Charles Céleste Hutchins – Page 187 – Les said, the better II

Revised Schedule

Monday

9 – Noon: Mus 508, room MST 301 – Neely Bruce’s composition Seminar
(8 – 10 PM: Mus 452, World Music Hall – Javanese Gamelan–Advanced [Maybe])

Tuesday

(10:30 – 11:50: Mus 451, World Music Hall – Beginning Javanese Gamelan [ Maybe])
(12:10 – 2:30: Mus 222, room RHH 003 – Computers in Music [ Might Audit – but prolly not])
2:30 – 5:00: Mus 220, room RHH 003 – Composing, Performing, and Listening to Experimental Music [I’m the TA]

Wednesday

9 – Noon: Mus 510, room MST 301 – Graduate Proseminar in World Music Studies
4:15 – 5:45: Mus 530, room RHH 003 – Music Dept. Colloquium
(8 – 10 PM: Mus 452, World Music Hall – Javanese Gamelan–Advanced [Maybe])

Thursday

Friday

study study study

Schedule

Monday

9 – Noon: Mus 508, room MST 301 – Neely Bruce’s composition Seminar

Tuesday

10:30 – 11:50: Mus 451, World Music Hall – Beginning Javanese Gamelan
(12:10 – 2:30: Mus 222, room RHH 003 – Computers in Music [ Might Audit ])
2:30 – 5:00: Mus 220, room RHH 003 – Composing, Performing, and Listening to Experimental Music [I’m the TA]

Wednesday

9 – Noon: Mus 510, room MST 301 – Graduate Proseminar in World Music Studies

Thursday

Friday

study study study

I’ve always been a B student

But here, if you’re a B student, you flunk out. A grade of a B or lower triggers a meeting with the graduate student advisor. I’m trying not to think about this.
I have a housemate. His name is Aaron. He’s a composer and he plays punk rock drums. He’s also a nerd and writes a lot of MAX patches. His girlfriend is a food critic, so hopefully, he can cook. At the very least, he likes Compari. He’s been away from school for four or five years, so he’s as tweaked out by hordes of freshman as I am. Some of the straight-though people lack life experience in minor, but surprising ways.
My upstairs neighbor works swing shift, so I’m going to inquire about what times s/he sleeps or is away from home. It would be nice to have a punk band practicing in the living room.
My stuff arrived a few days ago. I’m somewhat unpacked. The house is filthy, so I have to scrub out cabinets (which seem to have grease stuck to them from the last several years) before I can put things in them. I got tired of this yesterday and made the mistake of starting to sponge off some of the blinds. Apparently, the blinds are supposed to be white, not brownish beige. I’m going to hose them off in the front yard. But everytime I look at the hood thingee over the stove, I feel really happy that it is no longer caked with gunk. I may end up focussing on this for the rest of the semester.
I’ve been oriented at least twice now. There may be another required orientation. I think I know what classes I ought to take. I have not yet taken a language exam, but I will be allowed to test in Esperanto. I managed to make a case that it was useful for international communication. I now feel like I ought to start using it to communicate internationally. Do any of you know any Ligoj de Verkistoj de Serioza Muziko?
So I have two course numbers for academic courses I should take. Someday soon, I may go look up the names of these courses and find out what they’re about. I’ll also be taking beginning gamelan. This seems to be adequate. Ron will be returning shortly and can tell me if I’m screwing up. Ron is the guy that I’m TAing for and seems to be my advisor. I’m supossed to write a mess of music too, but I dunno if this is part of my two courses, since I don’t know about them yet. I guess I could look them up. Music 510 is Graduate Proseminar in World Music Studies, which doesn’t seem to be about anything. And Music 508 is Graduate Seminar in Composition,
which seems to be a composition class. Okie dokie. And Beginning Gamelan.
All this orienting is making me nervous. at least, since there’s no graduate tution, I’m not being assessed late fees. but I could go for some mellon balls. Please mail me a sofa. (Unless the mailing of a sofa would somehow affect my finances, in which case, please don’t mail me a sofa.)

MOO

telnet xkey.com:3333

Gone Daddy, Gone, My Love is Gone Away

So what’s new? The phone number, for starters: 1-860-301-2508. And the local bank account is new. and . . .
The president of the grad student government had a party for all the new grad students. Christi, Xena and I went. There were oreos and fruit salad and water balloons, but since nobody knew anyone, they were tossed very politely from person to person. I became acquainted with two ethnomusicology (aka: musical anthropology) MFAs. Deborah plays the hammer dulcimer. She’s well-traveled and lived in Egypt for a while among the Coptics and studied Arabic music while she was there. She had a book coming out shortly of Arabic music adapted for hammer dulcimer. She is tri-lingual. Angela plays clarinet. She already has an MFA in clarinet performance and won an award for being the best performer of the Artie Shaw Clarinet Concerto. She went to “klez camp” to study Klezmer performance and her own Klezmer band has toured the east coast. She speaks German and Russian and is learning Yiddish.
I’m in way over my head, here, I think.
Saturday, the four of us (Deborah, Angela, Christi and I) drove the bug to Concord, Mass. This is where Concord grapes came from. Angela wanted to go to Walden Pond. First, we went to the cemetery and located the graves of Louisa May Alcott, Emerson, Thoreau, and another writer who – I’m ashamed to admit- I can’t recall the name of, but who is also high prestige. Anyway, Then we went by the home of Louisa May Allcott, where she lived when she wrote Little Women and the home of Emerson. Walden pond is actually a very short jaunt from Emerson�s house. Thoreau wrote that if you preach a better sermon or build a better mousetrap the world will beat a path to your door. This is especially true if your door is conviently located. We did not actually see Walden Pond. Because more than 600K visitors come every year, Mass has made it a state reservation and outlawed all dogs. There was a long list of prohibited items and, alas, Xena was on it. Apparently, many years ago, E.B. White wrote that the touristy Walden Pond sucked. While I can’t say if it does or doesn’t, I can say that I savored the irony of a state official telling me I couldn’t take my dog there.
Since we couldn’t get to Walden Pond, we went further down the road to Salem. We went to the Witch Museum there and perused the semi-informative exhibits. Actually, there were pretty uninformative, but the staff let us in free, so I can’t complain too much. And the gift shop was highly amusing. We walked around the town and saw a very spooky looking statue of the first colonial resident. Spoooooky! Spooooky! Pagan stores were everywhere. One could buy tarot cards, have her palm read, visit the “Official Witch of Salem,” who we saw, but did not visit. It was late so all the pagan shops were closed or closing. I peeked in the windows looking for Polly’s CDs, but didn’t see any in the gloom. We walked to the House of Seven Gables, which is another literary sight, but not one that I know the story about.
On Sunday (our world is soooo exciting), Angela, Christi and I went to New York City and left Xena at home with Deborah. We went to the hippest record story in the whole city (according to Bernard), called Other Music. It was very hip, but very small. Then we went to Strand Books, which calls itself the world’s biggest used bookstore. It should perhaps be reclassified as the world’s most disorganized bookstore. You�d think that if I looked in the photography section of the world’s biggest used bookstore, I ought to be able to find a book by Judy Dater. Well, maybe they had one and maybe they didn’t. The store could have been the very institution that inspired Dewey. They had a big shelf of music books, but my bank balance was safe because they were completely disorganized. Opera was intermingled with pop and jazz. Biographies lurked next to theory. Christi pulled out a book about thirteenth century French motets. French motets from the time of Joan of Arc! But it turned out to be about texts and not musical at all. It didn’t even belong in the section. Powells Books is bigger, has more titles and you can actually find what you’re looking for.
People kept telling me about east coast / west coast differences and told me that I’m very mellow by East Coast standards. Everything out here takes a long time. It took two hours to get my new cell phone number. Everything is super-slow. Finding anything at that bookstore would have taken days because of its disorganization. I find myself often frustrated, wishing things would hurry up. I’m trying to become mellower. So if East Coasters are in a hurry all the time, maybe it’s because everything will take at least twice as long as it ought to. I feel frustrated just thinking about it.
What we did find at Strand was a children’s book by Lynne Cheney, wife of Dick Cheney. As far as I can tell, the book is not a joke. It�s the American ABCs. ‘D’ is not for Democracy. ‘E’ is not for Elections. I didn’t memorize the text or buy it, so the highlights here are from memory. ‘E’ is for Equality. But E gets less than one full page, because ‘F’ for flag spills over on to its neighbor. ‘G’ is for God in whom we trust and whom doesn�t have to share a page with anyone since G gets two pages. ‘H’ is for heroes, who include fire fighters, police, the American military (but not anyone else’s) and elected officials. Another letter has role models. The two non-white historical figures were African American. There was a woman tennis player and Louis Armstrong, a musician. The whites (who may have all been men) were inventors, statesmen, industrialists, etc. ‘X’ doesn�t have anything. Neither does ‘Z’. ‘Y’ is for You, which included illustrations of mostly white kids that had future occupations written under them. One of them was future agribusiness CEO. The whole thing had a very rough quality, as if it was hastily scribbled on a cocktail napkin and then turned over from that to an illustrator. (‘P’ is for Patriotism!) It is unsubtle. It is an anachronism. It is alarming. It does not appear to be a joke.
After looking aghast at Cheney’s book, we escaped the frustrating bookstore and rode the subway. The subway is a lot more like the London Underground than it is like BART or even MUNI. It�s amazing. We went to Central Park and saw the spot there Lennon was shot and where Yoko Ono still lives, according to Angela. We walked across to Strawberry fields. There is a big mosaic on the ground that says “Imagine.” It has flowers on it. We ate ice cream bars and then got back on the subway and walked back to where we had parked. It�s a neighborhood that is really a whole lot like the Mission, but instead of Mexican flags, there are Puerto Rican ones. We dropped Christi off at the JFK airport. I am very sad.
It took more than 4 hours to get back to my empty house
Today was grad student orientation. The recurring theme was that if one has a problem, she should call the grad student office, since the people working there know all. That look a decidedly Orwellian turn during the public safety presentation when the grad official explained that they would be called if we had any noise complaints and that we would be talked to. “We know everything that goes on.” one of the women explained. Great. You could feel resentment emanating from the assembled masters and PhD people.
My stuff is supposed to arrive tomorrow. Classes start Tuesday.
Calendar

Bank has Paused in Evilness

Another few hours on the phone with the Wells Fargo. More promises. No calls back. Nada. finally, Christi calls again and asks to speak with the manager who says, “I have no idea what the big deal with this is.” and put Christi on hold, called the bank from whom the money was coming, ttok christi off hold and said, “all set.” She also said that she would try to get all of the bounced checks and other problems erased from our credit record. I have low hopes. My credit is screwed. Do you have a bank you like?
And my Wesleyan email address isn’t getting email. And whine whine whine. I went without coffee this morning to conserve cash funds. But the coffee shop was serving peaberry coffee, the most expensive grade. Coffee beans normally grow in the familiar half bean shape on coffee plants encased in coffee cherries. Their grade is determined by how perfect the bean looks. Beans with holes in them are lower grade. they also float higher or lower in water because of air bubbles getting caught in the holes. So there’s an easy way to sort them. the very highest grade of coffee is the peaberry. These slightly smaller beans are unfertalized. Bees and other polinators will neglect a cherry here and there and in those cherries a small round bean will form. It looks more like a soybean than a coffee bean, since the shape is round, rather than half bean looking. Peaberries are, due to some genetic condition, 98% cafeine free. It’s completely naturally decafinated and that’s why they are so valuable. somebody at the local coffee shop thought that it would be really nifty to server very high grade coffee. and so, when we walked in this morning, it was quiet. People dozed at their tables. Christi had a latte and then fell face first onto the newspaper on the table. I explained this to one of the coffee shop guys. He looked very amused. Maybe he thought I was kidding. Maybe they all knew.

Letter to the language department

Hello,
I am writing to ask if it would be possible for me to take the language
exam in Esperanto. Esperanto, as you may know, was invented in 1887 and
is now spoken in nearly every country on Earth. Although it’s popularity
is currently low in the US, it’s extremely popular in many in other
regions, especialy Eastern Europe. It is the language exam most taken by
students in Bulgaria, for example.

If Esperanto is unavailable, I can take it in German.

Thank you very much for your time (multajn dankojn!),

Celeste

Other stuff

Before I left California, the day after the moovers boxed up all of my stuff, I went to La to visit my cousin. Unfortunately, I had to leave Christi at home. I surprised Catherine at lunch time and after that we decided to go for a walk. It’s mighty warm in Los Angeles at noon, so we sat in the shade on the patio and talked and drank lemonade. I meant to post this sooner, so I would write down what we talked about, but I waited too long and now it’s foggy in my mind. she asked about my plans and Christi’s. We talked politics for a while. She asked something about the welfare sate. I said something to the effect of the welfare state and human needs being eaten by capitalism. she said, “I can’t tell you how much it warms my heart to hear you say things like that.”
Is it any wonder that she’s my favorite cousin? She’s always been a role model of mine, ever since she got arrested blocking the entrance to the Oakland federal building while protesting a US-backed massacre in South America. She brought the plastic crowd control handcuffs to dinner at easter or Christmas and talked about how wonderful it was to feel solidarity with other protesters and how something had to be done about US-backed attrocities. This speech may have been lost on the rest of my family (my grandmother was horrified, if I remember correctly, but I was very young, so I probably don’t.), but it’s inspired me ever since. I’m kind of embarassed that I’ve never been arrested.
Anyway, on the recent visit, we did some more walking and talking. I promised to send her the contact information for the Lums, which I have not yet done, and one more piece of information which has now slipped my mind entirely. I wrote it in sharpie ink on my hand and recited it to myself as we crossed the utah desert, and hopefully it will come back to me, but probably not.

Went to the chapel, got married eventually

Well, the largest power blackout in US history had some sidefx. for instance, many east coast states have no backup for water pumping, so many people were without water! As a californian, I’m shocked. systems here are not robust and nobody conserves. they all made fun of us when Enron was looting our power system and causing political rolling blackouts. they actually have infrastructure problems and still use incandescent lightbulbs.
anyway, when the power went out, it screwed up the phones. I could call folks around michigan, but I couldn’t call california and apparently could not receive calls from Canada. So when we showed up at the chapel, we had no marriage license and could not get one until Monday. We decided to go ahead with the ceremony. In attendance were Christi’s parents, my dad, Matthew, Jenny, Owen, Xena, A video taper, a photographer, a minister and an Elvis impersonator. The chapel’s website boasts that they have London, Ontario’s best Elvis impersonator. This is not an idle boast. Recently, there was an international Elvis impersonating contest in Vegas and the London guy won. He was offered a contract to stay in Vegas and perform but, as a city hall worker later pointed out, he couldn’t keep working at our Ford plant and have a contract in Vegas. However, this was not the Elvis impersonator who was at our wedding. We got the understudy who did not go to the Vegas contest. A contest had been planned for the previous Friday in London, to finally settle who was London’s best impersonator, but was cancelled due to the power outage. thus the answer to who is really London’s best Elvis Impersonator remains unknown. Our guy did resemble Elvis, if Elvis said “aboot.”
Our dads walked us down the aisle while Elvis sang an appropriate song. We said some vows, signed some paper work. Elvis sang another song. The minister said that we could kiss our partner (no “you may kiss the bride.”) and our families giggled for some reason. then Elvis sang another song while we walked outside and everyone came out after us blowing bubbles instead of throwing rice Nobody had brought any rice except for Owen who is eating rice cereal flakes these days.
afterwards, we went to a restaurant/bar sort of thing and ate some food. My dad left to head back towards Detroit. He got a red eye to see us get married and then took a red eye back. Jenny had a migraine so Matthew drove her and Owen back to Anne Arbor (the locals say a^^2). Christi’s parents and us went on around the lakes towards Niagara Falls. We did some wine tasting and got a few bottled of very decent Canadian wine. I lived an hour from Napa for many years and never went wine tasting there, but in Canada. I got a flyer for the Niagara wine harvest festival thingee. I’ll post more about that later, if I decide to go. I really like Canada a lot. The next day, we saw the falls. It was like our honeymoon, except that Christi’s parents were there and we weren’t actually married. We drove back to London that night so as to keep our 9:30 AM appointment with the minister to sign the paper work.
Matthew, Jenny and Owen returned to London to be our witnesses. Matthew called us early the next morning to inform us that London’s city hall was closed. He heard it on the news. All of Canada was experiencing rolling black oots. We drove to a nearby town whose city hall was open and made a later appointment to see the minister. the chapel called to say that because of the blackoots, they would have to mail us the pictures and video rather than give it to us. We got to St. Thomas and got their first same sex marriage license ever issued. apparently, they’re supposed to cross out “bride” and “groom” and write in “partners,” but the city clerk didn’t get the memo, apparently. For the record, Christi was the groom. Anyway, after many many many small, boring glitches involving differences between Us and Canadian ATM cards and other impediments, we finally got married. Christi and I are now legally wed.
then at 2:00 in the afternoon, we left London and drove all the way to Middletown. We got a hotel and then, the next day, yesterday, we got an early call from Luoi. the city of Berkeley is working on 5th street, where my truck was parked and put up tow away signs and she can’t find the key anywhere. We called 411 and asked for any towing company in Berkeley. No dice. then christi called AAA and explained our story many times to several service representatives who all explained that since we weren’t members, they couldn’t really do anything for us, but since we were in such unusual circumstances, they would pass the call along to someone who might be able to help. finally, someone read us a list of phone numbers of towing companies. the first one said they could tow the car provided we could find a friend to stand there and vouch it was ok to tow it. Luoi had gone off to the dentist or something, so we woke up Jean and asked if she would do it. she said yes, so we called back the towing place and they told us that she would need to have a key. If we had the key . . . Our theory is that the first place we called is the place that gets the city contracts to tow away cars and they probably get paid more by the city than they would get from us. the next place required nothing from us but a visa number and towed the truck into the parking lot. yay
after that excitement, we got the keys to my new place. I found out several important things about it that my real estate agent didn’t tell me about. First of all, my bedroom is much larger than the 8 by 8 measurement that she faxed me. the whole place is 1100 square feet. Second, it comes with a clothes washer and dryer. third, she negotiated a lower rent in addition to getting Xena allowed in. Christi was very relieved when she saw the house. It’s three stories and I have the whole first floor. It looks a lot like a dorm room in Orchard Meadow at Mills College with it’s wood flooring, white walls, high ceilings and dark wood molding around all the doors and large windows. some of the windows don’t open, but, having experienced both, I’d rather have windows that didn’t open than didn’t close. It’s a nice looking place and the neighbors seem friendly. First things first, we went to the town’s espresso shop. It has gotten better since I first went there, on it’s first day of business in April. then I checked in at school. then we went to buy a bed. the room is actually large enough to accommodate the bed that I already own, but it’s already taking three week for my stuff to cross the country. the bed would have to be shipped after Christi returned, so I would go a couple of months sleeping on hard wood floors. So we went to a bed shop and asked for aloft bed with a desk underneath and they gave it to us cheep because they’re not stocking them anymore. Joy! then we got more household supplies. I got a nice call from Polly. We ate at a local vegan restaurant and went to sleep. Yes, vegan in Middletown. Definitely geared towards very wealthy student hippies.
We puttered around in the morning. the bed got delivered and then we went to the hippie store attached to the hippie restaurant to buy food, stuff to mop the completely filthy floors with. Yes, my new place is great and I should have no difficulty getting my cleaning deposit back, cuz it’s dirty. First one credit card got declined. Then the other one. then both of Christi’s the ATM was no help. I called Wells Fargo. they put a hold on the funds I deposited before I left. My checking account is overdrawn and my visa bill is overdue. I tried to convince the customer service person to take the hold off my my money. No dice. It will be another week. I asked her if she could extend my visa payment thing another week, so I could keep using it and buy food and stuff until my funds cleared. Instead, she gave me a lecture about paying my bills on time. I have automatic bill pay. It didn’t get paid because they won’t let me have my money.
Yeah, so the day before I left, I thought I should deposit enough money to cover my existing bills from getting married, cover some rent, cover spending two weeks traveling and cover moving costs and thus avoid the problem I’m now experiencing. the bank decided my deposit was rather large and so is holding the money just in case… just in case of what I don’t know. the check cleared. Maybe they’re busy reporting me to homeland security or something. god only knows why the funds are blocked. So I spent a lot of time on the phone with bank people today explaining that I’m in another state where I have no food and no friends and no funds except what petty cash I have in my pocket. I have been a customer of Wells Fargo for years. I called my local branch and they said they would try to help, but they explained that they would need to request a copy of the check from the central archives and it would take at least a week. they were very pleasant and as helpful as they could be, but it’s still a week away.
I called the bank that I wrote the check from. they transferred me to the branch manger where I have the account. She was friendly, helpful and told me that the check had cleared and gave me her contact information so wells fargo could contact her. I called Wells Fargo again and talked to the supervisor at the Reno call center. He said that he would personally call my other bank and see if the check had cleared and thus the funds could be unblocked. He promised me a call back either way. It’s 9:00 at night now and I have not received a call. I tried calling back the service center a couple of hours ago, but they said the supervisor would contact me directly.
this could happen to you! you could be in another state with money, no friends and no access to funds if you bank with Wells Fargo. their customer service people at their central call centers are rude. when they are not rude, they’re just trying to get you to hang up. apparently, they’ll make promises with no intention of keeping them. they don’t care that you’re three thousand miles from home and do not have enough cash to wait out the one or two weeks that everything is supposed to take.
I’m furious. I am so closing my account as soon as this mess gets straightened out.
So, in short, it’s been one disaster after another. I used the phone system bill pay to send funds from my other, nice bank to my credit card, so that should be online again in a couple of days, unless Well Fargo decided to hold it too because it comes from the same bank or because I called them too often or because somebody is having a bad day and wants to mess up my life. In the mean time, I have some cash money and half a pizza. Food here is actually pretty cheap, except that I can’t afford to get hippie citrasolv at the hippie market and it was very embarrassing to have to leave without being able to pay for the things I grabbed from the shelves.
On a positive note, I’m very happy that Christi made us buy a bed first. And we’re legally married! yay!

Greetings from Ann Arbor

We’re in Michigan and we have electricity here at Jenny’s house. The trip here was mostly uneventful. Most car accidents happen within five miles of home. With that in mind, we slammed on the brakes, stopping short of hitting a car right after we started. The dog had been scrambling for a perch on top of the highest point of our stuff, the cooler. So when we hit the brakes, she hit the windshield. Fortunately, she was unhurt and we re-packed the car so she would like her spot better and stay in it, instead of climbing on things.
We stopped for lunch in Reno. I’ve seen a lot of Nevada now, I think. I like Reno better than Vegas, but just because of the Peppermill. This is a restaurant/casino chain. There used to be a restaurant in Cupertino that my grandmother thought was very fancy and took people often. The girl from Kansas would be amazed at the Peppermill. Even the Cupertino restaurant had mirrored ceilings, fake plants, and a “fireside lounge” which featured a gas fireplace over a small pool. The casino is the same but more so. It’s dark. You can’t tell what time of day it is. It’s got mirroed walls and ceilings and carpets which feature a loud solar system motif. There is more neon than is beleivable. Flashing lights abound. Some of the casinos that I visitted in Vegas were mildly disorienting, but they had nothing on the Peppermill. Concepts like time, space and direction melted away in the rediculously ostentatious furnishings. It was fantastic. Nothing there stopped half way. It embraced everything that a casino should be. It was awesome. I want to go back and get disoriented again.
We stopped for the night in a town that was on the border of Nevada and Utah. It’s funny that the state of pretend sin is right next to the state of pretend piety. We got breakfast in another casino that turned out tgo also be the peppermill. it was smaller, but just as amazing. Then we set out across the salt flats. We stopped at a truck lot that I’d like to think is the very same truck lot that Tiffany and Luoi sat in when they were hitchiking home last summer. Because there was no cell phone coverage through most of Nevada, I had the idea that we should get CB radios to communicate with Matt and Jenny in the other car. So we got two CBs there. It’s a bit dissapointing that we didn’t get them at the start, since I’ve heard that certain professional ladies in Nevada will chat on CBs, trying to lure in truckers, but as Christi’s friend Peter pointed out, all that will still be there whenever we go back through. After we’re both gone, even.
The days sort of blend together in my mind of flat driving and rolling hills of the Rockies or whatever we crossed. We stopped for the night in Wyomin one night. Christi said the steak there was great. There is nothing in Wyoming except the continental divide . . . twice. I guess the water in between flows towards the middle? On the border of Wyoming and Nebraska is a thrity foot tall statue of Jesus. Country song (the only available radio station there) lyrics have been created to celebrate the holy icon:

You can’t do what you pleases
In front of the tall Jesus
You have to do what the Lord doth say
At least until you drive away

We stopped for gas in Laramie in whatever state it was. No pilgramage was made. Christi and I did not hold hands. We drove across Nebraska and it was flat and boring, but had a better classical station that San Francisco does: NPRN. And then more and more states. We went to Iowa and visitted Christi’s friend Peter Balestrieri, who told us about all his many life events. He was Christi’s admin at Intuit. He’s working for a writer’s center in Iowa City and plays with an improv group that that he described as “secret clubhouse” like. They have their own club and don’t play out anywhere. The club puts up three flyers for ever show and sends out stuff to an email list. Often, no one shows up.
We said goodby and drove by Chicago-land. It’s huge. It was super hot and humid and the road was completely packed with trucks. There were more trucks that I’ve ever seen in the same place. The steam-room enviroment was getting to them. The CB was alive with chatter. Every truck stop that we passed had an altercation occuring. “Get out of the tuck, you bastard and I’ll kick your ass! Yeah, you at the pump! Get out!” All the places with parked trucks there wanted to do each other violence. The driving trucks were no more calm, shouting insults and obscenities across the CB. It was completely profane. As we got further away, the truckers became clamer, but no more thoughtful. One driver was explaining that he had picked up an anchovy pizza three days ago and not found a dumpster to throw it way in. “It’s been stinking up the cab for the last few days, but I’m so hungry now. It’s probably still good right? It wouldn’t spoil after just three days. I just want to eat around the edges.” he explained to the world in the 90 degree heat. Then another talked for a long time about a prostitute at a rest stop. She was young enough to be his daughter. He wanted to take her back to her parents. All the other drivers wanted directions to the rest stop.
My mom told me that truckers used to be called “knights of the road.” I swear. She said deregulation changed everything, but I’m skeptical, although deregulation was a bad idea for sure. The truckers were talking about the lights being out, so we switched on the radio and learned of the large east coast power outage. then Matt and Jenny called to say that the lights were out in Ann Arbor, so we got a room in Kalamazoo.
This morning, I tried to call several VW repair folks because a part fell off the car. I finally got a dealer in Chicago who said it wasn’t a problem. So we came up to ann Arbor and the lights came on at Jenny’s apartment just as we arrived. We helped her get her stuff from storage and move in to her new Apartment. then met some of her friends and went for sushi. tomorrow, we’re going to London Ontatio to get married. I don’t know if the lights are on there. I don’t know how long it will take to cross the border and to get there. Wish us luck.