David Bowie Spins The World. The Rest Of Us Just Ride It.

Bowie: He's, like, way ahead of you.

Greg:

I know I'm not telling you anything you don't already know here, but...

One of the best things about my current gig is that I'm required to rawk almost constantly while I'm on the job. One of the best things to rawk to without ceasing is - you guessed it - David Bowie. And I'll tell ya why.

David Bowie is not actually tall and thin. It's the fact that he's moving past you at the speed of light that distorts your perspective. It's been rumored that he invented 1995 way back in 1969. He's always been something of an anachronism. In 1971, when everyone else was doing pop-and-posey rock, Bowie was doing SickSex HellRock (exhibits A and B: "She Shook Me Cold" and "Running Gun Blues"). In 1976, I walked into my junior high school in a homemade, hand-screened David Bowie t-shirt the likes of which had never been seen in that corner of Iowa. It was when my band teacher said, "David Bowie - i'n't he some kinda feggit?" that I knew I was onto something REALLY COOL.

It's a fact. David Bowie spins the world. The rest of us are just riding it.

Cheers. Now turn on some Bowie.

Bread 'N' Roses: It's Not A Band, It's A Sandwich!

The Port Townsend Waterfront - guess which century

Greg:

First things first. Take down this name and address - Bread & Roses Bakery, 230 Quincy St., Port Townsend, WA 98368. Tel.: 360-385-1044.

Now, take a plane from Reno (they do have airplanes there, do they not?) to Seattle, then get a charter flight to Port Townsend. Once you're on the ground, cab, walk or hitchhike to the above address and start eating. Why? Because it is the best damn restaurant on the planet. And I know because I've eaten at most of them. We went to PT this weekend and ate there not once, not twice, but thrice in the same day, and were overcome with profound gustative rapture each time. The abundantly joyful staff (including Java Joe - ask for him by name) serves up from-scratch soup, sandwiches, salads and baked goods that are end-of-the-trail good.[1] If you are ever convicted of a capital offense in Texas, have them fly in your last meal from this place. It's worth it.

The only downside for me is that they have no web presence, therefore I can't link to their site or steal pictures of their tooth-achingly lovely environs - a rose-enshrouded post-Victorian house in downtown Port Townsend with wraparound porch seating in the front and a puppy in the back. However, The Port Townsend Peace Movement is headquartered in the upper story of the selfsame house, and accessible only by first going through the restaurant, so link to them I must.

Do I have a recommendation from the menu? Yes. Everything. Well - in all honesty, I can't speak for any of the meat dishes, being a vegetarian and all, but I can't imagine that they're any less savory than the veggie dishes.

I was going to say something in this post about how I went "camping" at Fort Worden this weekend, and how the rainfly failed on my tent during an unusually robust overnight rainstorm (as opposed to the limp-wristed, daylong drizzle-piss rain we usually get here), but I think it's right and good to devote this entire epistle to a damn fine restaurant, don't you?

I know how you are about food, and I've heard it said that you eat almost every day, so I expect to see you in Port Townsend shortly.

Cheers, and don't forget to turn the stove off when you leave.

[1] "End-of-the-trail good" means it's as tasty as if you had just walked ten hard miles on no food at all - but you didn't. I think you know the kind of "good" I'm talking about. For more on this type of hunger, read The Mud Shoe Diaries: Rachel Lake.