Ditching the anonymity

I realize now that if I'm going to be net-stalked, (a) there's nothing much I can do about it, and (b) I should probably take it as a compliment. Also I'm finding that attempting to maintain the anonymity of my home and University of employment means that I can't successfully blog about the truly weird and remarkable world around me. So I'm giving up referring to it as Quadrilateral State University or anything else. I live in Reno and I teach at the University of Nevada. Wow. That felt vaguely like an introduction at a twelve step meeting. TONY: "My name is Tony and I'm a recovering Nevadan." EVERYONE: "Hi, Tony!"

And Nevada is equal parts beautiful and bizarre. High desert sagebrush and snow-capped mountains, alpine lakes, icy rivers, hot springs and sun-bleached creek beds vie for attention with garish casinos, legally regulated brothels, and more libertarians than the number of angels that can dance on a pinhead. You can't tell what party any of the politicians belong to because they all run on the same cowboy rhetoric. There are three congressional districts and two area codes. There are only seventeen counties, some of them larger than Wales. Lots of space, not many people, except in the two urbanized valleys on the edge of California. Every day I see something that makes me shake my head and say "that is so Nevada." Yesterday it was the man riding his dilapidated Schwinn bicycle to work on a busy highway, wearing cowboy boots and an Indiana Jones hat. The big basket on the back of the bike held nothing but an enormous American flag, the kind you see flying outside Perkins restaurants. Hell yeah, man. Nevada. And that guy is probably a district court judge or something.