I am quickly coming to believe that one of my favorite aesthetic experiences at Marquette will be driving past the Al McGuire Center at night, when it's empty. There's low light in the building, and the championship banners hang like two-tone textile idols in a deserted temple.
In the apartment complex north of mine--just up the street--there lives a man who likes peanut butter. He has a huge jar of JIF sitting in his windowsill. His obvious poverty makes him my brother. Perhaps I will high-five him when next I see him.
Cedarburg, where I lived for the last 15 months, diminishes in my rearview mirror. The leaving has been hard, I believe, because for the first time I felt native to a place, rather than merely resident in it. I've lived throughout the Midwest, but no place felt as comfortable as Cedarburg did.
I went to the State Fair tonight, and I saw more than my fair share of the following:
- overweight people
- people in motorized wheelchairs
- tattoos, but not, like, cool tattoos, more like gross, stupid tattoos
- livestock, especially sheep
I also ate a cream puff.
One of the classes I'm teaching is full. No more people can register for it. I'm officially In Demand. I am exhilarated.
Where is Captain Hammer when you need him?
Long live re-establishment!