Tag Archives: Philadelphia

Blue Light Special

structure10
Philadelphia Fitness
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Friday, October 26, 2001 4:44 AM

Hey Steve—up for a visit? If so, do you know a route from DC to Philly which bypasses the toll road? I need a breather from this terror on TV, death in DC, and my own killer daily bread. With a nod to all those former glories we shared, I thought of you. I'll bring the recent Dylan release.

This window of opportunity will expire soon. If I don't hear from you today, for whatever reason, real or imagined, I'll count on nothing. Could this really be the end, stuck inside of DC with the Philly blues again—as the four horsemen of an prima facie first blush apocalypse, the blue light special of tomorrow's plush sweaters, the four nineties of some square conspiring to compete with the circles we pick up in the streets and avenues, Steve, Len, Tim, and Gabriel pledging allegiance to the sounds of our own thumping hearts for which we cannot stand idly by...

Half deaf but playing it by ear,

GT

P.S. By the way, Bracken sent me his "screenplay". Seems I have a single speech towards the end, which of course fits in my mouth, but still I hesitate involving myself in this project since I despise laziness, especially that which lurks in MYSELF, so why should I allow Mr. Radical to exploit me for those questionable aims of his, just for the vanity of some screen time? What do you think? Have you read it? Would you like to have my lines?

Hey great! C'mon up...Don't know any toll-less routes offhand...just know the standard 95 route...would require some blue-highway meandering...but don't let that stop you! We've got Koreans in town today, so I might not have much of a chance to get to a phone...in any event, could you remind me of your phone# (gotta catch a bus, an egg-and-cheese sandwich, and a coffee, in that order)? Mine at work is 215.790.xxxx (feel free to leave a message if I'm not in.) After work and the obligatory Korean dinner tonight, I have no plans for the weekend.

SET

Sock It To Me If You Must, But Let Me Hear From You, Space

cities-strive
Cities Strive
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Date: Tue Dec 7, 1999 8:32:10 AM

Space—hey man, wish I knew why it is you have written me off. You've ignored my phonecalls and quit responding to my email September a year ago. Being of paranoid mind and body I would have thought that perhaps that little BBM resignation crisis in some unintended twisted way sealed the vault, or even that Steve Taylor on the ride back to Philly might have said something to you to blacken my rep, but we, you and I, actually traded a couple more friendly notes after your flight back to Seattle right up to the time when I scooted for vacation, and while away, had my Internet pipeline severed which signalled a very hellish year where my ISP and Bell Atlantic were screwing me at every turn through absolutely no fault of my own, which translated means I had no two weeks of solid uninterrupted service for over a year due to a long series of unrelated, complicated and ridiculous snafus on their end.

But upon my return after a week in South Carolina visiting family, from you, nothing, nada, kaput. What gives? Did your computer get fried? This note is merely a dove looking for a twig. Perhaps you still have the same AOL address, perhaps you do not.

I'd just been sorting through some of the emails we shared back in 1995 with great fondness when whammo, the Seattle riots break into the news. I've been hosting on my computers a listserve of highly opinionated, aptly educated folks of various stripe scattered across the globe who have made it their business to rage against the capitalist machine, and I'd been talking your name up when this WTO thing exploded into our consciousness, and thus I grew doubly anxious to reunite with my old friend.

Please. Let's end this lockout, Space. Sock it to me if you must, but let me hear from you. This past year has been awful for me. I watched only pieces of a mere handful of baseball games, three, maybe four until the playoffs and Yankees, but finally in October my ISP and the telephone company finally delivered on a relatively inexpensive, somewhat fast fulltime connection, and yep, it's been stable, finally some relief from these 21 hour days monitoring my damned service. You wouldn't believe how cramped and crimped my life had become. And looking back, despite all my stress and imagined immobility, perspiration and stagnation, a lot has been accomplished, even if not as much as I would have hoped.

Meanwhile my neighborhood has become a warzone of drug dealers and self-confessed whitey haters. Blumstein has sold out, and lemme tell you, THAT is one long greasy story, but life is not ever as simple as it seems. You've missed out on some of my best writing, and I know I have missed out on yours. Can't we fix this?

Color me waiting to hear from you,

Gabriel
aka Fats Bullwinkle

Philadelphia Breadcrumbs

philadelphia-sisters
"Philadelphia Sisters" by Gabriel Thy
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Originally published on October 16, 1997

Steve, search AltaVista with the keyword SCENEWASH. Man a monopoly, but it shouldn't last forever. I don't recall ever signing SWORG with AltaVista or any search engines for that matter, since I had no active content there, but oooowwwweeee, what a presence!

How are you "set" for a fall classic in the City of Brotherly Glove in the last weekend AFTER Halloween with two or more proles from the City of Neverending Elections? Depends on how things shape up around here with bookcases and client bases, but we might be settled enough by then to take a slow drive to the north country. Some ten dollars in tolls is enough to make this a rare visit, as I'm sure you're aware, but of course as a native son of Philadelphia you are bound by cleverness to find a way around the tolls given enough time to wander the backroads. I haven't discussed this with the Bug, but surely we'll jump at the chance to eat in a unfamiliar restaurant where all the snappy waitresses fire off salty checkerboarded accents and the center of attention melts in the center of town, not in our hands.

Meanwhile I'm still frying in the pan as I hit pocket after pocket of web cramp and creativity null in my struggle to reinstate my SCENEWASH infrastructure, formerly of iMote (where that picture of us on the Perquacky Deck resides somewhere in the Literary Chip stack, oh yes, the Misguided Tour of the Literary Chip, don't ask me again, use your bookmarks silly, if'n you can't find your way back through the breadcrumbs of your mind).

GT

Postscript: The Misguided Tour never really got off the ground, tethered as it was to hard work in a busy, infrastructure laying era where failed cooperation was hardly a minor bump or soft shoulder in the road but was a major pothole which grounded smart aleck motorcycle kings faster than the DC Department of Public Works on a sudden 20" snow day. Building this monstrosity of self-indulegence, whether it has any passing artistic value or not, has taken time, but in the end I can attest to its worth to me is immeasurable. Others have moved on with their lives, but here sits I, Gabriel, doing what I said I wanted to do, for better, for worse, these are the days of my lives...dated 10/25/13.