Generally, after making a post on this blog I just walk away from it. That’s what this is for, to get the thoughts out of my head and into the world. But I have noticed a recent negativity in my posts and though I should lighten things up a bit.
I‘ve been pretty hard on myself this last month as the editorial process on the books has not gone at all the way I planned. Massive timeline overruns. Delay after delay after delay; the whole process has been frustrating and I am terribly susceptible to negative influences in life.
Hence the doom and gloom of the new year so far.
But then something happens. Something that would ordinarily just fly under the radar. The tiniest of thing occurs and suddenly I’m left quizzically scratching my head going, “How did I end up here?”
Due to the transitory nature of my life (which is a long drawn out story, that I’m sure someday will come out in it’s entirety, but not today) I have lived in a couple of really interesting places in my life and none that has made me more physically uncomfortable than where I live now: Minneapolis, Minnesota.
I have become an old man beneath the weight of her weather and climate shifts. A hermit from the long nights and short days that leave me questioning the days I wasted in my youth by staying up all night and avoiding the glare of the glorious sun.
Minnesota is harsh mistress. She takes no guff. It’s either step up, figure it out, or freeze and god do I hate her for it.
On the other hand, she is an intensely loving partner.
In her warm times, when the snow finally recedes and the sun gently touches your face, Minnesota loves like no other. Strange days occur as art entranced magicians suddenly appear like creatures in a mythical forest. Masters of music and prose, paint and stone, film and photography: this town is filled with them. (They still exist in the frigid darkness but you must know their hidden burrows and have the will to reach them. I have neither.)
Some days it feels like you cannot escape the creativity but who is going to complain about that? It’s like saying, “Yea, Mozart lives down the street but I hate that guy. He makes too much noise on his harpsichord…”
It’s not till the sun finally wipes free the icicles from my beard and these pale freckled arms can come out to play, that I remember such things. When I manage to get away from the keyboard for a game night at Tower Games or see a friend perform in some local artistic endeavor, I really do realize how lucky I am to live here.
This is not to say, if given the chance, I wouldn’t bolt for another warmer locale with a delectably hedonistic, art obsessed scene. I am too transitory in nature to not want the adventure of another creatively powerful city under my belt (i.e. Austin, San Diego, or Long Beach look out).
But for right now, where I’m at is pretty good. Yeah, the weather sucks but the company is spectacular….
(For those wondering, the “tiny thing” was getting added to a twitter list of Local creative folks in the Twin Cities. Never been a local artist before…I kinda like it.)