not much left to report...
there was the pleasant sunday when lynn and i took a trip back to dunwoody technical institute to venture into the sculpture garden once again. we got there at about midday. there were many more people there, and in fact, there were a couple of weddings going on in the park: one looked jewish, while the other looked like an ethiopian wedding. lynn and i sauntered through the park, taking whimsical pictures of the sculptures. for example, there was one picture taken of lynn "holding" the famous spoon with a cherry. and there was another picture that i took (which came out remarkably well) of lynn "wearing a hat" consisting of the floating hare on a bell... there was one sequestered "sculpture" consisting of a series of benches surrounding an empty space. upon each bench was etched some artistic/philosophical/pseudo-intellectual statement... one of them, i recall, was commenting upon how fortunate we are that our stomachs don't eat us up from the inside, or something to that effect. most (hell, all) had a decidedly dark and cynical take on life. frankly, quite depressing. it reaffirms the impression that modern art (which likes to think of itself as post-modern) is created/performed/whatever by poor, starving individuals who struggle to make a name for themselves by twisting logic and convention in idiosyncratic (and fundamentally negativistic) ways... not unlike myself.
we ventured into the walker art museum, which was across the street from the sculpture garden. we really didn't see the exhibits in the museum (although i remember a few things: like how the walls going to the downstairs bathroom were covered in cartoon eyes; and how there was a big bean bag "plug" hanging over a set of stairs; and there was a white hall with a net containing fragments of glass that looked like ice). we (or rather i) just used the bathroom inside, and perused the museum store for gifts. kinda depressing, actually, how we only took advantage of the museum to take a poop and be commercial consumers, looking for some kooky souvenirs. but whatever.
on the field beside the walker art museum, there was a free lesson in "how to crack a bullwhip." a woman explained that this was part of the "walker open field" program, in which anyone could suggest and direct free activities for the community to participate in. apparently, they wanted people to use the field as a gathering place to celebrate art and life and culture. it was such a cool idea, i regretted that i didn't live in minneapolis. anyway, we did participate (although i made snide remarks about how lynn really didn't need any lessons in cracking whips). i tried to look at bullwhipping as a kind of taijiquan thing (the metaphor has actually been used, to describe how the soft motions can deliver incredible force)- but of course, i kinda wasn't too proficient with the whip, and at one point mildly lashed meself on me own buttocks... (symbolic, in a way). but i (and lynn) had fun.
around the field were beautiful apartments, with full glass windows. would be a nice place to live, if i were stuck in minneapolis, for some reason. in the sky, hovering on the winds, was a lone itinerant hawk/falcon.
lynn and i then ventured the other way, past the basilica, looking for more of "minneapolis city life." we passed the metropolitan university (?) of minneapolis, which was abandoned... we glimpsed a vast park full of water and bridges... a bicycle stand full of yellow bikes that you could rent from the city (they were labeled, "nice ride." i was tempted to make some kind of snide remark...). we were going to have a bite to eat in a local cafe, but when we entered, it was dead silent, even though it was pretty full; no doubt a bunch of SERIOUS students working on laptops. reminiscent of a library. we decided not to eat there, because our conversation, NAY, the crunch made by us eating a salad, would disrupt the atmosphere of the place... we passed a more urbane and rude joint next door, where i overheard the following snippet of a conversation:
dude a: "this one" pointing to a tattoo "i got 'bout half a year ago."
dude b: "where'd you get it?"
dude a: "on my arm."
dude b: "haha. clever."
despairing of finding any place to lose ourselves in (everything was red brick and somewhat empty streets), we headed back...
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i also recall (dimly) going to the mall of america's nickelodeon universe and salty the shark's underwater adventure with the kids on our last full day. with regards to the latter, most of what i saw was pretty standard fare as far as aquariums go: but i did get seriously freaked when i saw how big an alligator snapping turtle was (it is literally as big as a little man, with tremendous jaws; i will never go skinny dipping in a lake EVER)... and i was reminded how disturbing nurse sharks look, even though they are one of the most harmless sharks in the sea.
at nickelodeon universe, i must (with shame) comment on one "ride" that left me humiliated. there is this thing called the "ghostly gangplanks" or something, where (strapped into a harness) you walk up a series of stairs on a kind of metal scaffolding, crossing planks and rope bridges over sheer nothingness and a potential fall... willow wanted to go, so, thinking myself the protecting father, i accompanied her. lo and behold, my daughter is fearless!!! she kept going up and up and up, crossing over bridges and planks that progressively required more and more courage over greater and greater heights... now, i have an innate fear of heights, which i thought i could conquer. but by the time we were on the next to the last level, about five stories up, staring at rope bridges with no supports, i clung to the scaffolding, and told willow that i had enough: "daddy is scared," i admitted, "and i think we have to go down now." seriously, my hands and feet were sweating, and the only thing that kept me going was this steady focus on my breath and this refusal to stray into a dizzying spiral of panic. so we went down the stairs, and i went down a few pegs in the eyes of my child... shameful. i like to tell myself that i was protecting willow from potential trauma, but to be honest, i was only protecting myself... oh well. if i had time and the inclination, i'd work on that. but honestly, when am i ever going to NEED to stand sixty feet over a brink, without a firm footing??? (just watch, i WILL need to, and likely repeatedly, in the next week or so).
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