Inglourious Basterds

Bursting out of the theater --- into the warm womb of summer air outside. Safe. Whew. Or...? Can't get a ride home, will have to bike. The darkness, ragged breath, shallow in my throat, I'm gasping for air. University Avenue --- traffic courses by to my left. A noise, pat- pat- Colonel Landa of the S.S.? No, a jogger. Deeper breath, stay calm. Can passers-by see the terror in my face, my mouth messily gaping? By the stadium, I gulp breaths of light, of air ---

Running across the field, family killed by the S.S. Laughing in the smoke of the theater.

Intestines still twisted around my gut, trying to relax. The intercampus transitway stretches out in front of me, the hot, summer air turning to ice, the empty road at once a snow covered path in an alpine forest, the truck crossing the roadway a vehicle of war, carrying prisoners. A light up ahead, now nothing. Now another, blinking towards me --- friend or foe? A sloppily dressed college student, riding hands free, talking on his cellphone. Movements in the grass alongside the road are bunnies, enemies in the race for survival.

Crossing the main road, nearly home, but foiled by road construction --- will have to go the long way, unless I cross the tracks. Up the rocky path, through the bushes --- But a vast and many-membered monster stands in my way, obstinate, cold, silent. Between the train cars, bullets fly. I dodge them and follow the vacant roadway up and around. Tarantino clenching my stomach, quickening my heart, squeezing my eyes shut so tight. Wait at the light and cross on red when no one comes. The smell of manure at the fairgrounds is like home and I can breathe a bit more now. Smooth pavement and a sense of college campus security. Now clean laundry smell from Married Student Housing hits me and I'm nearly there, and I've nearly shaken Landa. The blood and scalping still jump out as I'm rolling into the alley, easing off my bike, and....the...terrible...magic...is...gone.

It was just a movie.

State Fair Mania

Full moon, chocolate dipped key lime pie on a stick, a trip to Lake Wobegone with Garrison Keillor, an East Tennessee band called Quicksilver complete with dashing fiddler, deep fried cheese curds (twice), giant squash, grilled chocolate sandwich, tiny donuts, Bonnie Raitt and Taj Mahal showing us youngins how to rock, deep fried green beans, raspberry chocolate wine ice cream (twice), Princess Kay of the Milky Way butter busts, baby calves being born on the big screen, and eww, swine flu. All this and more at the Minnesota State Fair. Princess Kay Butter Busts! (Yes, scary.)

After volunteering at the Sierra Club booth this morning, and popping over to Minneapolis for a couple of hours of work, I spent the rest of the evening at the fair for a last hurrah. It ends Labor Day and I've already been three times, which is plenty (my body chimes in "Please, stop the fried-food assault!") Garrison Keillor was at the Grandstand tonight --- my first time seeing Prairie Home Companion in person. A highlight (besides the handsome fiddler from Tennessee) was Garrison's song about September in Minnesota, about this year, this particular State Fair, exactly tailored to what's happening right now. It reminded me that art and song and poetry move us through transitions, render them more than mechanical and chemical processes that produce new seasons, different colors of leaves, cloud formations, weather patterns, and animal behaviors. They become cultural because they are infused with meaning, even as little as a song that was sung about these processes. "Nights are getting cooler, school is beginning" Keillor sang, and to accompany the music, my years of memory bound up with September and the crispness of the air and smoke out of chimneys was that feeling that transition is upon us, that newness is imminent even though it's not the newness of spring. Fall is indeed nipping here. Today was warm, like a last attempt at summer heat, but a good one.

(Notice GK's red socks in this photo.)

I feel nostalgic about the newness of school that September used to bring. There is a new newness now --- an anything-is-possible newness. We just got word that both H and I are welcome and wanted longer than our original three months here in the Twin Cities. They'll have us until December if we'll stay, which is a great honor from my perspective, and very exciting. I think it casts uncertainty on the prospect of applying to graduate school but maybe I can manage in spite of working full-time. So far, the job has been incredible in terms of coming into working relationships with extraordinary people. We work with people who have impressive experience doing community organizing, handing out big money in the world of grantmaking, and rubbing elbows with other such money-tossers and project-launchers.

The prospect of staying into December is also exhilarating for the winter that everyone's been ominously warning us about. I have to inform them that there are indeed parts of California that get snowed on and I grew up in one of them. But then I concede that it doesn't really get that far below zero so this really will be a new experience for me. And will give me just the excuse I need to buy a beautiful winter coat.

Oh yes, and even swine flu struck here, but don't be alarmed, folks, it's under control. (It's not all that comforting that we live two blocks away from the fairgrounds but I understand swine flu isn't the big monster it's reputed to be.) Three brothers in the 4H barn came down with it, but everyone seems pretty civilized about the whole thing (every who was passing out frisbees and disposable fans are now passing out hand sanitizer).

In other fair news, this is a big fish sculpture made strictly of garbage found in the Mississippi. They were building it at a workshop along the bike path I ride on and I was betting it was headed to Burning Man, but lo, it appeared like at great spectre of human consumption, risen to remind us of the detritus our lives so frantically produce. Will we take heed, great Garbage Fish? Stay tuned...

Big Labor Day weekend full of festivities coming up and I'm hoping to make lots of food. More news soon.

My Commute

Sunflowers in community garden with Somali neighborhood in background. This is a view from the bike path between Franklin Avenue and the Cedar-Riverside light rail stops.


Frank Gehry is following me. Sort of. (The Weisman Art Museum, complete with hip bike racks).


Worker-owned bike coop, the Hub.


Remnants of fallen 35W bridge (remember the Minneapolis bridge collapse?) taken from the upper level of the Washington bridge



Wine and molten lava chocolate cake at the Happy Gnome