Whitewater Rafting!
(Lower Youghigheny River, class III)
On a scale of one to ten I rate this: "Awesome." As nerdy as I am, real adrenaline is unparalleled, all digital challengers not withstanding. I fell out twice (once because we rammed the boat in front of us for shits and giggles, and I bounced out on impact) and can tell you that even in late July, river water is cold -My glasses didn't wash off because I had the forethought to tie them on.
Nonetheless, I'm of the belief that I'm good at rafting because I'm naturally lazy, odd as it may seem. My body doesn't wish to perform any movements that are more work than necessary, and so I paddle efficiently and well. Rafting is an unexpected combination of wild sensation and quick, coordinated discipline (mostly involving being shouted at like a galley slave).
Other notes: consigned to a suburbanish "campground" complete with pool, arcade, and trailer park. Wet sleeping bag + insects + night-time temperatures in the 50's = shivering ick. But nothing beats s'mores and setting things on fire. I toasted the whole shebang instead of just the marshmallow and everyone thought I was a genius.
-Have you ever stood under a waterfall in a torrential downpour? The world is gray and silver and pounding and wet.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
Visited Fallingwater!
Fallingwater is the Mona Lisa of residential houses, if you haven't heard of it. I suppose not everyone's mom is a structural engineer. She actually complains about its structural flaws, so don't believe that it's the praise that's informed me. I find myself to be an ardent fan of beauty. Unfortunately, sometimes beautiful things come without air conditioning. I don't know that I'd want to live in a 30's house that despite everything is somehow showing its age. Nothing in particular, just the moldering scent of oldness.
The interior of the house is vastly underrated, the way you flow like liquid from room to room, from inside to outside and outside to in, bed to terrace, steps to water, cavern to light. Architecturally and philosophically, the artificial thing we call a "room" does not exist. After all, the outside of a house, beautiful as it were, graces postcards. The inside of the house though, is where you live.
Fallingwater is the Mona Lisa of residential houses, if you haven't heard of it. I suppose not everyone's mom is a structural engineer. She actually complains about its structural flaws, so don't believe that it's the praise that's informed me. I find myself to be an ardent fan of beauty. Unfortunately, sometimes beautiful things come without air conditioning. I don't know that I'd want to live in a 30's house that despite everything is somehow showing its age. Nothing in particular, just the moldering scent of oldness.
The interior of the house is vastly underrated, the way you flow like liquid from room to room, from inside to outside and outside to in, bed to terrace, steps to water, cavern to light. Architecturally and philosophically, the artificial thing we call a "room" does not exist. After all, the outside of a house, beautiful as it were, graces postcards. The inside of the house though, is where you live.
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