I can’t seem to figure out what to do with my head. It is too small to carry the right sort of luggage and dangerously prone to spills and injuries. I was thinking I might rent it out for micro-idea transmission, but I’m not sure how well I’d like sitting on top of a metal tower during thunderstorms. Then there’s the whole issue of bird droppings. Perhaps I could put it in a breadbox to keep it fresh. But lately it has this alarming tendency to weep, which could promote spoilage. …
I wrote that after a trip to the Adirondacks back in 2004. Some people don’t like to travel due to the lack of comfort. For me, it’s the lack of sleep. A mere four or five days with less than five hours of good sleep per night are enough to turn me into a humorless emotional wreck. Then for days after I get home, I mope around wishing I had seen more and been more outgoing.
Fortunately, this past weekend’s jaunt had been in the company of fellow bloggers, most of whom are also social misfits of one kind or another, and we tolerated each other’s lapses, if that’s what they were. Lorianne writes about the pleasures of ditching one’s friends to walk the streets alone, something I wish I’d found time to do myself. Rachel of Velveteen Rabbi, on the other hand, eulogizes the joys of communion. Leslee seemed most affected by the heat, but still managed to take a number of good photos of the area of Brooklyn where we all crashed. Other photosets from the trip include Lorianne’s photos of MoMA, Velveteen Rachel’s Brooklyn set, and Frizzy Rachel‘s NY September 07 set (which includes two photos of my head). And Dale has a poem up called Pilgrim in Brooklyn.
UPDATE: New posts about the New York blogger swarm are up at 3rd House Journal – part 1 and part 2 – and the cassandra pages.
Halfway home on the train,
my tongue discovers something hard
between the molars, left over from
a rushed breakfast
at a diner in Brooklyn.
The molars break it open
& the tongue remembers: rye toast.
Our last meal together.
Caraway seed.
I empathize concerning lack of sleep, but sometimes comfort is also a problem for me in travelling, especially those tight airplane seats on long flights. Sounds like you still had much pleasure from your trip, Dave, in meeting kindred spirits and capturing great photos. I’m surprised how many of you were able to take photos in the museums.
MoMA has a policy now of permitting photos except where expressly forbidden, which seemed only to include the indoor portions of the Serra exhibition, for some reason.
:-) Your head is a very fine head and a breadbox would be a crime. Not to mention stuffy.
Marvelous post, Dave.
Enjoyed viewing photos and reading everyone’s posts on the recent trip. Looks like it was great fun. Fish eyes, eh? You and my husband would make a great pair — never turn down a deep fried duck tongue or foot because you never know what you might be missing out on.
Re: travel — I don’t consider myself to be much of a traveler, although seem to manage okay once things are underway. The biggest problem for me is jet lag when tripping around on the west coast. I want to keep up with the late night stuff, but then pop awake well before dawn. Then upon returning home, I seem to stay stuck on west coast time for months — but then, my mind is still roaming around in the redwoods, so what else to expect?
I want to keep up with the late night stuff, but then pop awake well before dawn.
I do that even without the benefit of jet lag. My body clock has an alarm that goes off between 5:00 and 6:00 a.m.
Something you wrote made me think you were a vegetarian. That’s clearly not true of your husband, though! Or perhaps he’s like me: a vegetarian except when I’m eating meat.
Actually, I’m up by 5 all the time here. Out west, I’m waking up and ready to start my day at 2 or 3 a.m. (yikes!). In the redwoods, I would lie awake for hours listening to owls hooting back and forth in a canyon (it was great).
Yes, I’m a vegetarian, and Don just eats meat very occasionally. I will cook it, but he usually says not to bother. However, while I was out west last autumn, he decided to buy and cook up a pork roast. Somehow it sort of “exploded”after he took it out of the oven. It shot fat all over the white painted cabinets and even the ceiling. Couldn’t be washed off with any substance known to man (at least none that I’ve found). I finally gave up trying to clean them off and sanded down the cabinets and repainted them. I expect next time, he’ll just roast a cabbage or something similarly innocuous.
Holy shit! That’s highly bizarre. Well, pork is in a class by itself, and much as I love scrapple and sausage, I tend to agree with Leviticus about the meat’s basic unwholesomeness. Pigs are just too close to being people. It’s almost as bad as eating dog.
funny how I ended up here..it started with a spanish biscuit we were eating that had aniseed..we went onto fennel and its uses for reating indigetion..then onto a Ducth alcohol, my father used to dring one..i remembered the name Kümmel, its made with fenel, cumin and caraway !!!
well theres something about the site here that I like, not sure yet what it is, I get the feeling I would like to share this way…with “Blogs” or whatever they are called …its the first time I do this
thanks
Hey, thanks for stopping by. If you’re interesting in blogging, I recommend trying tumblr.com or wordpress.com and see how you like it.