What hell is

Christian Iconography and Saturday morning cartoons have it way wrong.

After two days in Boston, I have to conclude that not only would hell be hot, it would also be moist. Having lived in Seattle after living in Spokane I thought I'd learned a little something about humidity. I had learned nothing.

Its 10pm here and my body parts are sticking to each other--and not just the ones you'd expect.

This ungodly fact of east coast life has limited my viewing of the city itself, as has the underground transit system. Still, I've chanced 'pon a few cool things.

I saw a nice looking Frank Gehry building, the Stata Center at MIT. The design recalls cubism heavily. That would be a funny reality TV show: Gehry builds something, then Picasso tries to make it look more twisted and absurdly geometric than it already is. Iron Architect/Painter. I'd watch it. I liked the Stata a fair bit better better than Gehry's Guggenheim in Bilbao, and a little less than the "Ginger and Fred" in Prague, which is most notable--in my opinion--for how at home it is in the surrounding neighborhood, despite being a churning mass of metal and glass.

On the other end of the Gehry spectrum then, we have the LSD-influenced partial birth abortion on garish display at the corner of 5th and Broad in Seattle.

Shannon and I went to a movie at Harvard Square, where I was allowed to walk amongst people who are hopelessly more brilliant than I. I considered punching one of them to assuage the feelings of inadequacy, but I worried they'd gut-shoot me with mind bullets. The movie itself was rather lackluster, I'm thinking of reviewing it. Let me know if you're interested in reading about Bright Young Things--or if you like Evelyn Waugh.

For dinner I had Tuscaloosa catfish. 'Twas bomb.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll have some pictures to post upon my return.

The only other thing of note so far is that Shannon swore up and down that she lives in the projects and that she was sure she'd heard shootings almost every night. As it happens, she lives in a gated community and her apartment overlooks Dorchester Bay. While it may not be the nicest bay in the world, I've never known any projects to be built upon waterfront property (and I've seen both Candyman movies).

I have yet to hear a gunshot.

Oh! Wait--maybe . . . no, that was just her neighbor, setting off firecrackers while burning a pile of money.

"There must be a special Hell reserved for people who make Hell seem boring."