Frank had yesterday off, which was cool. It was a chance for Frank, Russ and I to hang out and do stuff. Frank also has Monday off. He works up in the Print Shop up at Cornell, which as you know is Far Above Cayuga's Waters. But, as it turns out, it's not as far as it used to be.

You see, Cornell is Big. Ivy League big, naturally. T'ain't small. And it's a ruddy well nuisance to cool all their buildings off. I know this to be true for many reasons, but one of the best was the old Vet School Tower, where my friend John Godfrey works. The tower is solid brick, and has glass on one side. On the other, it has massively large flumes which are exhaust for huge amounts of heat generated by their air conditioning systems. It makes the building look like it could launch at any given time.

Cornell has gotten sick of the cost of freon, compression and electricity. They want better ways to cool their buildings, and cool the water that they drink. And they think they've found one. They're going to put a gigantic pipe deep within Lake Cayuga, which will start sucking massive amounts of water (and, one presumes, algae, fish, fish eggs, boats, buoys, fishermen and eight year old swimmers) up. That water will then be piped all the bloody way up the hill to Cornell, where these pipes will mingle with the pipes that convey Cornell's water all over campus. The two water supplies will never commingle. However, the cold lake water will cause the heat from the water in the water supply to slurp down into the lake water, cooling the drinking and coolant water at tremendous savings. Whereupon, the lake water gets dumped back in the lake, significantly warmer than it left.

To this end, they've effectively destroyed the Hill. There Is No Way To Get Up There Right Now. I couldn't go to the Ithaca Falls with Russ, for example. There just wasn't any way to get there, dang it. Much -- one could even say most -- of Ithaca has blocked streets and massive inconveniences.

And in addition, the Ithaca Freestanding Protest is out in force over this. You see, they're not only creating a water intake and outtake in the lake in areas such things have never existed before, they're significantly altering the temperature of the lake, to cool their buildings and waters.

Lakes, along with all other biomes, are living organisms. If you poke at them, they react and adapt and change. When you make a conscious choice to alter a biome, you're altering the patterns of life that surround and imbue that biome. Sometimes, this is a good thing. Sometimes, the reintroduction of a nearly extinct species makes the whole area's ecology better. Sometimes, the needs of man do and should come first in the thoughts of man.

And sometimes, you're being a doink. Warming the lake, and circulating thousands of gallons of lake water at a time through this pipe system, is being a doink. It's a change and transformation that simply isn't necessary, in the name of a cost-savings which is being offset by thousands of dollars of heavy construction and extreme inconvenience. It's the sort of thing that makes you wonder just what the gray-matter/wet cornflakes ratio of these folks are.

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Neither Frank nor Russ had seen South Park yet, so I went with them. This marks the only movie I've seen three times this summer, and may be the only movie I've ever seen three times in the movie theater.

It holds up well. Frank and I immediately started quoting from the movie nonstop. Russ didn't go quite that nuts, but he enjoyed it. He's also the only person I've met who claimed not to be offended by a single second of the movie. (With me, it's the Saddam/Satan bedroom scene where Saddam takes out this enormous -- well, I don't need to go into details. A number of my readers have sensitive constitutions. And Kate will just figure it out from context.) We had fun.

When the movie ended, the Pet Shop Boys came on over the speaker. So, we knew it was time to leave. I tell you, it's a sign.

We also went to Hal's Deli and had Knishes. This is a necessary part of Ithaca. The knishes at Hal's? Oy, they are to die for, my friend. I had a knish (of course) and some corned beef over Latkes. (Strips of it -- just enough to remind me how much I like corned beef.) Frank and Russ had knishes and... well, other things. Hey, I'm under no compulsion to annotate their meals, am I? While out that way, we also went and bought sneakers -- or at least, Russ and I did. Frank didn't, but needed a pair, and in fact was talking about buying sneakers the next day.

Russ liked knishes fine, but wasn't too impressed. This would be horrifying (how does one not like a good knish beyond life itself -- it is the prana, the mojo, the life force. The yang to our lives' mundane yin...) except that Russ also actively liked Moxie when he tried it in Maine, which means his taste buds are strange. He eats Vegamite by choice, too.

We hit Borealis, which was one of the most amazing bookstores I had ever been to when I first moved out here. At the time, its entire basement section was science fiction -- a gold mine for a kid from Northern Maine. Used books, some role playing stuff, an upper section of contemporary fiction and next door to Ben and Jerry's. Sign me right up!

It got sold, and moved from West Seneca Street to Aurora Street (where I'd have put it in the first place, admittedly), and an upscale store with more than Science Fiction, but with the healthiest section I'd ever seen. And there it's been for a while.

Walking in was sad. The humor section was less than a shelf. Science Fiction was about six shelves -- better than the average, but not great compared to what it was before. Lots of empty bottom shelves too -- they clearly weren't buying books right now in any department.

It was like watching an old friend bleed to death in the snow. The worker behind the counter put a good face on it. I bought a book I didn't need. What the Hell, right?

Laurent's, up at the Mall, also closed in that area. They cited "those bastards at Amazon.com," which makes sense since there's no Borders or Barnes and Noble to compete with that business. The American Bookstore is changing before our eyes, and I'm terrified it will disappear. And sadly, I can't even claim I won't use Amazon.com any more. It's convenient and very powerful, for a guy in the middle of New Hampshire and a long way from a good bookstore.

But if Borealis hemorrhages away, I'll miss it very badly.

Dinner was at Ragman's, where we used to go every Friday night and eat and depressurize and have a good time. It's a tradition sadly lost, though Beckie joined us. She's looking very well indeed. The food was good, and then Frank and Beckie headed home, to get ready and ride up to the Renaissance Festival, where we will join them on Sunday if the weather holds.

Russ and I then looked through bookstores on the Commons and went out for milkshakes and generally had an excellent time, and then headed to the room, and proceeded to talk.

For about seven hours.

We had a rollaway bed brought up for the intruder (me, naturally) and slept. A good day, Cornell's environmental blind spots and Borealis's decline notwithstanding.