Future wave . . .Flexi-Pave

Yesterday as I walked along Boylston Street, new trees appeared where there had been none. Rectangles carved out of the existing sidewalks days before were now homes to these delicate trees. Surrounding the base of each tree a layer of some kind of paving was being placed. When I asked the worker who was applying the surface if he thought the trees would survive the onslaught of winter, he said, "I don't know anything about the trees, I just put this stuff in around them."

It turns out that "this stuff" was a formula developed by a company in Florida that recycles tires.
This "paving" which sets up to a solid surface in 24 hours acts as a drainage material that allows the trees to breath underneath the solid surface. The worker told me that this Flexi-Pave was the wave of the future and that I'd be seeing lots and lots more of it. A trip to the Flexi-Pave web site told me lots more.

Here's a direct quote from the website: "The paving project comes out of a Duke Markets and Management Capstone course in which 12 Duke students consulted with Clearwater, Fla.,-based KB Industries (KBI). KBI Flexi-Pave manages stormwater runoff, and its largest ingredient (by volume) is recycled tires. The students and their professor, Sam Veraldi, helped to set up the installation on campus. By using recycled tires, the material helps reduce the disposal of tires in global landfills and incinerators while improving the management of stormwater runoff, one of the major issues facing urban areas today. Eliminating stormwater runoff is important to reduce flooding, prevent erosion, protect our environment and control water quality."

Fall gold . . . what we see, what we are

On this morning's walk I noticed the random pattern of those maple "helicopters" crowded together with golden leaves and the words, "fall gold" came to me. An apt metaphor for this time of life in my sixties on a day when I'm feeling energetic, hopeful, and strong......knowing full well that it's not a lasting condition and that the ravages of time and gravity are catching up.

That's why I've decided to enjoy the moment, let the fall gold glimmer before my eyes and through my thighs as I walk around the city. I'm also beginning to hatch a scheme (one of my original sayings, "where there's a dream, there's a scheme") to find my way across the Atlantic again in 2010 to return to some of my favorite places, especially in Italy, but also to parts unknown. The ideal departure month is going to be May after the Somerville open studios sale at which I hope to sell a whole new collection of 2-d and 3-d collages I'll be creating from remnants of my earlier travels.

So stay posted about this master plan that is evolving and hope for my sake that the fall gold I'm enjoying right now will carry me forward to make this dream a reality.

Binky on the mound . . .

. . .mound of clothes, that is. After seeing Capitalism: A Love Story, by Michael Moore at the Kendall, I decided to walk a couple of blocks from the theatre to enhance my continuing, and most recent frugality as I passed through the doors of The Garment District. I'd been there years ago when I lived in Cambridge, but I'd never stopped at the "Dollar-a-Pound" mound where thousands of clothes are tossed every day to be purchased by the pound. Actually, one of my very favorite designer jackets was plucked from such a pile by a close friend who said she could see me in it the moment she saw it. It cost her 50 cents.

At the sight of the mound, I felt a bit squeamish about dropping to my knees to explore what treasures might be hidden below. I checked my bag at the front desk (that's when I met Binky) and dove onto the mound to dig. I found a few small items and a sweet vest for my friend—the same one who bought me the jacket a year ago. I'm going to wash everything first even though each piece of clothing seemed quite clean. Binky tells me that the pile changes every day and that on Saturday it's at its peak. After the dollar-a-pound (it's actually now $1.50 a pound) dive, I stood up and climbed to the second floor to explore some vintage clothes, shoes, and begin my research for a winter coat.

The Garment District will buy some of your clothes outright. You can bring them by appointment or bring them there on Wednesday and Thursday evenings from 4:30 to 7:30. I've got a huge amount of things I just don't wear any longer, so I'm going fill bags and bring them over there in a few days before the rush for Halloween costumes prevents any new acquisitions. Away from the Dollar-a-Pound mound, other corners of the Garment District are crawling with masks, sequins, and every imaginable disguise for the coming holiday.

And speaking of Halloween and all its symbols, I had to include this shot of the heart-stopping full moon I saw on my walk back to Boston from Cambridge across the Mass Ave bridge. This shot doesn't even come close to the power of the moon's glow that pulled me toward it with a magnetism only equaled when one gazes into the eyes of a newly beloved and groin magnets begin to exert their tremendous force.

Some more Aesthetics of Decay . . .

My friend Nancy and I found this century-old brick building that faces onto the channel that touches Charlestown on one side and the edge of the North end on the other side. Atop the building was what appeared to be a developer's banner with the name Love Channel Wharf or something like that. Sorry I can't remember it, but the building was surely weeping from its abandonment and neglect in spite of its location so close to North Station. And very much in need of some serious love. I took these few photos on Friday to give you a sense of grief about this building's plight. If I were independently wealthy or were connected to someone who was, I would, in a heartbeat, push to turn this behemoth structure into artist/writer studio residences and would claim my spot on the top floor.

Where are my gloves?

Yes, it is October One and on my early morning walk, the Charles River blew me its announcement that the long New England winter is on its way. I've been too busy contemplating my navel to actually write a blog about it the last few days so my photos have been in limbo in my iPhoto drawer and may never find their rightful (logical) place in a blog posting. Before this morning's walk I had thought about the headline: "Green: elixr vs. poison" or something along those lines for the photos below. Today's color was anything but green as you can see by my view of the city from the Mass Ave. bridge. It was silver, icy gray. I couldn't photograph the chill for you, especially for my readers in LA. But trust me, I came back rubbing my hands together as I searched for a pair of matching gloves and a hat for my head. Is summer really dead?

Green: Elixir vs. Poison

Clearly an elixir for health, this cocktail of seaweed salad from Typhoon, an Asian fusion restaurant on Boylston Street is the kind of green that saves lives, while the one below, a forgotten corner of the Muddy River where trash is rotting in stagnant green slime we see the poisonous view of the same color. Click on the pictures and you'll see more details.

Weekend wanderings . . . NYC and beyond

Details of a staggeringly complex mosaic wall in Harlem is just one of the sights on my walk today in NYC. More to come as a summary of weekend to weekend wanderings in both Boston South End last weekend and NYC this weekend. Stay tuned.

Regina Spektor in Boston . . . Spektacular

Twenty-nine years old and she's got a body of work more extensive than many songwriters can boast in a lifetime. Regina Spektor put on a generous display of her multiple talents for close to two hours tonight at the House of Blues. I got there a few minutes after 6:30 and the crowd was already wrapping around the corners of Lansdown Street. Doors opened at 7. The concert was supposed to begin at 8 p.m., which it did, but with an opening act. My ticket brought me to the "mezzanine" — a place with seats, I thought. Not. You have to stand against a railing and look toward the stage. I got there early enough to get a good view of the stage. And I waited until after 9 p.m. before she finally made her entrance. (Luckily, my bladder of an earlier posting cooperated for all those hours so I didn't have to lose my place at the railing.) She looked very happy on stage, comfortable, humble, but giggly because as she said midway through her performance, "I'm a lucky bastard!" to get to play her music to us. And we were very dedicated fans, most of the people in this huge crowd knew her songs word for word.


Wiped out tonight. Maybe I'll add some more details tomorrow along with some pictures from the weekend, but I had to get this news out to you, especially to my writer friends. I kept thinking, "Poetry is certainly not dead in Boston." Her fans, mostly in their 20s, love her poetic lyrics, her melodies, her subjects—ones that range from found wallets to the story of Samson and Delilah. She's playing again tomorrow night at the Orpheum. She played piano, electronic keyboards, an electric guitar, a chair, and during the last moments of her encore, a shofar.