We walked Beale St., a little over the top, 
but we saw Johnny's star/note, 
and there were these building fronts that were propped up by steel 
-- pretty neat. Tomorrow, Rowan Oak! I'm so happy. It should be so interesting.Beale St. wasn't hardly as nice/clean/organized as either the Grove or Main St.; it was more like Fremont St. with a little dirty south thrown in. There was a lot of drinking and cockroaches and jazz. We liked walking through, but without a real guide to tell us what was what, we didn't stay long. It felt like the kind of place where you brush past a guy wrong and he pulls out a switch blade. You may not get killed, but who needs the trouble? Also, Todd got asked like three times for money the second we walked into the cordoned off area, so he was a little miffed. Here's the view at night.
We were recommended Rondevous for dining, by the Courtyard Marriott we are staying at, and for a while we couldn't find it, but when we finally did it was down a back alley, and seemed pretty authentic. We were told it was an hour wait, so we figured it couldn't be awful, not with an hour wait. But I started getting nervous, because it seemed like the place was teeming with white people, and I was like, on the street, one second ago, we were in a refreshingly diverse crowd, and now the only black people I see work here, and I'm not sure why this bothers me, and it bothers me that it bothers me, and I'm hoping it's good, and after a couple of beers I'm wondering if it's racist for me to think that white people wouldn't know good BBQ, but I don't wonder this out loud, because the civil war replica memorbilia is too close for comfort. It was so good. Dry rub ribs, hot mustard slaw, creamy baked beans, and rolls that you just know were shortened with Crisco -- seriously, if the transfat thing goes through, this restaurant will have to go underground, and I will, I tell you, break the law. You can have the ribs FedExed to you. I kid you not.
One of the things I have noticed on the trip, and it prevails everywhere that we go, is that there is just no industry. Especially concerning train yards. I saw the abandoned freight buildings way back in Albuquerque, but EVERYWHERE we have been there are similar massive warehouses and buildings near tracks that look like rotting corpses of the twentieth century.
I makes me wonder -- how can we be so short-sighted? Driving through America, you see the most beautiful countryside ever, the most impressive mountains, lakes, rivers, trees, deserts, cacti, wildlife, livestock, and you think, what have we done? What have we done with THIS? You look at the carved-out slate that sometimes lines the passes, and you think -- we build our buildings out of plaster and plastic, and we couldn't care less if it gets pulled down in five years, or ten years, and look, look at this rock. Been here for millions of years, and will take millions more to change shape. That is if we don't just blast it all to hell. And gas stations. I can't wait until the bagillion gas stations that prevail throughout this country are obsolete, like all the freight houses. Then maybe the roads will be useless, too. We'll have scarred this land so badly...for what? To create a ghost country? It is inevitable? I really want to believe in the greater good of people, but the greater greed seems to super-dominate all hope. Well, truth and beauty. I'll just keep repeating it. *Book Notes*
Reading Moby Dick -- feels like I've read it before, there are so many classic themes. I can't wait to discuss it in class.
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