Okay, so I am not good at posting content, so there must be something wrong with how I go about this. I think it’s got something to do with how I agonize over every detail and want to be specific and just how timeconsuming it is. So, I’m going to start new little stream of conciousness posts about things that happen. At least Ten minutes, at most twenty, constant typing. This will be interesting because I don’t have a keyboard right now, so the onscreen keyboard may make some funny errors and characters. Before I start this experiment, here’s what I’ve done since my last “real” post.

Was able to hitchhike the rest of the way to Stacie’s house in Kentucky, rode an Amtrak for the first time met a sketchy bus driver, a passionate artist, a wry geologist and a spunky Ashevillian. Stayed up all night in a Wafflehouse folding origami after getting freaked out by People on a Patio. Which inspired this poem:

The People on the Patio

Did I just hear you ask who was out there?
Is that you calling your lover out of bed?
The sound of the highway is too loud in my ears and head.
The only one who seems to be able to hear you is me.

I would never light a fire in such a beautiful place.
Okay, are you out there? Hello? If you respond then I’ll know that I was imagining it.
If you don’t then I know you’ll call the police.

I’ve got a Gatorade for them when they have to climb up this hill.
This difficult difficult hill.
They deserve a reward some might say and others believe they are the problem.
No I am not drunk, if that is what you said with your voice that may or may not exist.
Although it may be the most evident in the highest honesty of hopeful dreamers that  I recognize your land as a haven for the lost and lonely.

Who are you?  To make an assumption so perfunctatory? To marginalize?
Why haven’t you called the cops yet?
Did I just hear them pull up?
Why are there no lights? The single beam of a flash light would show me I am not just being plagued by fear.
The maps showed this place as safe, but I don’t feel it.
Did I just hear them pull away? No one said anything.
The people on the patio just stare out at what they wish not to touch.

I worry that people are so afraid that they will not talk.
Asking questions is the important thing.
Your land is crying out, and the trees are falling down.
The very young and the very old are strained.
And all you can do is look out into the darkness,
Fear filling your head, all the voices screaming danger.

Whoever’s there they can leave.

Yeah, that was a pretty dark night. Then I stayed with Stacie for quite a few months. Cleared gutters, planted stuff, tended the garden, cooked food washed dishes, laughed at Apple Inc and at College students. Gangstagrass for my birthday. Hung out with a fellow Walkupier John Oshea. Went to first Pride festival, saw my first Midnight Rocky Horror Picture, thanks Burt and Eiglebach. Connected with divestment campaign of UBS (please stop funding MTR you bank you). Crushed hard on a contortionist, who’ll never know my feelings. Got dropped off on the side of the road by Stacie who drove off as soon as emotions started flowing, she then circled back around to mouth out a proper goodbye message. . . As proper as that sounds.

The new journey to Chicago began for Alec. Got a ride to Louisville really easily by a statememployee who told me a story about a backyardnfull of roses to counterweight a room filled with shelves filled with jars filledmwithnJapanese beetles. Was found by a random old friend who treated to dinner and let me stay for the night. Journeyed up to Ft Worth, met a progressive thinking cattlefarmer and nice guy networker responsible for maintaining the data flows of the LHC.

Ft wayne, Yogini Medic who can charm her way through a police line at a coal power plant blockade through I don’t know what, some kind1 of magic. Boobs boobs boobs, Save Maumee. Grateful Dead cover band. Used a juicer for the first time. Apple Carrot juice is pretty much like crack. Tiny baby lungs are powerful.

Leaving Ft Wayne and walked for a bit. Found a ride quick to Valpo, hung out with John and played videogames. Made a delicious stir fry, he dropped me off at the train station which I took in to Chicago.  Got lost in millenium station. Then finally was able to take a bus to Grace and Esther’s in a most corrupt town called Cicero. Had many amazing conversations wi th them. Got to meet brave hunger strikers. Did a cute little march, and rather larger demonstration. Stayed a couple nights with Ben, got to see Too much lightnmakes the baby go blind, a jumble of miniplays randomishly ordered.

The time to leave Chicago again came and took a trip to South Bend to meet with old friends. Sarah and Garth.

***

I think this is where I’ll begin, we are not yet caught up to current time yet, and really that last bit was just as stream ofmconciousnessy as this probably will be but hey, I’ve got a lot of catchingmupmto do.

The time is now 14:43

The Vonnegut House

Sarah and Garth did not look any different than when I remember seeing them last. Although they rode up in blue besse a good looking truckmthat sounded and felt dependable. I was very nervous seeing them again and they had been doingmso much. The truck ride to Culver was a game of pong as we passed stories backnand forth of our travels and experiences. It is interesting the way people are always going tombe the same, they talked the same and their voices were familier, but the idea of them was harder, as if etched into the side of hard stone, a bass relief becomingnclearer and clearer. Garth and Sarah’smstories of overseas sounded wonderful, just the difference in people and the vitality of ideas.

The vonnegut house was neat, I was inspired by the lake and I will remember my sho rt stay there. The library had the largestmcollection ofmDvd that I’ve ever seen. They made my think that the library was more formentertain, ent than for knowledge. The military academy wasnnot in session and I so wanted to seee horses. Sara and I bought way too much food, and I hope that those who are still there would eat it. I made guacamole though I wanted to make Pico de gallo. And Ingot to speak with John.

That was a conversation that confused me and frustrated because ofnhis restriction that asking about events past is in his eyes considered unproductive. Maybe my wording of the question wasnover formal and it definitely touched a nerve. Maki ng a resume to tell others is not a good way to make friends, it’s about the goals and ideas that you have now that make for a good c on panion. That’s what I came to understand from him.

I folded some origami for the house and he worked dilligently to fold on of the patterns as well. When I found out we were leaving, I made sure to make a copy of the diagram and leave it for him along with some squares of multiple sizes so he could make a forest if he desired to.

We walked away from the vonnegut house. And I would meet some of Garth’s Family.

The time is now 15:03

Okay, so if you think that was incoherent, you should check out my notes. I’m gonna go try to catch a ride now, and the next time I have wifi, I’ll do another stream of conciousness about The Kiser Farm.

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