Memorial Day Weekend

For some reason all I can think of right now is a story Steve Merchant told on an episode of the XFM show he did with Ricky Gervais and Karl Pilkington in London, The Ricky Gervais Show. I was obsessed with Steve and Ricky after I saw The Office (Tim, Dawn, Brent, and Gareth were perfect characters), downloaded every season, and listened to an episode whenever I was on a plane, train, or mechanical bull of reasonable difficulty. It was hilarious; they're very clever guys and Karl is just a...fascinating human. I eventually got through them all--and their new podcasts. When I saw Ricky's stand-up in New York I realized I had memorized just about every story he told. It was weird. But whatever, when I get into things I get into things. So, it comes as no surprise that on this, Monday of Memorial Day weekend, I am reminded of a gift Steve received from his father.

Steve's dad handed him a cassette on his thirteenth birthday. Steve looked it over and asked, "A Compilation of Churchill's Greatest Speeches?" Steve's dad nodded solemnly, "Never forget, son." Steve's like, "What? I don't remember, Dad."

And--at the risk of being a total cheeseball--it is with this attitude in mind that I attempt to say "Thanks" to the men and women who have served our country in any way. I may be a stupid, lazy, selfish kid, but I appreciate anyone who is willing to sacrifice his own comfort and dedicate a part of his life to helping those in need and fighting for what he believes in. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but with all due respect: Good job.

Now, let me tell you what I've been doing with the time these fine men and women have earned me. Basically, I chilled the hell out. I downloaded a ton of music, ran around the woods, BBBQed [sic] with the fam, watched the Flyers lose, watched Halladay pitch a PERFECT GAME, ate icecream, ran around a cemetery, wrestled with my nephew, and held the Master Sword.


I think any veteran would be proud that I made the most of my weekend. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, right?

Chick Bands

Pretty awesome in general. Chicks are good at making music. I guess my chick-band-enjoying-section-of-my-life started with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, which isn't a chick band but has an awesome chick lead singer. There also seems to be this weird phenomenon where chicks rocking out is totally hot. If a chick rocks hard on some instrument, that totally adds like 3 points to her attractiveness. Come shining examples of chick bands would be a list that is sure to include Bikini Kill, The Coathangers, Le Tigre, Best Friends Forever, and many more that I'm too lazy to think of/name.

I'll now take this time to change the subject.


Time

So Foxy Shazam is frickin amazing. They are this sweet random style band from Ohio and there music is awesome and inconsistent, but its their live shows that really set them apart from the rest. They have 3 albums each one being less and less chaotic than the first. I like the 2nd album the best because it has just the right amount of chaos while the 1st is a bit too much and the 3rd isn't quite chaotic enough. But their live shows are fintansticly jawsome. I've seen them three times, and while their set-list-making-skills are something to be desired (very unbalanced selection between the 3 albums), their stage presence and rockingness makes up for any downfall. The piano player is sweet.

What's Your Sign?...I Think I'm A Zodiac

A month or two ago I was hanging out with Andrew talking about Opposite Day. I know it's just a game for children, but like all games for children, I see a dark and sinister side to it. I asked "How are we expected to be able to divine what is 'opposite' from normal reality? Isn't everything just different? Sure, you can agree on conventions. Up/Down, Black/White, Good/Evil. But life isn't like that. Nothing's two-tone: everything's sideways, in shades of grey, and morally subjective to one's particular point of view. We can't even decide what something *is,* how the fuck do kids pin it down to the point to be able to figure out the polar opposite? How do they even ever come up with the SAME opposite? Won't certain kids decide that the opposite of life is non-existence? Or come to the conclusion that life underwater is the opposite of life on land? It's astounding that Opposite Day hasn't lead to mass suicide or drownings."

Andrew got all Boolean on me and took it down to binary. He was like, "What? Opposite Day just means that the positivity of any statement you say is understood to be negated." Me: "Explain." Andrew: "If I were to say 'That bush is blue.' It would simply mean that bush is not blue. It doesn't specify another color; it only reverses the typical meaning of the statement to the contrary." I was pissed, "So Opposite Day is just a day where, if we were writing in C++ or whatever, there would be a bang before every statement? That's so lame."

I thought you were supposed to wear your underwear on your head and eat your toast upside down on Opposite Day. It's just a day of reversed logic? Beat. I mean, I guess people would die if they got too into it. They'd probably try to carry their cars to work or have their toast eat them. And where does it end? Do you become nocturnal? Do you walk in a handstand all day? Do you speak backwards? Do you speak backwards in Spanish? Clearly, my version of opposite day is impossible--and dangerous--to attempt. But I wasn't through with opposites yet.

I was hanging out with another friend later. I think we must have been talking about relationships because I decided to think about whether or not "opposites" attract. I started to tell her about the man-eating toast theory. I concluded that the statement was intrinsically nonsensical in that no two people are opposites. She agreed. I remember her saying "Right, people are just weird. Everyone's a little crazy. You just kind of try to find someone whose flaws work well together with your own. I think the best couples are people who are lucky enough to have compatible insanities. Their idiosyncrasies play off of one another."

Good call. I liked it. And "compatible insanity" is fun to say. Ok, but here's what I wanted to get to. Tank Girl.



Ok, I've gotten really into it lately. And I promise the whole "Opposite Day" buildup makes sense. You'll have to read the comic to fully understand it (the movie is amazing too [and Lori Petty is a total sex-pot], but the characters are dulled down for mass marketing. They're a lot deeper and stranger in print...Read: "The book was better." [I promise. The art is amazing.])

Ok, the main thing I have to say about Tank Girl is this. Everything works. It is difficult to describe what exactly Tank Girl accomplishes, because it is a combination of so many things. I am currently reading "The Gifting." If you read the character bios and the author's introduction, you'll get a taste of what manner of insanity you're getting yourself into. Guess what? It's highly compatible.

The overriding themes are unpredictable anarchy and adorable danger. Tank Girl is like a barbie doll covered in razor blades. She fucking rules. Booga, her kangaroo boyfriend, is a loyal, charming, sleazy doofus. Jet Girl and Barney are their wicked-cute friends. Both are slightly deranged in unique, beautiful ways. Every move these characters make is a complete "fuck you" to social norms but a totally understandable reaction if you know the score. Every page is packed with incredibly sharp dialogue and rad graphical depictions of the exciting adventures and paradoxical interactions of a few of the most lovable weirdos ever drawn up.

One of my favorite panels paints Barney with a blood-stained shirt holding an even bloodier hammer. She is pondering the source of her problems. She has an intense epiphany.



Every chapter I read makes me flip out. There are short stories, Tank Girl's poetry, and a poster or two scattered along the book to add a little panache in between installments of reckless post-apocalyptic shenanigans. Basically, the group run around having fun and fucking shit up in Australia. The combination of their spaced-out personalities and their rad Aussie slang make for very clever writing. You might think it's a little weird at the start, but give it a shot. You can read the first few pages of the stunning conclusion to one of the comics here. (Lost fans will appreciate the reference to the number 23.) And don't worry, you don't miss much from the first comic. Tank Girl and Co. won the lottery, bought a hotel, and started a feud with a family of jerks--Actually it was Booga, he killed one of them for being a douche.

And you can check out the artist behind "The Gifting" here. He's excellent.

So if you like cool stuff, check out "The Gifting" (or other comics) and see the Tank Girl movie. I promise you'll appreciate them, no matter how weird (or normal) you are. Tank Girl is a fascinating instance of alternate reality that has just the right blend of base human instinct and illogical chaos to make perfect sense...like Opposite Day, but better.

Haddonfield: A Treasure Trove of Champions and Dinosaurs

As we rode the PATCO line back to Philly, Kerri and I flicked through our pictures and thought back to what had just happened. I rifled through my adventure bag, marveling at all the cool gear I had come to possess. "That place was for champions. It was a town where champions live," I realized. She agreed, "That place was a treasure trove." We were both right....But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe I'll just start at the beginning and, when I get to the end, stop.

Kerri had enlisted me a day or two before. She is a photographer and had made plans to meet up with another photographer to help out with a shoot. Kerri informed me that this girl would be picking us up from the train station and there was a good chance we would be kidnapped. I informed her that "Might Get Kidnapped" was my middle name. I was on board.

As Andrew mentioned before: the adventure starts with the gear. Here's how I do things:



Checklist: Wallet (Dragon), Water Bottle (Dragons/Samurai), Book (Good), Notepad (Decoy), Notepad (Real), Keys, Gum, Adventure Journal (Dragon), Kit (Survival [Closed]), Kit (Survival [Open]), Chapstick, Kit (Mending), Bones (Crazy), Sack (Hackey), Charger, Pod (i), Threads (to the 9's), Cursory glance at Nephew (Dragon) and Calendar (Dragon being attacked with Hammer--good omen).

All of this gets stuffed into the Dedicated Adventure Bag. Yea, I'm an Edgar Allen Poe Historical Site junior ranger; don't worry about it. (How did I get so much dragon stuff? I promise, most of those things are gifts. I go to Drexel. It's gonna happen.)

So, the day begins like any other. Kerri and I almost drown on the way into the city to catch the PATCO line to Haddonfield. Our intention had been to walk down to 16th and hop on the train, but by 30th it was abundantly clear that the rain was just not having that scheme. In the time it had taken us to walk the four blocks to the El, we had become soaked to the bone. We ducked into Slainte, the Irish pub across the street from the train station, got change for a 20, purchased a few tokens, and traveled the rest of the way on the subterranean transit system.

When we got off, the sky had chilled the eff out and the sun was starting to burn through the clouds. Needless to say, we were like "Yes." As we cut down Broad to find the PATCO stop, I saw something attached to a newsstand.


It appeared to be a crazy awesome wind chime. But, it was much more than that. There was a note attached that was pleased to inform me that I had found a Ben's Bell. I read the note:

"You have found a Ben's Bell.
Take it home, hang it in your yard, and remember to spread kindness throughout our world."

Nice. Ben's Bell get. So yea, I gain like 70 XP and we move along. We run into some construction that looks fun and sounds scary, and then we cruise over to Jersey.

When we arrive, we are promptly kidnapped and taken to Pennypacker Park. Carly, the photographer we are meeting, shows us her mask trunk and gives Kerri a particular mask that rules. They go to take pictures with what is possibly the most amazing old-school camera ever (Carly used a cloak to cover up the the camera while focusing and taking the picture, just like they did back in the day.)






I hang out, watch the geese, and read Tank Girl. After they wrap up the shoot, we ask Carly about Haddonfield. She tells us the backstory: you can read about it in any reputable source of information.

Haddonfield is a town named after its founder and initial monarch Haddy, the Hadrosaurus. He was a fearless leader who turned a small village into the powerful city-state it is today. He would frequently settle disputes by simply eating people. Most of the cooler churches in town were built under his instruction. His metallic, mummified remains still creep around the corner of this one alley and frighten children. He was a prankster and a bandit. Everybody loved him.



We run around Haddy's stomping ground for a while and see what manner of town a dinosaur is capable of. It was amazing. All towns should be run by dinosaurs. We don't get far before I see an emerald green ukelele in the window of a violin shop. We pop in and I buy it.

We walk a little further down and encounter the cutest kittens EVER (and I'm almost certain I can prove that with basic algebra and game theory). There was a store called Jamaican Me Crazy. Inside, we find nesting dolls in the form of Ninjas, Robots, and Dinosaurs. We run into a toy store called the Happy Hippo, set up their toy train set and barely manage to stop ourselves from buying everything. We find an awesome fireplace in this one skateshop. We devour chocolate-covered Oreos from The Candy Buffet. We explore a clock shop were I impress the owner with my knowledge that "Tempus Fugit" means "Time Flies" and that I know this from reading up on the Clock King in Batman.

Ok, clearly we were on the main street with all the coolest shops. But we also snuck down a few of the weird alleys and around this one church. We solved a few mysteries and contemplated breaking into a barbershop, but it was time to go. We walked back to the train station.

Haddonfield blew our minds. It won. There is so much more to say, but I can't even believe that it exists. Oh, and we saw some cool street art on the way back. You can check out the rest of the pictures here.











But, yea. Haddonfield, man. That place is a trip.

Save Some Green

A week or two ago I was walking through the city, listening to my iPod and keeping my eyes peeled for anything spectacular. I was also looking for something decidedly unspectacular. Having just drank the last few drops of water from the Styrofoam cup I had been given with my Indian express for lunch, I found myself in need of a trashcan. What luck was it then that I should walk past a sign informing me of a new store called "Save Some Green." The store appeared to be an adorable, environmentally-conscious trading post filled with intriguing wares. The sign was also keen on informing me that the store was open and that I should go inside. I stopped to think, "This place does look awesome and stores do have trashcans...You got it, sign." Problem solved.



As I walked through the door, I realized the irony of the situation I had just put myself in. I don't know much about Styrofoam, but I know that it's horrible for planet earth in general. I was stepping into a store--whose main concern is global preservation--holding a piece of bio-dynamite left over from lunch. Had I learned nothing from Fern Gully? At least I wasn't wearing my "I <3 clubbing baby seals" shirt that day. But still, I was fully prepared to be reprimanded and apologize for my complete lack of eco-compassion. Luckily, the proprietor was extremely cool.



I walk up to the owner, Judah Press, and ask if they have a trashcan.

Judah: "What? This is an environmentally-friendly store. We don't make trash."
Me: "Wait, seriously?"
Judah: "No. Here. [Takes Styrofoam cup to throw away behind the counter. Recognizes that I am a plight on the circle of life and enjoy poisoning the biosphere]...Really?"
Me: "It's not my fault! They gave it to me at lunch. Besides, maybe I came here to change my ways or to buy a....what is happening over there?"
Judah: "Those are ocarinas."

I instantly become obsessed with the store. I take a look around and find that it houses a collection of fascinating trinkets, practical gadgets, killer threads, and unique pieces of art.








I ask a few questions, buy an angry lion ocarina and a choice belt made from old truck tires. Before I leave, I make a mental note to come back and find out more.

On Sunday, I stopped by and harassed Judah with a few questions. He was glad to tell me about himself and the store.

Me: "Okay, I can't figure out how to put my Droid into stenographer mode, so we're just going to kick it old school. Ok?"
Judah: "Ok. What do you want to know?"
Me: "First, who are you? Where are you from?"
Judah: "I'm Judah Press. I'm originally from the Northeast. I lived in New York for a few years, but I came back to go to graduate school at Penn. That's where I got my Masters in Environmental Studies."
Me: "Oh, cool. So have you always been into saving the environment and all that? Are you involved with any local agencies or anything?"
Judah: "Yeah. I'm not really involved with a group. I went to Africa to plant trees a couple years ago. I've just always kind of had the idea for this store but it was too expensive to pull off in New York City."
Me: "Right, but you were able to get things off the ground in Philly? Do you have any partners in crime?"
Judah: "Not really. It's just me. I don't have much of a safety net. Coming back has made it easier; my parents have been very supportive. But yeah, I'm on my own."
Me: "You're a bold kid. So tell me about this store. What kind of things do you sell? Would you say you have a mission?"
Judah: "The store definitely has a mission. I try to save people money and help them save the environment at the same time. I'm mainly selling things that enable people to go green easily: lightbulbs, water filters, everyday things that have less chemicals or use less energy. My goal is to make these things available and sell them without the typical eco-friendly markup."
Me: "So, you're trying to remove the stigma that green merchandise has picked up over the years? You cut out the sticker shock attached to saving the world?"
Judah: "Right."
Me: "Righteous. But I've noticed, you also sell super-sweet belts and water bottles."
Judah: "Yeah, I like to think we've got a nice balance between the practical everyday and the cool gifts."
Me: "Yeah, man. I'd agree. Ok do you have any tips for people trying to be more green?"
Judah: "Sure. The public transportation in Philly is decent. Try to use that. The tap water's fine. Just try to do whatever you can: everything in moderation."
Me: "Nice. And one final question. Favorite movies? Music? Cartoons? Do you listen to the Ditty Bops?"
Judah: "I don't know, I like a lot of stuff. I like Green Day."
Me: "Nice. I see what you did there."
Judah: "But wait who are the Ditty Bops?"
Me: "They're a super cute duo of neo-hippies that write charming folk songs about saving the environment and that. Check out Walk or Ride; it's about picking whether or not to take your time, ride your bike, and admire your surroundings instead of just driving everywhere, missing out on life, and ignoring the consequences...I think."
Judah: "Cool, I'll check it out."
Me: "Great, thanks so much for talking to me. I love the store.
Judah: "You're welcome. Have a nice day."

At this point, I pack up my stuff and leave. I don't get halfway down the block until I hear someone call my name. I turn around and see Judah standing outside. I run back to see that I have left my coffee on his counter. He hands me the cup. Not only is it not Styrofoam, it's got an "eco-sleeve" insulator around it. I pretend like I knew this all along.

Judah: "Nice cup."
Me: "You know how I do it."

Rad, even the coffee shop around the corner is getting wise.

(Save Some Green is just across the river at 2005 Chestnut Street. The shop is proud to sell local artists' works--paintings, pottery, sculptures--as well as fair trade materials.)

Motion Pictures by Mattel

Alright, what the fuck? When is the lego movie coming out because I need to see lego towers crumbling in 3-D. I'm sure its not far off on the horizon because every other mildly popular toy, children's show, and board game already has a script. Transformers was really bad...twice, but a Battleship movie is already filming and the Monopoly movie and Candyland movie are in pre-production. The Smurfs movie (consisting of live action people with CGI smurfs) already cast Neil Patrick Harris, Allen Cummings, Jonathan Winters (returning as the voice of Papa smurf), and others. To top it off Mattel has the marketing genius to get a head start on the game. They are currently creating a line of toys that is being made solely for the purpose of making it into a movie. At least this way there will be some kind of plot structure sinced it was pre-planned because I have no idea what the Monopoly movie is going to be about.

Our Trip to Franklin Fountain

It rained. We decided to then adventure toward Kiwi yogurt. Not long after that we decided to go to 7-11. There was some dispute over whether or not to once again head to kiwi after it looked like the rain was letting up. But laziness prevailed and 7-11 was the final adventure.

I'm Interested In Things

Hey, guys. So, yesterday after a hard day of work and science I was trying to get my groove on. I was trying to have a mini-adventure and make a few discoveries. Luckily, I walk into my apartment to find Andrew juggling our cats (we only have two: Simon and Garfunkel. So, it's not as impressive as it sounds.) Upon seeing me, he hurls the cats across the room and asks me if I've seen the latest A Softer World. I tell him that's one of the like four webcomics I don't read. But if he wants to chat about Marten and Dora or by how far the latest xkcd was over my head, I'm all over it.

We do an elaborate, secret handshake and retreat to our room. Andrew extracts one of the many Macbooks that we keep stashed in the various cubbyholes throughout our apartment. I remark that it was a good call to install the cubbyholes. We do another secret handshake in celebration. Finally, he shows me this. I'm like "WHOA! I already made that joke!"

Great minds think alike, A Softer World. I'm in your head.

Then Neil calls and we decide to go to the Buffalo Exchange, because I have some played-out, old buffaloes that I'm trying to trade in need to get some new shorts. So we go to get Neil, we run into an alien (that part is true, I swear to God. There was a girl done up to look like an alien outside North.) Me and Andrew smile politely and pretend not to notice that she is, indeed, an alien. She makes a facial contortion we can only assume to be the alien equivalent of a smile. We tell Neil about the alien. He claims that there was a special effects/makeup class going on in the basement. Mystery solved.

The hipster thrift store delivers; we all find something fantastic. I think Neil bought a shirt that had diagonal, rainbow lightning on it. I was pretty happy about that. Then, on the way back we walked past the Marathon Grill on Market. We noticed that there was a DJ at the outside bar area. We debated asking whether or not he had Keep It Goin' Louder, but ultimately decided that MarBar was too chill a scene for such great music.

Somewhere along the way I apologize for not learning any bass yet. I promise that I will teach myself The Pink Panther (a la Mr. Bungle) and Ghost Song, then slowly master the bass from there. Neil then demands that I learn the bass solo from They Might Be Giants' Dr. Worm as well. I say I don't know what in the blue blazes he's talking about. I claim that his mouth is full of white-hot lies and that that song does not exist. Neil rebukes me.

Long story short (too late?), we got back, Neil showed us Dr. Worm (it is such an awesome song), I stole some more music, remembered how awesome Hamtaro was, made Andrew and Neil watch half an episode of that, then watched The Pagemaster. Thursday was fun.

Based on True Events

Like every good adventure, this one began first thing in the morning: "So, are we adventuring today?" "Hell yeah, man." Hell yeah, indeed. So we ate a hearty breakfast, exchanged a few Zelda-related jokes, and packed up our adventure gear. The key to a successful adventure is in the gear: water bottle, snacks, compass, flash light, cell phone, machete, and, of course, a length of sturdy rope. And so it starts.
The first stop? The Edgar Allan Poe Museum -- or "EAPoeM" to those in the 'know'. But what do we spy on the way? None other than the Latvian Society of Philadelphia, and they are hosting The Philadelphia Joke Initiative's production of Rodgers And Hammerstein are Dead, the city's first, and presumably last, improvisational musical. Good call, Latvia. We'll keep this in mind for future adventures.

Approaching the museum, we see that it is guarded by a large metal raven. Supernatural animal guardians are always a good sign. Upon entering the museum, our wits are immediately tested with a puzzle of staggering complexity.
No fucking problem. We are promptly rewarded with golden treasure.In addition to numerous such puzzles and traps, we happen upon what is possibly the swankiest room ever conceived. After chatting with the security guard a bit, we discover that it was modeled after Poe's essay, "The Philosophy of Furniture", in which he describes the ideal bachelor pad. Among the things Poe calls for, this room contained an octagonal table adorned with maps and blueprints for adventure planning, windows painted red to produce an eerie red glow, paintings of cute girls, and a stereo with CD recordings of Poe's own poetry. Turbo sexy digs.
And of course, "Eddy's" childhood stuffed animals.
And, after talking with the curator a bit, we get the inside scoop on the Poe House: it is *the* place to be on Halloween. Apparently they throw a wild, 'spooky'-themed rave party ... or maybe it was a raven party ... either way, keep that in mind for future adventures.

On the way out of the Poe House, we notice a sign for the German Society of Philadelphia. Obviously we have to see what that's all about, so we enter and see that a few people are sorta hanging around and there are brochures and informational whatsits strewn about. We grab one and read over some of the upcoming events to find that there is a classical music performance by "American Virtuosi" -- in fifteen minutes! The ticket seller informs us that student tickets are $10. A bit rich for our wallets, so we go to leave, when a sharply dressed man approaches us with a sly smirk, "Would it change your minds if I gave you this?" He presents a ticket to the event, implying we would only have to buy one additional ticket at $10. Minds: changed.
Waiting for the concert to begin, we meet Susan Gould, pictured above. After bonding over our shared distaste for Condoleezza Rice, she gives us her three business cards and offers to sponsor our membership in the German Society. Why become a member? Well, we'd be able to borrow books from the library, get German lessons, and go to sweet Sommerfest (Oktoberfest in June) and Wandertag (hiking day) parties. So that's defs happening. Finally the concert starts, and out walk three young, beautiful siblings who proceed to tear the shit out of their respective instruments. Jaws dropped, tears flowed, and lives were forever changed.
After the concert, we resign to the super-classy "ratskeller" for some complimentary German coffee and German chocolate cake, where we timidly spoke with American Virtuosi on topics as diverse as custom-made silk shirts from Vietnam, tee-shirts that read "Bachelor of Magic", how underdressed Dan and I were, and other things not about clothes.

Leaving the German Society, we next head towards Second Street, which Dan claims is the "hippest jive-street in town". He was not wrong. He's already posted extensively about the sweet stuff to be found there, but here are a couple more pics.



Finally, we meet up with our third musketeer, Neil, and explore some more of Philadelphia before grabbing some Five Guys and calling it a day. A successful day.

Modern Art Makes Me Want To Rock Out

Hey guys, remember when I promised I was going to be more expository in the future?...What?..."No?" Jesus, do you even read this blog or do you just look at the super-sweet pictures? Here, it was at the end:

"Get out there, man. Feel free to ask me where any of that stuff is. I actually found out a few of the artists' names and all too. I promise to be more expository in the future, this is just an overview. Peace."

Ok, just as promised: Ben Woodward.

According to my calculations, Ben Woodward is an all-around genius. His art is stunning and, if his bio is any indication, he is a righteous dude.

"Ben Woodward was born in West Philadelphia in 1974. He was and still is a founding member of the artist group Space 1026, and has shown in galleries and museums from South Philadelphia to Japan. He currently lives with his wife, Chi; daughter, Atari; and their one eyed pug, Leroy. He hopes to be assassinated in Philadelphia."

Now, as you may or may not know, I have been adventuring through the city quite frequently lately. I first came across some of his work on Chestnut down around 17th (Near Scoop DeVille and that freaky, fake dog across the street from Scoop DeVille.) I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this funky little guy on the side of a mailbox.

I knew instantly that this was the work of a don, a man who would welcome assassination attempts, a man who would name his daughter something awesome like "Atari." I had to know who this man was. So I adventured on.

Naturally, I was pulled in through hipster-magnetism to 2nd street. I catted around for a short while, noting some of his other work, waiting for the owner of Exit Skateshop to get back from lunch (more on Exit in later posts). Ben Woodward's stuff was straight-up everywhere. He owned Northern Liberties.




As luck would have it, just as I was walking around growing more and more obsessed with this mystery artist, I see a man walk past with a stack of fliers. He's going around putting them in local shops, advertising an outdoor concert up at Liberty Lands. And guess whose art is on that very poster? Ben Effing Woodward. So I stop the man, and ask him if I can steal a flyer. I ask him about the concert and the artist. His name is Larry he is totally cool and he tells me all about the concert, but to find out who the artist is I have to pop into the publishing shop he owns and has just come out of. I say thank you and I run in and disrupt the designer of the flyer in the middle of his lunch. I apologize and say I have to know who this artist is NOW or there'll be hell to pay. He slaps me across the face and tells me "His name's Ben Woodward. He does most of the stuff for Space 1026. He's so legit."

Almost too legit. So yea, that's my story. I NEED to get the skinny on Space 1026 and check him out more. But that's another adventure for another day. But, man, he's cool. I'd die to meet him. And I'd stab a stranger with a knife for one of these shirts.

Or maybe I'll just buy one. Whatever. Bye, guys.

A Jamboree of Surprises

Hey guys, how's it going? Ok first and foremost, I'm going to go ahead and give a shout-out to the kid in Race who rolls with laminated Goosebumps trading cards in the spokes of his neon green bike.

I don't know who you are, but I like your moves. I like your style.

Ok, but enough of this tomfoolery. Life isn't all spooky children's novels and candy canes (What?). There's so much more to living than being super cool--though, that is very important. As a girl I know's Facebook quote section once said:

"We are here to add what we can to life, not to get what we can from life."

--William Osler

That is what I'd like to talk to you about today. Here's the deal: There's a garden just north of Drexel's Campus, east of 33rd between Summer and Winter Streets. You might know it as the "Rape Garden." I'm not sure why Drexel kids are so obsessed with calling the one little piece of charming garden area on campus by such a horrible name. I suppose they think it's funny or kitsch. It's a disgrace. In reality, where mature adults are concerned, it is called "The Summer Winter Community Garden." The group behind this one acre plot of land strive to incorporate the surrounding neighborhood with specific emphasis on outreach to children and local students.

I walk through the garden every day on my way to work. I always try to stop and check it out. It's a very organic environment--and whatever, I'm not trying to be punny. I feel like it breathes and represents the west Philly flavor with style.

Let's face it, our neighborhood can be kind of beat. People don't really seem to care. Just yesterday, I came out of the garden and nearly fell into the sewer.




This little ditty is just one of hundreds of West Philly deathtraps that I've barely slipped by. Maybe we could use a little green leafiness amidst the danger.




So, if you'd like to stop by and check it out, feel free to walk through and have a look. If you're feeling altruistic, you could even stop by this Saturday, May 22nd to help out. I'm sure they'd be glad to see a few people interested in pitching in and getting their Planeteer on.