hyrax retweeted
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hyrax retweeted
griselda likes to sit on the window sill in my bedroom most mornings. it’s about 4 feet up so she usually shouts at me to pick her up to get there. once i ignored her long enough and she got up by using the air filter as a step.
hyrax retweeted
I am in awe of how boring hyperindividualism is. Everything revolves around the “self-discovery journeys” of the most insipid people imaginable, doing nothing but gazing into their own skulls and converting resources into shit & piss. The fact that the words “human possibilities” could be made so small and uninspiring as to mean “people having complicated feelings about their genitals” really says it all. What a failure
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There’s this excerpt from “Think and Grow Rich” — infamous self help slop by one hit wonder Napoleon Hill: the purposeless man is disgusting, repellant, everyone can feel it, the man with nowhere to be nothing to do just aimlessly wandering by, idle hands are the devil’s playthings, etc…
Of course this is not a direct quote but the general idea haunts me all the time: the world can tell when you’re lost, when you’re not on any particular mission, it manifests in the way you walk, the way you move, every unsure step, it’s the same thing in writing. It’s gripping when you know where you’re going, when you’ve got a point to all this, but when you don’t— you’re nothing, you’re just making everybody uneasy and wasting people’s time.
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The far western Upper Peninsula of Michigan really seems to me to be its own thing entirely.
It's not Wisconsin, but it's so peripheral from the rest of the UP that it just feels like this fascinating in-between zone. I mean it's literally in a different time zone than the rest of the peninsula.
The people here are also "ethnically Yooper" on a more intense scale than the rest of the UP, which is to say they're visibly of some antique sort of phenotype; haggard, strangely formed, "earth people" (miners) with faces like nicotine-stained cottage cheese.
Each village's downtown is slipshod and ancient. Like some artifact of a period that even in its heyday was rough & tumble and often miserable. Yet there's traffic on the roads, and by my eye, most of the tourists are headed to places like Marquette and the Keeweenaw Peninsula -- it doesn't seem to me that they're sticking around here.
I rolled in this evening and rented a small chalet, took a sauna, cracked a beer on the deck, and listened to the coyotes howl. To me, this feels like the sort of place one might go if they were on the lam, incognito, dodging some malevolent force out in the wider world. When Walter White fled to New Hampshire, he could've just as well fled here.
The forests are pristine and lately showing lots of early fall color; the roads cut through them pin-straight, and you find yourself driving out in desolate areas where there aren't even camps. There's water here, timber, even workable soil in parts -- but it all looks to be fallowing, aging out, rusting. The vitality one sees in other Midwestern locales just doesn't seem to be here for some reason, which is odd, because over in WI, things seemed quite lively...
Very similar to Upstate NY here. Feels a lot like home, just flatter, with more saunas, pasties, and with more blonde-haired "biker" looking types than I'm used to. I love it here. If fate had it that I'd have to stay here from now on, I don't think I'd complain one bit.
