a big new porch.

The title, of course, is for you Justin. I've found a new porch; perhaps I'll take a picture and you could think of me there when it's cold and raining. :) I'll get to it later on - first, a brief tour of Gainesville's highlights.

It was the ideal Shannon-day, loafing around all morning with coffee. I biked downtown for the afternoon and explored: it started out as a search for a new guitar but as usual, rapidly devolved into wandering toward whatever interesting thing next presented itself. I commiserated with a former New Yorker who opened a music store here (why? would you do this to yourself?). I pored through stacks of shitty used CD's and DVD's at Hear-It-Again CD's, which I mistakenly thought was the record store Laura had mentioned.

Note to fellow Gainesvillians: It was in fact a warehouse for useless crap no one would ever want to re-purchase (e.g. 8 Ace of Base CD's), topped off with a few worthwhile things that, because someone might actually want them, were exorbitantly overpriced. Hey Hear-It-Again: there is no excuse for selling "Heathers" for $12.99. Winona would be very disappointed. She'd probably steal it just to spite you. So would I.

I found a feminist bookstore with scant but well-selected poetry. Walked out with a $3 used Rumi, half-price Levertov, and a bergamot-oatmeal soap so lovely-smelling I can't decide whether to rub myself with it or stick it in my mouth. Next I found Flashback, a resale shop with a wicked upstairs collection of home stuff. The owner just hits up local garage sales and flea markets: one of the hidden treasures of North Central Florida is the many, many people with cool old shit who sell it off for pennies. Owl-shaped olive green salt & pepper shakers? Yes please!

I thought the day had hit its high point with sidewalk dinner at the Top, reading the new poetry books, drinking coffee, smoking cloves, light breeze... but when I finally found a guitar, I also found my favorite place. A big old house set back along a street overhung with spanish moss and big trees. Tim & Terry's has a crowded music store upstairs, a bar downstairs, a living room for live shows, and a huge porch out front. They have live music every night - folk, bluegrass, reggae, metal - and music lessons for guitar, fiddle or mando. Not a grad student in sight. It's like a smaller, even-less-bureaucratic Old Town School with a much larger beer selection. Dangerously conducive to long hours of hanging out. Case in point: I bought the guitar, I sat on the porch and played it, called Rae, we had beer, we stayed til 3.

It may just fill the biggest hole of homesickness. It's the place, the beer and music and smoking and hanging out, but of course it's also the people. Perhaps it was growing up with brothers, with music around me, who knows - but hanging out with a bunch of easygoing guys puts me right at home. The Tim & Terry's clientele is mostly that. Ben, remembering you banging on the guitar while I shouted Weezer lyrics at the ceiling still makes me grin. :) And eating blue cheese fries with Pat, and Joe singing "Man in the Mirror" at the top of his lungs. Jason making Stewie impressions and stalking me in the kitchen. We had some good times; thanks for letting me hang out. You guys are irreplaceable. But it's good to find a place to be at home. Maybe, if I'm lucky, someone'll condescend to join me for danger karaoke.