Main Street

When Sonja and I crave some city time it is usually the Drive we like to visit. Last weekend we were on our way down there when we heard Italian Days were being celebrated there for the first time in over a decade.

"Greaseball motherfuckers," I spit.

"Fuck them and their Pope," Sonja spit too.

We went down to Main Street instead. Walked up and down the street quite a ways. Too bad the Hamilton Harvey is not still there. There are a great many funky shops. (Like I would know what the fuck funky is.) The sidewalks are wider than the Drive's. There was a whiff of Anarchism in the air. I liked it.

Visited a record shop. Bought the Subhumans' "Same Thoughts/Different Day" double LP. The store was out of the cds. The record is heavy enough to squash all the world's oil company executives in one leaden thud. This expanded re-recording of their first "Incorrect Thoughts" album actually sounds more like the Subhumans sounded in concert than the original lp. If you have ever hit your head against a wall, or wanted to, this is the record for you.

After a few more stops we went for lunch to a little pub we visited a year ago. They got Sonja's order wrong the first time we went there and our meal got comp'ed. Same thing happened again this time. We have to find a better place to eat next time we are on Main. The beer was fucking excellent!

We sat uncomfortably close to a table of young male office workers. They work for some sports media outfit. They seemed to think they were hard workers and that everybody else they worked with were dogfuckers. They were probably right. Motherfucking desk jockeys. Pork-choppers. Whale shit.

"We never get sat beside a bunch of losers like that on the Drive," Sonja said as we exited into a rainstorm that had begun as soon as we got our first drink.

Further along we spotted Chris Walter, who we often see on the Drive, having brunch in a cafe. Maybe Walter hates the motherfucking Italians too.