make you die seven days after watching it, and an orgy of old vinyl records. And just before we went to bed that first night, Josh and Becca sauntered into the living room and said: “You guys want to come explore the attic?”

This is another place where I could just go on listing things. Let’s just say Josh and Becca basically have that attic from “The Goonies.” They have been advised that in the event they discover a treasure map, I be alerted immediately.

Since my doctor said not to spend too much time around troves of esoteric cultural artifacts, tomorrow I head to Cape Cod.

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Photos

North, north, way north of the border
Theo's Cozy Corner, home of moqueca in Massachusetts

Hall of records
No shortage of listening material. Or paintings.

Detritus
Looks like that painting has seen a lucky day or two. (That's code for "bird poo," folks.)

Stay awhile
Take off your coat. Have a seat.

Holy shit
The Onion said it better.