June 20, 2010, Leaving Kansas City, where I have lived since August 11, 1988 (my Entire life) [excluding June & July of 2007, when I resided at my boyfriend's house in Raytown, suburb of Kansas City]
the first leg of our trip is nothing extraordinary. we drove to my parent's Mid Life Purchase, a 1930s limestone one-room schoolhouse turned duplex that is slowly being transformed into a loftspace, a weekend home, a getaway in Kansas' underrated Flint Hills. it smells like mold.
my father just mowed the lawn, the reason for our stop here. since it is West of Kansas City it only makes sense that we would stop to mow the lawn on our Journey Out West.
it also only makes sense to make a stop at my grandmother's house, also West of Kansas City, in Kansas' Mennonite farmland. the Land of my People, Germans and Dutchmen coming to America to be simple farmers. my grandmother is not a farmer. her father was. she left Kansas for the Gulf Coast and her dashing young husband. upon his death she returned. I would much rather visit her on the Coast.
it has taken me a long time to realize my love for Kansas. I am from the Missouri side, after all.
it is in my grandmother's apartment that we will sleep tonight. four hours West of Kansas City. four hours towards LA.
Another Good-Bye. the last before my parents leave me at LAX.
I am ready to leave this limestone box. will I think that about every place we stop? every place until I am so far West I've entered the East? or what if it doesn't stop?
Not all who wander are lost. I had the words permanently etched into my right side. black ink that will not fade away. I am finally giving in to my wanderlust.
“Well. We can leave.”
“I think we should. I'm trying to decide if I need to go to the bathroom first.”
my parents are ready. time for the next stop.
6/21/10 farewell to kansas//the Longest day of the year/the Shortest day of the year//day of driving, New Mexican Arrival
last night I remembered how much I love kansas. cottonwood trees, prairie birds, and there's something about the wind that feels like home to me. like rest stops and my great uncle's farm. like cool limestone buildings, like summer. I heard Cicadas last night. most people think they're annoying, but swear to god, I look forward to them every year. they sound like summer. I thought I wouldn't hear them this year. last night was the first time, and the last.
this morning we drove. this afternoon we drove. we gained an hour but my laptop hasn't realized it yet. all across kansas and a corner of colorado. I took some video with my new baby camera, just of the road, just of driving. I'm thinking I'll put a little something together during my two weeks before school starts. cheesy – I'm a cheesy person – I wore my straw cowboy hat all day. until we walked around trinidad and I figured it was either the camera or the hat, because the two together scream tourist more than i'd like to.
driving through the raton pass was gorgeous and familiar. I could see the sangre de cristo. like the blood of christ if mountains were his blood. freezing our asses off in those mountains, Brandon and Alex and me last december, right before he left. but Alex, I'm coming to see you. you'd better let me drive your car.
Box of Rain was playing as we came out the pass: we were in New Mexico and it really is the land of Enchantment like the signs say. I've been in love with it a little over a year now. something magical happened in march of '09, something pretty damn close to religious. I got there in the dark and when I woke up I was in the desert and I Could Remember My Name (Can, not Can't, as many people believe the lyrics to be). maybe it was because I needed to run away to a strange place so badly or maybe it was the joint I woke & boke with or maybe the effect New Mexico has on so many people really is something, this really is a beautiful and perfect place where you feel like you've found yourself even though you won't remember who it was you found when you get home. I bonded with my little red honda then. before that trip I refused to give it a name because we didn't get along. after that trip I refused to give it a name because of the America song (which I've already so classily referred to). I sold her a couple weeks ago. New Mexico forgave me. before I came to this place on my first trip alone. this time I'm not alone but next week I will be. I'm Wandering: am I Lost?
we've set up camp in the cimarron canyon national park, right by philmont, the Mecca of Boyscouting. everyone who's been here thinks it's heaven. it reminds me a lot of my family's camp in colorado, Rocky Mountain Mennonite Camp. that place is heaven if New Mexico isn't. I would love to show it to you sometime. I would love to take you all there. I think that's where I'd like to get married, like my daddy wanted to.
tomorrow, more Wandering.
6/22/10 the day I saw Jacob Black, Or, how I learned to … something clever.
honestly, I'm exhausted. I don't know how much I'll write.
this camping trip is the first time I've had the luxury of an air mattress for sleeping, though that luxury was short-lived last night as mine apparently had a leak in it.
it would be mine.
my back was on the ground all night but the mattress retained enough air to keep my legs and arms afloat. I didn't sleep much but didn't feel like doing anything about it. not that there was much to do. except perhaps give up and just sleep flat on the ground. in retrospect, that probably would have been the best option.
drove through the mountains. saw lots of motorcycles, and Outbacks. I'd like both of those if I weren't gunshy of the former.
Trout Fishing In America. witnessed it firsthand. Braughtigan, thought of you all day.
we went to Taos today. Georgia O'Keefe, other artists, other neat things. there's even a road called Artist road. everyone loves to talk to someone who will talk to them. especially photographers. I got a barista to make me a rothko even though I'm pretty sure it's a made-up drink. she got it better than most Nerman employees do.
Jacob Black pre-flailing_abs seated us under a vibrant colored umbrella at lunchtime. I can't remember if it was red or blue or green but it was one of those.
by the time we reached Santa Fe I'd shot enough video to make my little baby die. we thought we'd have electricity at our campsite, or at least in the bathrooms, or at least a shower, but none of those things were there when we arrived. my hair was greasy and I refused to accept that I might have to spend a Wednesday without lil D, so with my encouragement we found a motel 6. the campsite was beautiful, so we're staying there tomorrow – we had both nights booked anyway. the motel has the Internet. my Addiction can be fed.
the sun is mighty powerful here, enough to make you want to curl up under a tree and nap the afternoon away. but not enough to darken my skin. a Pollock commented on my white skin today. complimented on my white skin today. I still would rather my love for the Zia show.
I am exhausted. this is much as I will write.
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