Northern Liberties

Checkerboard and I ventured to the 700 Club last night, we rendezvoused with Scooby Snacks, Hickey, Sir Laugh-a-lot, and Mischief Man.

As we made our way there, the name evoked memories of that famous (or infamous, depending on your leanings) Christian television show on CBN; as much a staple of Middle-America as corn and potatoes. Much to my chagrin the show often found an audience in my parent’s living room, forcing me to relinquish control of the set while in the middle of watching something far more interesting.

My mind drifting during the cab ride, I pictured a club full of prancing pentecostals waving their arms and tambourines about to the musical stylings of DJ Pat Robertson; "The Spirit" gyrating them to the beat like marionettes on their strings… Clearly, the religious school education has irreparably damaged my psyche.

What I discovered was quite the opposite; a hipster haven featuring more plaid than a Celtic festival and a DJ spinning tracks from inside a bathtub on the second floor. The decor evoked memories of countless house parties I’ve crashed before; the homey atmosphere inducing a sense of freedom appropriate for an area referred to as Northern “Liberties.”

The 700 Club, 700 N. 2nd St, a welcomed change from the Center City scene.

Now, excuse me while I go back to reading contracts and an opinion piece on the nature of quackery in the 19^th Century. Apparently, carbolic smoke balls, vaginal insufflators, enemas and judges who carried their fox terriers to the bench were all the rage in Victorian Britain…and they said this class would be boring : )

Introductory Note

Of the few things apparent after seven weeks of law school, perhaps the most salient is a realization that the measure of friendships will be tested to extremes. Social interaction, communication, availability, shared experiences, and other elements necessary for nurturing meaningful relationships find themselves displaced by isolation, silence, compromise, and a sheer terror that follows the awareness you will soon be publicly humiliated and intellectually violated by Socratic inquiry - Law School, an experience masochistic by virtue of willful submission, and obscene on account of paying for the pleasure.


I've been told that when my tenure ends, the friends who remain from my former life will be the ones I was destined to keep; the sort who provide “friendship” its purest, unadulterated definition. Never one to let so desirable a result lie with such a fickle bedfellow as fate, I’ve taken it upon myself to document the experience; ensuring every effort is exhausted in keeping all who care abreast of what occurs in the life of a "Juan"L - Everything indicates it should be "Juan" hell of a journey!