There is a lot of promise. Just a little boat varnish and it’d be a winner.
|
Author: Prince Of Petworth
|
From 16th Street Heights.
|
The place looks great when walking by but I’ve heard tons of mixed reviews. So what’s the real story here – worth checking out or not?
|
This post is for all those agnostics out there. Now you have it – incontrovertible truth that God exists. I just received this note from a reader:
“I ran into the owner of Taqueria Distrito Federal this afternoon. He told me he’s opening a second location in…. drum roll please…. Petworth! He said it’ll be at the corner of Georgia and Kennedy, and he hopes to open in April.”
For those unfamiliar with Taqueria Distrito Federal simply read this great post from the Wilco ticket contest.
|
Eric’s earlier post about moving to Petworth can be read here. And his personal blog can be found here.
The likelihood of unusual things happening on a bus is far greater than it is on a subway. Why is that?
The other night it was cold and rainy, so I hopped on the 64 bus at Fort Totten for a ride over to my house near Rock Creek Cemetery. At the first stop, a number of people got on. After several people boarded, a guy got on the bus, half-heartedly felt around his pockets for a non-existent transfer, and said to the driver, “Hey man, it’s my birthday.”
After being waved past, the guy took a few steps in, then addressed the entire bus, “Hey, it IS my birthday. Everybody say, ‘Happy Birthday Kev-iiiiiiiin!'”
“Holy balls,” I thought. “This dude is doing a call and response…on a city bus.”
Then a chorus of people erupt around me, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KEV-IIIIIIIIN!”
“Holy balls,” I corrected myself. “This dude is doing a call and response…on a city bus…and it worked!”
Before moving to Petworth, I’d never ridden on a Metro bus. There really is no good reason for this, just that our old apartment was two blocks from the Red Line, as is my office. However, since I’ve been introduced to the bus system, I’ve noticed something that I don’t quite understand. It seems that the likelihood of crazy nonsense happening on the bus is significantly larger than on the subway. I think most people who use both modes of transportation would agree with this assumption. My question is: Why? Story continues after the jump. (more…)
|
The Sitar Arts Center is one of those places that just makes me you smile. You know when you just can’t bear to read the morning newspaper it helps to remember that places like this Center exist. Located at 1700 Kalorama Rd., NW, the Center was founded in 1998 but moved to this location in 2004. Originally an after school music program for inner-city children, the center quickly expanded, after the students asked for more, to include dance, art, painting, and creative writing. The Center is truly state of the art and partners with the Corcoran school of art + design, National Symphony Orchestra, Washington National Opera, Washington Ballet, Arena Stage and many others including a faculty of 120 volunteer teaching artists. I was fortunate to receive a tour from Development Associate, Adrianne Wegner. She told me that 80% of the students come from underprivileged homes in Adams Morgan, Columbia Heights and other parts of the city. Activities the students participate in include dance, art, music, painting, digital media, theater and more. I’m not really doing the place justice you should check out the website above to learn more. For example the students don’t just get music lessons they also take classes in music theory. Awesome. Check out some photos of the amazing interior after the jump. (more…)
|
I can deal with not wearing a cap or baggy pants or sneakers but if I can’t wear my bandanna then this is no nightclub for me…and where are all the Target bartenders going to go?
|
It just speaks to me. I’m weird, ok. I admit it.
|
This is a sweet door. Plus it has nice stained glass above and a cool stairway. Check the stained glass and the stairway closeups after the jump. (more…)
|
I don’t know if I love this sticker so much on its own but I love that is on a crime camera sign.