I'm Beginning to See the Light

Four days in, and already we've fallen behind.

We begin again. After a night with the weevils, the mice, and the recently paroled in a Westminster roadside establishment, we enjoyed the hospitality, delicious stuffed French toast, and nice fresh hash at Gabby's Place. Less than two hours later we were standing in front of the mesmerizing light-based work of James Turrell at MassMOCA. You want pictures? Go to the man's website. We're not here to infringe on anyone over anything. Better yet, get thee to North Adams. Suffice to say that Turrell's work is better experienced—particularly within the all-encompassing environments installed at MassMOCA—than described.


Hustling west to a date with history, we did pause to appreciate the apparent intentional community at the Peace Pagoda in Grafton, New York.

They say that the inside of that thing is entirely empty.

It reminded us in some ways of the Hindu temple we visited outside of Atlanta in late May, but more modest; as well as Oyotunji, but less radically separatist. 

In Troy, we had more delicious beer (Kung Foeder!) at The Ruck before arriving at the Tri-City ValleyCats / Hudson Valley Renegades game. The stadium isn't much to talk about, and the level of play was the usual short-season-A ineptitude, but we connected there with our pal David Rapp, author of a new cultural history of Tinker, Evers, and Chance, the Cubs infielders who defined America's first baseball dynasty.

Another soon-to-be-satisfied reader

And as nondescript as the stadium was, it did contain one bit of true wisdom: