One block

It's another beautiful night out -- a hammock night, though I don't have anyone with whom to share that, nor do I have easy access to a hammock (and so I let that thought go quickly after it arose).  No matter, however, as the undeniable comfort of the café is shortly ahead, unhealthy muffin satisfaction included.

The block from 41st to 40th is extra long.  This is a slightly frustrating reality as far as reaching the bus in the mornings goes, but it doesn't bother me so much now.  I walk amiably, passing the familiar elements along with the ones that never attract my attention much.

There's a place that I am pretty certain used to be a movie rental store, but now its focus appears to be comic books and the like.  It's tinged now with the time I looked for it with Mike.

The bowling alley, Strikes, appears to be just a shell now.  I was there once with Matt.  They played nothing but Daft Punk remixes the whole time we were there (and I couldn't have been happier about that).

Some little road, the name of which I've never bothered to find out, cuts the block halfway.  If I head down it, there's a parking lot with designated Philly Car Share spaces.  So I think of Steve, and the night he took me and David for a spontaneous random drive in and around the city.  It's just one of many reasons Steve is awesome.

Last, past a building I've never identified, is Saxbys.  It didn't hold much for me until this summer because Starbucks was my spot at Penn, but by now it's one of my regular cafés.  Occasionally I think of meeting Geoffroy or working on Flash with Ted here, as those were amongst my first times spent here.

Life is good.