On Vox: BFAB.
Paul and I went camping this weekend at Minneopa State Park. It was exceptionally rainy, then very hot, then even hotter and then we went home. I was bitten a bit and sweated a lot. S'mores, steaks, and corn on the cob! We ended up car camping due to various park system reservation problems, so we were totally lazy and even brought a BIG cooler with BEER. We also saw Sidney Rice at Vikings Training Camp as we drove through Mankato. And we birded! I am totally getting into birding, which is to say I carry a beat-up copy of Birds of Minnesota, a check-list of birds, and some crappy binoculars. Then I look a lot at the book and fail to find the bird in the binoculars. Finally I check something off the list out of a general sense of enthusiasm and 45% certainty.
We came home and went to Step Up 3D with a whole fleet of postmodern performance/film types. It exhausted my brain in a weird mirror-neuron way and inspired in me the usual nostalgic wishing I were a "real" dancer, which is to say a dancer who sweats all the time and performs epic feats of physical daring to music. You don't have to tell me how lame that is. The bits between the dancing were mushy, but the dancing was great (death-defying) and made me kind of nuts for a while, all supercharged and jittery and filled with the melancholy that dance is temporary and so are dancers. So, I guess I'd say: Step Up 3D had great dancing and made me think about getting old and dying. A+.
What else what else? I've had two weekends in a row that were breaks, with a Sunday that was full of excitement and verve instead of sorrow, and Mondays that were startling: What? Monday? Really? Well, alright. Last weekend was an exercise in delight and strangers and surprise and urban serendipity, this one in quiet thought and green leaves and staring at a fire and how did ANYONE ever figure out that there are so many types of swallows?
Originally posted on sparkling-robots.vox.com