It took quite a bit of pleading, bribery, and promises of streets teeming with young tarts firm of buttock to get my dear old friend Ryan Dobosh to make the trip out from Austin for a visit. I was especially keen for him to spend a bit of time here because I'm leaving Bloomy in a few short months and I don't want to do so with any bad feelings towards the town. I wanted an accomplice to roam the streets, tour the campus, and make fun of children with me, forging some happy memories in the process, because the best times I've had here have been with friends, and those times have made certain places here dear to me. His visit was also a (temporary) last hurrah for fun-times and general mobility as I had foot surgery the day after he left and have been mostly laid up since.
I also looked very much forward to Ryan's documentation of the town, because most of us never get around to taking the pictures of people and places we'll miss and besides, Ryan takes far better pictures than most of us. Witness:
The first order of business was introducing Ryan to Archer, my roommate's new-ish dog. He is very handsome and likes to fart.
On the morrow we visited campus, here the main pedestrian entrance, the Sample Gates, with my department's building framed between them.
Taking in the fascinating wall displays in the anthropology building.
The graduate student lounge, where I made Ryan pre-read all of my students' evaluations, fearing to do so myself (they were mostly excellent).
Outside a very pretty building, the name of which I always forget.
The campus chapel and graveyard.
A piece from the campus' massive collection of impressively creepy statuary.
Another, this one of famed chancellor Herman B. Wells.
The oldest bar in Bloomington, Nick's on Kirkwood.
Nice face asshat.
Old wall downtown.
The county courthouse on the square.
Chinese dinner for 11.
Roommates Zarko & John.
Eternally hopeful Archer and his best pound face.
Dessert at the Chocolate Moose.
We went to the Atlas to play Skee-Ball, one realm in which I could be confident of victory.
In the morning we played dice at a local cafe where victory was, as usual, elusive.
[goddamn you Dobosh you cheating whore]
In Indiana, we trust god, though with what I am not sure.
Display case at the Antique Mall.
Where Ryan bought me a crown on the condition I wear it for the rest of the day.
Outside the Kinsey Institute, chock full of smut.
Journeying to the townie part of town;
for bowling....
(you can only afford to be this smug when wearing a crown behind a bowling alley, trust me)
...and roller skating.
Ryan got way into four square.
Archer and Ryan had one last magical night together.
And in the morning, I escorted him to the airport shuttle on my way to get my foot cut up.
Oh buddy, I know just how you feel. Now get the hell off my bed and let a gimp put her feet up.
