A Snapshot
Right now, hand to Olympus, you’ll never guess what I’m doing.
I’m proctoring Friday night study hall. Yes, it’s a punishment, of sorts, and yes, I can barely keep myself from turning it into some sort of Donald Sutherland scene of me sitting on the floor telling them all how “we stopped the guns, man.”
I just got back from visiting some junior schools north of the Mason-Dixon, and I didn’t feel like that, then. It really has to do with something… something in the air here. I’ve never confronted regionalism to this extent. Annapolis was humid, and a little slow.
Wait. It wasn’t really slow, so much as, well, provincial. Not unenlightened (it had a ballet), but self-centered, navel-gazing, in a way that you either forsake or succumb to, but never can alter.
In Baltimore, during a discussion of places we had aall lived and places we could return to… it seemed that Annapolis stopped all conversation. There’s simply nothing to be done until the next great financial depression lowers the property values to something within market standards.
Sphere: Related Content
September 18th, 2006 at 10:00 am
Another white buffalo! Miracle III??? You should visit again.
February 4th, 2012 at 1:36 am
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