Word Becomes Flesh

          Iris and I visited the Berklee Beantown Jazz Festival on Columbus for a little while, which was pretty cool. We didn't stay long; it was very crowded on the street, and I feel like jazz is not necessarily music that's better live. After kicking it back with TF2 for a while, Iris and I went to a spoken word/dance performance called Word Becomes Flesh. Five or six guys kept up a strenuous routine of dancing, movement, and poetry for over an hour, much of it concerning life as a black male, summer love, parenthood, ignorance, and many other deep, visceral musings. Three old people immediately in front of us were doing the standard "we're old so we don't have to be polite" thing and talking across each other, which never fails to enrage. After the show, I watched videos with Sean, Katie, Alaric and Iris and loafed around.
          At last, Alaric and I decided to take a walk and test out the cigar I found, and he brought one of his own Cubans for good measure. We started off my moving on to Tremont to check out the latest police action outside the bar down the street (there is seriously always something going on there) and spectated briefly, though without any hint at the goings-on. Some crazy guy walking behind us started chastising us for being "twelve" and "smoking that shit"; it was amusing at first, but he didn't let up and it got uncomfortable. After a protracted silence on our part, he repeated, "Don't get mad at me." and told us to shake his hand, a request we tacitly declined. Next, we bumped into the Sweet Idea cookie delivery guy and paid him $5 for 5 chocolate chip cookies; my verdict: 5 for $2 would have been more appropriate, but I'm glad I tried them. Somewhere in South Boston, an extremely sketchy woman standing in the shadows ordered us in slurred tones, "Gimme a hit of that." We refused this request as well and walked into a more secluded area, where we popped a squat and discussed various topics. Another gentleman walked by us, but this one was more friendly, only wishing us "happy birthday" in passing. "You too, man." We got home in time to watch the second half of Captain America, which Iris loved. She and I re-finished Avengers afterward and debated the merits of a Black Canary Halloween costume.