I have been experiencing a longing of home—my real home, not L.A., not anywhere in California, but back in the good ol’ city, usually under the radar of hipness (…there’s just not that much hype connected to it as, say, NYC or, indeed, the one-dimensional LA or, dare I mention another thing in CA…SF), Chicago. My god. I wish I had explored the crevices and bowels of the city…the knowledge I would have gained if I had never arrived in this land of fire and fakery. So many things that I’ve been missing…if only I was more of a diligent, enthusiastic kid back in my high school days.
I affirmed my thing for Grant Imahara of MythBusters last weekend.
OH. no idealism, please. There have been a few 'Grants' I've been intrigued by in the last couple of weeks...
More retrospecting: I am currently reading The Phantom Tollbooth, a reminder of fourth grade. I was just thinking about what went on in the book so I decided to reread it among all the other texts I’ve gotta read for schools (Oh, Père Goriot, you unfortunate coot). TPT is utterly clever. There are so many puns and interesting uses of metaphors and plays on words & ideas. Me and Milo, folks, we have the same ideals...although I don't think mine will change at the end of the book as I speculate his will.
I'm off to wallow in freakish misery. forever.
i'm no humperdinck, though.