“Words form the thread on which we sting our experiences.” – Aldous Huxley
I’m headed home – STLMOUSA – to experience other things in another place for the merry month of May.
Contemplative composting of these strings of words with surely continue, but alas, posting may not until I return to the Basque Country. We shall see.
Perhaps between Imo’s pizza, toasted ravioli, and the best baseball + brothers + microbrews on Earth, I’ll reblog elsewhere… check out Biscay Dossier on Tumblr for some lighter fare.
I will miss ye.
Dear there, from here, it’s a pleasure.
This would be the message that breaks the seal.
I am a permanent visitor here, a grateful resident, a transplant, a new local. Still, I find all these words, along with ‘expatriate’ and ‘immigrant’ problematic; I am too new to this place to know where I stand for sure. I always will be. I carry Missouri and misery with me; the remedy for which is to Basque in Reflected Glory (BIRGing explained) as much as my conscience will allow. I expect that my sentiments will often spill forth as unrefined and ignorantly privileged, but I’ll do my damnedest.
I am a product of the middle west, the middle class, of middle America. What follows is a dossier (three syllables, rhymes with ‘Ray’) of perspectives and participations in a place that resembles, in grit and grumbling and grace, Middle Earth. At least to mine eyes, and the middle brow sights they’ve seen.