After hijacking my own blog with some civic discussions and brief peeks into how money controls even the smallest governmental bodies here in America, I wanted to get back to my roots and look at a few photographs Jennifer took on a recent trip to Boston and Providence.
Statue in downtown Boston. In the first one it looks like the lady is crying out in pain at the bird pooping in her eye socket, or maybe even tilting her head back in an orgiastic gasp of pleasure. The next one looks like Statue’s been caught reveling in the streams of bird shit and has gotten all defensive about the intrusion of privacy. But after a moment I realized it’s probably two different statues, because how could a statue lower its head, change its expression and maybe even switch its gender?
Bikers in Boston Common. Yesterday I saw a biker on 43rd in Kansas City near Brainblow Blvd. almost get run off the road by an aggressive lane-switching car. Shit like that makes me want to start a biker vigilante campaign — follow people like that driver home and, I don’t know, talk to them about safe driving + sharing the road. It’s a slow process but I think the more bikers you see on the road the more drivers will learn to live with it and even think about taking part themselves. In the meantime, honk if you’re an asshole.
A nice image from our hurricane party at the Hollenbecks’ in Providence, Rhode Island, the night Irene blew through town in its weakened but still blustery state. Providence was spared damage beyond a lot of downed limbs and power lines, but our power went out at 9 that morning and for a while sitting in bed listening to the gusts of wind looking out the window at the bending trees and swinging power lines there was a brief sense of oh man here it comes. The night before I sat at the computer and listened to this song and earlier that day Brian and his friends in the Fox Point Rounders finished their bluegrass set in a flurry with a rousing rendition of “Goodnight Irene” while people scattered from the farmer’s market to avoid the sudden downpour. We drank a lot of dark ‘n’ stormies over the weekend, which is dark rum and Gosling’s ginger beer garnished with lime. And we lit a lot of candles. As a wise hurricane survivor once said: You never know how many candles you have until a hurricane hits and you start looking in closets and drawers and find out you have a lot candles.
The rest of the photos Jenn took in Boston and Providence are here. Stop back next week for more fresh material here on the modern day lucubrations.
lucas wetzel 
My BIL and his family are avid cyclists who own and operate a bike shop. For a cyclist to have a sign like that on his backpack is begging for trouble. Oh yes, some drivers are crazy. Certifiably. No need to tempt them.
On a completely different note, I’m sorry you are no longer blogging about Woodside Village. I doubt anyone will start a blog just for that one issue. I’m grateful you took it on at all. Thank you.
Good point about the biker sign. It is kind of a red cape. When it comes to Woodside Villiage, I tried to make it clear that I’m not living there anymore and that it’s up to residents to start a forum for conversation — a message board or forum if not a full-blown blog. Tony of Tonyskansascity.com is blogging about it a bit, though it would be nice if someone at the Star would look into it. For that to happen there would probably have to be a coordinated protest of some kind. Honestly I find the whole situation pretty frustrating. You’ve got a development team and city council who seem ready to pull the trigger on this thing no matter how much public support it lacks. Do most people here really think this is a great time to dig up the city and build hundreds of luxury condos? I strongly doubt it, but I get the feeling this is being rammed through no matter what.