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The rest of the road trip was through the West, and it did just kind of feel like one big west. On the East Coast, and in the South, cities are closer together; you go from state to state, from one metropolitan area to the next one relatively quickly. But out west, it's just a whole lot of highway.
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TULSA, OK?
The mid-way stop on our span of the country was Tulsa, Oaklahoma, and if I had been pondering the top-drawer problems troubling the major cities in my life, this was a different kind of town. You could certainly smell a whiff of old oil money - perhaps that's why it reminded me of Bakersfield more than anything else - but one look told me that, ( Read more... ) -
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It was a long haul south, 650 miles of music and bullshitting, reading aloud to each other from the Quadrivium, a book we picked up at the Moog Factory Store, about the far-out intersection of numbers in music, physics, geometry, religion, architecture…
So there was I, just one individual on a physical road from past to future; and then there ( Read more... ) -
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I finally made it out ( Read more... ) -
goodbye to:
On a foggy afternoon recently, at the far-end of Flatbush Avenue, almost to the bridge for the Rockaways, I was with a group of friends (new friends, all -- I don't see much of my old New York friends anymore), and we'd just been scavenging at Dead Horse Bay, a specifically-NYC weird old hidden treasure. None of us but one had actually expected to ( Read more... ) -
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I like the transit part the most. I'm probably never happier than when on a train to someplace I've never been, staring at the window like it was a movie screen, running images taken from someone else's imagination. And I was especially happy, on that train from Bucharest into Transylvania, simply not to be in India, not to be violently ill, not ( Read more... )
