2003-08-18 - 1:00 a.m.

I decided to try something new tonight, and it�s Maker�s Mark and ginger ale, with lotsa ice (thank you, thank you, thank you, my dear friend S. I shall from now on act as if I thought/heard of the idea myself). I know I�m always saying that I avoid the hard stuff, but I like this. Less garbage, for one, and I like feeling like some Fifties alpha-male making with the drink after a hard day at the architect office, changing into evening wear (and with spotted pajamas looming not too far away), unwinding, listening to stereophonic quality LPs. A hard worked clich�, true, but that doesn�t make it any less fun.

I like the way the ice tinkles.

Took an absolutely excellent walk today from Davis down Broadway to Medford Street up to Medford Square, around the rotary there up Salem Street and then to Malden Centre.

Exquisite walk. Excellent walk. Such a great walk.

Medford Square and that pretty, pretty footbridge. So pretty that the Mystic did not smell like garbage. The Roommate and I hunkered down on that tranquil, old paint bridge on a slow, almost-suburban Sunday and had some good talkin�, and hard earned for the walking, until maybe ten minutes later, when a person crossed it and we moved on like pigeons.

I made a joke about Medford (Meh-fa, by the way), and the joke is that folks from the various neighborhoods of Boston think of going to Boston as going into the city, to the Back Bay, to the South End, to Government Center if you�re lame, whatever, to have a good time.

Judging from the police log in the Somerville Journal (online, which the Roommate sends me every now and then), a trip to Somerville is a trip to the city for some residents of Medford, seeing as how an egregious percentage of �em make said log.

That said, there�s a graveyard worth visiting there, as well as the only Papa Gino�s left in the Boston area save the one in Cleary Square in Hyde Park.

Sadly, the ice cream parlor there is no longer a Carvel�s.

Home of Fudgie the Whale.

God, I miss childhood.

Adulthood, however, provided me access to a beer at the Pearl Street Depot in Malden, and memories of wild events to which I hadn�t been invited came flooding back. And it was great--the Roommate wore this pretty bandana. The place felt warm and comfortable, and the mozzarella sticks were OK.

Malden Centre is kinda cool. When I was traveling about Europe, I took a train from Amsterdam to Nijmegen, but, having the rest of the day ahead of me and a Eurail pass, I stopped off in the town of Arnhem. For no reason.

And I explored its little downtown, which was closed for the Sunday I visited. I caught the next train back. There I learned a lesson about living, not one I could ever learn again, mind you; that it�s nice to live in a little city with some history, that nobody thinks about, that has a little downtown that on a good day can kick the ass of any downtown out there, that�s close by on the rail to the city with the big paper the world pays attention to.

And that�s Malden Centre. Little Arnhem. Its sister city, to me at least.

So far, for her birthday, I�ve staggered out some goddamn great gifts for the Roommate. No expense spared. It�s her birthday, and I�ve been honoring a year of flawless service.

That was a joke.

Kinda. But I�ve given her some good presents, and she�ll agree.

And that makes me so happy. To set up those dominoes and watch �em fall so nicely.

To make someone happy, at an age (mine included) where nobody expects to have good birthdays anymore. To defy those odds. To be the most rockin� boyfriend ever?

How can one pass up?

Tomorrow is Monday, and I�m takin� it off. And so is she.

Pardon me while I sip on up at a Maker�s and Schweppes, and do some research for tomorrow