Again, the August 2nd thru 4th gallery is up.

August 3rd — Friday, our last full day in town. Jessica had been interested in taking a kayak tour of the island, which sounded pretty cool to me, and Eve had also expressed interest. So, after getting some information from the marina, we decided to rent single canoes for 4 hours (a “half day”), for about $40. A pretty good deal, I thought, considering that a half day guided tour was about $75.

We set off from the marina up the intercoastal waterway, and went nearly to the ocean, and back down Morgan and Cedar Creeks. Here is a map of it from MapQuest.

Click on the MORE button to read the rest of it…
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Well, going up the Intercoastal Waterway, we had a pretty good headwind most of the way, which got more and more stiff as we rounded Pine Island, and nearer the ocean. As I paddled up the waterway, a jumbo shrimp jumped on my kayak! It was pretty big, as big as a hand anyway, and was clear and translucent. Pretty wacky. But just remember — Watch out for shrimp! It looked at me with its beady little eyes, and slipped back into the water. We continued on, despite tasty crustaceans. The winds got a little more stiff, and as we made our way up to the opening of Morgan Creek, we were struggling a little. The entrance to the creek is guarded by a long stretch of marsh, a thin outcropping of mud, which made for a reasonably shallow coastline. As I was continuing up the coastline, I noticed out of the corner of my eye something in the lapping waves next to the coast, about 20 ft ahead of me. I looked harder, and lo and behold, a shark fin! And a little dark tip, too! A blacktip shark, I think! He gals! Lookee! A shark! Eve flips out, and so does Jessica, and ben attempts to maintain composure (and rightfully so! I was more than a little concerned, but in retrospect, probably shouldn’t have been). Well, we then proceed to paddle like hell past that point, into the wind, I might add. It was rough. I made a large circle to keep myself off of the marsh, and landed on the beach. Eve did the same, but mostly because she was attempting to avoid the shark (yikes!). However, Jessica got stuck on the very outside edge of the marsh. As she turned, and the wind broadsided her, she was blown into the mud. About 50ft away was the beach where Eve and I sat — and Jessica was stuck, and couldn’t get off.

So I hop back into my kayak, and paddle to the other side, going to give her a pull off. As I reach her kayak, and she asks me what she should do, I see a fin pop out of the water (the size of a small child’s hand) about 2-3 ft from the tip of her kayak! “Oh, hold on Jessica, wait to push off!” — “Is it a shark?” — “Uh, er, uh no, NO! Not at all definitely not a shark!”. Well, Jessica managed to push herself off the mud island, and we made to the beach.

So, we sat there, feeling relieved, excited, and perhaps a little silly for ourselves, being so afraid of these sharks. I think that the water itself is generally scary. God only knows what else lurks in the deep! Sharks, shrimp, flying fish, oh my! As I was watching a guy fish for sharks on the beach, I saw yet another fin pop out of the water — about 6 feet from the guys leg!! I said “Hey buddy — there is a shark next to your leg!” and he responded “Alright! Lookit there!”. And casted his rod in the general direction.

He mentioned that there were some 4 – 4 1/2 foot Blacktip sharks caught right near were Jessica was stranded, and that “They’d only take a bite out of your leg or somethin’” — Hey! Sounds great! Just a play bite, right? Like your little puppy or something. Well, it was all very invigorating, and we pushed off down the creek, thankful to put the shark-infested intercoastal behind us. It was rather dreamy, really. Nothing but marsh on either side of us, the occassional jumping fish and the statuesque heron in a tree or on a dock. The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, though I did get us turned around a bit at a confusing point on the map. Oh well, it was very serene, and really cool, though I think I’ll stick to river kayaking for the time being. Ain’t no catfish gonna bite me, that’s for sure. hehe…

We then retired home, shoulders aching from the journey — we got some pictures, by the way, though they were taken with a waterproof 35 mm camera. Scans soon!

Of all of the times for this frickin’ Telocity connection to go down, it would be while I’m in South Carolina, 715 miles and 10.5 hours away!

Well, so Aug 2, 3 and 4th will be in this one section. There are sadly few pictures from those days, but plenty of witty insight and commentary, for sure.

Read on for a day-by-day. Dancing! Sirens! Sharks! Shrimp! One Eyed Parrots! Oh my!
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August 02 – Wednesday

More beach wackiness today. No vicious animal attacks or anything, but later that night, we finally tracked down a dance club that was A) Open, B) Okay with underage peeps (that like “urban beats”, C) NOT a dormitory and D) fully equipped with the latest in ear-pierce sirens. This was, of course Club Tango, a reasonably cool 3-story wharehouse style dance club.

But before I get into that, we had originally planned on dining at Soul Vegetarian South, a vegetarian Soul Food restaurant that I was pretty interested in eating at. Well, we drive into a reasonably homey looking part of town, and find that Soul Vegetarian south (which is related to other Soul Vegetarian South restaurants in the South, including Georgia) is connected to a day-care, and was CLOSED! Or, at least it was closed to us. A goddamned shame, I must say. I love visiting other cities and eating at hole-in-the-wall places. We instead ate at Joe Pasta’s, a cool little restaurant near Club Tango. It was sorta like build-your-own pasta. We had some Niebaum-Coppola Wine, which was tasty, by my shoddy wine standards. We then entered – CLUB TANGO!

The doorman had a preposterously solemn look on his face, and after being kicked off the 3rd floor (“You aren’t on the list!”) of the club, Hunter and I took our seats at the railing on the second floor, while the girls and Nick danced. It was a cool little club, I must say. I loved the sofas and comfy chairs that lined the perimeter of the club (and the floors above as well). All in all, a good atmosphere. The music was loud, but not oppressive, and it was mainly dance and trance with some “Urban Beats” — as Jessica Slack put them — thrown in.

Now, the only annoying part of the night, other than what is described later, was this GOD-AWFUL siren. Now, the first time it went of, I thought “wow. That was horrible. but ok. I’ll accept that one time, and maybe the DJ will learn”. Well, this siren would apparently go off to warn everyone that DJ WhiteDork would be making a horrible break in the near future. The siren worked wonderfully, as a siren should. A siren should alert people to something, and be louder than all surrounding noise to ensure this alertness by the people. Well, that siren was alerting like a motherfuck (pardon my French, but DAMN). The longest siren blast was 25 seconds. Nearly one half of a minute folks. And at more and more exceedingly random times. Nick was in fact praying to God to make it stop. I saw his hands clapped together towards the heavens, and “Like a Prayer” wasn’t even on the mix. Wow. So, if I ever open a dance club, it will surely be siren free.

I guess I should explain why I didn’t dance. I don’t mind dancing. I danced like a madman at Chuck and Danna’s wedding, and at that little Swing Fest Kelly and I went to. It’s fun! It’s good exercise, and the music is good. It’s just that most of the guys — the straight ones, anyway — seem to have the idea that they have open charter to grope and grind anyone they please at these clubs. You walk through the door, and it’s like it’s open season. It gives me a bad, bad vibe, and I’ve never been real comfortable with it. I don’t even want to be related to those kind of guys, and I don’t want to be associated with them in any manner. It really just creeps me out. I enjoyed the music, and I enjoyed watching people, but I just can’t get involved when I feel as though the surroundings are eating away my moral fiber.

I didn’t want to be a partay-poo-pear, though. Kelly kept apolgizing to me saying that she knew “You are in your own personal hell”. Just because I don’t enjoy a certain aspect of a happening doesn’t mean that I didn’t at least find it interesting. Very rarely do I oppose something, or find it distasteful. Disrespect of women is one of those things that I find abhorrant. In fact, most displays of misogynistic behavior are not something I enjoy. But in any case, the music was good, and I’m glad that I went, rather than staying at home.

And so ends Thursday, August 2nd.

Tune in tomorrow for August 3rd and 4th — lots of good stuff there

The August 1st gallery is up! A new panaramic of Juanita Greenberg’s Nacho Royale, too!

We headed down to downtown Charleston today, and after finding somewhere to park,
we headed over to “King St”, a pretty cool Bardstown-Road-esque section of town with
little shops and whatnot. Between the Gospel music stores, and aging relics of 1960′s
commerce there were cool little shops and restaurants, like Atomic Comics and Juanita
Greenberg’s Nacho Royale.
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Atomic Comics was a nicely laid-out, reasonably adult (not adult-oriented, but mature
comics and graphic literature) oriented comic shop. Plenty of neat stuff there. After
most of us made purchases (kelly a new lunchbox-style purse, Hunter a number of graphic
novels, and Jessica an issue of PowerPuff Girls comic), we headed to Juanita Greenberg’s
Nacho Royale. A cool little nacho/taco salad/pseudo Mexican restaurant that was really
skinny and long. The decor was kick-ass — replete with neat 1960′s bowling alley lighting,
wooden tables, and an old school bar. It was real cool. Kelly and I split a Chicken Nacho
Royale, which was more like a pizza thing, with nacho toppings. Very tasty, and with a
Corona with lime on the side, it was all good. The food really wasn’t spec-freaking-tacular,
but it was better than La Bamba in Louisville (and that isn’t real great). The surroundings
and overall laid-back atmosphere was good enough for a weekly visit. (It was cool enough
that I actually bought their t-shirt, and I don’t do that too often).

We headed towards Factor V (five), which was a neat little user-clothing/record/piercing
shop. Jessica had considered getting her nose pierced, though I think she couldn’t get
up the courage to do it (which is perfectly fine). There are plenty of good piercing
shops in Louisville, and coupled with the fact that you can’t get tattooed in Charleston
(apparently due to a hepatitis outbreak in the 1960′s), I think she decided to do it a little
closer to home.

Later on, we walked to the Market, which is a pretty cool 3 or four blocks of old-style
markets. Lots of crafty stuff, and most of the businesses around the market are obviously
catering to the tourist crowd. The blocks radiating around the Market were much more
inviting to me, as there is apparently a University downtown. Neat little shops on cramped
streets. Apartments mixed with neat little independent shops, college kids selling italian
ice from refrigerated carts, neat neat neat. Oh, a 2 bedroom, 2 bath 3rd floor walk-up is
apparently $1800/mo. That’s nutty.

We then went out to the Waterfront park. It was a manicured 2 or 3 acre plot, with a
dock that extended out into the Cooper River (Charleston proper is bounded by the Cooper and
another river whose name escapes me at the moment). The wind was so stiff that most of the
birds we saw struggled against the wind, barely maintaining altitude.

Some in our party were ready to head back to the cars to relieve the stress off their feet.
However, we had one last place to find — The Arcade. As we wound through tiny side-streets
and an alley or two, we stumbled upon The Arcade. Wow! It looked cool from the outside,
anyway. There was a burnt-out sign atop the building, with “The Arcade” spelled out in
lights. It sort of looked like an out-of-place motel, really. It was in a U-shape, with
the doors at the “bottom” of the U, and in the center, a little veranda. It looked very
run-down, and yet cool at the same time. Hunter and Nick ventured into the open doors,
and found… NOTHING! No one. Very strange. Next door, we find the University Laser
Physics Lab. Very odd. Well, “The Arcade” was a wash, but a cool decadent wash at that.

The route back to the islands was through the most run-down section of town, and it was
interesting to see the signature Charleston architecture in ruins, the single-room wide
apartments with screened porches on the outside acting at the halls. In fact, all of
downtown Charleston seemed very decadent. It was definitely the “black” section of town,
and was gentrified sometime after World War II. The Gospel music store next to the
University hangout, next to the chain coffee shop was a little disconcerting, but it’s
better than the segregated south we’ve all come to know and hate.

Charleston was much larger and much more sophisticated than I had expected. It still
retained much of the “charm” and opulence of the Old South, and yet had a sense of
progress forward. Color me impressed.