Allison and I took a trip to Buffalo on Thursday. We spent the night at an Airbnb in the Allentown district—a trendy, historic neighborhood that's home to the Anchor Bar, the purported "birthplace of the Buffalo chicken wing." Naturally we went there first, followed by another nearby restaurant / bar whose name I've forgotten to try their wings as well. The verdict: Quite good, both! But not that different than what you'd get at a place like Jeremiah's in Rochester.
Despite having grown up just 60 miles away, I've hardly spent any time at all in Buffalo. I went to one concert there in high school, the Warped Tour, with a girl who was a grade ahead of me. She and I weren't quite friends (maybe peripherally we were) but it didn't quite feel like a date either, not that I would have been able to figure that out necessarily in high school anyway. I remember that she was the one who invited me, and that I was flattered, and that her friend, who I definitely did have a legit crush on, was possibly supposed to join us but didn't. I hardly remember anything about the day itself. I think it rained. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones probably played. If I had to guess, I'd say it was 1997.
Anyway, nearly 20 years later, I finally made it back to Buffalo. Allison and I easily got back into our road-trip routine of exploring a random city by wandering around and eating and drinking to excess. And smoking cigarettes—a habit I really only indulge in when I travel but should quit altogether. And of course sleeping in a strange bed in someone else's house (or a tent or hotel room). That's a key part of the road-trip experience.
The strange thing is that I don't feel much like writing about any of it right now.
Perhaps I'm preoccupied. I'm wondering / worrying about my mother's health as she undergoes chemotherapy. I'm waiting for the Democratic caucus results for Kansas and Nebraska to come in. I'm turning 36 this month.
I find myself wondering lately what the best way to document my experiences is. What's the most creative way to express myself? The blog is good for developing and maintaining a routine while I'm in Rochester (at least in theory), but it doesn't feel immediate enough. Also, weirdly, it doesn't feel personal enough—like I'm not really getting into the guts of what I think or how I feel. My ambivalence about writing remains high. I want to do more with photography.
The time is rapidly approaching for me to finally get a smartphone. I need to be able to take photographs more spontaneously and upload them to Instagram, etc., in real time. I feel most creative when I am out in the world, not sitting behind a computer screen, typing. These days the two things can be easily fused. I wonder why I've resisted it for so long ...