Bitchy Parader (Anagram Alert)
Below is the self-indulgent text from two emails (dispatched on July 5th)—with a few minor contextual tweaks—I sent my buddy Moore about my travels with Sue on July 3rd/4th. Life’s best when a series of simple things keep providing pleasure, advice I thank Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie for. No additional preface is necessary.
Given there were a plethora of highlights from the last 48 hours, I figured a two-day travelogue might be worth a gander (but certainly no goose/#SmashTheFowlPatriarchy).
Saturday: Ate a pink grapefruit covered in fresh mint, powdered nutmeg/cardamom/ginger, & Nu-Salt. Gonna buy one every week & try out various seasonings on it each time. For this concoction, I guess you could call me a grapenut. *audience groans* *various crowd members sling tomatoes at me* *I pick one up & take a bite* “Wow, are these heirlooms?! Really, keep ‘em comin’! You guys are great.” *eye-roll emoji*
Took a ride w/ Sue out to Preston to visit the Antiques Marketplace b/c I figured we could do some stuff near-ish to Stafford before meeting Connie & Fred for dinner (Harry was nauseous & opted not to attend). Sue kept trying to text her friend from work, Kelly, whose birthday was on the 3rd. Sue treats texts like major events, needing silence to focus, pick out the best emojis & Bitmoji, & edit herself, so I naturally kept interjecting. “You can’t get mad, it’s my birthday.” “NO, it’s NOT! It’s Kelly’s birthday!” I interrupted for about the dozenth time & she forcefully replied, “I’m texting her!” Seeing Sue frustrated never fails to make me laugh. Sue: The Master of Priorities. Beautiful ride to Putnam, btw; hadn’t been to that town & the lush green, even in the gray rain, made me want to revisit the general area soon-ish.
Walked into a four-story former department store & found a record store not listed on VinylHub [I’ve since added it]. Tiny spot w/ all the pricey titles on display—hedged my bets to find something better on Sunday & passed on a copy of Leonard Cohen’s Death of a Ladies’ Man (most unique thing he ever released but far from the best)—but did eavesdrop on a teenage kid giddily talking to the owner about extreme metal bands like Burzum. Sue spotted a copy of Quiet Riot’s Metal Health & told me that it was the album that got her into heavy music, a factoid I’d forgotten from years ago when she would joke about the similarities of Dubra & Quiet Riot’s Kevin Dubrow because they both taste like shit. Wait, what?
Found some Nazi memorabilia right off the bat at the Marketplace, making Sue question what we were getting ourselves into, but I reminded her that the Nazis had no part in 9/11. #FeverNoGet Carnac: How an undocumented immigrant speaks to his physician. Walked through all 3.5 stories (the fourth is half of a walk-up finished attic, if anything) searching everywhere b/c I’m dying to get a maneki-neko, one of those Japanese “lucky cat” statues w/ the waving arm. Sue found a room w/ a ton of vintage ‘60s clothes—all semi-faded hot pinks, lime greens, canary yellows, etc. I convinced her to buy a $15 pink/green purse after Internet searching confirmed it was worth a lot more. She’d also eyeballed a gold bracelet shaped like a peacock w/ hand-set stones of varying colors representing the cock’s feathers (what I call them after not trimming my pubes for a year). I called one of the floor associates over to open the case, Sue looked at it but didn’t want to decide, & I blurted out, “I’ll take it!” Sue told the lady, “Ya know, it’s his birthday & he’s buying me gifts.” (Funny, I thought it was KELLY’S birthday!) I did this in M**n* [I’m not allowed to type out Maine in my correspondences with Moore or else he gets to share one of his dreams as payback. It’s been a running gag during The Prison Letters, Volume II.] a few years back—found a journal w/ a lion on it & clandestinely had the associate ring it up—& love the idea of reverse birthday gifts. The bracelet was only $25 & probably could’ve fetched closer to double or triple that.
Strolled around downtown for a few—two brewpubs practically side by side, one in the former train station—then upon walking to the car, a brunette roughly my age walked toward us upset. “I was just telling my friend that I am so fucking sick of seeing silver cars b/c they’re everywhere here, but then I saw you!” (Sue was wearing a pink & silver jacket.) She proceeded to hug Sue four separate times, blankly staring at her like she was The Ambassador of Happiness or some shit. She told Sue to have a great day & Sue had one of her best responses in a while: “Have a wonderful life!” Meanwhile, the hugger’s friend was down the street attempting to find a parking space & we met eyes during the embrace-a-thon, both cracking the fuck up at the absurd sequence.
Cut off a guy at a light in error—the unexpected anxiety of being followed by someone you’ve accidentally wronged w/ your vehicle is a special kind of neurosis—& made our way to the Airline Grill in Pomfret. Small roadside spot w/ picnic tables plus a menu including a lobster roll, tons of ice cream, & a sprawling vegan selection. Got some nuggets & fries—we discovered this place last year & found out that they use Morningstar nuggets, which are the most chicken-like non-chicken nuggets I’ve yet to try (they’re better here b/c they deep fry 'em, natch)—along w/ a pesto grilled cheese. Had to be somewhere so we ate in the car, prompting Sue to get sad that we weren’t savoring our food enough. “Ask Moore: You can eat quickly & still savor the shit out of your food. It mostly cuts out the time in between bites when you keep talking about how good it is.”
Arrived at the only Historic New England house in CT: Roseland Cottage in Woodstock. Checked in at the gift shop & the lady in charge, Louise, mentioned that our tour guide, Dave, was running a few minutes late w/ the group ahead of us. Browsed postcards & hardcover books while waiting then said, “Man, Dave must be on his third encore now, huh?” “How did you know his name was Dave?” Louise asked, forgetting she’d said it. “Oh, Dave & I go way back. Practically grew up together.” Then Sue blew my cover & explained that I’m a sarcastic asshole. Looked out the door: “Oh man, Dave just played ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ Hendrix-style & is now smashing his axe on the hedges!”
The house was built in 1846 in a Gothic Revival style, has 13 layers of varying shades of pink paint on it (we’ll call it lukewarm salmon/*Michael Scott joke*), is home to the nation’s oldest surviving bowling alley, was slept in by four presidents, & beginning in 1870 became host to the largest Fourth of July celebration in America! Dave proved to be an old soul—28-year-old who fell in love w/ the place when visiting during a high school trip—but he said a line from Letterkenny, Sue recognized it & repeated it w/ a Canadian accent, & Dave commented on how not many visitors are fans of America’s Hat’s second most popular sitcom of the last decade, later adding a “pitter-patter” while Sue & I were slow going upstairs in the semi-darkness. Saw a dozen or so rooms in an hour & the tour felt over as soon as it started. Returned to the gift shop to talk to Louise while Sue bought some postcards then told her how it was my birthday tomorrow, part of the reason seeing the house at this time of year was exciting. “You're a real Yankee Doodle Dandy!” Louise told me. I had her arrested for a hate crime. But really, I did my best Jimmy Cagney impression & put 400 bullet holes in the cottage.
Made our way to Willington Pizza where, having only ever eaten pizza, I decided to get a sausage & meatball casserole, which was both meats covered in mozz & baked. Served w/ spaghetti & some sauteed mushrooms, it was delicious if oddly named. Also love how their house bread is an entire loaf of garlic bread. Fred has been having stomach issues—either constipation or diarrhea depending on the day—so to eat something light he inhaled an entire chef’s salad, later eating a cup of shredded cheese that Connie didn’t put on her side of chili! I wonder why his G.I. tract’s more inflamed than the Gulf of Mexico. Connie must’ve mentioned at least four times how the restaurant was featured on Good Morning America years ago & told one of her most long-winded, pointless, digressive stories I’d heard in a while. Even Sue lost patience! Sue mouthed to the waitress that it was my birthday—I caught her doing it like I often do—& three (likely) UConn undergraduate girls sang to me before providing me a warm brownie smothered in whipped cream, which I proceeded to lick off their chests in tribute to an old Kappa Sigma anecdote you shared. [I don’t know either.]
Returned to the house & enjoyed some blueberry cheesecake (Fred did too, of course/amazed he didn’t top it w/ a couple slices of Swiss). Watched a bit of the exhibition race taking place in Indiana w/ him before heading out. Pretty confident that my nana begins speaking w/ the best intentions, has too much pride to admit she immediately forgot what her point was, & then just keeps talking until someone cuts her off. Don’t interject though: She’ll barely acknowledge your comment even if it’s the funniest shit she’s ever heard. That woman may have an incredible memory, but the lack of introspection is jarring. Would be like all of your emails recapping your day point by point w/o a single smidgen of commentary. She sent us home w/ a watermelon b/c Fred kept yelling racist epithets at it.
Drove north on Enfield Street to see the fireworks exploding in the sky, a vantage point I’d never seen them from previously. Then we watched ‘em out of Sue’s window for a few minutes, immediately bored. People only love the Enfield fireworks b/c the last five to ten minutes are spectacular. Wrapped up the night w/ an episode of Rick & Morty featuring a new effete villain named Mr. Nimbus that had us rolling, like every R&M episode does. As Birthday Eves go, it was a day of unending happiness, laughs, & not caring about anything else in the world. As Birthday Adams go, I am appalled that I’ve tried to make a joke out of this, aren’t you?
Sunday: Woke up at 9:11—was planning to set the alarm for 9:05 but couldn’t avoid leaving the time wheel on its comical landing spot—& streamed the new Faye Webster album (I Know I'm Funny haha, which is excellent/dug her last one quite a bit & actually expected her next one would be a keeper—sweet validation), a slice of laid back country rock w/ some bite. Harry said she’d be presenting my gifts in the living room at 9:55, the time of my birth, so I joined her a few minutes early. There was a gigantic, long cardboard box on the recliner, prompting me to ask if she’d purchased a set of golf clubs. Turned out to be a large, round rug designed like a 33 to put in front of my music setup; sure will beat squatting on the hardwood floor & triggering my eleventy-thinth dump of the day. She also got me a black tee shirt featuring a record playing on a turntable, Drive-By Truckers tickets, two Heath bars, & a card loaded w/ cats & lazerz. Chatted w/ her about yesterday until it was time to pack the cooler, shower, wax my chest, & head out like a penis ready for a quick round of just the tip.
Arrived to find Sue & her two winter hoodies, one jacket, & one lighter hoodie ready to rock. Decided to open the presents on the couch when we got back to maximize time. She had to text Glenn about removing a key that got stuck in the front doorknob (weird bit of role-playing), so I silently listened to DJ Sprinkles & occasionally interjected a fascinating comment like, “Huh, I expected more people on the road at 11:15.” I dunno how Sue would get by w/o such wisdom. Stopped at the Holyoke Barnes & Noble b/c the Criterion Collection Blu-ray sale is ongoing for all of July. As we were getting out of the car, Sue found my pink lady apple on the seat & asked, “Was I sitting on this the entire ride, or did you conjure it out of thin air?” I cannot tell you how many times throughout the rest of the day that I extended an open palm & asked Sue, “Need an apple?” Picked up The Night of the Hunter & Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me along w/ a fresh journal from the discount rack. Sue told the cashier how it was my birthday & he went full MOOSE on us. Mask was on, but that kid’s blood pressure might’ve been a Rush time signature (16/3); admired his command at showing no joy about my birthday. Sauntered to the Starbucks for an iced coffee only for Sue to find a long sought-after item: a vegan dessert. HOW THE FUCK has Starbucks left money on the table w/r/t vegan food until 2021? It was a thin slice of coconut banana walnut cake w/ vanilla frosting. Grabbed a butter croissant & told Sue how I didn’t plan on eating one all day. She replied from the perspective of the croissant: “I’m here. You’re here. The twain shall meet!” Was slayed.
Made the trek to Montague—another drive through foreign territory full of vibrant green, highlighted by me swerving while grabbing a chunk of croissant, Sue joking about my upcoming meeting w/ St. Peter, & me adding that I’d present him my apple by saying, “I never wanted to be here, so I admit that I took this from Eden”—& arrived at the Bookmill, a two-story red house converted into the most laid back used bookstore there is. Comfortable-looking chairs were everywhere. Felt like going to your alt-universe grandparents’ early 20th century home. Outside is a massive wooden deck w/ umbrella-shaded tables plus a street level selection of more tables w/ a stunning view of the Saw Mill River running right by the house. As soon as we exited the car, that asshole Moore called to… I’m sorry, disregard. Made a quick stop at the Turn It Up on the property only for Birthday Kismet™️ to occur for a second straight year. Sitting in the rack was a first pressing of England’s Newest Hitmakers for $8! Sure, the jacket was taped & had writing on it (the original owner, Joan Kirsch, underlined “The Rolling Stones are more than just a group—they are a way of life”/amen, sister) but the LP played w/ minimal surface noise, never mind that I’ve long wanted a copy solely for the historical value. Bought it & told the cashier, “I feel so self-conscious buying this while wearing a Stones shirt.”
Spent just shy of an hour in the Bookmill itself (their slogan is “Books you don’t need in a place you can’t find”) & scored a collection of Bob interviews titled Dylan on Dylan, David Lipsky’s book about life w/ cadets at West Point (I’m certain Bud has it/title is Absolutely American), the centennial hardcover Yankees history book (99% sure this is the one you almost got me at the Manhattan B&N that I’ve been seeking for a while now), & a collection of Zadie Smith’s essays (includes possibly my favorite piece written about David Foster Wallace/worth $7.95 for that alone given it was a hardcover). We were dying to sit & enjoy the serenity so I ordered a $5 unsweet hibiscus iced tea/it was bland as hell—couldn’t bring myself to get a $12 hot dog—& took a few usies w/ my new phone, prompting Sue to question why we had such a tough time in our previous attempts (still baffled). Went to take a leak & the kid using the jonathan before me failed to flush his loaf. Sure to become a well-adjusted adult. Tons of ‘50s newspaper clips on every centimeter of the bathroom walls.
Trekked over the Gill Bridge in Turners Falls en route to Shelburne Falls; the bridge is massive & has a path for walkers/bikers that we plan on taking by foot in the fall. Decamped for a quick bread buy at Hager’s Farm: I got garlic dill & Sue begrudgingly grabbed cinnamon raisin, fearful she’d eat it all in a day or two. Next was a quick trip to Boswell’s, the used bookstore w/ a tuxedo cat who’s usually quite friendly. Unfortunately, Ole Boz was nowhere to be seen. Assume she’s alive or the sign on the door would’ve merely said Books, right? Walked through the Bridge of Flowers in ten or so minutes, pausing to admire sea holly & various lilies, but only after we saw an ancient man driving a cart w/ ten or so boxes-on-wheels linked by cables behind him. They looked like squares straight out of a filing cabinet, all taupe & boring. However, the final one featured this quote taped to it: “When the people fear the government, that’s tyranny; when the government fears the people, that’s freedom.” Ran over & clotheslined the guy for supporting Thomas Jefferson then pedaled the boxbike so hard I met up w/ a hospice-housed E.T. in need of a final Reese’s Pieces fix.
Thai Garden was inexplicably closed—an Asian restaurant closed on a federal holiday!/What’s next? A reboot of Transgender World Airlines?—so I chose Pulse (the vegan place in Hadley) b/c eating there is so pleasurable. They were out of the Cubano sandwich & chik’n & waffle, but we gladly settled for their smoked tofu Caesar salad (best salad ever), buffalo chik’n pizza, & breakfast burrito w/ potatoes. Saw a rabbit running around in the field behind the restaurant—aka the old bison farm—& Sue failed to get the cashier to provide a birthday dessert w/ a candle, a true moral victory. Dropped my usual hesitancy about asking a stranger to take our photo & the smoothie girl happily obliged. Josh also texted, inquired about my day, & then asked for a photo of dinner b/c he’s unimaginative about vegan food but looking to make more of it. Happy to see him dipping his toes in.
Saw a rainbow on the ride home, a sure sign that a lesbian got her (red) wings. Sue watered her pesky plants while I opened my gifts—the aforementioned Miles LP [Someday My Prince Will Come], many Bath & Body Quirks lemon-scented items (sugared lemon zest candle, sunshine & lemon hand sanitizer, & limoncello bathroom spray), & a few other trinkets (including new containers for leftovers). Bonus: This was the first birthday card she’d given me on the 4th in approximately a decade! Engaged in the compulsory carnal ceremony, which hit the spot to such a euphoric degree that I blurted out, “Good grief!” In my defense, I was dressed like Charlie Brown. Wrapped up the night watching two episodes of Dave (I think you’d enjoy it) & one Rick & Morty (an instant all-timer featuring the slaughter of thousands of decoy characters). Not sure how I was tasked w/ giving Sue a 90-minute back rub but given her generosity it felt easily earned. Said goodbye at ten since she had to work in the morning &, much like her great line on Saturday, once again referenced our favorite Christmas movie: “I’d lasso the moon for ya, bud!”
May have been one of the greatest weeks of my adult life. Harry treated to Chinese tonight, marking the fifth time in six nights that someone bought me dinner (sesame chicken & steamed dumplings). Plus, I’m going up to Bull Moose in Keene on Wednesday w/ my buddy Bruce (stopping at Elm City for grub afterward). Can’t imagine these emails were particularly thrilling, but there wasn’t a moment this weekend when I didn’t think it was fucking great to be alive, which deserved to be documented.
Chee-a! [said in Jay-Z voice]