At the tail end of my trip to the East I stopped by Louisville, Kentucky, to visit my brother Embry and his wife. I was born and raised in Louisville, and lived there till I was 17. While I was at college, my parents moved away from Louisville, so now I hardly ever get back.

It’s been fourteen years since the last time I was here. The downtown isn’t especially lively—I guess this building’s windows are boarded up—but Louisville’s not dead either.

Sylvia and I happened to have lunch in an impressively hip hotel/museum called 21c. They have a mural of famous Louisvillians. I should be on it, but I didn’t have the energy/chutzpah to agitate for admission. I’m on vacation. And, after all, I don’t live here anymore.

They have some interesting art in the bar at 21c. I bet this devil is a self-portrait by the artist.

There’s a cool old waterworks at the foot of Zorn Avenue in Louisville. When I see Zorn Ave, I always recall that, when I was in high school, a kid was speeding up Zorn Ave in a convertible, trying to outrun the cops, and when he wouldn’t pull over, they shot him in the head. That was the first time I realized that the police might do things like that in real life.

My brother lives on a farm outside of town in Skylight, Kentucky. It’s nice to be out in the real country. Growing up, we lived closer in, more in the suburbs—or rather, the suburbs had engulfed us by the time I was ten. This dog is called Ziggy. He’s a good boy. But you have to watch him around this pasture. Some valuable thoroughbreds live there.

It was just as cold as NYC here, with ice on the creek. I feel nostalgic in Kentucky, and amazed at the distance that life’s currents have carried me.

I walked along a frozen stream in a gully behind Embry’s farm, marveling at the ice shelves crystals and the water bubbles under the glaze—which is exactly what I used to do fifty years ago.

The woods are calm and mysterious, the same as ever. Nothing changes in the woods.

I’m wearing this hat I got for $15 on the street in NYC, from a vendor on Fifth Ave. Lots of people in NYC are wearing this kind of hat this winter. The ears have some real personality.

I like how, when it’s really cold, ice gets to be like a mineral.

Back in Louisville, I can hardly remember what I usually do. My fiction seems like a remote dream.

I sit by the fire most of the day, and sometimes I go out and look for patterns. Like this nice wall I saw downtown.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 18th, 2009 at 12:52 pm and is filed under Rudy's Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.