When we last left off, I was just making it out of Illinois, where tornadoes had again unsettled what would have been a peaceful night of camping. Such as it was, I decided to finally get my night of camping in Indiana.
In the grand scheme, Indiana will be forgotten as little more than a four hour drive, but my night next to a lake was good camping. What's in Indiana, you ask? Well, NASCAR has to find support somewhere and we'll just leave it at that. The next day, not realizing I had entered into my final time change, I moved on toward Columbus, Ohio, where college chums Brad and Cami now compose pedantic papers on literary subjects while studying lit at OSU proper — opposed, of course, to OSU minor, that of the Beavers.
The Freemans hold a nice little apartment — old plumbing, wood floors, fireplace, etc. — just off campus. It's a lovely place and the conversation with old friends is certainly welcome after the last few weeks of relative loneliness. Much to my surprise, their social circle consists of the types who get the same geeky joy out of rhetoric I do, leading to some good jokes — if they can be called jokes — about Derrida's thoughts on the L.A. Lakers triangle offense.
Brad gave me a tour of the city yesterday. A huge campus, never ending High Street and the life-more-ordinary downtown finacial and government districts.We both complained of the humidity, which today sits right at 50 percent. Oregon's climate, we lament it, along with cheese, beer, pizza and other such Pacific Northwest lifestyle choices. Things here are beautiful — historic Victorian brickwork, blue skies and a college atmosphere.
After Indian food with some grad school friends, we watched game one of the NBA finals. Brad and I rooting for Boston on the "anyone but L.A." logic line familiar to most Pacific Northwesters. Much to the chagrin of Brad's friend Chris, an L.A. native, Boston pulled it off. It was during the game that long conversations about movies spun off to the afore mentioned Derrida analysis of basketball strategy. Nerds and sports do mix, turns out.
Today, more bumming around in Columbus and perhaps a movie for the central air. Later on, more introductions to Columbus literary types, and perhaps one of the strictly rhetorical persuasion, a pitch to consider a second OSU for my future, I suppose.
Oh Andew, if only you could have experienced the OSU campus back in the golden olden days when grime and street punks lined the endless High Street of Debauchery and underage drinking. You are in my old stomping ground, friend, but it’s all been covered over with shiney weird colorful crap. bummer. hey give my friend Damyan a call if you wanna drink beer out in the woods. he has a baby deer now. his number is 740 599 6468. and thanks for the postcard!!!
OSU proper? Why must you bag on the Home of the Beavers?
Or is it that Oregon State will always be OAC to you?