I just saw on the ESPN ticker that college football begins August 28th. I'm excited. There's nothing like football. College football on Saturdays, pro football on Sundays. It reminds me that fall is on its way, my favorite season of the year.
Earlier today, I met Jeannie outside La Colombe across from City Hall, while she ate her lunch from Five Guys and I drank a coffee. Despite the very light drizzle, I rode my bike to see her. It was nice to spend some time with her while her dad watched Seva at home.
After dropping off Jeannie at her job, I walked over to 15th & Market Streets, where I sat down and waited for my friend Mike to come by. I waited for about half an hour, but I didn't mind because I enjoyed people-watching and that, for once, I wasn't in any rush to go anywhere or do anything. It felt really nice actually.
Finally, when I saw Mike walking towards me, I noticed that he was with [F.B.], another attorney who I've argued cases against and who I know Mike has become friendly with over the past year or so. When [F.B.] came up to me he gave me a hug. Despite our encounters in Court, we've always been friendly with each other. It was probably also cool for him to see that Mike's friend was me. [F.B.] suggested that we grab a drink, so we walked a couple blocks to Tir Na Nog. We mainly talked about the practice of law and our families. It was a good time. Eventually [F.B.] had to leave to go back to his office, so it was really nice to have a chance to catch up, just a little bit, with Mike one-on-one.
Having had a couple beers, though, by the time I got back home I was just enough out of sorts that I didn't get much done. I still hadn't eaten lunch, so I did that first: ham & American cheese on seeded rye with wasabi mayonnaise and a slice of pickle, along with popcorn, a banana, and an apple on the side.
Fast-forwarding to tonight, Jeannie made salads as usual and I cooked macaroni and cheese with tuna and peas, while we watched the movie American Reunion on FXX. While sitting on the couch, Seva began yelling as she has the past few days, not in any kind of angry or demanding way, but instead as a flexing of her voice and lungs. It's hilarious. I have to admit that, once Seva gets started, Jeannie and I encourage it by yelling too. We laugh the whole time. It's really funny.
Finally, to conclude this post tonight, I'll offer a totally random thought: I would not for any amount of money or at any level of income live in New York City. Just the thought of living there tires me. It's just too much of some things (people, money, attitude) and not enough of others (living space, trees, open spaces, a sense of community). I happily prefer being a Two-Fifteener: just enough city, just enough sense of community, with quick enough accessibility to open spaces within the city and then the suburbs beyond.
Showing posts with label two-fifteener. Show all posts
Showing posts with label two-fifteener. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Friday, August 1, 2014
Free Gaza!
All Philadelphia, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
I get the impression that Israel wants to wipe out Gaza. Seeing Israel's reckless bombing of shelters, hospitals, schools, and mosques in Gaza, I get the impression that -- if the world stands by silently -- Israel will commit genocide, will commit holocaust!, in Gaza.
All Two-Fifteeners, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
I get the feeling that Israel wants to completely control everything within Gaza, the opposite of political freedom! I get the feeling that Israel wants to step on Gaza's head, to forcefully keep Gaza at a subsistence standard of living, the opposite of economic freedom! I thought that the United States was in favor of a world system of free market capitalism, right? The United States has gone to war over such ideals. Yet the United States sits by idly as Israel commits economic strangulation on the people of Gaza.
All Americans, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
PHILLIES WIN THE WORLD SERIES!!!
In the seven and a half years that I've been living in the city of Philadelphia, I have never seen anything like what I saw and experienced last night. As the title clearly indicates, the Philadelphia Phillies won the 2008 World Series, clinching the championship last night with a 4-3 Game 5 victory against the Tampa Bay Rays.
I watched the game here at the double-deuce and Spruce. I cooked a nice dinner for Diana and I to eat during the game: spaghetti with tomato basil spaghetti sauce, into which I mixed in a) roasted garlic-flavored chicken sausage, b) diced tomatoes with garlic and olive oil, and c) chopped spinach. Over the top of the finished product we sprinkled some parmesan/romano grated cheese. Along with the food we drank a glass of sparkling apple cider. As we sat down to eat, we listened to the end of "Star/Pointro", a song off of The Tipping Point album by Philly's very own hip-hop heroes: The Roots, then we turned that off to listen to the (anti-Philly-biased) commentary by the Fox sportscasters. So the scene is set, right?
Even before the game began, you could sense the anticipation in the air in the city of Philadelphia, like the feeling one might have to hear the ticking of a bomb. And as the game wore on -- one run by the Phillies, which was then matched by the Rays to even it up, and then the go-ahead run by the Phillies to make it a 4-3 score -- you could somehow feel the excitement building in the air; it was like the static ions building up in the air during a thunderstorm. And then lightning struck! Brad Lidge threw the final strike for the final out in the final game of the 2008 World Series.
The city exploded. POW!!!!! Like a bunch of kids busting out the double-doors on the last day of school before summer break, all the two-fifteeners inside the neighborhood bars sprinted out into the streets the very moment after Lidge released that final bolt of lightning. As my upstairs neighbor, Corey, told me later, a group of guys went streaking up Spruce Street moments after the game's conclusion. Carhorns started sounding-off across the city. The pops and crackles of fireworks were heard from all directions.
Diana and I went outside to the stoop to check out the scene. Groups of people were walking by on the sidewalks, dressed in Phillies red. Cars went driving by, heads sticking out, yelling and screaming. People from other buildings came outside to see the scene from ground level. A minute later, my upstairs neighbor Corey came down, drinking a bottle of beer, and joined us to talk about the game and the electricity that was so palpable in the Two-One-Five.
After several minutes of talking and soaking in the atmosphere, we came back inside to warm up momentarily. I put on some warmer clothes and closed up shop, and Diana and I went to get her car back from my man Fred at the local garage near my gym. We drove down the double-deuce to Chestnut Street, and drove that for just two blocks, although it took us about ten minutes to make it that far because of all the slow traffic, and because there were people literally walking down the middle of the street. I stuck out my hand from the passenger seat to exchange high-fives with all the party people. Racially and ethnically it was a mixed crowd, but besides that petty difference, it was really one crowd: Philadelphia pride. And that's what this city is.
Smiling ear to ear, we turned on 20th, then again on to Market Street. We took that down to 16th Street, which was as far as we could get before there were just mobs of people walking down, across, and in the middle of the streets. Driving north on 16th, passing over JFK Boulevard, we looked to our right-hand side, toward Penn Square (surrounding City Hall), and we were astounded to see a sea of Philly-humanity: a jubilation congregation.
As we had seen on Fox 29 immediately after the game and then again later that night, there were massive crowds that had spontaneously gathered on Broad Street. Here's a video of what it apparently looked like at ground level; be sure to play through to the end because there's some crazy shit in there; check it, check it out:
I love the city of Philadelphia. And at no other point have I felt the unity and pride of this city so beautifully expressed than it was last night. Sure, there might've been some crazy shit, as the video showed, but some of that is expected from drunkards feeding off of the natural high that was already floating in the air around the city.
But I love a city that puts its collective middle finger up to the national sportscasters and sportswriters who sold out the Phillies before, during, and yes, even after, the World Series. The Phillies won, plain and simple, they were the superior team in all aspects of the game, and it wasn't even close: a 4-1 game series advantage, and it wouldn't have taken much to make that single loss into a Phillies win.
A lot of people, especially fucking New Yorkers, like to try to shit on the city of Philadelphia. But there's more heart in this city than the materialistic "i gotta be somebody" cities of New York and Los Angeles, or the yuppie "my parents are rich suburban snobs" cities of Boston, Baltimore, and Washington, DC. There used to be a mural above a shop on 20th & Market Streets that said "heart" over "capital." (as an aside, click HERE for an interesting Catholic analysis regarding the priority of humanity over capital). I'll choose the heart of Philadelphia over the empty souls of those other cities.
Philadelphia: the heart of a champion, humble and hardworking, tough outer shell but a compassionate inner soul. The Phillies showed the world that teamwork wins championships. And that the heart of Philly is its greatest strength and beauty.
Finally, in honor of that spirit, here's the archetype of Philadelphia's soul to inspire you:
I watched the game here at the double-deuce and Spruce. I cooked a nice dinner for Diana and I to eat during the game: spaghetti with tomato basil spaghetti sauce, into which I mixed in a) roasted garlic-flavored chicken sausage, b) diced tomatoes with garlic and olive oil, and c) chopped spinach. Over the top of the finished product we sprinkled some parmesan/romano grated cheese. Along with the food we drank a glass of sparkling apple cider. As we sat down to eat, we listened to the end of "Star/Pointro", a song off of The Tipping Point album by Philly's very own hip-hop heroes: The Roots, then we turned that off to listen to the (anti-Philly-biased) commentary by the Fox sportscasters. So the scene is set, right?
Even before the game began, you could sense the anticipation in the air in the city of Philadelphia, like the feeling one might have to hear the ticking of a bomb. And as the game wore on -- one run by the Phillies, which was then matched by the Rays to even it up, and then the go-ahead run by the Phillies to make it a 4-3 score -- you could somehow feel the excitement building in the air; it was like the static ions building up in the air during a thunderstorm. And then lightning struck! Brad Lidge threw the final strike for the final out in the final game of the 2008 World Series.
The city exploded. POW!!!!! Like a bunch of kids busting out the double-doors on the last day of school before summer break, all the two-fifteeners inside the neighborhood bars sprinted out into the streets the very moment after Lidge released that final bolt of lightning. As my upstairs neighbor, Corey, told me later, a group of guys went streaking up Spruce Street moments after the game's conclusion. Carhorns started sounding-off across the city. The pops and crackles of fireworks were heard from all directions.
Diana and I went outside to the stoop to check out the scene. Groups of people were walking by on the sidewalks, dressed in Phillies red. Cars went driving by, heads sticking out, yelling and screaming. People from other buildings came outside to see the scene from ground level. A minute later, my upstairs neighbor Corey came down, drinking a bottle of beer, and joined us to talk about the game and the electricity that was so palpable in the Two-One-Five.
After several minutes of talking and soaking in the atmosphere, we came back inside to warm up momentarily. I put on some warmer clothes and closed up shop, and Diana and I went to get her car back from my man Fred at the local garage near my gym. We drove down the double-deuce to Chestnut Street, and drove that for just two blocks, although it took us about ten minutes to make it that far because of all the slow traffic, and because there were people literally walking down the middle of the street. I stuck out my hand from the passenger seat to exchange high-fives with all the party people. Racially and ethnically it was a mixed crowd, but besides that petty difference, it was really one crowd: Philadelphia pride. And that's what this city is.
Smiling ear to ear, we turned on 20th, then again on to Market Street. We took that down to 16th Street, which was as far as we could get before there were just mobs of people walking down, across, and in the middle of the streets. Driving north on 16th, passing over JFK Boulevard, we looked to our right-hand side, toward Penn Square (surrounding City Hall), and we were astounded to see a sea of Philly-humanity: a jubilation congregation.
As we had seen on Fox 29 immediately after the game and then again later that night, there were massive crowds that had spontaneously gathered on Broad Street. Here's a video of what it apparently looked like at ground level; be sure to play through to the end because there's some crazy shit in there; check it, check it out:
I love the city of Philadelphia. And at no other point have I felt the unity and pride of this city so beautifully expressed than it was last night. Sure, there might've been some crazy shit, as the video showed, but some of that is expected from drunkards feeding off of the natural high that was already floating in the air around the city.
But I love a city that puts its collective middle finger up to the national sportscasters and sportswriters who sold out the Phillies before, during, and yes, even after, the World Series. The Phillies won, plain and simple, they were the superior team in all aspects of the game, and it wasn't even close: a 4-1 game series advantage, and it wouldn't have taken much to make that single loss into a Phillies win.
A lot of people, especially fucking New Yorkers, like to try to shit on the city of Philadelphia. But there's more heart in this city than the materialistic "i gotta be somebody" cities of New York and Los Angeles, or the yuppie "my parents are rich suburban snobs" cities of Boston, Baltimore, and Washington, DC. There used to be a mural above a shop on 20th & Market Streets that said "heart" over "capital." (as an aside, click HERE for an interesting Catholic analysis regarding the priority of humanity over capital). I'll choose the heart of Philadelphia over the empty souls of those other cities.
Philadelphia: the heart of a champion, humble and hardworking, tough outer shell but a compassionate inner soul. The Phillies showed the world that teamwork wins championships. And that the heart of Philly is its greatest strength and beauty.
Finally, in honor of that spirit, here's the archetype of Philadelphia's soul to inspire you:
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Double-Deuce & Spruce
Many of you have been hearing this term used more and more across the city of Philadelphia. And many of you have been thinking that you would like to use this term too. But you want to find out more about it before you start using it like a native "two-fifteener" (another hot buzzword these days). Well, of course you can count on Philly 215 to help you out; so here you go:
The "Double-Deuce & Spruce" refers to one of today's hottest (and, not coincidentally, one of the most important) intersections in the city of Philadelphia. It is rumored that, if one stands in the mathematical, pinpoint center of that famed intersection, one can hear the whispers of the illustrious Benjamin Franklin, one of our city's and one of our nation's greatest forefathers. And this intersection of which we speak can be located by truthseekers and pilgrims alike by picking apart and analyzing the buzzword itself: "Double-Deuce" is a slang, hip, streetspeak version of what proper grammarians refer to as 22nd Street, and "Spruce" is a rather straight-as-an-arrow, clear-as-Philly-tapwater version of what the bourgeoisie calls Spruce Street.
Now that you understand what "Double-Deuce & Spruce" represents (at least in theory, but not necessarily in practice -- for that you have to live near the epicenter itself), go on with your bad self and spread the good word. And by doing that, you'll be that much closer to being a "two-fifteener," which in turn is defined as a veritable resident of Philadelphia, the connotation being that you are strongly in favor of taking this city boldly into the 21st century by supporting everything and everyone that promotes -- as it has been dubbed by National Geographic Magazine -- "America's Next Great City."
The "Double-Deuce & Spruce" refers to one of today's hottest (and, not coincidentally, one of the most important) intersections in the city of Philadelphia. It is rumored that, if one stands in the mathematical, pinpoint center of that famed intersection, one can hear the whispers of the illustrious Benjamin Franklin, one of our city's and one of our nation's greatest forefathers. And this intersection of which we speak can be located by truthseekers and pilgrims alike by picking apart and analyzing the buzzword itself: "Double-Deuce" is a slang, hip, streetspeak version of what proper grammarians refer to as 22nd Street, and "Spruce" is a rather straight-as-an-arrow, clear-as-Philly-tapwater version of what the bourgeoisie calls Spruce Street.
Now that you understand what "Double-Deuce & Spruce" represents (at least in theory, but not necessarily in practice -- for that you have to live near the epicenter itself), go on with your bad self and spread the good word. And by doing that, you'll be that much closer to being a "two-fifteener," which in turn is defined as a veritable resident of Philadelphia, the connotation being that you are strongly in favor of taking this city boldly into the 21st century by supporting everything and everyone that promotes -- as it has been dubbed by National Geographic Magazine -- "America's Next Great City."
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