CHAPTER 4: Nashville

In many ways one way Nashville is like New York because everyone is trying to be somebody, but who they are trying to be is a country musician.

If you have suicidal tendencies and you are in Nashville, go to Monell’s.  There, dinner is served family style, but it’s more like a Jonestown-Kool-Aid family than any family I have ever been a part of.  The singular warning we had was “go easy on the salads.”  I did my best, but even after going easy on the salads, and on everything else they put in front of me, I still packed down a pound of food within 5 minutes of my arrival.  I continued at this rate for another 15 minutes, forming deep bonds with everyone at the table because, after all, this was The Last Supper.  Finally, I came to my senses: my death was imminent and I had to stop.  Then I realized I hadn’t tried the banana pudding…

No wonder people are fat.

New York friends: if I told you the cost of this meal, you’d be the ones having the heart attack.

After dinner we were actually high on food.  Unless there was drugs in the food which is extremely likely.  Then we were high on the drugs in the food.  The point is: we were high.

So naturally we went to the “Carnegie Hall of Country Music,” as some travel guide I read described the Bluebird Cafe.  We saw Robbie Fulks, who made sitting in silence (silence is Bluebird Cafe audience policy) entirely bearable because he was hilarious.  Some Fulks-ian wisdom: “The world is full of pretty girls, and pretty girls are full of themselves, too.”

The next day I went to the Parthenon.  There’s a Parthenon in Nashville which is more Parthenon than the Parthenon because it houses a giant statue of Athena which is a recreation of a statue supposed to have once existed in the actual Parthenon.  Photos below.

PS Good to eat and die with you Kris, and good to meet your coworkers.  Say hi to NYC for me.


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One Response to “CHAPTER 4: Nashville”

  1. Joshua Says:

    Who the hell is Sam Packard — he’s got some stories! Will you be passing through Milwaukee by winter?

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