2003-01-04

Today was a magical day. I know that I risk sounding silly saying something like that, but it really was. The air was crisp and clean under a lovely clear sky. Sounds carried, but only deliberate ones, the standard noises of an active city didn�t intrude. I was walking back from Starbucks this afternoon, and something disturbed a flock of pigeons, they suddenly just took flight from the power lines on which they had nested. It was inexplicably beautiful, and I felt like Ricky Fitts , filming a white plastic bag.

It was days like today that confirms I belong in an urban setting. I�ve experienced nature. Camping in Yosemite as child. The family cabins, one in Tahoe, the other near Yellowstone. A school trip to Zion National Park. I�ve seen nature�s beauty. But it doesn�t compare to the mad rush of thousands of people living within mere feet of each other. The hum and bustle of an active city are electric and fortifying. I would dislike the see a Starbucks in the lodge near Old Faithful. It would jar the senses and encroach upon the natural order. To each it�s place. Much like seeing a moose in the park, or boiling water erupting next to a bus stop. Nature should not be safe. Neither should cities. To a degree. They should each be allowed to make their indelible mark upon our souls.

Sorry if I got a touch, whatever that is up there. I spent the day idle and free and that always puts me in an introspective mood. I appreciate urban environments, the transit systems and architecture styles, like other people love the wilds of the untamed land. I would be a vegetarian if I had to fend for myself. A disastrous hunting trip with my father as a child confirms this. My talents lay in a different scheme of survival, or so I like to imagine. It�s an often used analogy, so I won�t go there. Mainly because while I can spout trite rhetoric about the urban jungle all night, I�ve managed to successfully kill the time I had before meeting friends downtown for beers and pretentious jazz clubbing.

previous � next � older

Email Notes Guestbook

Profile