How many good Americans does it take to clean up the World?

We had some really nice snow in the past few days, and that's really cheered me up. What's weird about snow, however, in Milwaukee, is that the people here act like it's a terrorist attack or something. They freak out, get up at 5am on Saturday morning and are out running around with pick-up trucks with snowplows, and really loud snow blowers. Any other time you get up on a Saturday morning, it's the quietest time of the week, but when there's a snow it sounds like there's a war going on outside.

Maybe I shouldn’t complain so much, because it's nice for me when the sidewalks are cleared-- it's easy to walk. (Though they aren't ALL cleared.) Plus, it's nice for the older people, and the disabled. But what gets on my nerves is all this gasoline powered equipment to clear the snow, which then adds to the amount of black sludge frozen in the streets, not to mention spewing shit in the air, and all the noise. And the big reason that they are out clearing snow is to clear the ROADS, because people can't go ONE DAY without using their cars. And the few people who DO choose not to drive get their vehicles packed in by snowplows, and ticketed or towed if they're on snow emergency streets.

If it was simply up to the residents to clear the sidewalks in front of their houses, in a house like where I live with seven people, we could conceivably clear the sidewalk with a teaspoon. But on Sunday, I saw a pickup truck with a snowplow DRIVING ON THE SIDEWALK, plowing. I could only think such desperate measures had to do with the urgency of residents to get to church. Or maybe it's the German heritage in Milwaukee. I don't want to pick on ethnic groups, but since I'm more German than anything else, at least I'm acknowledging that I'm a little like this too. My neighbor in Ohio, a German lady, used to freak out about the trees dropping leaves in the fall, like it was someone throwing McDonald’s wrappers in her yard or something. She eventually cut down most of the offending trees.

I heard people referring to the snowstorms as "being hit" like we were being attacked in a military strike. Then they kept talking about "cleaning up" after the big snows. Hey-- it's frozen water! The snow is clean, it's pretty, it's nice, and it's going to melt in no time. It isn't something you have to clean up. After "cleaning up" all of this snow we're left with black sludge everywhere, and no one seems to worry about cleaning up that.

Blue Skies

Blue skies blue skies blue skies blue skies. Blue skies make me want to puke. The sun is out, making a mockery of warmth. The streets are encrusted in salt, or whatever chemical they use to melt ice on the pavement. One interesting thing about a long deep-freeze is you see how much black sludge cars emit from exhaust and off their tires and engines, and along the side of the road where the cars are parked the ice and snow is totally black. Where does this go in warm weather? Into the grass, and into the ground, in the sewers, and into the lake. The lake I was able to swim in when I moved here six years ago, but no longer can.

Maybe I should go back underground. I was much happier there. I wouldn’t have to necessarily find the mysterious tunnel down at the end of the block, or the gold mine, or the passageway to the center of the earth. I could simply head down into the deep tunnel. There is a manhole to it, marked with fluorescent spray-paint over on Kilbourn, I've noticed walking by there. I could hang out down there with "The Family" whose aversion to the sun, while not for the same reason as mine, is no less as strong.

Back on the surface...

I finally, after several months, emerged from the same hole that I disappeared into, several days earlier. I finally, after several days, emerged from the same hole that I disappeared into, several months earlier. Nothing was changed, nothing was the same. Everything was different, nothing was changed. Everything had changed. Nothing was different. All evidence of the men who had dug the hole was gone, including their tents, their trucks, and their warning signs. Even the hole was gone. I mean the one I had gone into was gone. There was a different hole, the one I emerged from, though it was in the same place. I found no gold. All I found was gold. All I found was shit. It wasn't a sewer, it was a mine. It was a mine, it was a sewer. It wasn't a mine, it was my mind. There was nothing there but gold. There was nothing there but shit.

...and this

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more...

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From my notebook journal:

Dubuque Iowa, Alte Glocke Restaurant, Julian Inn

I’m at the Alte Glocke Restaurant, in the basement of the Julien Inn, Dubuque, Iowa—it’s a German themed place—a cute little “U” shaped counter is where the regulars sit—old guys. I order “American Fries” with cheese and onions, and I ask if there is a choice of cheese, and the waitress says, “American, or cheddar cheese sauce, or sliced…” and then she pauses, not sure. Classic. It’s—let’s see how the food is… I’m staying at the Canfield Hotel—it’s great—it’s the place Andy and Karen recommended. It’s pretty amazing—like $32 a night (plus tax)—and it’s pretty spectacular, weird, and old—and just plain weird. I can’t write about it now—I’ll take some pictures and try to remember—and come back later, some day, hopefully.

Started out today by turning on the TV—big mistake! I saw on the scrolling TV guide, “Fox and Friends” and I thought, Fassbinder, cool!—but it’s Fox News right wing commentary—a woman talking about Colin Powell’s statement: “The world is beginning to doubt the moral basis of our fight against terrorism.” And this woman says, I know he’s a smart guy, but I don’t understand… doing her best Rush Limbaugh imitation, being totally flabbergasted, like somebody just said something completely bizarre. Why is “I don’t understand!”—the expression of total ignorance and relative stupidity—always used as a tactic of the extreme right wing’s expression of moral superiority?

The one way The Canfield Hotel could be better is to have no TV whatsoever, becaue I personally have a weakness when it comes to hotel rooms and TV—I turn them on. Last night I saw “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” on the listing, and I said, that’s cool, I’m always jumping at any chance to see James Mason. I turned it on and it’s a TV SHOW! I mean, maybe it’s not that bad, but I wanted the movie—I couldn’t watch it.

I’m eavesdropping on the guys at the counter now. One guy’s talking about his friend who was really particular about keeping the books somewhere, I guess. “Keith died 20 years ago—looking for that dime…” I guess the guy was obsessed with perfection, and that’s what killed him. That makes me think of MY friend Keith, who died almost 20 years ago. Could it be that long already? I guess it is. When you start thinking about people who have died, you think about all that time, and what they have missed, the good and the bad. There’s been a lot of bad, that’s for sure. But a lot of good, too.

Canfield Hotel, Dubuque, Iowa

Donuts: The Motion Picture

Sandusky, Ohio. I’m at Markley’s, early, but the donut machine isn’t going, and there are no donuts. I’m afraid to ask about it and find out the donut machine is broken beyond all repair, retired, or gone, and make everyone there sad, myself included, just by bringing it up. What would REALLY make me sad, though, is to be able to eat donuts again and THEN find out they’re not making them anymore. It’s a weird kind of backwards, convoluted way of looking at things I have, I guess. Hey, I just thought of something! This is a great metaphor! A great metaphor, overall, for life or something. Well, maybe not for life. But for something.

Hunting For Hidden Gold (last part)

So I went down to investigate, this was about a month ago, while the workers were taking their dinner break and left the hole unguarded. I climbed down the ladder, and what I found there astounded me! I don't know if I should write about it here because no one will believe me. I'll just say that there was no gold, but there was an underground world that was as vast as an entire continent! There I discovered a utopian society and a community of people who worked together without conflict or self-interest. I was introduced to a new kind of sex with no reproduction or disease, a delicious but healthy diet, and music that is composed and played with the human mind.

When I returned to the surface, just this morning, I found out that I had missed the election (though fortunately I had voted by absentee ballot through the free but efficient and reliable underground mail system). I emerged from the earth to find the president gripping, Rumsfeld had gotten the axe, and the Wisconsin's love nazis had voted that gays and non-christians had no right to exist. I felt like the groundhog-- I didn't know whether to come out of the hole or stay down there. But like the groundhog, I realized that no matter what I did we'd still have an ungodly amount of bitter, miserable winter left.