Last night I was looking at the homepage for Lapham's Quarterly. Their new issue, coming out soon, has as its theme "the city." Not to get off the point, but I really do have mixed feelings about cities. Well. I should be specific. I have very mixed feelings about one very big city in particular. New York. Everyone acts like "ooooOOooooooo. New York." And I just want to say that there ARE other cities and other places that are NOT cities besides New York. I get tired of every TV show that wants an air of the cosmopolitan being set there. I get tired of every cop show being set there. I get tired about hearing about its news and about its mayor. And I really, really hate the "Start Spreadin' the News" New York song. With a bottomless loathing. You know, there is a big, wide world outside of New York. And yet, I do like it fine. I like that you can find a newsstand with Italian magazines. I like that it has museums. I like that I could go a thousand times and still always find something new to do, and I like that I've only really been there once so the vast majority of the thousand times are still ahead.
Anyway. Lapham's Quarterly. And they have a bit about the sense of the blasé that tends find root in city dwellers. Funny how I don't find ennui in the woods. Here's Pliny the Younger:
"Oh, sea and shore, veritable secret haunt of the muses, how many thoughts do you suggest to the immagination and dictate to the pen!"
I am feeling homesick for the mountains. The real ones. With granite peaks well above the tree line and glacier-fed lakes at their bases. For the dry air that fortifies the lungs. For family that fortifies the soul.
The Rosebuds - My Punishment for Fighting
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