old-time is not a crime

talked to a couple of guys at the shop on Sunday, while the Saddle Cats held forth on the stage, zipping along the route felicitously preserved on the Bob Wills Tiffany transcriptions, kidding about the idea of a district in town zoned to support a gamut of anachronistic and obsolete businesses… whether they be printers whose skills are cheaply supplanted by the more or less adequate approximations realized through advanced technology, bowling alleys that just require too much space to afford at local real estate prices, blacksmiths in a land from which all the horses have vanished…

once, we thought we’d dome the blocks arrayed from the intersection of Diamond and Chenery, declare a principality of Glen Park, or daylight Islais Creek, create a swath of greenspace back of La Corneta from Kern to Chenery, de-pave Diamond from Sussex down for sliding and sledding… all too extreme, we suppose…

but we do have knots of locals gathered regularly for unstructured conclaves at Higher Grounds, at Pebbles, at Destination Bakery (rather too placidly now, awaiting the return of Blanche and her voluble critiques), exchanging pleasantries and personal inquiries at the Maloufs’ Cheese Boutique, in the bookshop of a Friday evening, and now on the occasional Saturday at Sel et Vin, as Dave Parker and his colleagues muscle their way through the jazz changes…

a farmer’s market seems just around the corner, around the corner on Bosworth near Arlington…

Happily, we might just be living already in an anachronistic time that the land has forgotten, living in our own geographic anomaly, here in Glen Park a third of the way into 2011.  Happy day.