“Will it play in Peoria?” Ever since I left the heart of Illinois, this phrase has been a constant rejoinder when I divulge my hometown to new acquaintances. Strangely enough, during my morning commute from Santa Fe to Los Alamos a few months ago, my own car radio reminded me that not even the sparsely populated mountains of Northern New Mexico can insulate me from that famous idiom:
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Cities bereft of a centralizing celebrity culture (i.e. cities that are not Los Angeles or New York) take an unusual pride in the famous people who were born in, grew up in, or once passed through them. Somehow a half-interesting bit of trivia about a movie star’s origin takes on more significance than it probably should.… Read More
“This city is very… neighborhood-y,” a relative explained recently while driving us around Portland, where we were spending Memorial Day weekend. “People here are very reluctant to travel just a few miles for anything.” In car-centric Detroit, where this relative is from, that’s not so much the case, so this was novel to her.… Read More
I saw a band play the other night, enjoyed it, and as I’m wont to do when I enjoy a band live, I moseyed over to the band’s “merch” booth, ready to happily part with some hard-earned cash. (By the way, the band was Columbus’ Psychic Wheels, whose sound, if I were a music critic, I would resort to a facile “Buzzcocks meet Beat Happening” description in an attempt to communicate their awesomeness.) You can usually tell how good or bad a band is by a glance at their “merch” booth.… Read More
Yes, this is several months old, but I’m still mad about it:
Yes, happy. Life in Des Moines, and Iowa in general, is pretty sweet. I have a loft apartment in a converted warehouse (rent is $1,200, eat your heart out) that overlooks the home of the Class AAA Iowa Cubs.
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