Phillip made a surprise appearance at Babycakes yester-day. When I called him earlier, he gave no hint that he was in San Diego (as opposed to the Solipsistic Bay Area). During the course of our conversation, I walked from my home to Babycakes. I inferred from the noises from his end that he was running errands in his car. At some point, he was heard ordering coffee. Then I spotted him in Babycakes; he had ordered the coffee there.

Phillip hadn't been told of my mutton-chop sideburns, but now understands indeed what sort of change to my appearance has been effected such that a few people have since failed to recognize me. (For his part, Phillip has grown a mustache and goatee.)

Setting aside further discourse on what is and should be called the Midwest, I guess that the largest part of our conversation involved politics. (Phillip and I disagree on many issues, but neither of us looks forward to the next Administration, as we both see the two major-party candidates as each a technocratic centrist not really all that much different from his opponent.) We also talked about mutual friends, at least one of whom Phillip hopes to rope into hanging-out somewhere during his visit, about relatives, about the changes at Babycakes, about computers, and about hats.

Our conversation continued until Babycakes closed; we went thence to City Deli for a late dinner. Afterwards, we walked back to where he'd parked and talked until about 01:40.

Although I was told that the baby grand piano of David's Coffee Place would be replaced by an upright piano at Babycakes, the latest that I'd heard is that they'd since determined not to do this. Now, I'm not sure that they've really determined against it; it may be merely that they are postponing installation of the upright piano until after renovation of the south room (in which the baby grand piano used to be).

I don't actually know where the mass of opinion is amongst the present customer base. Chris, the regular pianist, used to do 90-minute medleys, drawing largely upon popular music from the age of Gershwin and Porter. Some people find it hard to connect to such music, and for them it was made harder still because Chris chose other than dance arrangements. Many people are only comfortable with music with the rhythms of dance, even if no one is going to be dancing.

The other thing that has happened, musically, at Babycakes, is that they are drawing on a different sort of music for the sound system, and playing it much louder. I was told that this change was because they now sell beer and wine, as opposed to being just a coffee place. I'm not sure how to interpret this reasoning unless the idea is that, because they sell some of the same product as would a bar, they feel that their music should be more like that of a bar.

On this score, I can tell where the mass of opinion is amongst the present customer base; it's mostly negative. People want to be able to converse without raising their voices, and they're not pleased to have the sins of the '70s and '80s return.

Now, I refer to the present customer base, because the new owners presumably want a larger customer base, and that may mean a very different customer base. None-the-less, I don't think that many people are particularly going to want to shout over Olivia Newton John as they sip merlot or nibble on raspberry tarts.

I often pass this granite building: Erected in 1912, at the south-east corner of the intersection of Robinson Avenue and Third Avenue, it was originally the First Church of the United Brethren in Christ. According to what I've read, it served a Free Methodist congregation from 1950 until the late '60s or early '70s. (In 1946, the United Brethren in Christ had merged with the Evangelical Association to form the United Evangelical Church; perhaps they'd consolidated places of worship.) From 1971 until 1988, the building housed a gallery for art (with a theme of the American West), and still has doors carved to read Thackery Gallery. In the late '90s, it was turned into six apartments.

Last night, walking from Robinson Avenue to University Avenue, I took the alley between 4th Avenue and 5th Avenue. At about the half-way point, a grimy fellow was standing before a dumpster, laughing without pause, in a manner reminiscent of Dwight Frye.

The same apartment building that has the doubtful balcony of which I provided a picture on the 14th also has a questionable staircase: In fact. the staircase is collapsing rapidly. Here is a picture from the 18th: with a support having come free of the banister; and here is a picture from the 19th: with the support now lying on the ground.

Nor is this the only problematic staircase of the building. Here is another: This staircase has developed a discernible lean.

The balcony could be quickly repaired. In the short-run, all that is needed is to pull the base of the cocked support back into its original position. And this repair should be effected before the weight of the balcony and of the potted plants on it cause it to fall into the alley, potentially damaging persons or property.

The staircase shown in the first three pictures should be immediately torn-down. It cannot safely be used, nor is there a good way to block access from its base. The other staircase may have some life left to it; but, given that the one needs to be removed quickly, it would probably be most cost-effective to dismantle the other now as well.

The building seems to be crumbling about its tenants. Perhaps some of them simply don't care enough to move, but perhaps others cannot afford a better place. Generally speaking, even a home in such a poor state is better than no home. But eventually the bills will have to be paid, rents will be increased, and some of the tenants may have to leave.

I was skimming a summary of the log for this website, and noticed a few hits from various searches for babycakes. This prompted me to do my own search for babycakes, which revealed one or more baked-goods firms doing business by that name, doing inter-state business, or with a presence in California. That means that if the local Babycakes hasn't licensed the name, then there could be a trade-mark battle.

In any case, Babycakes continues to transform the site. In my opinion, most of the physical changes make the place more appealing. A change largely effected to-day reflects considerable confidence, though it may represent a miscalculation; specifically, they have extended the front patio by eliminating the meager parking. [Correction (2008:08/12): The parking wasn't permanently eliminated. Rather, a reconfigurable partition has been installed, which allows the patio area to be extended or contracted.]

I was told a few days ago that peculiar things will be happening at Babycakes to-morrow. Reference was made to a pool and to whipped cream boys. I may not get there until after such events (I didn't get to the place until almost 22:00 on Saturday), but I'll bring a camera if I think that I have a chance of capturing images.

David's Coffee Place is apparently now replaced with Babycakes. An expert came and inspected the piano, which is being sold.

Again, I regret these changes, though in most cases the new owners may be making the best choices available to them.

Meanwhile, a block-and-a-half north, a place named Mille Feuille is scheduled to open in August. They advertise themselves primarily as a chocolatier and bakery, but apparently will be offering tea and sandwiches as well. Since Babycakes has been envisioned as having more in the way of desserts and baked goods than David's Coffee Place, and as more of a restaurant, the appearance of Mille Feuille may be a problem for them. (There are many other restaurants in the immediate area, but Mille Feuille seems to be closer in intended product mix.)

Addendum (23 July): The piano that is being sold is a baby grand (in fact, an especially small baby grand, but with a good lower range). I was informed last night that Babycakes has an upright piano that they will be putting into service. (The notion being that it will take less floor space.)

This morning, I started reading A Drawing Manual by Thomas Eakins. As is my bad habit, I first read the prefacing and introductory pieces by others, one of which was Thomas Eakins: Last of the Art Crusaders by Amy B. Warbel.

It positions Eakins as a creature and champion of the Art Crusade — an attempt to promote American, republican values and virtues by the wide-spread teaching of art (not merely art appreciation), especially drawing. The essay proceeds well enough for most of its length, but, as it approaches its end, rather abruptly seems to argue not merely that Eakins was out-of-step with fashion, but that he was somehow active in a movement that had itself ended. She quotes with apparent approval a passage from another author which asserts that the Art Crusade died with Rembrandt Peale (1860). Eakins was graduated from High School in the next year, and didn't begin teaching until 1870 or '71. This time-frame wouldn't make Eakins the last Art Crusader, but instead a failed revivalist, and certainly not the last such.

In the after-noon, I received a copy of the Collected Fictions of Jorge Luis Borges. I began reading that in the evening; and, in Max Eastman, Purveyor of Iniquities, found this excellent sentence

At the first light of dawn, the battle died away, as though it were spectral, or obscene.

But I'm sorry to report that, in a foot-note concerning The Uncivil Teacher of Court Etiquette Kôtsuké no Suké, the translator (or some wicked transcriber) has written Chinese for Japanese.

As I waited for a walk light to-night, on the way home from David's Coffee Place, some fellow asked me if I'd like to go somewhere for drinks. The Woman of Interest claims that this is an improvement upon being mistaken for a prostitute, which happened to me a few years ago. I figure that, this time, the poor guy just couldn't control himself because I was wearing my Wellington boots, and have let my sideburns grow for almost three weeks. (Hugh Jackman has nothin' on me.)