In Which Various Neurons Get Fired in Precisely the Wrong Order

Minneapolis, MN--No shit. We're back in the Twin Cities; I came to downtown Minneapolis from out near the edge of the suburbs--and you have to understand that Minneapolis/St. Paul ”suburbs“ don't have a whole lot of urb to be sub, although I guess this last point is pretty obvious from the fact that I got like immediately downtown, and even here it's a pretty stark... well actually it's not even much of a contrast because nowhere does it become terrifically obvious (save for when you look up at the 'scrapers) that you're in a significant urban center. All the elements that define this urban riverbank are present in various other places: you've gone under highways before, you've seen factories flabbily bulging down to water's edge (and near Monticello you even saw liquid from one of these factories pouring right into the River and you didn't want to imagine what it might be). And OK, so I didn't want to do the dams, at least not to be the first one through them, so I haven't gotten necessarily to the heavy part yet (that particular pleasure has been reserved for Eve's turn tomorrow), but we took a look at it to quell our qualms and it doesn't look too unbearably frightening.

OK sorry to change the subject but I can feel my resolve to WRITE fading (seriously guys I'm so tired and I'm doing this for you damnit) and I want to toss off a few halfway-considered ideas or some fuckin thing so guys it is so weird and magnificent to be back in a city. And I don't know why I say back because it's not as though I live in a city the rest of the time, far from it, but something about this trip feels like a jump from city to city or at least from town to town, which makes plenty of sense from a practical perspective, and it's not as though we get anywhere by avoiding people. Forgive me, I know that this is probably the least coherent paragraph I've written yet and that's a distinction that takes some effort to achieve but I really shouldn't have done 35 the other day although honestly I think it's more the time in the sun that's devastating the tiny corner (except it's not really a corner (footnote: does a sphere have corners? What if it's aligned on a 3D graph? Would the corners be those areas furthest from any axis? I know the brain's not spherical--it's the one part of neuro I remember, besides how ”personality“ actually means ”correctable chemical imbalance“.)) OF MY BRAIN that works on logic and reason and other good stuff (none of you assholes better point out that modern neuroscience is obviously a descendant of the Enlightenment and so how can I condemn one but not the other and fuck you I just can it's my blog I'm sorry I'm so tired and punchy I think what's happening is my neurological processes are so slow at this point that my hand can pretty much record them in real time so look out world.

OK anyway so whatever. Let me serenade you in the dulcet seductive tones of a wise world-weary lounge singer. I worry about becoming so lost in the voyage that I can't think critically about it (Ed.: what don't you worry about? And do you call what you do thinking?). Being in a city as hip as Minneapolis/St. Paul (do Minnesotans ever refer to the cities as ”the Twins“?) makes me conscious of trying to be hip, while as recently as Little Falls I was going out of my way to appear vaguely unhip, or at least not aggressively hip (I may be overstating my inherent hipness but I figure I'll err on the side of caution). I'm not sure which version of myself I like, or like to play,more. I'm not sure it matters. The people who fed us on Monday had the largest collection of “Sambo” dolls I've ever seen. I need to see Merce Cunningham's troupe before it dissolves. I need to go to sleep.