Shuttlecocks Over Broadway (part 2)

aka “Naked Blogging,” but we’ll get to that.

So we were talking about Kansas City as I recall… I visited the Nelson Atkins Museum, which is, ostensibly, the world’s largest badminton net. Free museums are a really great idea, and also one of my favorite things about the UK. Unfortunately, the other museum I visited (the Jazz/Negro Leagues Museum) was not nearly as free, but if you look at it like I paid $10 for three museums, it’s really a hell of a deal. Actually the Jazz and Negro Leagues museum was a little disappointing. The Jazz part was mostly just listening stations with a few pictures and a tiny bit of information each of the biggies (Fitzgerald, Ellington, Armstrong, Parker), though it did have these pretty fun stations where you got to play as one section of a jazz group for a song. Although I cannot actually play the drums, I can sure choose which of five ways I would play them were I able to! The Negro League museum was the complete opposite, and was in fact the wordiest museum I’ve ever seen. It was basically just a timeline, but that doesn’t even begin to explain it. I imagine that if one honestly tried to read every bit of information along the timeline they would have to spend at least four hours in there.

We went boating on Sunday afternoon, and I got my first good sunburn of the summer, which is peeling away as I write. Our trip got off to auspicious start; before we could even lower the boat into the water we heard screaming coming from the parking lot, and when we ran over to offer assistance we found that a child had fallen on his neck and complained of an inability to move. Apparently he and his brother had been sword-fighting or some such childish game, and he was pushed backwards over a trailer hitch. That, readers, is why your mother always scolded you for horseplay.

Apparently there is a location of the famous Pin-up Bowl in Kansas City, and frankly, I’m just not impressed. Sure, the employees all wore black and some were tattooed, but with the giant TV screens at the end of the lanes I couldn’t help but feeling more like I was at an ESPN Zone than at some hip dive bar.

I left the notion of Naked Blogging vague at the beginning of this piece because I hoped to build up some suspense in my readership, who will undoubtedly be disappointed that it simply means that I am laying in the nude while I type up this correspondence. It is pleasurable to lay naked in my bed, and I am beginning to turn it into a habit. I feel that clothing is simply a material manifestation of society’s expectations, and in freeing myself from these bonds I believe that my expression will become more pure. I plan to only blog in the nude from hereforth, though you will probably be able guess this by the quality of my art.

I leave on my travels in a few days, so do not be suprised by yet another lengthy break in communication.