DAVE WONDRICH (AS SEEN FROM INSIDE HIS BRAIN)

Dear Imaginary Readers, forgive the slowness of my updates. I haven't been doing nothing. It's just looked like that here for a while. I was in Los Angeles for a couple of weeks. I walked a lot, yes, and was not this time shit upon by a bird. Joel Stein pulled pork (not a euphemism). Some sweaty tennis was played. Then Portland OR to see my brother and four days in Seattle for the Bumbershoot festival. Coulton played and we destroyed his hotel suite while drinking unnecessarily cerebral beers. Saw Deathcab for Cutie, Superchunk, M Ward and some others. Tig Notaro and my friend Jessi Klein did great standup. It was all a lot of fun. And there were donuts (see below). From Seattle I went to AMSTERDAM, where I wandered and ate great quantities of herring and onions. Along on the trip were my friends the talented Mr. Jim Meehan of PDT, the finest cocktail bar inside a hot-dog joint; dapper smart-guy Allen Katz; and the magnificently bearded David Wondrich, cocktail-historian, writer and possessor of Hodgmanlike total world knowledge (though in this case it's all true). Here is a photograph of the inner-workings of his brain, taken at the Genever Museum, Schiedam, Netherlands.