I flee the silent suburbs on a bus west to New York City. Several bus companies compete for the busy Boston-New York route so I pay only $16 each way. Father drops me off in the rain at the local Riverside station. On the bus, I try to code Arduino …
I run daily past the mansions of Wellesley and Natick. The narrow lanes lack sidewalks and shoulders. Residents are not meant to get out of their cars, much less walk or bicycle. Cars congest suburban side streets to avoid grimmer highways. On my runs, I watch SUVs line up to …
I source parts for the icosahedron. Shopping is far more enjoyable in San Francisco than in the Boston suburbs. I know better the San Francisco stores and I can walk to them. Now based in the suburbs, I’m ordering many parts through the mail. I drove west this rainy morning …
I return home, not as dramatically as two weeks ago, but just as discombobulating. A nightly bottle of wine, an apartment full of five, and dancing until three, yields to dinner tea, two parents plus one brother, and bedtime by ten. I sleep for nine hours on the first night …
We linger in the Montreal house until Sunday mid-afternoon. While devouring a dainty brunch, we prepare a portable lunch for the Piknik Elektronik in Parc St. Drapeau, an island in the St. Laurence River. We ride the afternoon subway to join the young throng under Calder’s giant elephant sculpture. We …
We spend Saturday in bed. We may be tired of touring. Three of us restock the house’s larder at the IGA supermarket. We fill three carts with bread, cheese, yoghurt, and lots of wine. I have eaten so much music this week. Two afternoons in a row, John and I …
The Montreal apartment has faster internet than at my parents’ house. I order parts for the icosahedron and check my stocks. I try to knock off one cultural attraction each day in Montreal to counterbalance the evening drinking and dancing. On a bright Friday afternoon, David and I take the …
I leave my car window down accidentally for two days. Montreal rains sodden the seat and fill the basin under the door handle. Mushrooms may soon sprout. Spring rains dry into summer sun. Our group of five has not yet collapsed from an all-night bender. David and I wake charitably …
Among the three single people in the Montreal apartment, I draw the short straw and sleep in the small room with the twin bed. However, as last chooser, I win a second, unoccupied small room immediately below mine, also with a twin bed. I install in the second room an …
Montreal blooms in late spring with festivals such as jazz, blues, film and comedy. Like the swallows of Capistrano, I fly back almost annually to Montreal for Mutek, a small festival for electronic music. This year, I drove. Memorial Day morning, I pick up a fellow-festivaler in Somerville. Eve and …