Kate's Queen City Notes

Blundering through Cincinnati, laughing all the way


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Whiskey Gentry and Flirty McDrunkerson

I saw a great band yesterday. I had random encounters with strangers. I discovered I can go back to MOTR without perforating my eardrums. It’s all here.

I’ve been confused for someone else at least six times in the last eighteen months. I know who my doppelganger is. She bartends at The Lackman. Strangers approach me, and after a short awkward exchange, ask if I work at The Lackman. At my negative response, the stranger suddenly understands why I was looking at them blankly while he/she was greeting me as a friend. I do bear a slight resemblance to this woman. We have big blue eyes and sandy brown hair. That’s where the similarities end. I have a few inches on her; she has a few years on me. Our hair styles are considerably different. There is one other commonality, that I think is at the root of most people’s confusion. We are both obvious lesbians.

I ran into her yesterday having drink, and decided to have a chat with my not-so-much double. When I relayed my experiences, she laughed and said she experiences similar things. Lesbian confusion. I’m pretty sure it’s a thing, and it’s happening to me. At least my doppelganger is pleasant. A really great conversation ensued, clearly, since I was talking to myself.

After a stellar chicken sandwich at The Eagle, I headed to MOTR to see Whiskey Gentry. I haven’t been to MOTR in a few months. While I love that they book great music seven days a week, the volume in there is at a 12,345 of 10. The noise level is high enough that my ears feel raped with ear plugs in. There is zero possibility of speaking to any human unless you want to shout centimeters away from their ear, and even then you will need to repeat yourself several times. Since it already feels like years of your hearing are vanishing by the minute, I usually resort to texting the person I am standing next to.

Last night, I had a most welcome surprise. MOTR got a new sound system. They got new lights. AND PRAISE BE TO THE GODS OF THE CILIA OF MY INNER EAR, the volume was at a reasonable level. It was loud, but not intolerably so. I was thrilled to discover this as Whiskey Gentry did their sound check.

I wanted to see these guys at Midpoint this fall, but they cancelled the day of their show. See blog post about that here. I would call them folk or alt country. There’s a little 50’s country, bluegrass, and folk in there. And unlike pop country, their lyrics are about more than trucks, tractors and women. Plus, there’s pedal steel, the fiddle, and banjo in their recordings. I’m a sucker for some pleasant banjo. The lead vocalist has a warm buttery voice; weirdness aside, I want her to sing me lullabies. Check ’em out.

They were worth the wait. The vocalist sounded spectacular. I was disappointed that the banjo player wasn’t out with them. It gave their performance a little more of a rock edge. Apart from this tiny bummer, they sounded tight. The guitarist and fiddler were full of energy, while the vocalist had a cool reserve. It created an interesting dynamic. The cool collected woman at the center of a couple of guys nearly off the rails.

Between the pleasant sound level, the great performance, and the excellent people watching, I had a super night. My partner wasn’t feeling well, so she took a pass on seeing the show. I like going out by myself. I enjoy keeping to my thoughts in a crowd. However, I’ve noticed that strangers, especially drunk strangers, like to talk to me. This rarely happens when I am out with friends, but when I’m alone I am often approached. Last night was no exception.

I sat outside after the show to enjoy a rare smoke. A pretty young woman teetered out of the bar and headed my way. She had hipster glasses and skinny jeans, coupled with a spectacularly ugly 80’s hand bag. She tilted her head, slow smiled and asked, “are you lonely?” It was cute. But I am taken, and I was thinking of how to respond politely to Flirty McDrunkerson while still communicating my lack of interest. I settled on, “actually, no, but you are welcome to join me.” That seemed to do the trick. We chatted a bit, before I headed inside.

I ordered one more beer and closed out my tab. After scanning the bar, I found a seat open in the corner where I could relax, and watch the drunken mess that was forming. Quiet time lasted exactly three minutes. A woman approached, and I was relieved when I realized her friends were sitting just ahead of me. After a few seconds of chatting with them, she abruptly turned to me and talked as though we had just left off a few minutes before. I got over my annoyance quickly, because this woman knows her local music. We had a great talk about the Bunbury line-up. Turns out she knows the person responsible for booking, and we debated the merits of this years line-up vs past line-ups. Our thirty minute talk was nice, but it earned me a stink-eye from her boyfriend. It probably didn’t help that she failed to noticed he called her 3 times while we were yammering on and on about Kishi Bashi and X Ambassadors. Hopefully, that didn’t result in too much discord.

So that was my day. I saw great music. I had random conversations with strangers. I took some pictures. It was a wonderful 18 hours.

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Fifty-eight degrees felt amazing.

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Everyone was out. We’ve had weeks of abnormally brutal winter weather. I think everyone was stir crazy. I know I was.

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The snifter contains Sixpoint Hi-Res. The color and the reflection in the glass was beautiful.

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Yes.

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The sky. I love winter in Cincinnati because it’s the only time of year we have clear blue skies.

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The blue sky reflecting off these blue tinted windows looks surreal.

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One of the things that caught my eye while I was walking around downtown.


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A Streetcar Named WTF

This was the view of 13th Street from my OTR loft. It was, with out question, the best place I have ever lived.

This was the view of 13th Street from my OTR loft. It was, with out question, the best place I have ever lived.

If you are familiar with Cincinnati politics, you know that a streetcar line is under contruction. You probably also know that voters voted for the streetcar twice. On November 5th in a mid-term election with low voter turn-out, the city elected a mayor whose platform was to stop the streetcar. The city elected a city council majority that does not support the streetcar.

I’m going to talk about being a progressive voter in a conservative town, and why my future city will be determined by the fate of this project. I will not debate the merits of the streetcar project. If you want to get a firm understanding of why I think the project should move forward, have a look at these two blogs. They do a good job of capturing the reasons that I am solidly behind completing the project.

Here’s an article describing some of the details around the streetcar project.

Here’s an article describing Cincinnati’s mixed history with progress.

I moved to Cincinnati in 1994. I came to attend the University of Cincinnati. Cincinnati was a big change from Canton. Everything you need to know about Canton can be communicated by saying that it was on the Forbes 10 worst cities list in 2011, I believe. Job opportunites are slim, and city ammenities are slimmer especially for someone who values biking and walking as much as I do. If you can’t get enough strip malls and Applebees Canton is the place for you.

Although Cincinnati is notoriously conservative it was still progressive as compared to Canton. I experienced many firsts here. I went from a driver to a walker/biker. I met people with religious backgrounds that were different from my own. I met openly gay people for the first time. I lived in mixed-income and mixed ethnicity neighborhoods. I tried Indian food for the first time, and promptly fell in love. And specifically in Over the Rhine, I saw my first drug deal, my first hooker and my first historic urban neighborhood.

My friends and I piled in the car to head to a Red’s game. White people from the suburbs openly gawk or are visibly anxious in troubled neighborhoods. While I was unaware of my own gawking on this particular day, I have seen many people do it in the intervening years that I’ve lived in troubled urban neighborhoods. We were in the car mouths gaping, when a hooker walking the crosswalk in front of us flashed us. Naive is an appropriate word to describe my state then, because it dawned on me that this woman probably didn’t lounge around in those heels and that dress for fun. I don’t know what I thought a real prostitute would look like, but I do know she had less teeth than what I was expecting.

It was in this unlikely moment that I fell in love with Over the Rhine. Maybe my experience as a closeted gay teen in the suburbs made me love that the people in OTR wore their problems on their sleeves. Things that happened behind closed doors in the suburbs, happened on the street there. I loved the honesty of it. On top of that, the buildings, the boarded up rotting buildings were among the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. The brick and mortar felt alive with history. They were eyeless, toothless sentries breathing with human triumphs and disasters of more than a century.

From that point forward, I regularly lived in Over the Rhine or near it. I could describe the vibrant community that’s been there for all of my 18 years here. I could tell the story of how the city made wrong turn after wrong turn in shining that blemished jewel. But that would take numerous blog posts. So, skipping much, the current iteration of OTR is a mixed-income, mixed ethnicity neighborhood. In addition to all that development money that was poured into rehabbing the stunning buildings, the city has added numerous bike lanes and has made improvements in the city bus system.

This brings me to the streetcar. Should the mayor kill this project, it is almost certain that a big transportation project won’t be attempted here for at least a decade. So, the question that I am left asking myself is do I want to be 50 and getting the public transportation that I want out of my city?

Because there’s another layer to this question. It’s not just that Cincinnati is lacking transportation, and the republican state legislature seems to only want investment dollars in highways, but Ohio has a defense of marriage amendment in its constitution. Practically, this means gay marriage won’t be legal here for another 6 years at the very soonest. And assuming this divisive issue fails to pass at least once that 6 years becomes 10. So that question, do I want to wait until I am 50 to have my family and transportation in Cincinnati when I could move and have those things now?

I’ve traveled enough to know that it’s unlikely I will find a neighborhood that I love as much as OTR. OTR is the largest, most intact urban historic district in the United States, making the area unique. I stayed to contribute to the neighborhood. I stayed to contribute to the city. Things have changed, they’ve changed so much that with or without the streetcar I think OTR will continue to grow. And this is great, but it also means that I don’t need to stay here anymore. It means that I can go to what I want. I’m ready.

Here’s a link to our work cleaning out the lagering tunnels to make room for tour groups. This particular effort was about clearing out the basement of the Guildhaus on Vine.