Love Lost in Austin, TX

So Drew Barrymore is filming a movie here in town. Apparently the story is set in Austin and folks from said city are a bit pissed about being passed over. Their alternative weekly has spoken ill of this burg. Because, you know, that helps.

So I wrote them a letter.

And they published it, this week of July 11 to 17!

Bicycles in Town is Dead, Long Live Ypsilanti Cycle

This past Saturday I biked to downtown A2 on an errand. I took Packard out but decided to take Washtenaw back since I like to do loops. My pedal crank had been wobbling for a couple of weeks but since it had yet to fail me I figured it would hold out.

Unfortunately, it did not. I made it as far as Arborland before the pedals became so loose that they wouldn’t even spin. I broke down almost exactly in front of the bicycle shop next to All Creatures Animal Clinic. “How fortunate!” thought I.

Last time I took my bike in to Ypsilanti Cycle, Paul had noticed the loose crank but told me it was nothing to worry about. It would give eventually but was a simple fix. So when I wheeled my bike into the Arborland store I figured that I would just enjoy the air conditioning for a few minutes while they made the necessary repairs.

The guy there looked at my bike for about two minutes before he told me that it would probably cost more than I had paid for the bike in the first place. I wasn’t offended because this was probably true (I bought it for $50 off a friend five years ago) but I was a bit surprised by his attitude. I got the felling that he thought it was both a waste of time and money to even consider fixing it.

I asked him to take a look at it anyway. He wandered off, wandered back, and told me they didn’t have the part in stock. I thought about asking him to see if he could possibly order the part but decided against it. The guy didn’t seem that interested in my business.

It’s four miles from Arborland to downtown Ypsi, but it was a nice day so I didn’t mind the walk. I wanted to stop at the credit union anyway.

I’ve been going to the Michigan Avenue bicycle shop for as long as I’ve lived in Ypsi, from the original Bicycles in Town, through the new Bicycles in Town, to the latest incarnation as Ypsi Cycle. Usually I've dealt with Paul, who greeted me by name. It had been several months since I’d last been in but he remembered the crank problem. It was late in the day by then and they are closed on Sundays but he told me they would have it ready by Monday.

I just picked it up. In addition to replacing the entire crank mechanism---it turns out that the threads were entirely worn away---they put on new pedals. The total cost, including labor? 15 bucks.

Riding away, I realized that they had also polished the rust off my bell.

On "Hipsitucky"

So about a year ago my friend Chris decided to write a blog about his life in Ypsi. He called it "My Life in Hipsilanti" and he invited some of his friends (including me) to contribute. It had barely got started when Chris, being Chris, randomly decided to delete the blog without telling anyone.

At the time Blogger wouldn't let you recycle a deleted url, so when I decided to relaunch the project under my own auspisces I did so under the name "Hipsitucky." Anyone reading this knows that "Hipsilanti" is a lame play on "Ypsilanti" that has appeared on "Cool Cities" funded banners around town. Chris appropriated it ironically, and my putting the "Hip" to "Ypsitucky" was done with similar tongue in cheek.

Little did I know how controversial the "-tucky" permutation was! I knew it referred to the migration of folks from not-quite-so-down-south to this fair city of ours but had no idea it was ever considered derogatory. Apparently, some people think being from Kentucky is an inherently bad thing.

I try to be respectful of people's sensitivities but will admit that I have a hard time taking this seriously. But since I have recently discovered that people not only read this thing, but actually reference it in heated discussions about the word "Ypsitucky," all permutations thereof, and who exactly is entitled (if anyone) to employ said word and said permutations--I feel compelled to make the following statement.

My use of the word "Hipsitucky" is not meant to disrespect the city of Ypsilanti, the marketing concept of "Hipsilanti," the great state of Kentucky, anyone who migrated from Kentucky to Ypsilanti or their descendants. Nor is it meant to dishonor any trials these migrants may have endured.

I meant only to celebrate the quirky heritage of our funky little town by using the quirkiest, funkiest little word I could find.

In a mofuckin' mulberry jam!

After soccer (Sundays and Wednesdays at 6 in Frog Island, people! All welcome!) last night I decided to check out the mulberries in front of the Thompson Block. I've lived in Depot Town for three years now, have been frequenting the area for as long as I've lived in Ypsi, and only just noticed that bush last week.

Mulberries are nothing new in my Ypsilanti. I've spotted several trees (bushes?) in various parts of town over the years but never have known what to do with the fruit except pop the odd handful in my mouth. However, word has come from Adster's lady friend that they make great jam. So I spent and hour filling up a few water bottles worth.

But the recipes in my cookbook all call for at least as much sugar as berries (four cups to four cups!) and discussions with more experienced cooks than I have confirmed this. So screw it. I gave a jar to Kitty Cutts, mixed some up in my oatmeal this morning and plan to smoosh more into my peanut butter sandwiches this week. Any other suggestions for their use are welcome. In days of yore I would have stirred them into a legendary KD2 smoothie but these days I lack a mechanized blending device.

Whilst picking said fruit I was greeted by a woman who lives in the apartment building adjacent to the T-Block. I had heard that she frequents that bush and was afraid that she might view it as an incursion onto her turf but she seemed quite happy to share. In fact, she directed me to a tree where I can find free tart cherries.

Construction on the T-Block is finally underway for real and given the gentry-friendly aspirations of the remodelers I can't imagine that a crooked bush that craps stainy berries is long for this world.

So get them while the getting's good!

Even without reading the text . . .

. . . you know why I posted this picture.





You know who I hope to remind you of.

I haven't seen Ypsi's own "No Face" in a couple of years. Asking around, it seems that no one else has either. I remember when he started walking around on crutches and people said he had thrown himself in front of a bus, tried to kill himself again. Last time I saw him he was in a wheelchair. He was slumped forward and the hole where his faced used to be was full of black shadows. I assume he's dead now.

How come he didn't get facial reconstruction, like the guy above? Would it have made a difference?

I think the painter dude saw me naked

So I come home last Friday to find my maroon building spotted randomly with pink paint, looking rather like it had developed a case of the chicken pox and been daubed with calamine lotion.

"Ah, it seems that they will soon be changing the color of my residence!" I thought.

I was wrong. The plan was to repaint it, but to renew the regular color as opposed to replacing it. The odd pink spots turned out to be primer. I know this because the painter dudes explained it to me this morning.

I was able to sleep in a bit today and woke to the sounds of FM talk radio and dudes talking about Tiger Woods.

"Ah, it seems that today is the say that my residence will be painted!" I thought.

I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to get the day going, commando style because that's how I sleep in the summer. I did not occur to me to look behind me. When I came back into the bedroom I saw that one of the top of a ladder framed in one of my windows. A painter dudes was working on the wall immediately outside my bedroom. He broke eye contact as soon as it was made.

"Didn't know you were right there," I said.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's cool," I said.

Then I sat down and meditated.

Block Partly

One of the nine or ten thousand perks about living in Depot Town is that I get to monitor development on the Thomson Block.

I pass it every morning on my way to work, and I can actually shave a few square meters off my frequent walks up River St. by cutting behind it. I did so yesterday and was shocked to see ACTUAL WORK being done on the building.

For years it sat abandoned and for months it sat undisturbed even as it was theoretically being renovated. The Barnes' only managed to hang a sign out front. The Beales matched them in that and did a bit better by parking a construction trailer out front. I remember that they were hauling garbage out of it sometime in 2007 but apparently Beale the younger ran out of money.

The project is apparently back in the green for having leased space to the dude who took over the Elbow Room. The rear wall has been knocked out and is being re-bricked. The front doors were open this morning and sturdy looking chaps were hauling in particle board and other building type stuff.

I doubt they'll have lofts (or anything else) ready by Fall 2008 as their sign proclaims, but I'm excited nonetheless.