Dave, your artistic trials in the city of Duluth are always like this grand humano ejaculatory epoch fable. What you get into in one night, future legends will not be able to tell in one sitting. Let me tell you of my last two evenings. 

Last night, I went to Chester creek and skied a bunch of nice lines amidst scads of puffy snowflakes. I only crashed once. There was nobody there. I threw a nice round pebble out of the way, wondering how it became dislodged from its resting place, and took a piss. It was beautiful. The night I mean. It always amazes me,that in the only real place to recreate near the center of what amounts to a six figure city, when I have the whole place to myself, the sheer odds it takes for nobody else to be there, out of 100,000 people, or 395 million for that matter. The amount of times I randomly crossed paths with Sarah Krueger between 2011-2012 is 2374 % less likely than the 87,000 other citizens of Duluth not showing up, and made not running into her there last night an astounding oddity by itself. 

Then tonight, I went to Brighton Beach with the same story to tell. I've never seen the place this desolate. In one hour, a minivan passes by plus one pedestrian. Maybe it was Charlie Parr? Not. The lake looks dark, cold, and deadly. The lift bridge like that star wars toy Prizblowski mentioned. It amazes me again how much little weather it takes to confine the whole fucking city indoors, even and especially the chief of police. I think of all the young ladies in this well-lit section of town laying on their well-lit beds, scantily clad and texting some worthless bullshit they'll not remember in three minutes, let alone the rest of the world, leaving out most of the ones in Papa New Guinea. All this to me is living art, yet it requires and contains no living artists. It's almost like nature is art. And art or life or nature, is one giant crusher. There is a certain beauty in pitch black and 20 degrees F reminding me of some lesser known Star Trek episode from 1968, and I'm the only dude out there to prove it, moving ahead so life won't pass me by. Please mentally proof read this shit I just wrote because I'm too drunk and tired to care, rather the computer has been drinking.

That's really cool rhetoric guy.  You and I are tighter now.  Here I was prepared to retort how my comment wasn't sexist because scantily clad ladies was my dream and they exist somewhere if not everywhere, and how as a guy I don't care to mention naked men, but now I won't bother. In short, I tried to bait Claire but it didn't work.  I love Stoney Point, don't get up there enough, and that is a good sanctioned use of your rental car IMO, and good on ya for not having a car anyway.  I've had a lot of amazing moments there. One that came to mind recently was last winter probably around Jan, there was a day of thaw and it was around that time we stopped there coming from just north of, landing  in a spot wondering where we were and lo, it was SP, and the sky blue ice sheets were stacked up, words cannot describe. Kinda made me think of Superman's home.  I tried to tell my neighbor to head out there, but I don't think he listened. 

 I've seen people surfing ten footers on SP in Oct looked like Maui.  Anyway, I digress.  I appreciate you appreciating art, and appreciate the artists in the world and Duluth. We would be truly fucked ala Bush Iraq 2003 were it not for artists and women.  That super detailed art exhibit at Prove from Maine a couple months ago was awesome.  Lived here over six years now and just discovered all the amazing rural landscapes to the north.  So I really appreciate what you said about balancing out your evenings with the silence of the lake. Keep on keeping on dude.