Minneapolis
Field of View
I realize I’ve been an unapologetic cheerleader for Minneapolis lately, but it shows no signs of abating. Maybe it’s because winter sucks so much here that it makes me appreciate everything more when summer finally arrives.
And it’s especially easy to appreciate Minneapolis in the summer from top floor of the Walker, where I’d never been until I went there for this the other night, and spent most of the time just staring out the window. It isn’t even the best view of the city, but it’s still pretty great.
Posted: June 26th, 2008 under Minneapolis, Images.
Comments: none
This is what the future should look like
Permit me to rhapsodize for a moment.
I was doing my usual weekly ride around the lakes today and headed back home on the Midtown Greenway, getting off at Park Ave and heading downtown, when I got a pinch flat in my back tire. Fortunately, I was only a couple blocks from the Greenway, so I just turned around and walked my bike to the Freewheel that’s part of the brand-new, ridiculously awesome bike center there. Inside is a sleek, spacious bike shop/cafe/depot with lockers and showers for commuters, and bike parking and service and of course plenty of expensive gear to gawk at.
They fixed my flat and put a new, better-sized tire on my wheel in like ten minutes while I had a coffee and watched all manner of riders come and go—and not just the rich white lycra-clad gear fetishists, but mothers and their small children, and old men, and kids from the surrounding neighborhoods, pouring into the place to get their bikes serviced or just look around.
So many things are wrong and unfair right now, it’s reassuring when something works the way it’s supposed to, if not better. Sitting in that place, buffeted by friendly service, high ceilings, clean lines, right angles, and air-conditioned convenience, I felt like I was seeing into the future—in a good way, for once.
I nudged my bike back out onto the Greenway (itself a marvel) and rode home swelling with sustainable-transportation-infrastructure goodwill. Between that and Dosh, I’m really proud of my adopted hometown right now.
Posted: June 18th, 2008 under Minneapolis, Images.
Comments: 3
That Finger on Your Temple is the Barrel of My Raygun
(Last Monday I had the rare opportunity to see Stars of the Lid perform live. Because I apparently can’t let a beautiful musical moment stand on its own without documenting it exhaustively, I came home and wrote this review.)
During the first true spring rain of the season, an eclectic array of people—hipsters, the art crowd, older classical-music aficionados, season-ticket holders, and everyone in between—crammed themselves into the tiny seats at the Southern Theater, not quite sure what to expect from the Wordless Music Series‘ Minneapolis stopover. While the artists currently showcased in the series do happen to traffic in instrumental music, the “wordless” component of the name probably refers more to the eschewal of genre tags as outlined in the series’ mission statement: “The various boundaries and genre distinctions segregating music today … are in an artificial construction in need of dismantling.”
Posted: April 28th, 2008 under Minneapolis, Concerts, Music.
Comments: 1
Inner child pose
TO: The University of Minnesota Recreation Center (Minneapolis Campus)
FROM: Jake Mohan
RE: Yoga music
Dear sirs and/or madams,
For a while now, I have been happily availing myself of the many diverse group fitness classes offered, for a nominal fee, to UMN faculty, staff, and students at the UMNRC(MC). I am especially fond of the yoga classes, and they have proven instrumental in staving off my “wintertime blues”—or as I’ve taken to calling it, my Remorseless Crushing Pall of Seasonally-Induced Despair (2008 Edition).
I have a “bone” to “pick,” however, with one admittedly minor component of one class, the “Yoga Flow” section offered every Monday at noon. My problem is not with the apparent shortage of foam “helper” blocks, nor the startling martial bellows emitting from the self-defense class in the adjoining room, nor the unfortunate personal groin duress occasionally resulting from hastily-executed Baddha Konasana (”Cobbler’s”) poses.
Rather, this letter concerns a specific moment during this most recent Monday’s class (which class, I cannot emphasize enough, is taught by a very capable and dulcet-voiced and petite and glimmery-eyed and sylphlike instructor, whose instructions are always clear and encouraging and whose backward kicks into the Adho Mukha Svanasana [”Downward Facing Dog”] pose seem to defy the laws of physics [namely gravity], so that I am hard-pressed to wrest my eyes away from the front of the room during such moments [and also all other moments]).
I realize that by giving your instructors a generous degree of “wiggle room” with their instruction, you have probably also allowed them a “wide berth” in their selection of the music accompanying our yoga practice. To wit, I have practiced yoga at the UMNRC(MC) against a sonic backdrop ranging from relative silence (save the aforementioned karate hollers), to prerecorded Tibetan singing bowls, to pleasingly generic ambient music, to shitty watered-down New Age trip-hop pablum that makes Deep Forest sound like goddamn Shostakovich. This “wide array” of musical accompaniment resulting from the ample “creative control” left to the instructors was never problematic—until Monday’s class.
Surprisingly, my “beef” with the music playing during Monday’s class arises not from any dislike toward the song in question; quite the contrary. You see, I was in the midst of the Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (”Bridge”) pose—a challenging maneuver even under the best of circumstances—when from the aforementioned sylphlike instructor’s iPod hooked up to the room’s stereo system there emerged the unmistakable opening cello figures of Badly Drawn Boy’s masterfully evocative ballad, “The Shining”.
Perhaps our instructor intended her inclusion of this song in her playlist to be soothing, but for me, the inevitable associations the song has with my Alcoholic Iowa City Winter Spent Underemployed and Lonely (2001 Edition) brought forth an emotional torrent of emotionally freighted emotions for me, so that I found my eyes welling with tears, and not just because the position to which our practice was now progressing, the strenuous Eryck Estradanassana (”Middlewise-Facing Tamarind”) pose, was causing my quadriceps to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns.
The episode was taxing and a bit harrowing, but ultimately, I admit, transformative. Consequently, I do not wish this letter to be construed as a complaint so much as a very reasonable request: that all yoga instructors submit a playlist of the songs they will be using in each day’s yoga practice, in advance and directly to me, at the email address provided. Should I find any of the songs disagreeable, I will be more than happy to “swap out” some selections of my own. In fact, I am willing to provide, free of charge, entire playlists I have curated myself, all encoded to crystal-clear 128-bit mp3 format, featuring songs which are extremely conducive to a satisfying yoga experience, as they are made up primarily of GarageBand compositions I’ve recorded at home under my ambient music pseudonym, Relaxative.
I trust you will be in contact with me very soon about this exciting opportunity for the entire UMNRC(MC) yoga community.
Namaste, etc,
Jake “Chaturanga Dandasana” Mohan
Posted: February 27th, 2008 under Minneapolis.
Comments: 9
The day after tomorrow
Voicemail from Emily:
“I think you have class but I have the most amazing thing you have to see. Over at Washington Avenue and, like, 11th Avenue South, by Grumpy’s and the Loft—you have to get down here. And bring your camera; it would be perfect for your blog. A building burned down yesterday, and they put out the fire, but the water they used is, like, all frozen into crazy icicles. And it looks so strange. It reminds me of that terrible movie from a few years ago where New York is all frozen, and it’s got someone young-looking like Tobey Maguire—no, Jake Gyllenhaal. But it looks like that. So you should get down here as soon as you can. Call me. Bye.”
Posted: February 22nd, 2008 under Minneapolis, Images.
Comments: 4
Caption contest
Philip and Emily and I got the ball rolling the other day, on the bus:
“At least there’s a U.”
“You get what you pay for, I guess.”
“Poor Doug.”
Posted: February 7th, 2008 under Minneapolis, Images.
Comments: 7
Insomnia
Sunrise: 7:16 a.m.
Temp: 39° F
Wind: SE @ 7mph
Humidity: 89%
Soundtrack: Odd Nosdam, “Up In Flames”
Milk: $3.39/gallon
Posted: November 19th, 2007 under Minneapolis, Images, Music.
Comments: 2
This is where I live, part 4
End times
August was hardly an auspicious month in Minneapolis or Minnesota. A series of seemingly random misfortunes befell our fair city, and while most reasonable people are quick to dismiss conspiracy theories that these incidents are part of some larger, possibly sinister design, I must admit that I cannot join their ranks as readily as I once presumed. Before you dismiss my own speculation as the wild ravings of a graduate student with too much time on his hands simply because such descriptors are apt, please hear me out. For when taken together, these events—some public, others private, but all of them undeniably horrible and tragic—have cast an ominous pall over these normally serene late summer days.
Behold:
August 1: The I-35 bridge spanning the Mississippi River collapses near downtown Minneapolis, killing thirteen people and injuring approximately one hundred.
August 2: Despite the bridge emergency, the Republican National Committee forges ahead with its planning for the 2008 GOP Convention, holding a strategy session in downtown Minneapolis over the next several days. Laura Bush is in attendance.
August 7: My iPod experiences an error and factory settings must be restored, erasing all its music. I must endure the rest of my two-week vacation in the British Isles with only my laptop’s meager iTunes library to provide me with music.
August 19: Heavy rains lead to flooding in southeastern Minnesota. Five people die while trapped in their vehicles.
August 22: I discover a hole in one of my favorite shirts from the Banana Republic.
August 25: The 400 Bar is temporarily closed after bricks in its exterior wall crumble and collapse onto the sidewalk.
August 27: An innocent public servant who happens to enjoy a “wide stance” while using public restrooms is crucified in a lurid media uproar after his June arrest at the Minneapolis-St Paul Airport.
August 30: My car’s power steering malfunctions.
August 31: A Critical Mass bike ride is disrupted by Minneapolis police, who subdue several riders with pepper spray and make a number of arrests.
August 31: I suffer from a mild a headache. One of my shoelaces breaks.
You heard it here first. The apocalypse is nigh.
Posted: September 3rd, 2007 under Minneapolis, General.
Comments: 3
Fair is fair
Yesterday I finally attended the amazing wonder of wonderment that is the Minnesota State Fair. I anticipated that I would be enjoying it ironically, but I also enjoyed a lot of things pretty sincerely. I ate cotton candy, a caramel apple, shaved ice, a snow cone, pizza, cheese curds, and a deep-fried candy bar. I said “This is America” a lot. I discovered that I’ve officially outgrown rides that go upside down.
Along the way I experienced games of skill, gondola rides, a visit to the top of the Space Needle, animals having babies, all the milk you can drink for a dollar, games requiring skill, a lot of overweight people, seed-art, skill-assessment games, a disappointing freak show, several cover bands, the Republican and Democratic headquarters, a relaxing soujourn in the Senior Center, and games of skill AT WHICH I TOTALLY WON A CURIOUS GEORGE PLUSH DOLL. YES.
Posted: August 27th, 2007 under Minneapolis, Images.
Comments: 3
Fuck that, this is America.
I’m back in the USA and back in Minneapolis. It’s raining a lot and the whole town looks more or less like this:
It’s still good to be back, though. I missed our diverse array of energy drinks.
Posted: August 19th, 2007 under Minneapolis, Images.
Comments: none
I’m okay
This was going to be a post about how I’m at O’Hare, about to get on a flight to England for a two-week vacation, and I was going to make some hilarious British-themed jokes.
Instead, it’s a post about how I’m still at O’Hare, about to get on a flight to England for a two-week vacation, and was therefore not driving across this bridge instead.
So, I’m okay, if a little rattled.
See you in the UK.
Posted: August 1st, 2007 under Minneapolis, General.
Comments: 12
Somebody’s mother
Yesterday I took my cat to the cat doctor (a place called—I am not kidding—the Kitty Klinic) for her annual checkup/vaccination/poop analysis. Always a good time.
While I was waiting to check in, an older woman, probably around seventy or so, was trying to pay for a bag of cat food with her debit card. The card was declined, and after a couple more unsuccessful swipes, she was getting visibly distressed. This had never happened before, she said. She was sure there was money on it, she said. The receptionist dialed the customer service number on the back of the card and handed the receiver to the woman, but after listening to the automated menu for a minute or so she handed the receiver back, befuddled, because she “couldn’t get ahold of anyone.” She surmised that perhaps a thief had gotten into her account. “They can do that with computers these days.” This is when I felt my stomach starting to tighten.
The receptionist offered to try calling again and navigating the menu. While I am usually pretty cynical about the concept of so-called Minnesota Nice—which is usually closer to Minnesota Meddlesome, or Minnesota Smug, or Minnesota Passive-Aggressive—I was glad to see it employed in this case. For a split second, I even considered volunteering the strategy that many people swear by in automated caller-menu situations, which is of course to not press any buttons until finally the system defaults to an actual human being on the line, but because I seem to be hardwired toward Minding My Own Business under even the most innocuous circumstances, and because I am still, most of the time, the shy kid afraid to talk to strangers, I kept my mouth shut.
What happened next made me wish I had spoken up, or done something. “I feel like I’m going to cry,” the woman said. She declined the receptionist’s offer for any further help. “I think I should just go home,” she said.
I should mention here that the one trope to which I have the least resistance—in film, literature, or life—is that of the Helpless/Lonely Older Woman/Mother Who Is A Victim Of The System. Perhaps because I inevitably imagine my own mother in some variant of this situation, I always find it excruciating. This is why Ellen Burstyn’s arc in Requiem For A Dream was far more unbearable for me than any prostitution/imprisonment/heroin-related-amputation scenarios.
So the woman paid for the cat food with cash and left the Kitty Klinic, and the receptionist and I exchanged crinkly-faced “isn’t that a shame” expressions. I watched her cross the street, and this is where the death blow came: she opened up an umbrella. Not because it was raining, but for protection from the sun. I don’t know why, and I realize it makes me sound like an idiot, but it was this final element made me want to cry and/or punch myself in the face.
I’d like to think she had a short walk home, and then called her adult son, who lives in town or maybe in the suburbs, and who dropped everything at the office and got on the phone with the credit card company and straightened the whole thing out and then after work came right over and made dinner and watched “Men In Trees” with her.
That’s what I hope, anyway. But then, I’m a total mama’s boy, and proud of it.
On the upside, I got a microchip put in my cat’s neck. OMG LOL LASERS THE FUTURE ETC
Posted: July 27th, 2007 under Minneapolis, General.
Comments: 10