Saturday morning! This is one of two days when I wake up and make my own coffee (in my humble kitchen, shown at left), as opposed to drinking the bitter sludge of Cafe 18, the student cafeteria. My brew is just as the barista at Spring Cypress Starbucks said only days before I left; earthy, rich, and unlikely enjoyed by many others as a black coffee (or at all). I don't know what I'll be doing today. Maybe I'll find a bus to Shadyside, because I've never been there. I am already regretting that I didn't further explore all sides of this city earlier. It turns out there's a Giant Eagle (grocery store that's everywhere in the NE--think of HEB or Kroger) right across the damn bridge to the Northside, and all I had to do was look a little harder. It's open till midnight so I was able to get milk for my beautiful Cocoa Puffs and Rice Krispies. Oh man, I could get orange juice too. That is where I'm going today. Then in the evening I'll likely be at the Market Square shown below.
Last night I was at PPG place around ten o'clock, and I chilled with this dude who looked kind of like Eminem with more hair and a large labret piercing. His name is Josh, he's 26, and he's been out of prison for three years trying to straighten up and make a new life for himself. He goes to Penn State and was waiting a whole 24 hours for a Greyhound to take him back home only three hours away from here. He told me a story about the prison in Pittsburgh, how some guy thought there were only eight floors (because there were eight floors of cells but a floor in between of each of offices and visiting areas, making 16 floors total) and tied enough blankets together to escape out a window he'd pried loose. His problem was that he only had an eight-floor blanketrope for a 16-floor prison, so he ended up stuck halfway down until his cellmate buddy lost his grip on the other end, thus ending the escapist's sentence early. It was a funny story. Usually, from people like Josh who introduce themselves to you spontaneously, you learn a lesson, but more importantly, you hear some neat shit. Anyway, I gave him a buck and change in quarters and nickels so he could get something to eat at the 7-11. The thing about people asking you for money in a big city is that there are homeless guys who aren't convincing, those who are but you don't want to give money to, and then there are guys like Josh who need $1.25 a lot more than you do. His bus was coming at five and he missed his two year-old daughter. Anyway, out of I think the five people I've met, that's four who've told me based on experience that partying is bad, and one who disagreed but was still freakin' out the other day in our first class. "Whoa, man. I'm freakin' out." I told him he was freakin' out. Man. I love college.
I want desperately to get a decent digital camera and combine my personal journal with a food blog. I'll rename it The Bain-Marie and post multimedia of my classroom kitchens daily.
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