Payphones still exist.

Part of me is saddened by the demise of the pay phone. It is almost like losing the Polaroid, rest stops or the rotary phone. You know deep down inside that the usefulness is long dated, but you can’t help reminiscing on such everyday items. But as I discovered today… payphones are not quite gone. There is one still living that I observed on 30th and University. They blend conspicuously into the urban landscape, graffiti covered and soaked in germs. I know there must be more than just the one, as this dedicated blog tracks their endangered existence.

A recent interview on KPBS These Days, Victor Mollo, President of the San Diego Payphone Owners Association, shares the reasons for the decline and individuals’ perspectives on payphones. He shares about mandates requiring public payphones to be maintained in certain locations such as hospitals and tow yards.

As much as I will miss the concept of the payphone… I really can’t say that I would ever want to use one again. I would rather ask to borrow a phone in the case of an emergency, because the grubby hands of one or two people is much more tolerable than the filthy hands and spit of many.

Alchemy (and there by modern inorganic chemistry) stems from, rather is deeply rooted, in philosophy and the “philosopher’s stone” is a legendary substance or process that turns base metals into gold.

As I sat in the waiting room of my doctor’s office, the nearby magazines drew my attention. Attracted to the nerdy science mags over the plentiful Home and Garden, Time and People magazines available, my curiosity convinced me to nose through an article on alchemy and it’s connections to philosophy. I can’t seem to remember the name of the magazine or the title of the article that peaked my interest, but the internet is plentiful on the topic.

My high school and college years proved I had a knack for physics and astronomy, with not so great of skills in chemistry. I loved taking classes and learning about the history of astronomy and physics, stemming from the same philosophers and inventors of the Golden Age. The thinkers of yesteryear contemplated the workings of our universe from the stars in the night sky to the rich properties of gold to the concept of the self. They wanted to know everything and were convinced everything related, and they were not far off, well maybe on the whole philosopher’s stone thing.  

Back in college, while studying about how stars form and people relate to each other, a friend handed me Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder, a great novel integrating the history of philosophy with a little girl’s life. The novel seriously messed with my thinking for about a week, then I read it again. With this recent discovery, I may just have to pick it up again!

Tabe has one of the best fish tacos in town.

Yummy. I love me some good fish tacos. Tabe is one of San Diego’s mobile food trucks that hosts a weekly Taco Tuesday event at their stationary kitchen, located in the Chevron market on Murphy Canyon Road. They do Korean BBQ, Mexican fusion food. Tacos and burritos with spicy pork, BBQ beef and fish dipped in beer batter that will have you driving around town in search of the elusive truck for more. Well, not so elusive. You can always follow their Twitter feed or hit up their kitchen.

The fish taco is light with romaine lettuce, sweet Maui salsa and their secret “Asian-inspired cream sauce” (their words not mine) topped with a slice of mandarin.

I love South Beach fish tacos for the quality of fish in their tacos, but I will be going to Tabe for the flavor of the fish taco as a whole… and I suggest you do too.

And for an added bonus…

My husband cannot identify a popular Kids in the Hall reference… in particular, “I’m crushing your head.”

If I hadn’t already posted yesterday, this totally would have been the post of the day. My first thought was “how is this possible?” then my second thought was “why don’t we own the box set?” The whole thing needs to be remedied… and soon… definitely before our trip to San Francisco in January 2011 for the 10th year of the SF Sketchfest. Otherwise, how can I live this down.

Lazy holiday. I spent about half of today watching documentaries on Netflix while finishing our living room curtains and doing the laundry. So inevitably, I learned quite a bit. Without getting too much into things, here is a list of a few things I learned today:

The designer of the Brooklyn Bridge never lived to see the project started and his son, who continued the project, ended up getting a very bad case of the bends from two years of building the caissons… but he didn’t die! He actually continued supervising the project from his bed, with his wife as his eyes and ears.

The New York Public Library is a larger network of branches and extensions than I ever expected including the Lincoln Center and other special interest collections that I had always thought were private or university collections.

H.H. Holmes , whose birth name was Herman Webster Mudgett, was the first serial killer in the United States. Roger swears that he became a “multi-murderer” due to his birth name.

Fingerprinting didn’t come into play for crime solving until 1903. Very hard to identify bodies.

There are a lot of people writing books about roadside attractions… and they are all experts.

Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” has graduated to Fourth of July fireworks status.

Watching fireworks with my family on the bank over looking Poway High School, I was fist-pumping along to Lee Greenwood’s patriotic classic, “God Bless the USA” (apparently written by a guy who also wrote a knock off for our northern neighbor called “God Bless Canada”… truth according to Wikipedia) when all of a sudden Journey popped on the radio to the next set of big bangs.

I knew it had to be coming. The song has infiltrated our karaoke bars and  sports games, with the next logical stop being American icon status. But I find my self saddened by this discovery. I understand that patriotic songs are limited and no one really wants to hear the full 9 minute version of Don McLean’s “American Pie,” but seriously “Don’t Stop Believing” needs to stay in the bars with the drunk girls. I really don’t want my Bruce Springsteen, “Born in the USA” to be tainted by patriotism of the wasted masses of America. All I’m asking is please don’t call me a traitor for not singing along.