After a drive across the intrusively placed state of Ohio, I am currently sitting in a preposterously quaint hotel on the grounds of Chautauqua (shuh-TAW-kwah), a town devoted to arts and humanities of every stripe. My initial impression is it’s kind of like Austin, TX for the black-socks-with-shorts crowd. The main parking lot has a handicap section the nearly the size of Fenway’s outfield, if that tells you anything. I’ll be here for a week with my mom and brother, going to art galleries and attending seminars that look interesting. Notable enough to plan ahead for are a series of classes to learn the harmonica and a basic watercolor class. I never learned watercolor properly, but I’ve messed around with ink washes and gouache. As for the harmonica, I think we’re doing it just because we can.

Being here is a bit like scuba diving while dependent on a tank of oxygen. I’m cut off from my natural environment; and iron lung made of PS2 games, high-end Adobe products, and at least three months of comic books within arm’s reach at almost all times. For life support, I have my iPod (currently playing Velvet Underground); Mom’s DS with Mario Kart, Advance Wars, Brain Age, and some kind of surgery game I have to try at some point; Mom’s laptop with a spotty wi-fi signal from somewhere nearby; and the vague prospect of a comic shop in a town nearby where I can purchase 52 on Wednesday. I also have a few books along, and I plan to work on school-related things too.

Blogger currently is sort of loading as of this sentence, but a while ago I got Wikipedia to load to look up the Spanish-American war for an aborted old-people joke- just assume it would be funny if you knew what I was talking about. Hopefully this will post correctly. I should be able to upload photos of this place when I’m in better proximity to the library. For now, you’ll have to take my word for it that the room we’re staying in is floor-to-ceiling floral print. The flowers outnumber the resident population of Monaco.