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Tripped up in Beantown

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It is dawn. Mark is asleep but I have been awakened by pain. I had actually considered buying insurance for this trip.  Probably will next time. I had so much in mind for these 11 days and now it will be simply scenic drives for the foreseeable future. Yes, I have pain pills, but I take them sparingly because one very quickly builds a tolerance to codeine.  Mark is fetching and nursing - something,  I'm sorry to say, at which he has a lot of experience. At least I was still able-bodied for the MFA, one of America's truly great museums. Come for the John Singer Sargent. Be amazed by the Jamie Wyeth. Mark was gobsmacked by the latter, thus we made the exit through the gift shop and grabbed the exhibition book, adding serious pounds to the luggage.  I am blue. Mountain hikes and beach combing plans gone. Historical walks? Nope. Getting old sucks. I'm not saying I fell because I'm old. I fell because I walk fast and don't look out for obstacles. But a twenty-something w...
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What's YOUR soundtrack?

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Working title: “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?” [In a sort of Andy Rooney whine] Do you ever wonder why anyone would waste their natural soundtrack by walking around with earbuds stuck in their head? For the most part I love my ambient sonic environment. Birds, of course. Conversations heard above the rhythm of the rails on the subway. I like the random bits of music you get in public spaces. (ASIDE: I stepped into the coffee shop on High Street during a morning stroll with Ribsy in Southampton to get a cup o’ joe, and while I was waiting for some passive/aggressive politeness and apology to play out – a young man ordered a small chocolate milk and after seemingly endless machinations, settles for a LARGE white milk…Sooorry! – I heard what I thought was an en français cover of Bob Dylan’s “Hurricane”. I leaned over the lad sucking discontentedly on his white milk to listen closely to a ceiling speaker and realized that it was Bob’s original version, but damn, he really does ha...
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