A busy evening
Jan. 27th, 2004 11:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robotech_masterAfter work, I headed back home, but only to touch base briefly. I headed out again, intending to pick up something lunchwise for tomorrow (since I finished off the last of my hot dogs today). But first, I headed over to the Keyes Gallery and the Springfield Brewing Company, to drop off a couple of books and have a beer.
Stopped in at the Keyes Art Gallery first thing...it's the art gallery next door to the Springfield Brewing Company, the one I mentioned in a prior journal post as having an open wireless connection that let me get online from there. Checked to see if Andy Goodwin, my acquaintance whose mother works at (or was that owns?) the place, was in. He's never been, the last few times I've checked, but since I was in the neighborhood anyway, I might as well.
Asked a fellow in the room behind the counter if Andy was in, he said he wasn't. I figured to look around some, but honesty compelled me to mention the wireless network...since, after all, I couldn't be completely certain it was intentionally open (though I do tend to assume that to be the case when a business has gone to the trouble of renaming the router to its own business name but not bothered to add any security). So I mentioned how glad I was it was there so I could get on-line from next door...and to my surprise the fellow said something like, "Yes, I know."
I blinked, not entirely sure I had understood him, and said, "What?" And he repeated that he already knew. When I asked him how, he mentioned that Andy had shown him the entry in my journal where I mentioned using it. Which kind of startled me...I barely even remembered mentioning it to him last time I saw him...I was surprised that, not only did he look it up, he was interested enough to continue reading it for at least long enough to see my mention of the wireless network some days later. Anyway, since the fellow didn't seem to be too upset at the idea, I guess continued use of the network is kosher...or at least I'll continue to assume that until I'm either told otherwise or else I get into the bar one day and find network access from there doesn't work anymore.
I looked around the place for a few minutes, taking in some of the pictures. There were a couple of posters I rather liked—one with a pair of wolves among aspen trees, and one with a tiger taking a swim in a river—but they were much too expensive for me even to consider getting, more's the pity. They were about the only things there that really appealed to me, though all the art was at least...interesting. Mainly interesting in the sense that someone can take the time and effort to paint something that looks like it could have been done by a kindergartner or first-grader...and then put it on sale for triple-digit prices...and actually sell it for that. Yeah, I know, it probably takes a great deal of time and effort to create art in precisely that style...and there must be some sort of qualitative difference between shoddy faux-kindergartner art and good faux-kindergartner art, or else any kindergartner to pick up a magic marker would be rich. Still, it's nowhere near my cup of tea. I suppose this is where I fall back on the ultra-trite phrase, "I don't know art, but I know what I like."
While I was there, I left a book on the top of their water cooler...a little mystery novel called The Odd Job, marked with a Bookcrossing label. (If you don't know what that is, click the link; it's too involved for a brief description.) It's a murder mystery with art heavily involved in it, and I couldn't think of any more "artistic" place to leave it. In a way, I almost consider Bookcrossing to be a form of "performance art," so assuming they don't take exception to it being there for whatever peculiar reason, it really should be right at home.
After that, it was across the street to the Brewing Company, where I retrieved my Mug Club mug from the downstairs counter (they were just closing the downstairs in order to move things to their smaller upstairs bar) and had a mug of one of their "special" beers, in actuality a hard cider. I really should have had a sampler glass of it before getting a whole mug, as it wasn't really what I prefer in a hard cider. The fellow even tried to warn me, saying that it wasn't like the "hard ciders" you got in a store, but had more of a "white wine" feeling to it...and I don't like white wine all that much. Still, at least it was drinkable, and it was good for variety's sake. I watched a few people taking turns at the deer-hunting game in their smoking room, and left another Bookcrossing book there: Growing Up Weightless by John M. Ford.
After that, I headed south to the Mudhouse coffeeshop—not to stay long, or even buy a drink, but to leave two more Bookcrossing books in their bookshelf set up for the purpose. The books I left were Heroing and Warriorwards, both by Dafydd ab Hugh, and neither one terribly to my liking. Hopefully they'll find better readers there. I also picked up a couple of books while there, to add to my backlog before returning them to the Mudhouse shelves: There and Back Again by Pat Murphy, which I seem to recall hearing is a science-fictional retelling of The Hobbit, and Inca Gold by Clive Cussler, featuring the redoubtable Dirk Pitt.
On the way home, on impulse, I stopped at Harlowe's, a small bar and grill next to where I used to live, and ordered a cheeseburger. Toward the end of my sojourn in the old apartment, I would sometimes call over there for such a burger, then go and pick it up; their burger is a nice compromise between fast food and the more expensive brewpub style: nothing fancy about it, just plenty of fresh-cooked meat, a sufficiency of greens, and yummy steak-cut fries. I got it to go, then headed back home to enjoy it.
And now, it's time for bed. My cold seems to have by and large left me, but there's no point in tempting fate by not getting enough rest. I'm going to close and hit the sack now. More anon.
Stopped in at the Keyes Art Gallery first thing...it's the art gallery next door to the Springfield Brewing Company, the one I mentioned in a prior journal post as having an open wireless connection that let me get online from there. Checked to see if Andy Goodwin, my acquaintance whose mother works at (or was that owns?) the place, was in. He's never been, the last few times I've checked, but since I was in the neighborhood anyway, I might as well.
Asked a fellow in the room behind the counter if Andy was in, he said he wasn't. I figured to look around some, but honesty compelled me to mention the wireless network...since, after all, I couldn't be completely certain it was intentionally open (though I do tend to assume that to be the case when a business has gone to the trouble of renaming the router to its own business name but not bothered to add any security). So I mentioned how glad I was it was there so I could get on-line from next door...and to my surprise the fellow said something like, "Yes, I know."
I blinked, not entirely sure I had understood him, and said, "What?" And he repeated that he already knew. When I asked him how, he mentioned that Andy had shown him the entry in my journal where I mentioned using it. Which kind of startled me...I barely even remembered mentioning it to him last time I saw him...I was surprised that, not only did he look it up, he was interested enough to continue reading it for at least long enough to see my mention of the wireless network some days later. Anyway, since the fellow didn't seem to be too upset at the idea, I guess continued use of the network is kosher...or at least I'll continue to assume that until I'm either told otherwise or else I get into the bar one day and find network access from there doesn't work anymore.
I looked around the place for a few minutes, taking in some of the pictures. There were a couple of posters I rather liked—one with a pair of wolves among aspen trees, and one with a tiger taking a swim in a river—but they were much too expensive for me even to consider getting, more's the pity. They were about the only things there that really appealed to me, though all the art was at least...interesting. Mainly interesting in the sense that someone can take the time and effort to paint something that looks like it could have been done by a kindergartner or first-grader...and then put it on sale for triple-digit prices...and actually sell it for that. Yeah, I know, it probably takes a great deal of time and effort to create art in precisely that style...and there must be some sort of qualitative difference between shoddy faux-kindergartner art and good faux-kindergartner art, or else any kindergartner to pick up a magic marker would be rich. Still, it's nowhere near my cup of tea. I suppose this is where I fall back on the ultra-trite phrase, "I don't know art, but I know what I like."
While I was there, I left a book on the top of their water cooler...a little mystery novel called The Odd Job, marked with a Bookcrossing label. (If you don't know what that is, click the link; it's too involved for a brief description.) It's a murder mystery with art heavily involved in it, and I couldn't think of any more "artistic" place to leave it. In a way, I almost consider Bookcrossing to be a form of "performance art," so assuming they don't take exception to it being there for whatever peculiar reason, it really should be right at home.
After that, it was across the street to the Brewing Company, where I retrieved my Mug Club mug from the downstairs counter (they were just closing the downstairs in order to move things to their smaller upstairs bar) and had a mug of one of their "special" beers, in actuality a hard cider. I really should have had a sampler glass of it before getting a whole mug, as it wasn't really what I prefer in a hard cider. The fellow even tried to warn me, saying that it wasn't like the "hard ciders" you got in a store, but had more of a "white wine" feeling to it...and I don't like white wine all that much. Still, at least it was drinkable, and it was good for variety's sake. I watched a few people taking turns at the deer-hunting game in their smoking room, and left another Bookcrossing book there: Growing Up Weightless by John M. Ford.
After that, I headed south to the Mudhouse coffeeshop—not to stay long, or even buy a drink, but to leave two more Bookcrossing books in their bookshelf set up for the purpose. The books I left were Heroing and Warriorwards, both by Dafydd ab Hugh, and neither one terribly to my liking. Hopefully they'll find better readers there. I also picked up a couple of books while there, to add to my backlog before returning them to the Mudhouse shelves: There and Back Again by Pat Murphy, which I seem to recall hearing is a science-fictional retelling of The Hobbit, and Inca Gold by Clive Cussler, featuring the redoubtable Dirk Pitt.
On the way home, on impulse, I stopped at Harlowe's, a small bar and grill next to where I used to live, and ordered a cheeseburger. Toward the end of my sojourn in the old apartment, I would sometimes call over there for such a burger, then go and pick it up; their burger is a nice compromise between fast food and the more expensive brewpub style: nothing fancy about it, just plenty of fresh-cooked meat, a sufficiency of greens, and yummy steak-cut fries. I got it to go, then headed back home to enjoy it.
And now, it's time for bed. My cold seems to have by and large left me, but there's no point in tempting fate by not getting enough rest. I'm going to close and hit the sack now. More anon.
