(last midnight in milwaukee, on harmonie’s bedroom floor, post-ethiopian wine/feast drowsy)
[reason i love harmonie #1:
her bookshelf: Female Rage next to The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich next to yoga cards next to Silent Knife: Cesarean Prevention and Vaginal Birth after Cesarean.]
we’re leaving milwaukee in the morning. where are we going, you might ask? it is something i myself would like to know. perhaps someone can tell me where we’re going. and by someone, i mean HAWAIIAN RYAN MOTTS-MATSUMOTO.
woman needs direction. woman needs to know what city to type into GPS in AM. woman needs to know how many organic noodle bowls she should pick up at Whole Foods before family ends up in bumfuckwherethehell, south dakota, where there may or may not be any organic noodle bowls. woman needs to know where she’s sleeping tomorrow night. woman. needs. to. know.
it’s supposed to snow in the midwest on tuesday. today we just had freezing rain. (i don’t know why blogging brings out the weather in me.)
i wonder if we’re ever going to use the tent we bought at target.
i wonder what gave us the impression that we were gangsta enough to camp, when all last winter ryan kept the apartment at temperatures that made hawaii seem cool and temperate.
i wonder if ryan knows i cleaned out his bellybutton while he was sleeping, and vomited a little in my mouth, because i think i found some umbilical up in that shit.
[reason i love harmonie #2:
she’ll call a restaurant to make reservations and say, “yes. four for dinner. under chad. that’s chad with two ‘d’s’.”]
i swear, i thought dealing with orphan drama in bulgaria had taught me the zennest level of patience and flexibility. but in bulgaria i had a phat pad to go home to at the end of a stressful day, where i could blast some patty griffin on my iPod and sing off tune, yet passionately while i made homemade corn chowder, followed by a relaxing sunset on my balcony, as i watched the mountains do their mountain thing. now, i’ll admit, i freak the fuck out every once in a while. okay, every other hour—(semantics, whatever)–when ryan says: “oh, we’ll just wake up tomorrow morning, get in the car and know where to go.” why can’t we psychologically get in our metaphorical car TONIGHT and pick a direction so that i can rest my insomnia-prone head on harmonie’s memory foam pillow and dream of:
(a) shooting long and fast all the way to rapid city, south dakota, to check out the badlands and surrounding cool rock shit that ryan is about [this] excited about. gets us further west, where it is warm, so that we may pitch our tent in the yards of our many friends who live on the west coast.
rapid city: chance of snow–low. chance of spousal homicide during 13 hour drive– possible, fucking possible.
(to clarify: chance of spousal homicide would be high because i am SUPER bitchy.)
(to clarify my clarification: ryan made me clarify that or he wasn’t going to give me my Whole Foods organic lentil salad rations for tomorrow and was going to make me eat at McDonalds.)
(i’m really spoiled.)
(but i’d like to think i make up for my bitchiness and neurotic panic attacks by being really, really good in bed.)
(b) head north, shack up with poor, unsuspecting canadian relatives until one of us finishes something that can bring us $. or $$. oh hell, if ryan could finish one goddamn novel it’d probably be $$$$$. i guess i could finish a novel too, but i’m less prolific, remember?
(c) turn around, back through the husk-covered ground formerly known as cornfields in indiana/ohio. shack up with poor, suspecting mike in new jersey. go to amsterdam as planned. after january 1st, re-start road trip, part deux.
new jersey: it’s the most logical stepping stone to amsterdam. –state motto
(d) teleport back to hawaii in the murano. win lottery. get married.
i think it’s really sweet that ryan thinks i’m someone who can “live on the edge,” but in reality, i live in the nose bleed section of the nose bleed section.
(i’m invisible to the naked eye.)
i know what you’re thinking—what the fuck is wrong with these two? they are unemployed and mooching off friends across the country, and have the vagina balls to go to amsterdam? yea, we’re assholes. but assholes who bought these tickets pre-joblessness. assholes who think the $460.00—FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY DOLLARS—cancellation fee on their tickets is a bit, how do you say it? RIDICULOUS! we won’t even get our money back. we’ll get credit on us airways. last time i checked, you couldn’t buy organic noodle bowls OR lentil salad with credit on us airways. also–how do you do the cost benefit analysis on a trip that involves some of your best friends from hawaii flying to amsterdam for what will without question be a historic, inspiring christmas?
see–math is motherfucking hard.
of course we can settle down (emphasis on the word SETTLE) and get jobs anywhere. we’re just trying to give our art a chance to breathe, first. should it suffocate, starve, die, and god forbid, eat at McDonald’s–well, then we’ll start our phase two blog: choose our own barista gig at starbucks dot com.
[reason i love harmonie #3:
because once her motorcycle was stolen from her garage and a few hours after it was stolen she saw some kids riding it, so she jumped out of her car, ran them down, shoved them off her bike, and killed them.]
[she didn’t kill them.]
milwaukee memories: a photo recollection which may lead you to believe we still haven’t purchased a new camera.
this is sand on lake michigan.
this is me and ryan with oily heads and peaceful expressions following our abhyanga at the most amazing clinic in the whole fucking world
this is me rolling my third eye.
this is a satellite photo of milwaukee, which is actually a very small drawing that chad did with a blue pen, showing us Where Not To Go. and the nearest Whole Foods.
this is a zoomed out photo of our car as we cross a freeway crossing another freeway. each stretch and curve are grey letters spelling out the name of our next destination.