See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

North of MPLS

28 | Constantly evolving, internetting along the way. This is my place to share anything I find interesting; music, food, links, videos, images, etc. Essentially it's the ENTIRE Internet filtered through me. Try and keep up...

My other Tumblr outlets:
No Smoking in the Metrodome

If you need me I’ll be in the Fish Lake suite tonight. (Taken with Instagram at Target Field)

Bangarang

Doomtree Minneapolis

So this is amazing. Twin Cities Transit
“ Made by Paul Wenzel — Data is delivered in real-time from the Metro Transit API, but we’re not affiliated.
” — So this is amazing. Twin Cities Transit
Made by Paul Wenzel — Data is delivered in real-time from the Metro Transit API, but we’re not affiliated.

Source: twitter.com

Minneapolis St. Paul MetroTransit

BANGARANG. (City Pages has a bunch of these Gifs that Erik Hess (@fivesixzero) made from Rock the Garden.)

Source: blogs.citypages.com

Minneapolis Rock The Garden

Bangarang (Taken with Instagram at Walker Art Center)

mightyflynn

I know [human error is] part of the game, but I say it shouldn’t be. I want a ball called a ball and a strike called a strike. That’s what the game is. It’s not Eric Gregg’s strike zone. It’s not what our game is. I don’t care what anyone says. I could get fined for it every day of my life. It’s my belief. Our game is not somebody else’s strike zone. Our game is what the book says. That’s how it should be played from Little League to Cooperstown, to make it fair, to make it right.

Bobby Valentine (via mightyflynn)

minneapolis

Can you see the heat? (Taken with Instagram at Target Field)

openstreetsmpls

What a night for a ball game. (Taken with Instagram at Target Field)

thisiswhywedont

how to feel alive, pt. 2

pee along the side of an interstate. go to new orleans. put another picture of your naked body on the internet with your face exposed. stalk a random stranger for a few days. trespass. find something old and broken and fix it or make it beautiful again. fuck someone you love without a condom or birth control and secretly wonder what it would be like to have a baby. visit a graveyard, the oldest one in your town; find the oldest grave. put something there. say the name on the grave out loud. remember the name of a kid in your class who died when you were growing up. remember something you did together.

(me, it was luke heltemus. he was one of them, anyway. he died of a brain aneurism in high school, over summer break, while i was in cape cod, mass, my mother told me, because his mother had called her to tell her. he played right field and he was always smiling. he would have grown up to be a pretty decent man, because he was decent in high school, where it’s so easy to be mean and awful. but he never was. not once.

we played baseball together. when i go home, i think i’ll leave something there for him. because i didn’t get to go to his funeral. because i never went to his grave because for so long i was always afraid of death. i think i will leave him a baseball.)