Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Tesco, Theydon Bois

Coppice Row, Theydon Bois, Epping
+44 845 026 9180

By Beau Cadiyo

I was driving to my private competitive ballroom dancing lesson the other day when Morissey came on the radio. My brain, which works quickly, rapidly delivered these thoughts: 

  1. Someone waited for this album to come out, bought it, then listened to it straight through, as if that was the most important thing in the world. 
  2. I used to do that when I was younger. I would buy an album when it came out, then sit in my room and listen to it, loud, to hear every note as quickly as possible. 
  3. I don't do that anymore. 
  4. Does anyone do that? I read a few years ago that the music industry is suffering because people are buying single songs on iTunes and then just listening to those rather than buying whole albums. 
  5. I got in an intense argument with Des Ayuno about that. I said that her bands should just release singles, but she said they had to release albums. I said that was stupid. I think she took it personally. 
  6. But anyway, do people wait with baited breath for albums from their favorite artists to come out anymore? If so, that is a romantic notion. 
  7. I miss having that love and passion for artists and music. I miss the days when I loved it that much. 
  8. Things are different now. They really are. 
  9. Seasons change. Mad things rearrange, but they all stay the same like the love Doctor Strange. 
  10. The Fugees. What was that, 1995? That was worth getting the whole album. 
  11. There are kids today who don't know who the Fugees are. They also don't know Rage Against The Machine. 
  12. That makes me sad. 
  13. Sebastian had the idea of making a sign, during the sweat shop protests of the late 1990s, that said "Rage Against The Sewing Machine."
  14. I remember rewinding tapes in my car, then playing them in order to make a song repeat. I used to get so excited when I stopped the song and it was right at the beginning, where I wanted it, during the dead space between songs. 
  15. There are kids today who don't know what tapes are. 
  16. I don't like the thought of being one of those people who think that they had the best childhood, and kids today should hold dear what we hold dear because things were better when I was growing up
  17. But I am. 
This BLT was surprisingly good for being shrink wrapped from a grocery store, but perhaps that was because I was hung over and extremely hungry. The surprising thing was that it had American-style bacon in it. 

Mahall's 20 Lanes

13200 Madison Ave
Lakewood, OH 44107

(216) 521-3280

by Beau Cadiyo

Running in the rain
A leaf fell, softly,
softly then it touched my eye.

I recommend the Deluxe Burger, although the mushroom is good - far better than Symon's attempt.  If you get the Deluxe, eat it quickly, as it will be succulent and delicious and the pickles will be cool against the heat of the double-stack of beef.  Also, match it with the Green Flash IPA, which is incredible.

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Monday, January 28, 2013

Potbelly Sandwich Shop

515 Euclid Avenue
Cleveland, OH 44114

(216) 325-0161

by Beau Cadiyo

We have a very limited period of time on earth.  Death awaits us all.

Each of us has the choice to make whether to care about what we do while we are here.

Sometimes things, in retrospect, might seem like a waste of time. They might be.  Nobody's life is perfect.

None of us can do everything.

All of us can, though.

We each have a role to play.  It's like a symphony.  Sometimes - most of the time - we are in the background.  At the same time, each of us are constantly playing solos.  There is no shame in being a fourth-chair violinist - they are critical, and they are still on stage.  They can also screw everything up, which is power in and of itself.

You must, must, must care about your environment.  It molds you as much as you mold it.

Most people settle.  There comes a point, though, where you can decide whether you want to settle or strive.

There is no downside to striving.

Again, we will all die.

Most people take what the world gives them; they bargain with life for a penny.  They don't demand more from the world or, more importantly, from themselves.  Everyone must decide for themselves if that is what they want for their lives and legacy.  There is no shame in choosing to accept what is given to you.  There is also no downside to striving.

The big tuna melt on multigrain bread with everything, extra hot peppers, is my favorite.

Potbelly Sandwich Shop on Urbanspoon

Monday, January 21, 2013

The Jolly Scholar

Thwing Center
11111 Euclid Ave
Cleveland, OH 44106
(216) 368-0090

by Beau Cadiyo

I prided myself, for a long time, on the fact that nobody I knew ever died.  It was true - I knew OF people who had died, like Abraham Lincoln and Jesus and Gandhi, but I didn't actually know anyone who had then died after I had met them.  Then, in college, another RA named Frank passed away after a long battle with eating disorders.  I got the news when we returned from summer break.  I wasn't close enough to her to be notified by the family or her friends or anything, but I remember thinking that her curly hair and blue eyes were gone, and her knee-high socks, and whatever spark there was in her body had died.  And life went on.

Google Voice transcribed the message this morning from Edward thus: "Hey, it's Drew.  Mr. So sad.  Smith College.  It, Hi it's me.  I was gimme a call, alright.  Yeah.  Bye bye."  The message itself was so garbled that I couldn't understand him either; what he was calling to tell me was that Frank Malde had hung himself this last weekend.

My favorite story about Frank Malde came after we got back to school after a long weekend - maybe fall break, maybe Thanksgiving.  He'd taken the opportunity to go up to Canada.  Frank was Indian, and had dark skin, and the ability to grow exceptionally long, thick, luxurious beards.  He'd grown his out, and so when he re-entered, he was subject to extra checks at the border because he was brown, had a beard and was traveling alone.  He was carrying his American passport, and when they asked him if he spoke English, he got angry.  He didn't show it, though.  Instead, he smiled a big, absurd, uncomprehending smile, the kind that lit up his face, and nodded his head, slowly, then vigorously.  They called over extra agents and asked again if he spoke English, and the new agents got the same response.  They pulled him out of the car and searched it while he was taken to a containment room.  Various translators kept coming in to try to talk to him, but he didn't respond to any of them; they found nothing in the car, and finally, after four, or perhaps seven, or perhaps thirteen hours, two agents were sitting across the table from him, talking frankly about the situation that they were in.  Frank piped up and asked, in perfect New England English, if he could use the bathroom, which made the agents jump up in shock and berate him for wasting their time.  They then got a lesson in institutional racism, and how to ask better questions beyond whether someone could speak English, and to trust the answers they were given, even if it was a nodding of the head.

When I got off the phone with Edward, I googled The Great Gatsby.  I went to the last chapter and scrolled down to Nick's conversation with Meyer Wolfsheim, and read,

“Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead,” he suggested. “After that my own rule is to let everything alone.”

I remember laughing when Frank told his story, laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face, and how Frank seemed to see the whole thing as an opportunity to right injustice - he was just a citizen, making his way back into his country, and the problem was the border guards, and the system.  Then I remembered times at parties and school gatherings, where he was there having fun and was smart and only spoke when he had something interesting to say, which meant everything he said was interesting, and how whenever he spoke up in class, it invariably made the teacher either realize something new about the material or brought the discussion to a halt because there was nothing more to say on the matter when Frank was done talking.  I'm sad that I didn't stay in touch with him to let him know that I appreciated his friendship and the fact that I knew him, and I wonder how many people are out there who I similarly don't express enough appreciation for - people I'm close to, people I care about.

The burger at the Jolly Scholar is surprisingly good - we had one with bacon, cheese, and a bourbon barbecue sauce.  The pretzel roll was delicious.  The real winner, though, is the beer - they have exceptionally high-quality brew for student prices.  If you can deal with being around 20-somethings and feeling like you're out of your element, it's an exceptionally good place to go, and they're not nearly as snooty or expensive as Severance Hall.

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