Greetings from Kansas

I arrived at this musty house and threw open lots of windows at about 3 pm, and my Journey to the West (well, the first step, that is) is complete. I'm sweating and tired and grumpy and tempted to turn on the air conditioner even though I don't normally do that before July. There is so much around here that still needs to be packed...or left behind. At least sorted through. I have approximately one month before I'm loading a moving van to take to Portland. I wish I could fastforward and already be in the apartment in Portland.

In Phoenix it was pretty funny when Jennifer was appalled that the gas was up to $4.09 a gallon, when just yesterday it was $4. I said, "Wow, is that all?" thinking of the gas station in California where I spent $4.49 a gallon. The greedy and environmentally destructive oil industry is such a mega motivation to sell my car and use public transportation (not to mention let my feet do the walking).

It's hard to see a computer screen through a cat, so please excuse any typos.

Yesterday evening I stayed at a basic hotel in a Texas town called Darnhart or something like that. The hotel was $5 cheaper than the Econolodge that I stayed at in Albaquerque while traveling out west, but the ice machine didn't work; fortunately the room had a fridge and I filled bottles with water and left them in the fridge overnight.

I've only seen a little of Oklahoma, but what I have seen suggests that it has many towns that consist of a handful of trailers and a mill.

I stopped at a tiny Kansas town to buy gas, even though the location is best known for having the hideout of a famous 19th century gang--the name begins with a D and I've forgotten. Brain fart. Anyway, I decided it would be safe to stop there as long as there aren't any more recent gangs. The pumps were archaic and I had trouble figuring out how to use them; I also had to go inside to pay, because the pump had no card swiper.

It only took me a total of eighteen hours to get from Phoenix, AZ to Topeka, KS.

A purring cat in desperate need of petting and brushing keeps getting between me and the computer. Not pleasant to have a shedding cat rub against your sweaty face.

Kansas after London

After I got back to Topeka, Aunt Heinrich Himmler invaded my house, and I should have known better than to say anything against her precious Kansas, even a criticism of the weather. Actually, she showed up about an hour after I got home, and she was soon followed by some of my local cousins, even though I really wanted to be alone. I said, “I’m finding it harder to adjust to the weather than to the time change. I’ve gotten accustomed to temperatures typically in the sixties.” She actually claimed that Kansas is a great place to live, and she said to go ahead and complain about the weather and such, because then people won’t move here, won’t know what a “wonderful place” it supposedly is. The only reason behind this that she actually expressed is the cleaner air in Kansas, something that she mentioned after I had said I occasionally blew my nose and saw black spots on my tissue. The majority of Kansans, like Aunt Heinrich Himmler, eagerly vote for politicians who are out to destroy the environment; as usual, her psychotic delusions are the height of absurdity. You can have your hellhole, and eat it too. Topeka pollutes the mind, the heart, and the soul. It is a fascist hellhole, a cultural wasteland, and an intellectual graveyard. Fortunately for me, however, I have books and Internet access and have turned my house into a one-woman artist commune. I may be in Topeka physically, but I am rarely here otherwise. Big cities have a reputation for being alienating and lonely places, but in St. Louis I was never as alienated as I am in Topeka.

This encounter took place in my house only an hour or two after I arrived from my trip. Not only Aunt Heinrich Himmler, but also a few other local relatives dropped in, and I would have been exhausted after traveling without having alienating relatives in my house. One of them is a teenage boy who was picking on his sister. Cooties. It all felt so invasive and inappropriate for them to come to my house when I had just got back from a vacation that my sister ruined and I desperately wanted to be alone. When they left, I hastily bolted the door, feeling deeply depressed. Relatives are an abomination.