Cypremort Point, our first beach, in Southern Louisiana.

Michael and Eric, our fabulous hosts in New Orleans.

This is Ozzy. We're drinking in his favorite bar.

crawfish, beignets, and bulldogs

Made it to New Orleans, warm at last. It's 70 degrees here, but a bit breezy and it looks like rain. Got in last night, settled down with Michael and Eric, our kind hosts. Then wandered off to the quarter, had some dinner - crawfish and tasso alfredo for me, jambalaya for Alan. Some drinks. Some more drinks. Ended the evening at a late-night coffee shop so Alan could finish an article for the Rake. I just sat there and read a book by Faulkner I picked up on the road. The sandwich board outside asked, "Have you ever had a hot white russian?" Well, now I have. A late-night coffee shop with wireless, liquor, and ash trays. Yeah, New Orleans makes me feel cozy with my vices.

Today, we're wandering the quarter some more. Beignets for breakfast. A glass of wine in a neighborhood pub for lunch. Finally parked the car last night and walked here today. After driving for a whole week, it's nice to walk a bit. In New Orleans, actually, we saunter, slowly. Good place to slow down and get the travelling meander rhythm going.

Dogs in all the bars and restaurants here. Makes us miss Future. Bill says that when asked if he misses us, Future said, "Didn't they just leave?" Yeah, he's too cool.

When we first arrived, first thing we did, you know, to get our bearings, was stop in a nice gay bar called Good Friends. Michael, the bartender, had just arrived in New Orleans three weeks ago, and got a job there a few days later. Help Wanted signs everywhere. Lots of jobs. Hmm, Future would like it here. So fun to fantasize while on the road.

We'll be here through Friday, then back on the road toward Austin.

Big, slobbery, adorable bull dog in the corner here, barking a bit. Two framed pictures of his adorable, sloppy mug hang over either side of the bar, one with a birthday hat sliding down the front of his crabby face. Oh yeah, I'm gonna have to go pet him. Gotta go ...

Birmingham, AL. Alans brother, Marty, and his family. Beautiful house in beautiful Alabama. Yeah, beautiful Alabama. Seriously, lots of trees, very green. OK, lots of churches too, kinda scary. But really nice to hang out with Marty, Amy, Annie Rose and Maddison for a night. Never expected to visit Birmingham, but now I can say I did.

Lexington, KY. Malcolm and his guitar ... and his cell phone.

Had a great visit with Jamie, Aimee, Kevin, Malcolm and Duane. The Malcolm Palmer Band is making two albums, and we got to drop by the studio and get a super cool sneak preview of a few of the songs. They sound freakin' awesome.

Not just any hot dog, not just any Chicago hot dog, but an authentic Vienna hot dog AT the factory. Leaving Chicago today. Lexington, Kentucky next.

Chicago

Alan and his new nephew, Robbie Benjamin Berks.


Turns out, Alan's brother and sister-in-law, Paul and Amy, make perfect babies. The first one, Aliza, has been perfect for three years. But it could have been a fluke. The second one, born just a couple weeks ago, is perfect too. So, not a fluke. More like a trend, the perfect babies.

Nice to check in with family before hitting the road. Tonight we're celebrating Ciso's birthday a little early. Tomorrow, a Chanukah party at his parents' place.

We weren't sure where we were going to go after Chicago, determined to delay the decision until we were on the road and in the on-the-road state of mind. A few hours out of Minneapolis, we spun the iPod dial to an album by Malcolm Palmer. Alan remembered that Malcolm was in Kentucky recording an album. Hmmm. Pulled out the atlas. We were thinking New Orleans would be a nice place to hang out some time on the way. On a map where the whole U.S. fits on one page, Kentucky is totally on the way there. So it's Lexington next to hang out with friends Malcolm, Jamie and Aimee. Then probably New Orleans and a quick visit to Michael Martin who produced "Verbatim Verboten" in Minneapolis and kindly put a bunch of us up last spring for Jazz Fest.

Just as cold here as in Minneapolis, but Kentucky should be warmer. Yay.

In case anybody is wondering, yeah, this is as fun as I thought it would be. Haven't gotten out of the country yet, or even anywhere we haven't been yet. But it was good the moment we got out of town. Freedom tastes good.

goodbye for the 12th time

saw a bunch of friends last night at rik reppe's santa man. i felt kinda silly hugging them all goodbye again. since i already hugged them goodbye at trivia night on tuesday. and at a little party last weekend where we stuffed ourselves with the most fabulous baked goods ever. and at various shows and bars over the last couple months. and at the end of the fringe. i guess this slow leaving is a nice excuse to hug people a lot.

there was a line in rik's show last night where he was talking about katrina victims and what they lost, "think of the most mundane possession you have ... think of the most expensive thing you own ... think of the most meaningful thing you own ...." we've just spent the last two months getting our pile of things down pretty small. so it was no stretch at all for me to conjure up these items as rik suggested i think of them.

my keyboard, where i've spent a lot of hours over the last year learning to play and discovering musical muscles in my head and musical meaning in the world, popped into my head. maybe because at that very moment it was shivering in the backseat of my car, awaiting transfer to its temporary new home with the brilliant jake. i'm so happy it's going to get used by a musician while i'm gone instead of sitting out the winter in yuri's basement. of course, it will no longer think i'm the best player in the world after its time with jake. (oh, sniff, i'm thinking of that naive little rose in the little prince).

we've been shedding our stuff in layers. starting with big stuff that yielded money and meant hardly anything to us: the house, bbq, lawn mower, the furniture, tv. more meaningful and useful, but not necessary for a while: extra clothes, shoes, dishes. more meaningful, but good to share: music, art. favorites that we were maybe too attached to for our own good: the globe, the purple couch.

two days ago we sold one of the cars, leaving us just the fat, old subaru for cruising central american highways. and today there is a big empty spot in our temporary bedroom where my keyboard has been. tomorrow, the last of the books go to the used bookstore and back to the library. on monday, the winter clothes, my laptop, our stereo, and all our little piles of paper go to yuri's basement. and on tuesday afternoon, future goes to bill's house. sniff, sniff. i wonder if future will no longer think we are the most fabulous walkers, petters, and treat-givers in the world.

this whole process forces a ranking, and we're down to what i care about most. future gets dropped off last. and alan comes with. and i'm glad i got to hug so many people goodbye a couple extra times.

on the other hand

1,200 homeless Minnesotans had a better day in our city yesterday.

baseball and books

Good news! The new stadium project won't be slowed down by the usual Met Council oversight or any silly environmental impact considerations. Most city projects get bogged down in that stuff, but since there's nothing controversial about this project nor any long-term impact on our city or downtown to worry about, this one gets fast-tracked. I'm sure all the folks who stand to make a buttload of money on it, will be make very good community-minded decision on their own.

And with the stadium coming that much faster, I guess it's not such a big deal that Minneapolis can't scrape up the money to keep three libraries from closing. I mean what do kids need books for when they can watch baseball? Sure, in the neighborhoods losing their libraries, most of the kids can't afford a ticket to the game, but at least when they go back to loitering on the streets, it won't be anywhere baseball lovers will have to see them.

Minneapolis, you make me sad.

submersion

Vivid dreams lately, lots of them, every night. OK, I suppose there are always lots of them, but lately they stick with me through that slow first half of the day. Probably because the first halves of days are slower now, which I like, a lot. Anyway, the common element, which doesn't surprise me, is water. Mmmm, water. These parched Minnesota winters always make me crave submersion. Just for fun, a sampling:

tide's moving out quickly. bubbles at the water's edge. they shine a hundred reflections of a fat moon behind me. i smell her warm, salty breath as she swells, careens in at me, then traipses off. and again. and again, running farther from me each time. my dream ocean, she always teases me. i chase her, want to dance. i'm laughing, i'm sighing. i want her wet, silky embrace, but all she wants is a game of footsy, toe to toe, laughing and sighing from a distance.

one, two, three, breathe, one, two, three, breathe. rhythm, strength, balance, glide. stroking across the surface, too fast to look for treasures in the sand below. forearm brushes left ear, head snaps to the right, mouth clears surface, lungs fill with air, stroke, exhale, stroke, exhale, stroke, exhale, breathe other side. lunge forward as thumb brushes thigh, glide as arm swings tightly overhead. strong back, no pain anywhere. the speed, exhilaration and perfection of a flying dream, but more real because the resistance of the water is so true. hours and hours of perfect breathing.

my favorite, no breathing at all. that other universe without gravity, without air, without a memory of ever having, wanting, needing either one. very blue, dark sometimes, light sometimes, dappled too. perfectly quiet but not frighteningly silent. i roll into a ball, fall backward, spin forward, kick off, straighten out, then twist into a moving corkscrew, seeing the sun up there go by as i stretch out on my back and keep gliding forever.

very blue sky. i'm trying to remember which crayon color that is, when a burp on the water's surface gets my eye looking for that fish and i see i'm very close to the edge, perched on a jagged little rock. the water is Caribbean green and glowing with mystery. what's down there? something strange, wait, there, no there, the light keeps moving and shadows keep redrawing the thing, if it's even a thing and not a Rorschach made of sandy trenches. it's a book. that magically old fairy tale book i read a thousand times until i loaned it to someone who didn't give it back and never saw it again. god i hated that lesson. there it is, how did it get down there? no, it's just a pile of rocks. not rocks, jewels. no, just rocks. wait, it's those rocks. the rocks i collected for three years and kept in two shoe boxes in the garage. for studying. to be a geologist. until mom threw them out when we moved. told her not to. there they are. no, it's a shark, a dead shark, now it's gone, but there's its tooth. that one i found in a cliff in newport bay. 8 million years old and i found it and my teacher borrowed it after show-and-tell so she could show the other classes and then the next day and the next day and the next day told me she couldn't find it. bitch. there it is. no, it's a red bicycle, the one i gave to my neighbor to bring to her nephew in mexico. but it's all rusty now. now it's a big computer, mutated in a dr. seuss kind of way. it's all the computers i've ever touched, patched and taped together into a monster computer. and it perches on a ragged stand made out of my carpal tunnel arm braces. oh, creepy, creepy, there are faces down there now, people, lots of people, and they all want me to come in and talk to them or listen to them. they're lonely. some are excited. but they all want my attention. it's hot out here and i feel suddenly self-conscious standing out here by myself with no explanation for what i'm doing here. i should jump in the water so i'm doing something to explain why i'm here. but i don't know what's in there, whatever it is, it's old and i don't want to touch it. i walk, barefoot, over more jagged rocks, looking for an empty, clear tidepool to dip my feet in.

my eyes are closed and i refuse to open them. sun's so bright, it's like my eyes are open anyway. i smell sunscreen and frut juice and salt, salt, salt, and seaweed and plastic toys. my body is rocking and i feel firm styrofoam under my shoulder blades. i must be on my boogie board and it must be a calm ocean today. kids are laughing far away. my face and my shoulders are hot and my dangling feet are cool. my eyelids are glowing orange. i won't open them. i'd rather be surprised by a big wave or a visiting dolphin.

... Just a sampling. Yeah, I guess I miss the ocean. Thank god for dreaming.

Seriously, we really are leaving

It's been one more complication after another. Meanwhile, the weather is getting colder, and we keep bumping into friends who say, "You're still here? When are you leaving?" And we try to smile when we say, "We don't know." People are beginning to look at us doubtfully. It's embarrassing.

The final complication involved plane tickets and departure dates. Well, we've had it. We are leaving, and we no longer care that much where we go or how we get there. December 12th, that's when we are leaving. By Subaru station wagon, that's how we are getting there.

South is where we are going. OK, a little East first. Chicago. New Orleans. Austin. Albuquerque. San Diego. Mexico. Guatemala, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Panama. Then North. Nicaragua. Honduras. Belize. Maybe Cuba? Back up on the east side. Florida? The U.S. south? New York. Montreal. Some, none, or all of the above.

Going south. December 12th. That's the plan. A-little-while-later is the planned return date. See ya then.

Barron's on the Bus

I used to ride the 14 bus line. Today, from our new digs in North Minneapolis, I rode the 19. Two women behind me compared notes on how to pottie train a two-year old and the cost of Pampers. Then one of them asked the other if she was still working at Wal-Mart.

You still working at Wal-Mart?

Fuck no. I dumped that sorry-ass job, told them bitches to kiss my ass.

I thought you liked it there.

They changed their attendance policy. If I gotta take my kid to the doctor, even I got a letter from the doctor, that’s a god damn unexcused absence.

What?

Yeah, no shit. They be like, “we don’t care you got kids, you can’t be calling in sick just because they sick.”

Man. That’s crap.

Yeah. Crap alright. I’ll tell you crap. They be like I gotta schedule my sits.

Your what?

Like if I need to sit down for a minute, I gotta schedule that in.

Your breaks?

No, like if I sit down, they gotta fuckin’ know my ass is sittin’ down in advance.

Like what's yo' ass's schedule? Man. You used to like it there.

Yeah but then they didn’t treat us like shit. Like now, I know a lot of Moms quittin. Fuckin’ welfare’s better than that. I mean I like to work, you know, get the hell away from that kid, he’s two and half, he is into shit, I mean fucking into everything, makin’ me crazy, like I could just drop his ass in Chicago or something, but you know what I’m sayin’, I’d rather work. But not if they treat me like I’m a piece of shit, like they can’t trust me or like I don’t have a fuckin’ life, like I’m so fuckin’ desperate they can abuse my shit.

I heard they got rid of the lay-away.

Tha’s right. Yeah, I don’t know about other places, but if you got something on lay-away in Minneapolis, you better get your ass over they by November 18 or it’s gone.

Why they do that?

They say it’s like people using it too much like a bank account. No shit I’m thinking, if I had a fucking bank account full of money, would I need god damn law-away? Thing is, you know, used to be if I need to buy something I see at Target, I can’t afford it just yet, but I really need it, I just go to Wal-Mart. So Wal-Mart get all this business from Target. So now I guess we’re all going to K-Mart. Who gonna get all that business now? Fucking K-Mart ‘cause you know I don’t give a shit where I buy their cheap-ass shit.

So where you gonna work?

My sister start her own business a couple years ago. She made $400,000 last year. No shit. She needs help, I’m gonna be her partner. I can bring my kid to work, nobody talking to me about when my ass can sit down, and I’ll make more money anyway. See what these bitches don’t get is I work real fuckin’ hard, and I’m not stupid, and I’m not screwin’ anybody. So fuck that, I’ll go work hard for my sister.

Yeah.

Then my stop was up. Hmm. I used to get my business news and analysis in the paper. Who knew I could just ride the bus?