Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Out of state, out of time...

On the ride down, the bus went through numerous old Pennsylvania mining towns. Aside from the large steel contraptions plunging their sticky fingers into the ground, beautiful houses resided in back roads, a sense of country charm.

I thought about my favorite therapist (out of quite a few) who spent much time growin' up in minin' Pennsylvania. He goes to the Jersey Shore every year with his family and every year stops at Victory Pig, a staple to one of these towns that once served BBQ during WWII, but now a semi-deep-fried pizza place. Beautiful.

I hope to one day go there, the Oregon Vortex, House on a Rock, The Winchester Mansion and Dinosaur World. For now, I spent today at Edgar Allen Poe's house in Philadelphia. Apparently the only structure that still stands that can be connected directly to Poe. The experience was fantastic, the walk, the 8-minute video presentation, the company, the tour guide and security guides, all of it. This isn't what I wanted to talk about.

Anyhow, the weather was gorgeous and when we returned from our historical trip and sushi digesting, I read a book André gifted yesterday, Skibber Bee-Bye by Ron Rege Jr. It's a beautiful, disturbing, perplexing, fantastical, whimsical, horrifying little book of images for eyes to devour. You should read it. I plan on reading it again tomorrow. Or tonight even. I suddenly just crave books and knowledge and words and images.

I had some other observations on nostalgia, the state of things, the state of being, whereabouts, how life moves and swirls in all these interesting, intricate patterns, sometimes with reason, sometimes without. And when I think change is most imminent, most plausible, most's not.

Suddenly, after months of thinking everyone else and their lives had greatly changed, it was, in fact, me who changed, my life which changed and I'm okay with it. I'll be happy.

In other news, go join goodreads. I signed up tonight, but am slowly working on my account, check it:

Oh, and I would like a Fassbinder movie night. Just sayin'. Ali: Fear Eats the Soul. I think I may have a minimal obsession with films about old women and young men hookin' up.

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