The September Issue
Consumers of content,
Let's just agree that I send my newsletters a few months into a new month. Consider it a clever move so that I can include whatever was the last day of the one before? I think this shall be a quick read, as I'm recovering from weekend driving, hungrier than I should be, and squeezing in my writing between chores and my turn with the Listening Club Frisbaton.
A number of times this summer, I've remembered the first day I tasted cold brew coffee. It was the summer of 2007, hot, but not 2019 hot. A new roommate, a senior undergrad named Dre, had that week moved into 203 Rossiter. I had read a New York Times piece about New Orleans style coffee and followed the recipe to make a batch. I poured Dre a generous shot and myself one as well, then added some whole milk. He said he preferred Greek-style coffee, though he'd give this a try. We chugged it. We had another two rounds. It was too much milk and too much caffeine. We didn't care. We were so delighted and energized. What other memories do I have like this, a new taste, a new feeling? I can count them on one hand. Do these pleasures come fewer and farther between with age?
I'm slowly making my way through my final batch of cold brew of the summer.
Reading:
I've been picking away still at The Code of Trust and The Art of Gathering. Apparently I should have kept up my pace with TCoT because the library recalled it and won't give it back to me just yet. I've also picked up Wasting Time on the Internet, which I didn't know had turned from a UPenn course and brief media sensation to a book. (It's also fair to say that due to my vast time wasted on the Internet, I had forgotten entirely about the course.) Goldsmith and I don't see eye to eye entirely, yet he draws me in with logic and references that almost work for me.
I'm cheerfully poking through Bruce Springsteen's memoir Born to Run again after months of letting it sit on the bedside shelf, hundreds of pages to go. It seems I haven't mentioned it in previous newsletters, which may mean that I hadn't touched it since 2018. Oops. It reads like a very long Springsteen song, as you might imagine, which is a bit jarring at first. Then it gathers momentum as he's a teen playing in bands. He writes about driving; he writes about music; but he doesn't write about driving to music. "Is Neil a Bruce Springsteen fan?" you might be asking. No, but not.. no? No yeah? I enjoy his greatest hits enough to have paid for them on Amazon Music when they were on sale. I paid a bit to see him in Goffertpark once, and you know, that concert sealed the deal for me: I do LIKE Bruce Springsteen. He and his band played for nearly three and a half hours straight, much of it during a heavy downpour. They played the entirety of Darkness at the Edge of Town. It's maybe my favorite concert experience? I cannot emphasize HOW WET it was, nor how exciting it is to leave such an event on bike for a five minute ride home. (Trying to confirm my memories, I have discovered a playlist of a number of fan videos from the show. Enjoy, if you think that might be your thing.)
Eating
It was a delicious month, thanks to reunions and visitors and travel.
One highlight was a plentiful, inexpensive tray of handmade Cambodian noodles via a Brigadoon-esque market in South Philly's FDR Park. This set of stalls included sesame balls, skewered meats, sugar cane drinks, and many things I could not identify. The noodles are shaped such that they could be any number of things, right? They're noodles. Great noodles.
I'll also recommend Amma's new Center City Philadelphia location. Hoohoooooo what a fun meal. Five of us went, not sure what to expect, with a range of dietary preferences and adventure levels. We walked out stuffed beyond pleasure, for just $25 a head. (We could have easily scaled that back $5 or so; I apologize to my companions for some panic-ordering. I regret little.) Truly everything was delicious, and the lamb karaikudi was the best lamb I've ever had? And, more importantly, outright delicious with flavors familiar and new. I also, at some point during the month, had a memorable meal in a library basement with catering from African Small Pot, maybe the best chicken (grilled AND baked, with “saluted” [sic] onions) and rice.
Meeting
After September's Fringe Festival and jaunt to Salt Lake City, October feels relatively calm and intimate. I have a mere two confirmed appearances and a third you can pencil in. On Friday, 10/18, I'm performing shortform improv with The N Crowd at PHIT. Then the following Thursday, I'll tell a scary story of cats and hairdye as part of The Story Hole at Wooden Shoe. The TBD appearance would be the last week of the month, and it'd be a live recording of the Vibes podcast. Creepily attentive readers will note that I have been preparing for this podcast spot for MONTHS, which is overkill.
Beating
Oh dear, maybe there's not much here this time. Zelda & Scout, a blog I've followed for I don't know how long, has had a series of wonderful seasonal playlists. I keep coming back to their Late Spring 2019 playlist. It may be time for their “Darker than a Georgia Night with a Heavy Heart" mix to take over. (It's not exactly relevant here, but the writers of Z&S recently announced that they're ending their run. I'll miss their voices.)
I also found the right opportunity to listen again to The Black Dog's Music for Real Airports. Brian Eno's A1:MfA just lulls me a little too much sometimes. I've listened to the Eno album so many times it's now almost too ambient.
Deleting
I've had (only?) three pairs of everyday shorts in rotation all summer. Two pairs now have disturbing holes in them. Goodbye, summer! (It will be 80 degrees Fahrenheit in Philadelphia on Monday.)
Retreating
For reasons I can't remember, I've been trading "cabin porn" with my friend Steve, including this Berkshires spot that I keep staring at. Want more like this? Follow @CabinPorn on Instagram.
Speaking of such, Kelsey and I went to the countryside north of Ithaca for two nights of peace and quiet at a farmhouse. We visited some wineries, had lunch at Moosewood, and generally took advantage of being in one of my favorite places.
Oh, and I spent 48 hours in Salt Lake City. I gave a talk about my career path to a crowd of 60 University of Utah post-docs and taught two workshops on science communication and networking. My host took me on a wonderful hike to Ensign Peak. I felt out of shape, er, the effects of high altitude, and really enjoyed the view. This panorama wasn't even at the peak!
What have I missed? Should I be listening to The Mountain Goats all day or doing those chores I mentioned? How did this end up as my second-longest letter yet? How do you prepare for your week?
Be good,
Neil