MoPgh

Uf. The poster for The Mysteries of Pittsburgh is everywhere in NYC. They’re finally pushing it out to the masses.

The book was rubbish. Michael Chabon was clearly an outsider writing about a city he had only an imperfect understanding of–a city that he tried to transform into something it’s not.

I met a girl just Monday night – in NYC, not State College – who was introduced to me as “The Queen of Pittsburgh” before either the introducer or the introduced knew that I’m from Pittsburgh. (I was heartily reminded of Chabon, because both he and the girl claimed Pittsburgh as their own only because they went to college there.) I couldn’t help but laugh a bit at her expense; the hyperbole of her introduction coupled with her profound ignorance of the city was painful to witness.

Despite the poor source material and the fact that Sienna Miller (the bikini-clad, vacuous smiler, above, in case you didn’t know) talked some serious smack on Pittsburgh, I’ll probably go see it. There should at least be some great, familiar views of the city.

Image via The Mysteries of Pittsburgh Poster – Sienna Miller – Empire Movies.

When one votes in desperation

Today, upon waking, I had a boatload of second thoughts about Obama. I voted for him anyway. It’s the Supreme Court justice appointments that I have to think about, and not all the reasons why he isn’t an ideal choice. Uf!

I voted using computers. They weren’t as nice as the old lever machines, and the way they set them up was terrible. My complaints:

1. There was a ton of glare on the monitors, making text difficult to read. (The 11th district, not pictured above, had windows behind them.)
2. People had to walk behind you, while you were voting, to get to their machine. Voting is supposed to be private and confidential; the potential shouldn’t be there for someone to look over your shoulder. (The lever machines had an automatic curtain that was sort of awesome.)
3. You had to repeatedly confirm your choices. When you think things are over, by pressing a large, blinking, red “VOTE” button (not a joke), you still have to confirm once again. Volunteers stated that several people had walked away after this step and not cast their final ballot.

Obamarama

Mellon Arena, Pittsburgh, PA, 27 October 2008. Rest of my photos are here.

My video. The quality isn’t too hot:

See if you can make out what he’s saying. Heh.

Bleak

First snowfall of the season for Pittsburgh. I’m feeling blue like mad today so I’ve been trying to keep busy. I think, for the holidays, I will put a full spectrum lamp on the list I send to Saint Nick. [Hey, visit that link in the first sentence!]

Point Brugge

Lately my coworkers at the museum have been gushing about the Point Brugge Café. Unilateral praise for a restaurant from that set is so rare that I decided to check it out this past Sunday for an early dinner.

Point Brugge is tucked away in sleepy little Point Breeze at the corner of Hastings and Reynolds. The façade is unassuming and still stamped with “The Point Restaurant”, a prior occupant of the site. Exposed brick and wood typify the interior, which is broken into a bi-level dining area and bar. Floor to ceiling windows at the restaurant’s front allow in plenty of light. When the sun set the lighting became low, but intimately so, unlike Casbah’s darkling interior.

As the name implies, Point Brugge deals in Belgian foods, beers, and wines. I began with a savory tomato and black bean soup, and then moved on to a seafood waterzooi. Comprised of scallops, shrimp, salmon, and mussels in a roasted garlic and tomato broth, I was pleasantly surprised that it had no fishy taste or smell. Everything was excellent across the board, including the tastes I managed to snatch of others’ meals: a cheese platter, mustard crusted salmon, and carbonnade flamande with frites (surprisingly tender and flavorful). For dessert we shared some slices of dark chocolate mousse cake and pumpkin roulade. The latter’s chunks of candied ginger – hidden in mascarpone filling – were so spicy that they made my eyes water!

My only complaints: Their dishes seem slightly over salted. (That’s probably more of a [d]an thing than an objective truth.) They’re still operating on summer menus. I’ll definitely try to make a return visit before I leave Pittsburgh in December. They have an enticing brunch menu, although I’m not sure it’s vegetarian or inexpensive enough to qualify as a brunch spot.

I also couldn’t help but take a glamor shot of my bike using the rather ugly mosaic on the side of the restaurant. >>>

Avian Exodus

I felt like Messiaen’s Quatuor pour la fin du temps should have been playing when I got home from the museum today. Birds were bursting from trees as if their autumnal trappings, made brilliant by the low angle of the sun, were literally aflame.

Under Mint Wood

She lies deep, waiting for the worst to happen; the goats champ and sneer.

:: Bibliography ::

• Thomas, Dylan. Under Milk Wood: A Play for Voices. Project Gutenberg Australia, 2006. http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks06/0608221.txt (18 October 2008).