For one thing, boy is it gray. Just lousy with grayness.
For another, it's a city of cultural oases situated in a broader desert of industrial wasteland. Holy crap, it's an ugly city. Except where it isn't, and those parts are lovely--parks and shores and bridges and a nice downtown and whatnot.
Or consider it this way. Think of a lovely part of the body, say the eyeball. Now think of a nasty part, whatever that may be; I'll let you decide for yourself. Now think of lots of little eyeballs surrounded by that nasty part.
Guh, that's the single worst and, if one is to judge by the image now indelibly imprinted on my mind, the single-most disgusting analogy ever. Reader, forget I brought it up.
What I was trying to get at is this. I loved Cleveland. It's an underrated city. It just also happens to be a dump. (It's like human nature that way.) So naturally I wanted to take some pictures of the nastiness of Cleveland for my blog. But I kept forgetting to pull off the side of the road to get the vista of gray smokestacks, gray industrial plants, gray smoke, and the gray gray freakin' gray sky gray grayness. I forgot, that is, until we were leaving the city. Then in a heroic attempt to capture the arm-pittedness of it all, I was clicking away on the highway while driving. Unfortunately traffic and other obstructions prevented me from taking a decent photo of the nastiness. I noticed however that the passengers in this car to my left were upset with me. I don't know why. Excuse me to pieces. It's not my fault they were in the way of my camera. Chill out, fellas, is what I said. Except I didn't say that, I just slunk down in my chair until I looked like a little old grandma barely peering over the dash.
And you know what they did? They trailed us for several exits. That's what they did, the cowards, these living examples of Clevelanders. Typical.
My new exit strategy was to play cheerful music and visibly snap my fingers to the music. No one can threaten a man snapping his fingers to cheerful music, right?
You: "You are correct, sir."
Thank you for agreeing with me.
And in time they left me.
Victory was mine.
You're welcome.
See! They're staring me down. ME: DUDE!!! I Want to take a picture of your crap city that I love, not you. Calm down!!
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3 comments:
Now teaching our children English 101, Professor Bailey!
"The classic example of metaphor would perhaps be, 'My love is a red red rose.'". But we need not stick to that outdated example. We can update it to account for more modern sensibilities. Consider:
'Cleveland is a number of tiny eyeballs, surrounded by a single, impossibly large genetalia of unknown gender.'
You see the poetry there, class? Much nicer and more fluid for your reader than just saying, 'It happened to be a little cloudy on the one day of my life I buzzed through Cleveland at 75 mph, shamelessly photographing the locals, thus causing them to miss their exit out of concern my erratic one-eyed driving might endanger others.'"
The flesh deposit right over the joint on the backside of the elbow. Please, right now, go seek out the ten most attractive women and men you know and you will find that this part of their body is nasty.
Furthermore, you could have taken those idiot, flesh deposit right over the joint on the backside of the elbows that were driving around in their little sister's Jeep.
In looking closer at the bottom photo - what is that wire and antennae on the front and middle front of their roof?? I think they were surveilling you!!
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