|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
 |
ET with tits? Not sure what to make of modern sculpture sometimes. This space alien thingy showed up on Fort Wayne's Calhoun Street back in the early '80s when it was temporarily turned into one of those failed pedestrian malls, a distinctly midwestern phenomenon that never made any particular sense. In my college years, a friend and I put a choir robe on this sculpture. It remained for weeks, a testament to the high volume of pedestrian traffic there. By contrast, at the Catholic cathedral nearby, the lacy panties we placed in the extended hand of Jesus were gone the next morning.
|
|
| One Barenekkid Plaza. Originally planned with tile glued all over it, Fort Wayne's Summit Square went through multiple contractors and cost overruns. And leaked like a sieve the first few years until it occurred to someone they'd better put a sealant on the porous, unfinished exterior. Even at that time those responsible were still trying to spin it as the intended design.
|
 |
|
 |
Pyro's paradise. A wood-burning barbecue and two big bonfire pits! I love my new house, even if it's here in the slow lane of civilization. Or on the berm, actually. Being unincorporated, we shit in the river and torch things to our heart's content. It doesn't harm the land half as much as development, but try telling that to the taupe vinyl totalitarians when they're surrounding your moat and forcing their sterile, flat, treeless world view upon you. The day's fast approachingalong with sewer lines and fiber optic for everyone! So much for free living.
|
|
04/29/05.
Fort-ified.
This week someone asked whether I miss Chicago. I hadn't thought about it. I haven't had the time.
Looks like I've become a full citizen of the woodland back country. Even have a neighbor who's an Elvis memorabilia collector and conspiracy theorist who's been bringing my mail up the lane as an excuse to pester me when I've got better things to do.
The sense of decorum one comes to know in city life simply doesn't exist here. Occasionally children run in and out and don't really seem to know better either. You'd think they learned their manners watching barnyard animals. Oh, duh.
The muse is down for the count tonight.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|