Had a great, great evening. Left work, sprinted (well, as much as one can sprint in a minivan) to Coolidge Corner, then into Harvard Square, where I had the pleasure of dining alone. I rarely, if ever, do this, and not having to consult with anyone about where to go, how quickly or slowly to meander there, where to make pit stops, was a nice change. Stopped at Wordsworth to pick up something to read, and got a copy of Dave Eggers’ newish magazine, The Believer . Had a really stellar vegetarian thali at Bombay Club, served on metal cups and plates just like we’d used in Nepal, and as I was sitting and reading the article on Jerry Lewis, a newly seated table began discussing one of its member’s recent semester in Nepal. Ah, synchronicity.
Met Jason Haas at Tealuxe, where the evening’s conversation began. Topics covered: David Foster Wallace, Jason’s 10 desert-island-movies, thoughts on our career choices, whether or not America is becoming a victim of its own success both economically and calorically, the Coen Brothers, Achewood and why it’s funny, politicians and why they’re not so funny, the boardgame Diplomacy, improv comedy… After Tealuxe, we went to sit for an hour or two at Cafe Pamplona, a teeny hole in the wall where the waiter chided us for having two sugar bowls on the table, and called us “computer people” in a strangely perjorative way. Decent hot chocolate, though. Topics covered: Jason’s interest in film school, my own ramblings about Jonathan Lethem, writings about interesting things , my time so far in Philly and why it’s odd that I’m not socially jonesing more… Then out for a brisk walk detouring across the river and back to the HOOPTY MOBILE.
The conversations Jason and I have move and shift and circle back on themselves; we crack each other up, and I always leave evenings together psyched for more and thinking that Jason’s one of the best people I know.
After running him home in the mom-mobile, though, it’s another short night’s sleep for me, so I’m off to it, chocolate in my bloodstream or no.