Allston, Best Damn Neighborhood Period

I come to overpraise Allston, not to underbury it.

In the globally under-achieving winter '07, my gas-fed money-wasting car has been obsoleted by my bicycle, because I live in Allston, the logical alternative for Boston. Because of some snobbery concerning our home, one of the only areas named for an artist (Washington Allston; okay more art history than art), rents are modest by Boston standards, especially if you view rodents as fellow higher mammalian inheritents of the modern condition, as we do.

Here music makers feel free to play loudly, to the utter delight of their neighbors. Also the birds sing loudly; one night in 2002 on Ridgemont St. I heard a mockingbird gloriously splurt Mozartian bits, learnt up from some odd Allston window no doubt, figuring the musical density of this place.

We have the New Balance outlet, 30% off sneakers.