Gosling on a Motorcycle at the Uptown. Hey girl, wanna get some designer shoes and eat at the new Origami before we realize that my platinum hairdo in this movie really is a non-punk salon shade of honey blond?
But I really don’t think kids should be driving, especially if their spelling is that atrocious!
Tonight I was stopped while a train passed for ten minutes. Most of the train passed in front of me slowly, and then most of the train went in reverse, slowly, and then the train stopped, and then the train passed in front of me again, quickly, until finally the railroad crossing was lifted.
On the train was lumber, it seemed, one of the many parts of the production process that I know nothing about. This train can waste ten minutes of my day, just like some contrived website with production processes I know everything about. I am more fundamentally curious about the train than the website, but still I know nothing about the U.S. commercial rail system and I spend time, every day, on websites I don’t care about. You might say that when I spend time on those websites, that I’m derailing.
My old house, about a mile farther north from my apartment now, was right next to the train yard. The apartment would often shake or I’d be awakened by booms and train horns. I don’t know what kinds of products when into that train yard. What kinds of hobos went into that train yard. I have said that I love the trains in my neighborhood because they make me feel connected. I do not know what is on the trains but they make me feel connected. Unlike the commuter rail lines out east, these trains move slowly and darkly, over bridges and through neighborhoods. They are part of the landscape but not a part of life. And I say they make me feel connected.
On my commute home every day, I drive over a set of train tracks that has no railroad crossing signs. There is only a stop sign, and you can’t really see what’s on the tracks until you are almost through the stop sign. Sometimes trains go over this track and I have to stop while they cross in front of me, with nothing but a stop sign and some negative space between me and the train. How are there train crossings without warning signs and barriers? How could this happen?
The weekend was bookended by parties, one of which I threw, and it was lovely. But it was a hard weekend. You know. It was the kind of hard weekend I barely talked about with anyone. I do not think that I want to talk. I don’t even know if I want to know more about the trains, but here is the train that I saw.
"There’s a mathematical clarity in Snow Emergency parking. Like a four-way stop sign, it requires prior knowledge and a few seconds to contemplate where you are and where you need to be in a little while, and strict obedience to the system is required for it to work properly."
Meditations in a Snow Emergency from two winters past. Relevant tonight!
Blind Prophet: Krampus and Perchta: Trü Love and Terror in The Frozen North.
For the past four years, I’ve been doing a Christmas toy and book drive, where I take donations from people on the internet, coworkers, and family members, and round up a bunch of people to go haul toys and books on a freezing day in December in Minneapolis on bicycles. In the past few…
Good, fun cause in Minneapolis and beyond. Consider donating or joining. I’m excited that I’ll be able to contribute this year.
But first the Hooters went, then the arcade. Eventually the Applebee’s and the Hard Rock and the burrito vendor and the Cold Stone and the Mrs. Fields all departed, leaving the AMC theater to singlehandedly represent the indoor shopping center with its red decor, long ago chosen by brand specialists to mimic Hollywood glamour.
The fanfare at Hennepin and Lagoon began as Ira Glass and Mike Birbiglia entered to premier the latter’s new film. Exclusive tickets were sold only to MPR members. They entered to the 2012 definition of movie theater glamour: a single screen with a digital projector, ample legroom, pre-assigned seating, restored art deco-era murals, and a beer-and-wine license. A far cry from its semi-dingy predecessor, the Uptown’s insides had been gutted, and a theater that in 2011 could hold more than 800 cinephiles had been reduced in a matter of months to 357 plush leather armchairs with very nice cupholders. Its grand marquee remained, the potential canvas for smartass underpaid employees to Hennepin Avenue, but three films into its run, there have been no jokes, not about The Master or Perks of Being a Wallflower— both of which are such easy targets.
In the first Successes and Failures essay, I am writing about movie theaters in Minneapolis. It will be ready this weekend or soon thereafter. Do you want to read it? Join here.
EDIT: I did not take this photo and spent all night feeling guilty that I hadn’t credited it. It is from here. Sorry, photographer.
Minneapolis.
Can I just walk in to the Heartland Fall Forum and see Jami Attenberg? I work in publishing, sort of.
Zinefest this year was kinda exactly the same as last year, and I’d love to see the next generation of zinesters doing new stuff. However, I did get some badass zines from the talented Mark Ehling, the new issue of C.L.A.P., a copy of the very neat Wopozi and this badass print of Lucy Moran (this and more Twin Peaks prints here).
What do you think sexy means in this context?
