Don't Sweep for me, Balenciaga

When I decided I wanted to visit my friends here in America, I had no idea how extraordinarily moving meeting them would be overall, nor did I realise how much this journey across the Pacific Ocean and then the top of North America would change me.

I had considered my online friends and I could simply develop the friendships we'd at first stumbled across and then nurtured, in some way, because I appreciated the people (mostly writers) who I'd met in cyberspace. People here who I met online and stayed close with were so extraordinarily talented, generous and kind, even those who were cruel to be kind sometimes, (since we were after all, often and usually talking about writing, art, publishing and books). These people usually got what I was saying, I suppose since so much of my work is influenced by American culture, even if I also take in media from all over the world. They also didn't mind my hopeless wishes and stupidity too much, or the emotional outbursts, which let's face it can look entertaining written down, there's no noisy volume and I gave up throwing things years ago so that's a blessing. Their tolerance and comments also changed me then, while we corresponded online.

The different things each of us brought to the forum where we first met, (a couple of places really, but mainly centred around writethis http://www.writethis.com/), created a community with such vitality and spark that these friendships have lasted around 12 years now, heart-warming isn't it)? Those individual talents and ideas caused me to meet Christine de Pavilly http://christinedepavilly.amazingtunes.com/users/christinedepavilly in London years ago, (we had a code to say when we actually met, like we were super-spies. One would say, 'The eagle flies at dawn.'  Then the other would say, 'And the ewe looks nervous'). Then Christine also flew over here and met many of the others at one stage near or in Chicago. Now, here I am going from a cruise ship which crossed the Pacific Ocean, (lower carbon costs to use a ship rather than a plane and far more pleasant), then San Francisco to Seattle to Iowa to Chicago and New York.  I have to fly home from there due to time constraints, work's waiting for me to pick it up back in Auckland. Do enrol now in one of my classes, there could be some places left. They are small groups and there is a money-back guarantee if you do not enjoy the first session.  - http://www.leisuretimelearning.co.nz/course-catalogue/13-writing-creative-essay

In Hawaii I was really pleased to meet up with Anne Kennedy, such a kind woman, a great writer and also really busy with her family and work there, (so I was delighted she could spare the time). We enjoyed dinner and a walk while talking at length round Waikiki. Anne and I share a publisher, Auckland University Press, http://www.press.auckland.ac.nz/uoa/ While Adam Gillitt and I met playing Scrabble online, got chatting over the years and found a great deal in common. We both love to cook fresh food, and design books. Adam is a professional website and industrial designer too. http://www.gillico.com/ He designed a book for my last project for BF Publishing, a small press I set up to publish people who I thought would otherwise find it difficult to go through the rather grueling business and marketing process. http://shamfeign.blogspot.com/ My methods of publishing are generally kinder than many in my experience I think, but still involve extra work I can no longer keep up if I am to get all my unpublished books onto Kindle. This book, Shamfeign I love for it's originality and content, the design is also superb. There are various poems about America in it, since Alice Hooton is a history buff with family ties to the USA for generations. There are a few copies left, just ask. Then there's Nigel Rowe who has shown me far more than something of Chicago, (and I see I still greatly alarm him occasionally, but then poets are a rare kind of creature and may say things others take a long time to truly understand as helpful). Nigel now works in IT and for a major charity in the centre of Chicago where he also lives with his wife. It was wonderful to see him so happy and knowledgeable as usual, just 'in love' with architecture, I'd say. More people should hear him speak about this fine city. Those three fine friends of mine were not people I met in the forums, Creative Writers, (or Creative Writhers as chi chi called them) and writethis, through msn groups.

So, I've grown closer to these friends. Now, I keep crying when I think of how the journey is almost over, because I will miss them all so much and this is such a big country, it was so difficult to cross it, the travelling took ages, (thanks for all the help too, everyone).

I'm a person who generally spends most of my time creative writing, editing, manuscript assessing, crafting and doing my consultancy work which involves massive amounts of writing and analysing data from interviews. Even though I can imagine doing this trip again one day, I also know my imagination can soothe me with all kinds of astounding things which are not exactly real, okay, sure, they're made-up to fool myself into happiness. So it is doubtful that I will ever see everybody again quite the way that I so astoundingly did this time. That is unless of course someone else organises all the travel, I have a companion with me, and I don't have to pay for it. Yes, that is a suggestion, ha ha, please do consider it (directed to anyone I get along with, that is, ha).

I think I may come back to visit one or two people at a time, anyway since I can't imagine staying away unless they tell me to sod off. More overseas travel, therefore I'll be planting more trees as time goes on to cover the carbon, so I don't feel like I'm destroying for my own pleasure. I reiterate that every time a person flies on an aeroplane, they use for each individual one tree's worth of carbon every 1800 miles.  Plant even one tree each time you travel and the world is assisted to be a better place, or plant more, these help ensure the future is safer and cleaner, where's the harm?

The world has lost half its trees since human beings evolved to be here. We can plant more, now.

Many of the places in The States where I visited did not need trees, one of Julie Payne's brothers had a wonderful septic tank area in his front garden, underground that was managed by grass and the earth. In every city, people took great pleasure in showing me lush mile after mile of gorgeous trees different for every area, or generally treed areas of city or city parks. The sombre evergreens of Seattle for instance where I saw so many glorious crows and fell in love; the pretty spring trees of Iowa, more delicate than up North. But in in Alameda, San Francisco Bay Area where there are spectacular gardens, also an entire street of trees has been chopped down without warning. Their local council apparently does not believe in telling people what's about to happen to their own road, ironically called Park Street. Then, here in Chicago I'm across from a beautiful, grand park. It leads to a lake and swathes of trees besides. While in the gardens of the Art Institute nearby I saw the largest crab apple tree I've ever seen, masses of white blossoms, delicately scented. So most of these places do not need trees, exactly, although they could all enjoy more. Tower blocks of trees now exist in many major cities, the trees on each floor serve to clean water and sewage as well, I gather.

My friend and eco-brilliant Janet in Tasmania tells me South Australia does need trees, so that's where I'll be paying to plant trees to cover the carbon cost of this one and a half month journey when I get home. Steve Smart et al in Fitzroy, Melbourne, http://www.stevesmartpoetry.com/ when I read poetry there twice after an invitation from their group, (travelled with Shades of Pasifika), told me they wanted closer links between Australia and New Zealand. Part of the reason they developed their poetry project, inviting New Zealand writers over there was for better relationships. So in a way this tree planting project is a continuation of that connection and our friendship, too.

In a way, I feel like I have matured emotionally because of what America generally has given me, it is such a complex place to live. One or two people may not agree with that self-analysis, but just because I speak my mind and stand up for myself, does not make me immature. The generosity and kindness of the people I already knew and others has impressed me so much. My heart literally aches for what I am leaving behind when I go back to New Zealand. But I may have over-reacted to some difficulties or just been an ignorant foreigner, we are not all the same world-wide, everyone has their own culture and individual viewpoint. Also, I find almost everything here bewildering, at times. This then is also a blanket apology for any thoughtlessness or lack of consideration on my part, being just one Aotearoa New Zealand woman, highly sensitive, travelling alone with a lot to learn.

But o my friends I thank you so much and wish you all well. I hope you come and visit me one day. Just let me know and we can arrange things, well in advance.

My last stop is New York. I never thought I'd say that.

Once New York was top on my wish list of places to go, I believed it was the greatest city in the world and perhaps it is, but then after certain events which I certainly do not need to reiterate here I decided it could break my heart to go the Big Apple. Too much had changed from what I knew, from all the material I've read and seen, for me to really enjoy myself. Then again, friends at home convinced me otherwise and insisted I go, that I would love it, that New York would love me. I suppose I shall find out if these things are true in a couple of days.

Now, I have heard from my hotel, have that extra day booked at the beginning of the week, so I'm staying in OffSoho hotel from the 9th to 16th April, 2012, o yes indeedy deedo, dee.

Later, I fly back to New Zealand, gaining a day on the way and arriving home on 18 April 2012.  Back to the intense light and dense green of home, the wonderful people of Grey Lynn, funky town central Auckland city and my house, Blue Haven where the garden will almost certainly need weeding. Great. (Hi Jarrad, Marjorie and Bob, please do the vacuuming properly before I get there and clean the fridge, ha).

I hoped that if I wrote this blog, then I could stop crying. I wanted to stop thinking about how this journey is almost over with so much unresolved and also, so many wonderful memories. But that is all they are, memories, I will not be here next week, I will be crammed in a plane flying back and wishing I was on the ground, on a train or in a boat, flying is fast but not much else is good about it.  I do love taking off, however it's only a few seconds of thrill then the torture begins.

These are gentle tears and they involve my whole body. Strangely, it also feels good to cry this way again, since I think I've made myself rather numb and dumb with so much work and worry in New Zealand, before. I was also recovering from a terrible experience which took me ten years to resolve, then a few other disasters occurred along the way, (c'est la vie) but these soft tears without any drama could indicate I'm better.

I guess I could say the South Pacific and American people have made me come back to life.


                                                                                *

Editing did bring a kind of peace too, like it may. Editing is a different pleasure to writing but it has some penetrating rewards, with broad effects. A kind of smoothing of the self results too, if I can suggest this without sounding idiotic.

So now I can look a little happier and feel lighter, stride down to this new cafe which Laura Lee and I discovered yesterday, after we got lost in the Van Gogh paintings and the Impressionists for long enough to refresh our minds at http://www.artic.edu/aic/ Yes, this cafe most American place I've been in so far to my mind (which is a ridiculous statement, but o well), I love it, retro cafe-style probably been there for 80 years or more, and I'll order some breakfast. Then I'll look out over the Chicago street, watch people walking by, and I'll admire the decor while waiting for my food and maybe draw wish-lists in my book, or send someone a text.

My button cellphone will be gone soon too, I have to think, it's only been for this trip. A storehouse of messages inside it, a time capsule of a to and fro.  But do I have to think?  Maybe now I just need to enjoy the short time left as best I can, and perhaps that's possible without too many tears.

I'm meeting Stephen Larson and his wife Amy today here at the hotel then we could walk to the lake and bus to the aquarium. Stephen managed Creative Writers and is a fine person, Laura tells me his wife is lovely. I look forward to seeing what we talk about and see.

Thanks for reading my blog any comments please feel free, I really appreciate your kind attention.

All the Chicago City Buildings

I mention towers of forests in cities. 
'yes' he says 'their aim is to put gardens
on the top, here.'
N the man who knows more about architecture;
his stories as wareful as a miniature at the art institute.
certain groups pamphlet their way closer
i laugh 'poetry doesn't care how much money's spent on it
how many people think it makes sense
or whether the person in charge has a name tag or not'

it's time to get me things from latitudes
buy the most ironic and delicious please
like Sleeping Dogs wine from Roger Donaldson
or a case of Nantucket Nectars
(their OJ for breakfast this morning - lid a medal).

yes, blinks - last night between converse i wondered,
grumpy coat over my arm and a sugar low
why the waitress hadn't picked up the tab yet.
'being polite' said N and got up to rest the room.
Asian Fusion - scallop sashimi
and banana wontons with chocolate sauce;
near the hotel a lock talk away.

this morning walked out to doorman's, 'taxi?' bark;
but strode icy wind and sharp sun a remember.
DQ closed and polite about it,
along further found a cafe with notices,
a green and yellow booth seat.
had ordered a Chicago omelette and various.
smiled - realised K could be cc like the other K
'don'matter it's a habit, it's a life-style' says the man
in the booth next to mine to his murmuring girlfriend.

doubled doors between where we eat and the pavement,
an air lock for this warm place against the cold.
no matter how clever we are online or underground,
on terra firma there are few alternatives, (sane),
but to breathe and love and eat well where possible,
my many splendoured very best friend,
or so I imagine for a Valentine's card.

the television in here says, 'peanut butter' over and over,
people next to me speak German - parents and two children.
the woman waves a wrapped straw around benignly,
after I've drunk almost half the OJ from the bottle.
use the lower lip of the wide mouth
to place my lips carefully upon,
tip - neat as a nibble.

drinking this way helps keep my head up;
while young men at a pedestrian X-ing two days ago shouted,
'let's go' towards my ear as I passed after they whispered together.
a noisy version of French male admiration I suppose,
must be the Italian influence like the grandiose architecture.
o the buildings are so Milan railway station.

I'm given over to an illusion,
til someone decides we exist.
or this continues like a newly edited version of the same film,
each day an adventure movie I've never rehearsed,
and then when a secret test is passed
sunrise finds me each time more naked.
next I could remove my defenses,
except fencing is such good practise,
necessary reserves and duels on pages or screens.
an audience of sensationalists,
or shall we take this to somewhere more domestic for cleaning?
my tea cup tells me to wait and see,
giving away these layers of evening.

writing inside cosy where someone could visit,
the difference between bad
tempered reactions and believing impossible contentment.
onions cooking in fresh oil;
the TV says, 'that girl takes the correct tools'
and my medium tea almost gone
black in a disposable cup with koru on the outside,
or art nouveau pearls if you're European.
the caution sign in three languages
caution: contents hot
attention:contenu chauo
precaucion: contendo caliente

N said last night 'they add on to buildings now
where they stand, see that one there?
the three bands of blue flights?
they can make them glow higher.
that was the first.'
I try to send a ph-picture to someone and fuddle
the address.

by then a cocktail of a beast hour,
when visitors in other languages grow extra fingers.
N went on 'but when your observation desk gets closed,
then it's turned into a nightclub or a restaurant,
well, you know then you're gone.'
I think he imagines gildings are people
or the versa visa - some bold-sigh flick for times frost,
but laugh when it's suggested i'm in a watch.
yes, all day and night the sky and earth while birds circle
telling on me and felling these trees I'm replanting.

but as if i didn't flow to surrender before now,
when laced with my tiny fleck in this massive picture,
and soon to land in NY after sleeping along the rails.
my map written wavely over with someone's non-fish list,
the rest as invisible as the speaking Chicago wind.

More Chicago and the Vid is too Big

Okay I have pushed the Paranoia Beast back into its steel box, yay. It won't get through any of the checks from now on, I'd say. Hopefully it'll turn into a bunny in there and someone will sense cuteness then take it out and give it a good home, I think that's the most likely scenario. (Aaand no, a certain someone who knows who they are, this is not a reason to start writing horror films about bunny mayhem, thank-you. Although, Attack of the Killer Bunnies could be a good thing)?

Yesterday, Nigel old-friend, my-first-publisher and IT whiz had great fun with my idea the hotel could be blocking my video upload, o yes, chuckle chuckle. But he seemed to forget I put 'maybe' and 'we'll see', so it's possible he needs some reading lessons. I must ask his wife if she agrees with me, he may need spectacles. Ha.

Okay, update on the tra la, the video is too big. So I have put it in a zip file which Nigel also seems to think is not going to work, I'm trying it anyway. (It did not work, so he's correct sometimes).
Otherwise I have to have an Iowa Part One and an Iowa Part Two, (that bluddy Julie Payne et al made me love the place so much I made double-triple sized much more film and sound).  Or I can edit the soundtrack and the film and make it ten minutes for youtube, except it is seventeen yes, 17, minutes long so what has to go?  Every bit of it is staying, if possible even the Brando-esque mumbling.

Is this an epic film-making thing which could take a year? Possibly. I think making the Iowa iMovie half and half is best, *sigh* it's got sound effects and fades which will be a pain to do again piece by piece, but o well I have to have something to work on when I get home, I guess. I can cut the audio in half after making two files of it, then put one half on the beginning images and the other on the rest, add all the sound effects and that and well, you may see this video yet.

Meanwhile, here is the dictated poem, (yes, I talk to the 'puter and it records what it thinks I say), this is it in rough edit form, which just shows you how raggedy things are to start with, doesn't it? You may go ahead and think me crazy if you like at this point, (what else is new)?

The first line is more or less from a Billy Brag song, I sing this in fact three times like someone does to themselves as they're walking about the garden or something, but there is only one line printed here as Dictate thought it should be, " When your world falls apart something stays in place," I sing the line as I said which I've not tried with the Dictate software before. The Dictate 'listening then writing' made quite a strange arrangement of those words, I think.

I have also split this into something like paragraphs, so it is easier to read. Good luck. (And also, Julie, Bert and Dana et al, this proves I have started work on your poem and you were certainly impressive there in Iowa where people say no one goes, I think it could be one of Am e r i ca's best kept secrets, your city generally and that Davenport neighbourhood. Ha).

ROUGH DRAFT - first copy of dictated poem (using Dictate software)

for Iowa, somewhat for Seattle and also everyone else involved

(wish this was more gooder better grrr, and just nobody be mean to me today about this blog - ha)

-----------------------------------ROUGH DRAFT STARTS__________________________

Queen Miller world falls apart son Dean Davies said today he is weighing your were more for laws of Power some 13 steadies plan you use a new alarm foils are still who must share use in the landing and lean concrete and mind great dependability of the great white payloads of America 

then my suitcase and a window and men assisted me with genuine and artist who runs a bed and breakfast took me to Devonport smalltown America on the edge of all those tall buildings we visited another time I suppose except it's now and one shop sales crystals and essential oils alternative medicines by another is full of every kind of soap and the daily has an upstairs room where men talk about many different countries and I sat in the corner and chew a three-page letter on the pages of a health magazine at night Davenport takes on the appearance of a Western film at a particular point by a wall I have photographs to prove this 

affair are no posts near in the Buffalo Bill Museum in the clear the ghosts watched us arrive till the end I they spoke amongst themselves not unkindly imparted as if they knew will enjoy a welcoming committee the man behind the counter told me delighted with his hands behind his head the place was started by a group of local women and almost everything in the is donated Julie told me about writing that gives the address over and over and over for the way they have in school sometimes when they think were the boredom could assist us the lonely blessed with the curse of talent who rarely find each other from good old chinwag anywhere that the fire engine is well kept 

10 I have to say I know now what has in her car looks like a sleek red machine with this fabulous chrome wheels and original white upholstery while behind it and American muscle car and perch reach the engine to prove it worked so it has something to remember that I like the photograph of him with his daughter Gaynor perhaps more 

the bed and breakfast like walking through a painting each room had different colour with white trim all the chairs and tables and decorations placed a human enjoyment and life while the dogs don't park unless they're not sure and then a recently quoted to win a think of him there by all those trees and squirrels on the hell I can hear her voice so kind and tearful the genuine concern 

perhaps that Princess and the people you'd makes me some kind of vehicle for a tiara I'm not sure that such a huge sky via and Iowa—Andy's abject heaven remember women on the side is squeezed it into yours and I squeezed mine and mine and we talked and planned and you got the last talisman my daughter made me numbered sheets shaped three of him one left in Hawaii with Ian Kennedy the last one with you and the second one a kind of secret I suppose because with luck it is best not to tail too much 

we went to grasshoppers with their purple Lions the crowds and centred here below those third ghost S a range of wine in bottles dressed at fashion models I've never had chocolate and wine before 

how can I tell anyone about Joe and how she gave me violets when we met which I had to give back later to her granddaughter were not allowed to take seeds or plant material home that violets were every where care they grow in the grass at Veronica and the gals with all those children played under the swing set dots of people in the green and trees everywhere enormous skyscrapers Maple vivax in Bloom 

I'm going what I remember as if walking through my memory museum without stopping to long anywhere because Iowa made me liked and everything easier without the people involved somehow I have two mention the light and I heard a woodpecker one-day walking back up the hill from my sandwich 

Geordies brother Bob has man cave full of smoke and music are thousands and thousands of files in his library on a huge screen we trekked through and he played a few I don't know Hendrix's over the rainbow the someone gave me a clue to a team in Seattle I'm quoting Hendrix sometime later and here I am all over the place as usual with more smiling 

thinking of Julie and Bert with the plans and the ceiling and awaiting Chinese maple between the garage and house deep create and how it sits on that chair to watch the sunset each day through all those trees at the back of the garage I liked the brown and black and concrete of it tidy a working place 

then music in a tavern we parked behind a place to store it with a veranda on the second floor and a saloon sign hanging down walked along an alley and set where we called backstage a table beside the band in full view of the others I wrote to you and demanded attention since this was where the music started 

later on the train thanks fan of the ride after the gales the railway station blues I dozed and prayed for a woman scarcely dressed who sounded determined that two alone and belligerent felt glad when she calmed down 

saw 28 mesh file off the carriage men women and children in the newest clothes plain blue dark blue and black and white a small boy and a straw vote with a red band about it I suppose so if he ran away and see him in a crowd more easily practical nature of farmers 

I could go on but I'm only allowed to sit through a second time and talk even less none of this enough to show my gratitude I have to become as big as that sky and rolling land the corn stubble some of that black and burnt those trees are pretty leaves the spring 

lines of white windmills in Illinois neighbouring 

I don't know I just love you thank you and have to say to come back here like to convert wonder if

----------------------------------ROUGH DRAFT ENDS________________________

Somewhat inspired by mean confession - Dean Strom (pretendGenius press) which I've reviewed and that could appear soon, shall let you know. Thanks for reading. 

Lovely day here in Chicago and today I meet Laura Lee, another writer I've known online for around 12 years, a fine person, a teacher too and we're going to see art galore like we're in some fabulous musical.

Also, Nigel Rowe wonder of the computer world (thanks) has some of the movie footage off my camera so I can put selected pieces online later, featuring Seattle and some of San Francisco, (hi Adam).

Chicago

Chicago - Looking Up  
                     -they're scraping the sky

tougher
likely to dream out the window
men here demand attention
not for long but enough

the lake's high water behind the park view
fourth floor someone could remember what backwards is for
like today
messages crumble
a wash of commands
tea breaks are for august

anything too difficult now
the highest achievement
long distance decency


--------------------------

This little film I've just made is not meant to be exactly audible all the time, nor exactly understood or exactly the answer anyone's looking for but it's the best possible tribute to Iowa where I've just been and so on, before I escape to the Art Institute and some refueling, (they have lions outside, it's just along the road).  However the hotel internet will not let me load it for some reason, or maybe this blog site. So I shall make a smaller version later to see if that will fit on here, *sigh*, it took ages and I thought I'd get it up right now, o well.

I suspect the hotel thinks the video could be well... they seem not to really get what on earth I am doing, maybe someone could just ask me but o no, no one has there's just been some odd looks and so on. This middle-aged writer from NZ is posting a response to travelling in this fine country and yet, somehow this is being blocked?

Maybe. I guess we'll see. I shall ask them at the desk when I go to the Art Institute. Okay, off for a walk.

The Galesburg Railway Station Blues

Nigel Rowe my history buff friend in Chicago, (who could be a wonderful tour guide for select groups), tells me btw that Galesburg, Illinois is going to be the site of the new railway museum.  The station itself is gorgeous, vintage, worth a visit.

O an' Dana if you see this, they take your ticket on the platform when you get on the train, for future reference.  Hope you do make that trip to this city some time, it's a toddle. Be good practise for you then travelling over to see me in NZ, (which is almost nothing like Chicago at all, ha).

-----------------------


Galesburg Railway Station Blues 
                         by Dana Williams and Raewyn Alexander

One more hour til the blessed train 
uh huh
Air conditioning's hummin' a drone
But we're not goin' nowhere yet

Thought we'd be wise to get there early
Then writers' block kicked in to the story
So we can't imagine or create a fun disaster

To make the time go faster
That blasted train to Chicago better glide in soon
Or we'll need more than sticking plaster

For this injury to our dignity
Here in a place we could get pernickity
us world travellers gotta move on 

Get rid of these Galesburg
Train Station
bluuueees

 ------------------------

We were not really annoyed but it was a fine way to spend the extra time, partly, doin' a bit a writin'. We sat in the sun too for a while. I found Nabokov's Ada on the 'take a book, leave a book' shelf, (brilliant), read some of that aloud, then I read aloud some of Dana's book and she laughed at my silly voices.  I admired the oak pew-like (but sooo comfy) purpose-built seats there. The floor was paved with red brick. 

Oddly enough, later on some dogs arrived with po lice and well, I did wonder if they thought we were y'know doing something we should not, all the giggling and so on. Now, I want all of you to know I am naturally insane this is not a substance-induced behaviour, *smiles*


An eagle circled the sky before we left and it reminded me some are keeping an eagle-eye on me, in the best possible ways. x

The Toddlin' Town

I guess when Dean said, 'Chicago Chicago that toddlin' town,' I didn't get why at first, even if I had heard the song with somewhat different lyrics many times. But I think now that he knew it'd help me to think of this enormous roar and massive architecture of a place, where the most bridges on any river in the world all open and close, as a 'toddle,' rather than to really think too much on about its gargantuan splendour and echoing traffic noise, its history of wild gangster fights, the various street craziness which we have to take into account, or do we? A revolution in music took place here too of course, the divine Charlie 'Bird' Parker et al for instance, it is also the home of American architecture and the arts here are complex, rewarding... their public library a beauty to behold, it looks like it could fly. There are also excellent examples of art in many buildings, a Picasso in one, Henry Moore in another, since they have to spend some of their building budget on art, by law so their foyers and plazas are the better for it. This is the best art too, high excellent wonders. http://www.cityofchicago.org/city/en/depts/dca/provdrs/public_art_program.html 


Arriving here was an easy run in a train from Galesburg where Dana Williams and I wrote a blues song I could post at some stage, (along with the epic poem I'm writing about Bettendorf), we trundled across flat and slightly rolling river plain country, farmland everywhere. The mid-west where corn stubble fields recently cut looked blackened in places and lines of pretty trees in spring colour including lilacs were interspersed with old-fashioned telephone poles, next to the occasional bunch of white, new windmills. A huge sky bigger than I've ever seen, but a little like Hamilton where I grew up, and a carriage in upstairs coach where half the space was inhabited by Amish passengers. So I did get to see their style, which I rather admire, when they disembarked. Women, children and their men, all in what looked like their newest clothes and speaking a Germanic language, just as you'd expect except the women wore dark blue and I always thought they wore black.  

An annoyed woman near me in bright pink also spoke for a while on her cellphone about how she was going to do this thing and then another thing, but realised she was telling her (horribly fascinating and alarming) business to the whole train and gradually reduced details and volume. I was literally praying she would, it seemed she would come to harm with the person she was speaking to, if she kept it up, and I did not want to know such lurid things, anyway. 'Give this woman dignity and peace,' I kept saying in my head.


So after three hours of pleasant dozing most of the journey, the Amish filed off and so did I after everyone else, a mixture of people mainly adults. Then the last suitcase was my heavy one and I got some help from the conductor, trundled it down the gloomy platform of Union Station where the trains all arrive underneath the building in the sooty, sooo dark but vaguely orange-lit area, their noise and machinery for all the world like something could at any time break open the world. It terrified me at first. I kept calm and stopped myself from shutting down by chanting pleasant ideas in my mind, walking along for a good 200 metres at least maybe more, with a doorway somewhere ahead I hoped but could not see one. 'Sunshine and lollipops and red and pink roses, tra la...' or somesuch I cobbled together in a panic, anyway. I think I was quite inventive, (wish I'd been able to record them, ha), but those thoughts served their purpose.

                           picture not taken by me and does not show the soot and dreadful noise
                           i have many pix in devices i cannot download, being a fool re gadgets
                           this one is from here http://www.redoveryellow.com/trips/chicago/index.html


My first-ever publisher Nigel Rowe met me, (Martian Way Press, he published many fine people's work years ago, including David Eggleton, Michael O'Leary, Tim Jones and myself). Nigel is a history and architecture fan so he told me enormous amounts about where we were and what had happened there, while we walked to my hotel a short distance away. He lives with his wife nearby and works in the tallest building also close, handy. 

The walking took forever, Nigel kept saying, 'Just around the next corner.' Then there'd be another marvellous facade or building to gape at and I'd sit on the edge of some fabulous granite edifice for a brief rest, soon we'd be off again. 'Your hotel's just around the next corner.' All men are liars. It's in the bible. Wonderful to see him in any case and we chatted on for some time.

My hotel is quite close to the station but not as nearby as it appeared at first.


Now I'm in my room over-looking Chicago's enormous park which edges the lake. It's a sublime place. A retro-style hotel which I prefer, although I did not know the hotel has one of the longest running disputes going. It's hard to find out what it's about but I'd already paid and was almost ready to collapse, so standing on principal with sketchy information seemed to foolish even for me.


Nigel later took me along the almost deserted streets around 10pm, since I'd had to sleep through dinner-time. This is inner-city Chicago where about 100,000 people live, however the avenues are broad and the park area is especially enormous with wide stretches of concrete everywhere. That was why I thought not many people were walking round, they were dwarfed by the immense spaces. We had to find somewhere to eat but it was too late, then at last a pizza-place stood open since many students stay nearby in a purpose-built hostel, (a glamorous golden place with elaborate architecture and a column of common rooms on the corner of it, which are round). I was so hungry I ordered fries too with a Buffalo Chicken burger but fasted all day today to make up for it.  They were delicious at the time. Iced tea afterward, chock-a-block with corn syrup I realised too late after I'd bought it, o well, the calories have kept me going daylong so that's saved some money I suppose. Wish I had a camera to record the way the woman looked at me in amazement when I said I did not drink soda, (not usually), when I'd asked for juice and found it was not available.


Nigel is tall and wears dark clothes, he looks confident. I am not a great walker but think I look like I know where I am, not afraid, usually. These things matter. Accompanying me back to my hotel he said, 'Not a great place to walk around at night. They have armed robberies here you know.'
I laughed. 'O yes I do know. Today I lost my credit card [and reported it missing], what say I get my money stolen too?'
He talked calmly, 'That's when you say, 'This is all I need. Credit card gone and now you're taking my money too?!''
We laughed and rounded the corner with massive city block buildings and grand skyscrapers all about us, in the dim orangey night light of Chicago, but I recognised someone I'd seen when we popped into the pharmacy for pain killers earlier, so maybe I'm already at home here? 

Today has been fine, alone writing in this hotel where Vivienne Plumb said the hallways remind her of Barton Fink, the film where the corridors catch on fire, you know, in his imagination since he has writers' block? Loved that movie, but I'm blessed with the curse of talent so it's not my life, *touchwood* I've been quite busy and shall post a link to the review I wrote tomorrow maybe or the next day. Just waiting for someone to comment on the review (which they did later on), in case it's not quite there yet.

Lovely to know you're out there. Stay keeping an eye on me and comment at will, it's okay.

Thanks to everyone so far and here's a hope to see you again one day - Poi E from the Patea Maori Club, a song which was Number One in NZ at one stage, represented for the movie Boy, more recently.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P85ZhYgoqeg