The results of the reader survey are in and there's one thing you all want: more posts, more Ryder pics, and more content! And while it's still "my blog, my rules" around here, I'll tell you what we'll do: let's agree to a posting calendar. And while we're at it let's explore philosophical questions of interests, happiness, and consistency!
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Photos and travelogue from the Windy City
Chicago. There is something so appealing about that word, how the letters curve on the page and how they roll in your mouth when you say the word out loud. Chicago. It's almost as if the Art Deco skyline can materialize if you just say the word. - A long form vignette love travelogue with pictures.
The North Carolina State Fair is here through the weekend when it will end on Sunday in the usual nightly show of fireworks. My friend Emily and I met up at the fair one afternoon. It was the first time she had brought her two young kids to a fair, and it was quite an adventure.
Trafalgar Square. What a hodgepodge of people. In the summer afternoon it was busy: all noise and people. I could have loitered at the square all day just people-watching, but everything else around Trafalgar Square is so exciting too - The National Gallery, St. Martin in the Fields, The National Portrait Gallery, and all the captivating details of Charing Cross and the Westminster area.
We rushed early to St. Paul's in London one morning so we could explore the cathedral and climb the dome before the large crowds hit. Even so, I had no patience with the early bird tourists giggling with glee at the whispering gallery or shrieking in panic at the tight spiral staircase to the top of the dome, so I wrote poem stanzas on the climb to distract myself from any irritation.
Stone and marble may be durable, but even these hard surfaces cannot survive what we human beings as a species can survive: time and the touch of millions of hands and lips, touching, revering, eroding, forgetting. Funeral slabs are worn completely smooth, memorials are cracked and decaying, and some are even defaced in damnatio memoriae. We build, but still it is only temporary. Eventually hands and feet rub and erase, and we are only left to puzzle over fragments and faulty stories.