Peace, Love and Woodstock

The hippies are still there. According to the locals, they always have been.
As far back as the 1920’s, artist and musician types would secretly meet in the nearby forest, throw off their clothes and dance around a gigantic fire. Amongst other things. I submit that if they had left their clothes on, a fire would have been unnecessary, saving precious firewood. But, that’s just the practical side of me.

Just outside of Woodstock, the Bearsville Theater rests among the trees. A meandering stream flits by, whispering secrets of flower children, Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan.

However, the whispering stream might have been my imagination fueled by ancient pot that still lingers in the air. No one knows for sure. It’s a real bummer, man.

Two beautiful wooden staircases in the lobby caught my eye. I asked a runner (a person who takes you to the hotel, shopping, etc) if one of the staircases was the ‘up’ and one was the ‘down’. Then I laughed at my obvious wit. The runner, however, just stared blankly back at me.

As we waited to see if our runner would be the one with the breathalyzer installed in her car or the one with two dogs who would ride along ‘just for fun’ with us, I checked out the rest of the theater.
And said a little prayer for our safety.

We were eventually paired up with the ‘breathalyzer’ runner who turned out to be a very lovely girl. Although she had to tend to her breathalyzer every ten minutes during the drive. It was a bit unsettling…but at least we knew she was sober. Woodstock, thank you for showing us a very unique time like only you could.

Bloomin’ Bloomington, In

During the cold and burry winter, its often difficult to convince myself to leave the hotel room and play ‘tourist’. I find the trip out of doors was worth it as I peruse my new photos later that day.

We suited up for a brisk walk around Bloomington, In. Of course, this involved getting a cup of coffee first. Nothing can be done without coffee.

The town square was quaint and came complete with an old theater (still functioning), several coffee shops (thank God) and old bookstores.

Even though I spilled my coffee on my very cute homemade Sweater Mittens, I was very happy with my decision to leave the hotel room. The coffee washed out of my cute mittens, thankfully. There was a lesson learned-make dark colored mittens for coffee consumption.

Anywho, the town was preparing for Christmas with festive window displays, cinnamon latte’s and….

…twinkle lights.

Lots of lights. This town knows how to party. Too bad I’ll be sleeping when they light these suckers up. Maybe with another cup of coffee, I can stay up past my bedtime and watch the glory unfold…
Or maybe I need another cup of coffee just because. Either way, I am stimulating the Bloomington economy and there just isn’t anything wrong with that.

The Touring “Blues”

I have a disorder. It’s best if I just get this out in the open.
I group things together in colors. For example, the produce section is my personal heaven.
All the oranges in one bin, the green lettuce in another, the yellow lemons perfectly collected together.
And all is right in the world.

There’s no name for my disorder except ‘weirdness’. When I begin to edit my photos, I see them in groups of colors. And today all that I saw was blue.

Moody blue. The blue awnings on this building and the subtle blueish tint to the awakening sky set a quiet tone to the photo.

A creepy flier for ‘Wiley and the Checkmates’ performing at the local library originally captured my interest. But the hint of blue from an adjacent flier, tacked on the mustard colored wall sealed the deal today.

Need I say more?

Two colors of blue paint, blue books in the window, a blue flier on the door, blue chalk displaying their sales…Blue overload for this girl.

And yet somehow, I survive. In my blue shirt. With my blue eyes.

The Seedy Underbelly

I typically show you, my dear readers, the beauty found in the cities we visit.
Today, I want to show you the side of the city that most would find ugly, confusing or perhaps-smelly.
But I find it oddly beautiful.

An abandoned building-boarded up and graffitied, is peaceful.
The dirty sidewalks full of gum takes on the look of pop art.
The grime of pigeon poop-well, that’s just gross.
This side of the city-‘The Seedy Underbelly’-is strangely alluring to me.
But, I hope you can handle it.

Poor RC Cola.
I think it’s singing, ‘All by myself, don’t wanna be, all by myself, ANYMORE!’

How can something so intricately designed become forgotten?

A tourist town’s backside. The riff-raff hangs out in the backside.
Riff-raffers like Biceps and I. And we are some of the worse kind of ‘riff-raff’. Keep your children close.
And lastly….

Why?
That is all I have to ask…