Walk Out of the World.

Another stroll today without my camera (which I am supposed to remember from here on out) provided the highlights of the weekend, following a brilliant trip to Glasgow for most of Saturday. The revelations:

• Walking through Morningside regardless of the chill, bundled up tightly and once again remembering just how touching Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns from Mother Love Bone is. Old songs in a new context or location can often “reset” their appreciation factor, even when you’ve seemingly milked the last drop of emotion from a well-played tune, and I love that happenstance dearly. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. The Pentlands were dusted with a good layer of snow, and they loomed in the background above the old tenement buildings and the stately homes of that pleasant southern suburb of Edinburgh.


• Comparing the streets and structures with a book of old city pictures I received as a Christmas gift and seeing that Morningside Station hasn’t really changed that much in the past hundred years or so. It’s like reading about a faerie-tale place that you love to visit in imagination, but actually going there and walking in and among the buildings…right out of time. It’s nice not to be totally lost in the depression of a post-industrial architectural eclipse all the time. Now if only I could get an old picture book of Newford

• The spiky, stately silhouettes of bundles of church spires against the pale yellow and orange of the dying sky. How wonderful to be distracted by such a thing, and a good scapegoat when I trip over countless uneven pavement slabs and bump headlong into shoppers fastidiously going about their days, due to eyes skyward and chin lifted. No apologies are usually necessary. I tell them it is in God’s hands.

My second family in Glasgow, who stuffed me full of rich and wonderful treats, perhaps thinking I might be the next course if I should fall into a cozy slumber. Thankfully, it was a brief one, interrupted only by the staccato conversation of wars, assassinations, and other singularly male topics as the women of the house retreated to brighter and more lively surroundings over coffee in the kitchen. But we rambled on, talking out our arses as men tend to do and sipping ginger wine while reclining in the lounge. What else is Christmas for?

• Denigrating myself in a game of Scottish Trivial Pursuit or some bastardization thereof, with an Aussie and his wife for teammates in a room full of native Scots. It was third grade all over again, as it took us two hours just to answer a single question correctly, and that one only with help from our kindly neighbors to the left. Strangely enough, our team of ex-pats actually won the game, with a well-placed roll and final answer concerning Romano-Caledonian history. Or something. We were drunk.

• Generosity and [gravely foolish] trust in a nervous Yank with an open invitation to use their car anytime for trundling the Highlands, free of charge and insurance taken care of. This is amazing, wonderful, and I am a lucky bastard to have such accommodating friends. This offer comes just in time for kittynitro’s visit next week, as she and the Good Doctor make their way across the Drink. I just can’t wait to see her and be a host to my dear friends once again. It pleases me greatly to know I’ll get to show them around, and head into the countryside for a couple of days.

The weekend is over, and on to new adventure…

One Response to “Walk Out of the World.”

  1. Anonymous Says:
    January 2nd, 2004 at 9:54 pm

    MLB
    "once again remembering just how touching Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns from Mother Love Bone is"
    that one still makes me cry… ~(*

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