Tate Gallery by Tube

February 5, 2010


Tate Gallery by Tube

It seems as if once very six months I find myself longing for this print, wondering why I haven’t just bucked up and bought it, and it seems also, once every six months, I fight back the urge with the simple realization that, in fact, even if I were to buy it, I have nowhere to put it.

That being said, nothing warms my cockles more than London Underground poster art.

Tags: Travel |

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I know what you did last summer (because you told me your location at all times on Twitter)

February 1, 2010


I was in both St. Cloud and Minneapolis this weekend. Most of you didn’t know that. On purpose. Because I don’t tweet my location. On purpose. But man, it can be hard to hold it back.

See, I know everyone’s jumping on the FourSquare bandwagon, just like everyone jumped on the BrightKite bandwagon, just like everyone will jump on the LocalJump or Designatr or MyPlacez bandwagon when those unfortunately named start-ups finally start up. I get it. People can connect. “Oh, you’re there? Well, I’m here. Let’s hang, dawg.”

And, I’ll admit. While I haven’t decided that location-based social networking is valuable or necessary or wise for myself, I have signed up for both FourSquare and BrightKite. (I had to. There’s a username involved, and I wanted to collect mine.)

That being said, I won’t use them. It’s already enough that I constantly give out my thoughts and my motivations and my activities; I simply don’t feel right doing all of this and tagging it with my EXACT LOCATION AT THIS EXACT MOMENT.

There was a point in which my own safety and the safety of my family (who may or may not be with me when my location is given off) outweighed my need to relay yet another part of my life. It can get hard - after all, two years of constant lifestreaming can develop a habit, leaving me mindlessly exclaiming, “OH MAN I’M IN ST. CLOUD AND DIVISION STREET STILL SUCKS!”

When, in fact, what I’m saying in that case is, “OH MAN I’M IN ST. CLOUD AND MY FAMILY IS HOME ALONE SO NOW YOU KNOW!”

And that’s why I don’t BrightKite or FourSquare or WhateverWhatever. Because, as Aaron said a few years back, “I think we got caught up in the excitement of lifestreaming and forgot to really think about who might be following those streams. Maybe some of those people are crazies.”

Tags: Technology, Travel |

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Three Lists about Traveling to St. Cloud, Minnesota

January 28, 2010


Things that fly by on a four-hour trip to St. Cloud, Minnesota.

• Snow-packed hills
• Local Hardee’s franchises
• Universities I’ve attended
• Available bladder room
• Cities named after legendary Native Americans
• Trucks that don’t look like they should be running at all, let alone on a highway going 55 miles per hour
• Cenex stations

Things that fly by on a four-minute drive down Division Street in St. Cloud, Minnesota

• Patience
• Your life, before your eyes
• Red Lobster

Things that DO NOT fly by on a four-hour trip to St. Cloud, Minnesota

• Time

Tags: On..., The Top..., Travel |

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Kings Island

November 21, 2009


kings island adAll it took was a glance at this map.

I can’t remember how old I was – somewhere between 5 and 8 – but I do remember that my grandparents lived in Villa Hills, Kentucky, a suburb of Cincinnati, where my grandfather was a recruiter for the Army. My entire family was in town – this was back before my parents were divorced, back when every summer was spent with my grandparents.

It remains to this day the only time I’ve ever been to an amusement park.

I have no timeline, no detailed list of memories, no comprehensive nostalgia – only that there was a definite feeling of exclusivity, like this was the coolest thing I had ever done, like this was never going to be topped no matter how hard we try.

Other than that, it’s a piecemeal collection of fleeting images.

I remember the map; specifically, I remember seeing a section of the park called “Coney Island” and making the only connection I could: the hot dogs we were served in grade school came on “coney buns.” I remember my father clamoring to ride The Thing, a stand-up rollercoaster that sounded horrifying. I remember Hanna-Barbara land, filled with Flintstones and Scooby-Doo and a million other kid rides.

There were long lines. An Eiffel tower. A lot of walking, and a lot of people.

I remember getting wet during the log ride, and being horrified. I couldn’t get wet. I wasn’t supposed to be wet.

I remember leaving, riding home in the dark, grasping for dear life to a stuffed Scooby-Doo doll that my father and grandfather had spent too much money trying to win. The doll had to have been at least three feet tall, or so it seemed to my young mind. I kept it for years, until the Styrofoam beads began to spill out and the legs had to be reattached.

It was the first time I remember being part of a crowd that large. Of being part of something bigger than myself, where I discovered that other families are just like mine – out for a weekend, looking for thrills, fighting over food.

And all it took was a glance at a map.

Tags: Travel, Vilhauer |

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The Local’s Jameson fetish

March 9, 2009


In other news…

The leading Jameson consumer in the world isn’t Ireland, or Boston, or some small outpost in D.C. where my friend Tim lives, but right here in the ol’ Midwest at one of my favorite restaurant/bars - The Local in Minneapolis.

I knew there was a reason to be proud of these Great Plains.

And with that, I’m going home sick. See you later, fair readers.

Tags: Travel |

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Off the grid

September 7, 2008


This past week, I sat in the cabin of Kerrie’s uncle’s yacht.

(Seriously. A yacht.)

We sped across the Chesapeake Bay on our way to the island of St. Martin, scooting to the left of Hurricane Hannah for long enough to enjoy a handful of local stone crabs and a pitcher or two of Stella Artois.

It sounds luxurious, but it was short. Hannah decided to rear its windblown head in our direction, and we had to high tail it out before the waves became too choppy.

We hit some wind, the spray from the Bay coasted into the boat, and I found myself gently caressed by salt water, not quite soaked but certainly not dry. I inhaled the breeze, enjoyed the speed and relaxed. I was off of the grid, with no worries, no connections, and no responsibility. I was just living life.

Similarly, I was off of the Internet, too.

Aside from checking my e-mail once every two days, I had no contact with the Internet during my entire vacation. Ten days.

I enjoyed it.

No offense to the handful of people I call my “Internet Friends” – those who I feel I have some kind of odd connection with due to constant Twitter updates and flickr longing and blog reading, but haven’t actually ever really met in real life – I just didn’t miss you that much. (I still like you – wait…why are you un-following me on Twitter? No!)

There’s an urge to constantly update your life on the Internet, to keep creating, to keep pushing yourself out further and further until you can’t go back – until the very idea of disconnecting from the Internet is frightening.

And there’s a logical answer: we only remember what we find interesting. If you hold up for a few months and come back to the Web, you’ll find yourself forgotten, for the most part. It’s part of being a member of the exciting world of Internet Creativity – for good and for bad.

So I’ve always felt a twinge of regret when I don’t write for Black Marks on Wood Pulp, or if I forget to check up on my favorite blogs, or if I lose track of some connection in the world wide web. I feel as if I’m missing out, like those guys who get the Season Ticket package and feel they have to watch every single game. It’s part of my obsession with being a completist.

This past week, I was able to let it go. And it felt good.

I still had ideas that needed to be burst forth. My Moleskin was never in the right place at the right time. I had lost the spontaneity that I love, the idea that my thoughts can be put on the page RIGHT NOW and people will read it, immediately, without worrying about time constraints or publishing windows or any of that annoying shit.

But I suppressed them. I collected them, until now, when I’m back at the computer, catching up on some things, letting others go, feeling completely at ease with creating a gap in the continuity of the Internet life.

Think of this when you’re feeling overwhelmed with the amount of information available. Take yourself off the grid. You don’t’ have to go nearly charging through a hurricane to do it.

You just have to be willing to sit back, let someone else take the wheel, and breathe in the air.

Tags: Blogging, Travel |

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I’m back…

September 7, 2008


Chances are, you haven’t seen me around for a few days.

There’s a reason. I’ve been on vacation, in northern Virginia, where Kerrie’s parents now live. It’s about an hour west of Washington D.C., and right in the heart of historical Virginia, where the streets are all cobblestone and the shops all consist of the same warped windows that have lasted through two of the country’s most recognized wars.

But more than that, I’ve been on a mini sabbatical, a rest from the world, respite from my constant wordsmithing. I’ve been recharging, as they say, and I won’t lie – I feel it.

I feel like I’m bursting with inspiration, my mind ready to take on the challenges of writer’s block. I feel like I’ve got things to say. Weekly and monthly columns to get around to. Books to pretend I actually read.

And, I feel relaxed. Probably for the first time since I stayed home with Sierra during my paternity leave. Relaxed, and thrilled about it.

With this relaxation, with the utter lack of responsibility and no need for critical thinking, I made some incredible realizations. Realizations that might seem banal, too simple to be revelations. But revelations all the same.

I realized that Washington D.C. isn’t a tourist paradise, but a legitimate amazing feat of urban design, mass transit and epic history. I realized that even the most hardened cynic can feel patriotic around the Lincoln Memorial. And I realized that after three years I still haven’t come to full terms with my grandfather’s death, a veteran of both the Vietnam and Korean wars, two wars memorialized in D.C. and located in close proximity for the maximum in emotional drainage.

I realized that history is unchanging, and that no matter how many layers of paint or remodeling jobs you do the ghosts of history still stand, watching you, Civil War caps tipped to the right, bayonets sagging under the weight of their ammunition, thousands of lives wasted for a quarrel, their remains creating the landscape that we trod upon.

I realized that 350+ pictures is probably enough.

I realized that a beer at noon tastes better than any consumed at night, that seafood pasta at home can reach restaurant like excellence and that the only thing you should do while on vacation is eat and drink and eat some more.

I realized that a week can easily be wasted just watching your daughter grow up.

Most of all, I realized that time off is necessary. That it’s healthy. That the problems of travel and close quarters and weather and delays and rising tension and lost productivity mean nothing when matched to the sheer expanse of soothing catharsis that comes from a few hours away from the grid. Or a few days. Or a week. Plus.

That’s all in the past, though. I’m back, and I’m glad.

Tags: Blogging, Grandpa Boyer, Meta, On..., Outdoors, Travel, Vilhauer, Writing |

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