the majority of the work was mowing, slight engine repair, and sorting our a few things left from his mother, who sadly passed away almost a year ago. but what struck me was the nearby town, jordan. i’ve always become very depressed when in, or even passing through, rural america. i haven’t pinned down the specific reason, but here are a few of the traits that get to me:

• no shade – a mystery to me, all the architecture spreads out instead of going up.
• everyone seems to be driving – it’s less than a mile across town. ride a bike.
• republicans – self explanatory

those are far from the root of the problem, but they’re bothersome nonetheless. i can’t really say what gets to me about small towns. i feel trapped, sorry for the citizens, depressed in general. however, it was when we arrived at the farm that i was put at ease. the stillness of nothing but land seemed a much better fit than the stillness of urban sprawl.

i’ve noticed that of myself during the past few years; i need everything or nothing, none of this in between nonsense. when trekking through the bwca, my friends and i will sometimes go for days without seeing another person let alone any sign of humans and the only place that i feel as at home than that is downtown, biking on nicollet ave, dodging pedestrians and getting the one-up on buses.

if you’re going to do it, do it. i hate to think that this is part of the archetypal american big-star philosophy of monster trucks and big macs, though i suppose i differ in that everything i do is to hopefully better myself in some capacity. and perhaps that’s all i can and should do; work on myself and let the rest of the world sort itself out. because if the universe has any sense of humor at all, their is a kid in ipswitch, sd blogging about how boring state parks are in comparison to how brooding the city is.