Here are some pictures of things of which I am always taking pictures.
Your father just reading the ever-loving SHIT out of that Dante.
Starting with the obvious
I can’t tell these two images apart.
Raised bed, get it?
Some good yard-cats I have seen.
Boxes I have known.
Is this. . . steampunk?
I’ve long-since run out of things to say.
I need a place for images that do not invoke man’s inhumanity to man or suggest that your father has been reading Dante.
Before we begin: Today in things that sound like movie plots.
It has rained, at least briefly, every day that I’ve been here. It has made for some dramatic skies.
There’s still an hour of daylight to go, but it does seem as if today will break the streak.
Cool vestibule tiles.
Not as cool as a grill-boat, but nothing to sneeze at.
In general, the Dutch speak perfect English, this has not prevented them from getting in on the lucrative t-shirts-with-dumb-English-text-on-them market. On the other hand, I suppose that’s true of Americans as well.
No lie, I saw a guy wearing that exact shirt a block later.
Here’s the tree and sky behind the apartment.
So apparently the neighborhood in which I’m staying is the Williamsburg ca. 1999 of Amsterdam. Consequently, on Thursday I started my day at a place called The Breakfast Club. Afterward, I kind of made a loop up to Centraal Station, and then back around to the apartment.
Important life goals: a boat that you go to for grilling.
While not as salient to my life as a boat with a grill on it, I found this pretty wonderful.
Brutalism is best.
Meter box (I think.)
Houses with loading hoooks.
I’m still sleeping pretty poorly, and I woke up feeling pretty groggy on Friday. I decided it would be comforting to have some staples, which did end up feeling pretty reassuring. Now I can just sort of lounge around all day if I’m so inclined and won’t have to go out for a kebab at 11 or something horrible like that.
On Friday evening I went here, which is apparently the ground zero of the area’s gentrification process. Being Friday evening, it was completely packed. For a while the only available table was on the top of a garbage can. Afterwards, we went to the trendy bar associated with this restaurant, which was pretty good, although substantially understaffed. Ladies in Amsterdam seem more into animal prints than ladies in other cities.
Currently my most pressing problem is that I forgot to pack any nail clippers. Signing off to wipe the blood from writing this post off my keyboard.