And now I’m in…Bozeman, MT.
And now I’m in…Bozeman, MT.
Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Sunrise-ish. Downwind of distant wildfires.
I’ve been collecting color palates using Adobe Capture for a couple years now. It’s a surprisingly rewarding pursuit. I’m especially fond of this morning’s “Late summer North Dakota prairie”
Top notch wisdom in tonight’s baseball telecast: “Don’t play to prove the haters wrong, play to prove the fans right.”
And now I’m in…Bismarck, North Dakota.
The north end of Lake Itasca, AKA the headwaters of the Mississippi River.
You must listen to Protoje’s new album, “A Matter of Time.” Tight, chill, furious reggae for the end times.
Finished “Berlin Alexanderplatz” by Alfred Döblin / Finished re-reading “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” by Hunter S. Thompson (Was the American Dream ever alive? Can we trust the sober to answer that question any more intelligently than the blitzed?) / Finished “Cane” by Jean Toomer (wow!) / On deck is a re-read of “Between Parenthesis” by Roberto Bolaño / Then “Barracoon” by Zora Neale Hurston / “The Problems of Philosophy” by Bertrand Russell / Following that with some other book I can find on the Gutenberg project, maybe something historical, or not western, provided I can find a translation of it without a blatant 19th century eurocentric/colonialist bias. Trying to keep this month’s budget intact, etc.
Shoutout to parks and nature trails and a whole wide world green with plants, crawling with bugs, and alive with birdsong.
And now I’m in…Minneapolis, MN.
Little bits of history criss-cross everywhere: the Soviet space program and a sidewalk outside a church in Manitowoc, Wisconsin.
Lake Michigan, looking east from Manitowoc.
And now I’m in…Manitowoc, Wisconsin.
Interesting, the way one first confronts a famous mountain, in reality, seeing it suddenly there in person, on the horizon, in far too much detail, as if it should be impossible for so much mass to warp and wear just like that, just like in all the pictures.
I don’t call it “living simply” or “rejecting consumerism,” I call it “disrupting capitalism.” I’m getting better at it every day. The dividends are so fantastic they can’t even be measured in dollars y’all.
Some dogs can emit remarkably emotive sighs.
Sometimes, when I allow myself to feel such things, I am upset that there is no linguistic connection between a katydid and a caryatid.
I love sitting outside and drinking a few beers on a summer evening, after the sun has finally set, always later than you expect, and listening to the cicadas and the frogs and the crickets and the katydids.
Leveque Tower lobby, Columbus, OH. Gorgeous.
Friday Scrabble Poem: She gears beast soar love insole zit beer act duet beam post meek panda pie mop tin long rum dud drill raid gar wart doe mope jar jar lye ax hen fur foot vow tiny drills acts in an no in if
Saw a picture this morning from a monsoon street flood. Remembered that feeling in New Orleans. The strange excitement of things not going as they are intended to. A disruption to normalcy, a break in the plan. A moment outside of habit to feel a little more alive than usual.
Growing more fascinated with the cobbled together nature of suburbia: tract developments linked to bike lanes along highways by tiny afterthought sidewalks and huge, beautiful wasteland meadows for sale, etc.
Tonight, my friends’ 9 year old asked me what the Trojan horse was. I told her the story but when the Trojans accepted the gift, my words stumbled: I was taking part in a 3000 year old tradition. Passing culture. Was I doing it right? A wrong word could change history. Troy fell.