Just had a dream that there was a big tree right outside of my window (there is not, in reality) and that sitting on it was a HUGE pileated woodpecker, who had a big, fluffy shock of crimson plumage running all the way down its back. In the dream, I think I recognized it as some new or rare species or something, and was all excited to call Colin Irvine and tell him about it.

This was tied, I think, to the fact that in my semi-awake real life, I heard a bird call this morning that was totally unfamiliar to me. I didn't have the energy/awakeness to sit up, look out the window and see if I could figure out where the bird was, but instead went back to sleep and dreamed that I discovered a new kind of bird. Also, there really is a woodpecker somewhere around my house who gets really enthusiastic about that whole "pecking" thing early in the morning; it has woken me up almost every day in the last two weeks, since I opened my windows for spring.

I do not like when white people get all woe-is-me over the most inconsequential shit. "Someone called me a cracker! How hurtful!"
I just don't understand how anyone can have so little self-awareness, not to mention total ignorance of context. Your ever-so-briefly hurt feelings are not the same as hundreds of years of slavery and oppression and abuse. Get over yourself.

AWESOME

I just found out, by Googling myself for the first time, that the PDF of the first issue of the famed Highland Park Free Press is online and can be downloaded. Though I am still upset that I was pushed into making my header a terrible pun, damn! I think I was a better writer when I was 17 than I am now. And you know, yeah, it was kind of silly, because it was a high school newspaper, but I think that considering our resources and the fact that Grace and I were the last two people standing by the end of the year, we put together a pretty damn classy paper. Good on us, younger selves!

 

Also, I liked my bangs when I was naught but a teen. Maybe revisiting those sometime in the near future...

So here I am in Iowa City, a pretty delightful little town that has greatly exceeded my expectations! Though it doesn't necessarily satisfy my permanent residence requirements of tall buildings and a little grittiness (yes, even in Minneapolis), I actually kind of feel like I could stand to live here--not something I experience very often in Small Town, Midwest.

I am currently sitting in the cafe above Prairie Lights Books, where the coffee is tasty, the WiFi password is "gertrudestein," and there's a sign taped to the counter advertising "PUNK BRUNCH record and book swap." There's a comic book store, an independent record store, and, of all things, another Mesa Pizza, which sustained my hungry and drained-from-car-ride-self last night. There's a pedestrian mall, a few nice-looking boutiques and a thrift store, a charming combination of old brick buildings and new glass ones, and many cheap, beautiful Victorian-midwestern houses with big porches and towers (my favorite). I am entertaining fantasies of graduating from Augsburg, camping in the Southwest for three months, and then scoring a totally-awesome job at the local bookstore/publisher/letterpress/newspaper here, or later, maybe a teaching job as a young hotshot Ph.D.

The most obvious problem with these imaginings (and the very real city itself) appears to be the overwhelmingly large population of big, dudely, corn-fed bros, who were out stalking the streets with backwards baseball caps at all hours of the evening. A brolight: last night, when we got the bar where GBV were playing, I tried to show my very clearly underage ID to one of the four bros working the door, but as I mumbled something about "under 21...mark me if you want..." he snapped, "You need to start paying attention to what's going on!" as he looped a yellow wristband around my arm, indicating that it was totally cool and definitely legal to serve me alcohol. Oops! Gotta love a hypbrocrite. This allowed me to wash down my delicious Mesa with a PBR, which seemed like an infinitely appropriate combination for this particular show.

So even though I am out of money, and I am probably going to bomb my art history test tomorrow (unless I can get an extension--fingers crossed!), I am not so sad that our stupid flat tire caused us to stay here for a little longer than planned. It was worth it to hear GBV play "Over the Neptune" and to discover a cool new place.

Oh weird, bro

So usually when I meet other people my age who like the things that I like (usually music-related things) I get really really excited and it makes me very happy to know that my opportunities for cool conversations have expanded.
Then last night, I noticed that I have been having more of these interactions lately.
Then I realized this has been happening almost exclusively with College Dudes.
Then it dawned on me that maybe that is because many (many many many) of the things I have liked since I was about 16 are just College Dude type things to like.

I can't tell if this is cool or kind of disappointing.

Old Best Friends and Soul Songs

Had a really delightful, silly time last night with some of my favorite people and oldest friends, two of whom indulged me a great deal by letting me play soul songs and dance around the basement for at least an hour. Of course, then I had to help both of them walk the five blocks to my house and nurse them back to health with offers of a warm den, water, and cupcakes, but I don't mind being a caretaker of debauched people, luckily. Anyway, maybe it has something to do with spring being in the air and all that, but I have had soul on the brain and these are a few things I have been really into lately:

I am working my way through Carlos Saura's flamenco trilogy right now; last night at the Nelson house I stumbled into the first one, Blood Wedding, and tonight I watched Carmen. I hope to see El Amour Brujo tomorrow. Carmen was good (such incredible dancing!), but I preferred Blood Wedding--while I enjoyed the textual interplay and overlapping "realities" of Carmen, the sparseness and subtlety of the set and dialogue combined with emotionally intense dancing in Blood Wedding were totally amazing.

Also, it helps that Antonio Gades is the sexiest communist ever.

Anyway, it's always nice to come across things I like, especially when it sort of happens by accident. And since I've somehow managed to see The Room AND Troll 2 in the past month, it was heartening to watch something that's actually, you know, good.

Bonus: There are a ton of opera references in Ulysses, and the ones about Carmen just got a lot more interesting.