Dog in Field. Serene.
Fleur.
Le Taco Truck. Yum.
Literary Paver in downtown Pocatello.
An old sign. And a sign of dying downtown.(FYI: the title of this post is taken from my least favorite Pam Houston story. It's about New Yorkers who talk about Idaho as if they understand it. I think the line from the story is "It [Idaho] is something you can talk about with certainty." Or some such bullshit. It's always grated on me. So here's a bit of Idaho I don't think she means: the taco truck, the dying downtown. She means the rivers and the rest of the stuff she can romanticize because she never lived there. Maybe I should write a story entitled Sometimes You Talk about California. It might include a wildfire that burns down a cabin belonging to a writer who lives in the city, but likes to "get away". Or maybe not.)
4 comments:
So that trip to Idaho didn't soothe all the snark outta ya? Good. I love the picture of Gus's head poking out of the grass.
Agreed that all of Idaho isn't heavenly, but the parts of it that are are more heavenly than most other places.
I don't necessarily mind the mythos that is built around the West; we've long been subject to it, after all. We're also one hell of a lot tougher than those namby-pamby East Coasters.
We drove around Malad on Sunday trying to find somewhere other than BK to eat--talk about a dying Idaho downtown. I wound up eating a Whopper.
There is a hilarious little drive-in in Malad that we used to always go to--don't know if it's still there. Subway, baby.
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