Images worth repeating
Oct. 23rd, 2006 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jazzfishMorning fog thick enough that when you look out at the Space Needle all you can see is the base. Calm rain that's serious about getting its job done but still takes the time to talk to me and tell me "Sun'll be here soon." O so many used bookstores-- it's a dangerous, dangerous city. Tea and good conversation with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tulip_tree, a first in far too many years. Conveyor-belt sushi and pumpkin-bread and piroshkis and empanadas, staying up talking 'til three in the morning and drinking yerba maté the next day (it's like green tea, but sharp around the edges). Water water everywhere: the sound to the west, the rain above, lakes in all directions. The brightest October sun I've ever seen, not quite pierce-your-eyeballs but I wouldn't want to have had a hangover that morning. And nixve, always nixve.
And distant mountains and random city art and /trees/ and in all a friendlier personality than I've ever gotten from DC. On the flight back I looked down at the Rockies passing beneath me and thought I am so done with the east coast. And I understood why one travels, and that the beauty in other places is not necessarily better but always, always different.
Minneapolis is the largest small town I've ever been in.scathach drove me around a bit, to and from various places, and nothing I experienced felt much like an actual city. It's a place continually surprised to realise that it's inhabited by 300,000 people (probably more including St. Paul). Every so often it makes an effort: a couple blocks of skyscrapers, some impressive architecture (the new Guthrie in particular), a few freeways. Then it shrugs and goes back to getting on with life.
Continued the staying up 'til three in the morning thing withscathach, because sometimes the conversations just kind of go, and sometimes I need to be someone who listens. Got an impromptu tour of the new Guthrie, and saw a show (Yellowman, very thought-provoking and very very good; perhaps more on that later), and experienced creepy modern art at the Walker (the Silent Hill Room was hands-down creepiest, though the Halloween Cave gave me a couple chills as well) and sculpture in the Garden. Good tea from tea-bags, and decent cider (Strongbow), and a most excellent pizza (involving feta!) and the best cherry coke I think I've ever had. It's a good place, with good people.
. . . yeah. The show and the art both want more thought than I can give them right now. Maybe tomorrow.
I dearly love flying. Partly because yes, it's an order of magnitude faster than driving. But mostly for the experience itself. The sudden change in force from 'back' to 'down' at the moment of takeoff, the ant-cars in the streets below. Rolling argentine clouds and patches of city-light that peek through. "This is your captain speaking." People who wander around for the express purpose of giving me a ginger ale.
I should do this more often.
tulip_tree, a first in far too many years. Conveyor-belt sushi and pumpkin-bread and piroshkis and empanadas, staying up talking 'til three in the morning and drinking yerba maté the next day (it's like green tea, but sharp around the edges). Water water everywhere: the sound to the west, the rain above, lakes in all directions. The brightest October sun I've ever seen, not quite pierce-your-eyeballs but I wouldn't want to have had a hangover that morning. And nixve, always nixve.And distant mountains and random city art and /trees/ and in all a friendlier personality than I've ever gotten from DC. On the flight back I looked down at the Rockies passing beneath me and thought I am so done with the east coast. And I understood why one travels, and that the beauty in other places is not necessarily better but always, always different.
Minneapolis is the largest small town I've ever been in.
scathach drove me around a bit, to and from various places, and nothing I experienced felt much like an actual city. It's a place continually surprised to realise that it's inhabited by 300,000 people (probably more including St. Paul). Every so often it makes an effort: a couple blocks of skyscrapers, some impressive architecture (the new Guthrie in particular), a few freeways. Then it shrugs and goes back to getting on with life.Continued the staying up 'til three in the morning thing with
scathach, because sometimes the conversations just kind of go, and sometimes I need to be someone who listens. Got an impromptu tour of the new Guthrie, and saw a show (Yellowman, very thought-provoking and very very good; perhaps more on that later), and experienced creepy modern art at the Walker (the Silent Hill Room was hands-down creepiest, though the Halloween Cave gave me a couple chills as well) and sculpture in the Garden. Good tea from tea-bags, and decent cider (Strongbow), and a most excellent pizza (involving feta!) and the best cherry coke I think I've ever had. It's a good place, with good people.. . . yeah. The show and the art both want more thought than I can give them right now. Maybe tomorrow.
I dearly love flying. Partly because yes, it's an order of magnitude faster than driving. But mostly for the experience itself. The sudden change in force from 'back' to 'down' at the moment of takeoff, the ant-cars in the streets below. Rolling argentine clouds and patches of city-light that peek through. "This is your captain speaking." People who wander around for the express purpose of giving me a ginger ale.
I should do this more often.