It's a bit early in my time here to claim that I know Kansas City. Even after my three months, Istill won't truly know the city and what makes its heart beat. But first impressions are lasting, and here's mine:
wake of hills-Old Glory-brick-sticky heat-fluffy clouds-"did you hear a gunshot?-weary-history-money-freeways-gentle people-harsh city-Jack Stack BBQ-Target-big rain- lightening-Nickle Creek/Tracy Chapman/Eric Clapton-new hope-white walls-tanktops
Chelsea and I had left Cheyenne, Wyoming seven hours earlier. The Sheep Jeep had pulled us through miles upon miles of flat country in Nebraska and Iowa. So when we entered Missouri, and little grassy bubbles began appearing in the fields, we were sure it was some of the most lovely country we had seen.
Our path lead us to the old heart of Kansas City. Chipped and moldy brick buildings gathered around the streets, while large trees towered between them. In all their old glory they were beauitful! Until, that is, we arrived at our destination. My apartment.
Yes, it had wood floors, white walls, and tall windows like the pictures had promised. But the hall floors hadn't been swept since the 1950's, the only thing keeping the grass short was the early point in spring, and the windows appeared as though they were held in by super-glue. The maintenance man appeared through a crowded alley, to unlock the apartment and show us our room. He wore a 5-o'clock shadow, barefeet, and a muscle-t stretched over his beer belly. When showing us our room, he worked to unlock a door that had a "Beware of Dog" sign hanging on it, until his girl-friend explained to him that that wasn't the right door.
Chelsea had told me, before agreeing to accompany me on my trip, that I had better have a place figured out before we arrived. She had been through the whole speed apartment dating thing twice before, and was not interested in round III. Now all she could say was, "I knew this was going to happen." And all I could say was, "I had a place... the pictures were nice."
After a lot of discussion fixed around those two sentences, we found a hotel.
The next morning, Chelsea found a nice place on the other end of the city, a country club of sorts. I signed the lease while still rebounding from the original place. I'm now severely tempted to go out and buy a fishing rod at the new Bass Pro shop down the road -how else am I to justify my four stocked fishing ponds?
My suburbia. I can't help but think of it as some sort of people farm -we're all quite organized in our little stalls.
My butterfly bush just beyond the railing of my little patio