Zane’s was the only stop where I stayed somewhere for a full-on two days which helped to improve the pacing going forward.  The beginning of my big adventure in Columbia was walking about the “downtown” populated by pseudo-Indie stores book-ended by various restaurants.  As with many college towns, many things had the school name or mascot in them in this case “tiger” and “Mizzou” respectively leading to a wonderful spin on easy college girls, sorostitutes, to become tiger-tutes or Mizzou-itutes.  The college itself was well-kept and the overcast day allowed for many overdramatic tonemapped shots.

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Overdramatic Tonemapped Shot

But for dark and foreboding, I think the overcast of the many churches won.

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I could have done better with the branch movements, damn

After the walk-about we met up with Jessica and launched what turned out to be a 45 minute quest for lunch followed by not one but two parks.  The first, Devil’s Icebox, was largely flooded by water, school children, and creepy midwestern folk which luckily didn’t interrupt the lighting of a the mini-cave.

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If it were a game there'd be an item or a trap in the well lit area.

This wonder was eclipsed by the rare occurrence of Zane smiling.

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This is why I keep my camera at the ready.

This park was followed up with a “jackhammer”, which is a very hard custard (concrete) served around a core of some preferred ingredient, in my case hot fudge.  This powered us to the second park which hosted eerily unwatched farm animals and a historic building/museum complex that was closed on Tuesdays.  But again, there were animals.

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I had no idea pigs got that big.

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I did have an idea that cows got that big.

We retired to the apartment where the evening’s entertainment was watching Hot Fuzz and learning about the bewildering array of piano tuning tools which includes adamantium-plated wire cutters and a Japanese felt blade that has been used since the time of the Fujiwara Shogunate.  Zane explained to me that the most piano tuning involves setting a key range and then tuning everything to that range which seemed utterly alien to me as all my instrument tuning involved exactly tuning one slide or four strings to precise pitches.  Despite the phenomenon of inharmonicity it still seems like one could create an special tuning device where one could generate a subjectively perfect tone profile over the range of the piano and have a spot-on experience each time.  In the war between “it’s an art” vs. “it’s a science” I will almost always root for the latter. But in this case I bowed to the idea that piano players are a strange and alien people and they can do whatever they wish to their chord boxes.

Whenever I stopped for fuel I purposefully cleaned my half of the windshield which after seven days looked like an arthropod version of some horror film but today’s rain ended the developing insect fluid Jackson Pollack.  I should really take daily pictures.

I had met Zane/OnaZ before but I was glad to see him again.

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Rarely do tonemapped portraits turn out, this did... almost.

He shares his apartment with his girlfriend who happens to be a team-mate’s older sister, a fact I reiterated possibly two dozen times during my time there.  She’s a veterinary medicine student and we were both delighted to find that the scale used to rate the consistency of animal feces is the same as the Bristol scale for humans with a 1 being buckshot and a 7 being a chocolate cannon.  Zane was in no way delighted by this, in fact, quite the opposite, a trend that would recur as I discovered intersections between animal science and my experience in the wilds of the human colon.

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Jessica

The two have two cats, each which is “special”.  The first, Yardstick, has three feet and I think sometimes sprays parts of the wall with urine.  His one backfoot now tilts to the center making it look like the leg’s spring-loaded or artificial.

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I kept calling her tripod.

The other cat, Cotton, is 17 and is starting to show it.  She no longer cleans herself which causes her fur to mat a bit so that when she moves her tail it looks neatly segmented as static, oil, and cohesion lumps the fur into rows.  Additionally, she’s got eye problems.  You don’t know non-fear until you’ve been stared at by a cross-eyed cat.

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In her seat of power

Neither cat is particularly agile due to age or injury and used a number of intermediary jumps to make it from the floor to the back of the couch.  The air mattress I slept on plus my presence on the love seat blocked their ascent reducing them to having to be picked up.  Cotton showed a certain tenacity with half-hearted attempts jump on the couch but I think she even knew her efforts were more for show.  Otherwise the evening drifted away nicely in a cloud of learning about how to identify lameness is horses to how expensive surgical practice animals are.