Milwaukee

My favorite song by the Head and the Heart:

Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Seventy-five miles south of Manitowac, where I lived from 1978-1981. Carrie was born in Two Rivers, Wisconsin because they wouldn't allow men in the delivery room in Manitowac in 1979.

Wisconsin looks like Germany. It's part of the reason I instantly adapted to German countryside; it felt like home. The hills clothed in multicolored leaves, churches peeking out above the trees, cool air swathing the hot, a premonition of winter to come. This year, the darkness of fall has stayed away.

Last weekend there was a concert by a Seattle band, the Head and the Heart at the historic Turner Ballroom in Milwaukee. We stayed at the Plaza Hotel, also a historic building, peaceful and retro, simply and accurately restored (or perhaps just very well kept up), and reasonable rates. The quiet of Milwaukee contrasts with Chicago's financial frenzied stressed population. It was a peaceful weekend.

Turner Ballroom was gorgeous and open, and the band amazing.

Resting in the grass along Milwaukee's biking and walking path. I've been so tired, and keep thinking that I'm going to have some time to rest soon. I realized that I've been on a non-stop pace since the end of March when I found out that my job was eliminated and I was on a crash course to move home. Of course, the traveling was self-inflicted pleasure & pain. Today I've been home for two months, and have not yet spent two weeks in one place. It's life on the road. I don't expect it to end anytime soon.

The Comet Cafe. Excellent food! Excellent coffee.

Surprisingly, I found tons of good tips in here. One always needs to practice self-improvement. Never stop learning! I don't intend to get old ever. (The book is The Encyclopedia of Immaturity.)

I shelled out muko bucks for new jeans. It's been about seven years since I bought a new pair of designer jeans. I like to practice delayed gratification so that I really appreciate my nice things.

Demonstrating the "mine and toss" technique. When you've bought too much ice cream and you can't eat it all, you are totally justified in mining out all the good sections and flicking the rest down the drain.

Holy Hill is a Cathedral Basilica in the countryside about 30 miles out of Milwaukee. The traffic to reach it was worse than anything I've seen in Chicago, and at the top we even sited tour buses. I tried to hide in the corner to cure my crowd phobia. But it was better just to go home!

We checked out the newly renovated Cheese Palace, after stopping last time the day before they closed for remodeling. I wanted to get one of the cheeseheads for Lily but they were not for sale, so a picture has to suffice. Next time I'll just take a picture of the Palace from the freeway and keep going. The place was swarming with people, and non-delicious samples for the second time in a row, so I'd have to rate this as a "no-go". Avoid!

Lastly, I'll mention Beans and Barley, a cafe and grocery store with hippie roots (though now very gentrified). For about a year, I've been hearing about their Tofu Scramber. I'm a big fan of tofu scramble: you can eat it alone, on top of salad, with bread, hot or cold. I like it all ways and it's quick and simple to make at home. A lot of restaurants will offer it, but drown it in oil and spices, so that later my stomach hates me. Beans and Barley makes a simple, savory version which I think would delight everyone's palate. I've found the recipe for it, so if you want to try it at home, you can savor the flavor without a trip to Milwaukee.

BEANS & BARLEY TOFU SCRAMBLER

Source: Beans & Barley Market and Cafe, 1901 E. North Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

1/4 C. tahini
1/4 C. shoyu
1 tsp. black pepper, or to taste
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. garlic powder, or to taste
2 lb. firm tofu, drained, dried and coarsely crumbled
2 tsp. olive oil
2/3 C. sliced fresh mushrooms
2/3 C. diced tomato
2/3 C. chopped green onions
Toasted sesame seeds for garnish

Combine tahini, shoyu, pepper, salt and garlic powder. Add to crumbled tofu, being careful not to crumble tofu too fine.

Heat 12-inch nonstick or well-greased, skillet over medium heat. Add oil and sauté mushrooms until cooked, about 5 minutes. Add tomatoes and green onions and cook for 1 minute.

Add tofu mixture and cook, scrambling occasionally, until some of it begins to brown a little. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds. Makes 6 servings.

NOTE: Serve with home-fried potatoes and toast. This dish is also good with corn bread, muffins or bagels.

Perhaps my theme song

The Long Road by Po' Girl

Let's take the long way cause I like the view go by the shoreline look at the moon
Take the long way watch the sunrise listen to the radio all through the night
The rain can't dampen us drive on through til the sun shines on us dries up the dew
Take the long way cause I like the view go by the shoreline look at the moon
Savour the silence and stroke my back
Sing to me softly of secrets and the stories lost between the cracks
This moment is stardust it has already passed
But you are so bright, so bright in my mind and our moonlit mass

(It's not really a video, it's just the song.)

Portishead addiction pervades... thoughts swirl

Thursday night I spent lolling on the kitchen floor, hugged by darkness and flickering candles and the eerie notes of Portishead, mulling over my life in the German countryside. The singleness, the slowness, the wonder of it. If I had the choice to stay or go, which would it be?

Coming upon my one year anniversary here means I'm nearly halfway through my contract. Time to let thoughts seep in, and decide where life may lead me next. My journal pages fill. I wonder if I should limit myself. But I don't.

On my bookshelf, I picked up Love Begins in Winter, a book I ran into in a tiny bookstore in small town somewhere that I can no longer remember. I started rereading it. It's almost hard to breathe when I take in the words. I feel so much; I want to share it with everyone but I know reading is a personal experience and I what I feel might not be the same as another. But still. I'm haunted by his words, the way they reach into my soul and squeeze and waken. Tears from dried eyes fall, and I feel that this book is talking to me.



From Love Begins in Winter by Simon Van Booy:

"The very best and the very worst of life comes from our ability to love strangers."

"And she sensed that every she had every touched- whether deeply over the years or for only a brief moment in a crowded elevator - might somehow be the story of her whole life."

"It's true the people we meet shape us. But the people we don't meet shape us also, often more because we have imagined them so vividly.

There are people we yearn for but never seem to meet. Every adult yearns for some stranger, but it is really childhood we miss. We are yearning for that which has been stolen from us by what we have become."

"Love is like life - but starts before and continues after - we arrive and depart in the middle."

[I hope that some sadness does cross your mind...]

[I can't wait for you... I can't wait for you... ]
[Everything has changed.]

Express mailed signing docs to the states- trying to close on my house in North Dakota.

Sold the hooptie, but a wobbly ball joint is keeping it in my possession, part's on order... not as easy as I'd like it. Not enough hours in the day.

[I've worked for so long, just to see you mess around. What you've done. I want back the years that you took when I was young, when I was young. But it's done.]
[Oh take it all away. I don't feel it anymore.]

Credit fraud again and again and again. Never get robbed. Hours on the phone with banks. Every time a different person, so the story just gets longer and longer.

It's a three day weekend- I'm going out of town. Of course, it's the law. My law.

Still waiting on my taxes. Should be done this week. Overseas you have automatically until 15 June to file. I think tax assistance is really tax-waste-your-time- and-create-a-mountain-out-of-a-molehill-assistance.

Still cannot run. It is killing me. My foot. Damn-it! It's just not normal.

[I was fucked up when you needed me the most. ]
[Trying to starve myself to death.]

But it could be worse. Like my mom says, one day at a time, one step at a time.

[You can run. I don't think you can hide.]
[You are not what you were when you were young.]

At least I have William Fitzsimmons to calm me. And my nailpolish matches my car. And I have a shrine. And I can draw.

[I'm a slave to my indifference. I'm comfortable with chains now.]

Going to bed. It's 19:52.

[Every day just passes now. I can count them all.]
[Just another piece of pleasure. At least before I'm dead.]

◊ Sunday demons ◊

"...and these sidewalks speak of demons
(there are demons all around me)
they are stepping on my toes
and my head just spins in circles
(I can't even stop this movement)
round and round it goes..."

"There are demons are all around me." Floating in from the other room.

It's dark except the glow from my screen, yet blue sky outside. Just. Streetlights bright.

Sunday. The day I slip in and out of this world. While awake.

The sky fades from pink just before six. I wait for the French press by my floor-length windows.

I can't seem to get dressed. Just sink inside myself, in the quietude. Alone. Wandering rooms, in and out of thoughts, music wafting, as usual.

The paper. Old movies. Space changes. Writing.

I study German for an hour. I told myself I would. I want to draw. While studying worry that it'll be too dark when I finish. But the days are longer. I'm fine.

I flip open my new sketchpad. Dig out the charcoals I haven't used since New Zealand. I have to draw. Black hands, grey paper. Dust and eraser shade the floor by the window. I want an easel but waited. Delayed gratification? Indecision?

Washing the black off in the shower. Cutting my hair in the mirror. Drawing again. Compelled.

Demons? Spinning? Life is this?

Sundays in Germany. The day I step between the cracks of consciousness.

"...Broadest road that I can travel
I am drawn by what I see
spirit living deep inside me
is fighting to be free..."
[Scattered by William Fitzsimmons]

Simple things are beautiful

Like the music on the street, or in this case, under the street in Budapest.

One day I hope to learn to play a string instrument. I have been haunted by them my entire life.

Simple surprising pleasures

Riding in Bernie's car is like taking the opera train through Germany. Well actually she drives a cranberry red Chevy Malibu. And we're just going from the town of Vilseck to the base and back. So it's not a large area of Germany that we're covering. But still. She has Bocelli playing on the stereo. Sometimes with Sarah Brightman. Sometimes with himself.

It is delightful.

I may have to see an opera again.