10.20

It felt great to drive through Wyoming. Wyoming is even emptier than South Dakota.

As I left this morning there was fog in Rapid City. It cleared as I climbed up into the Rockies. It felt like I was really up high because the clouds were very low in the sky. It started snowing when I dipped into the valleys throughout Wyoming and every 100 miles or so I would stop to pee on the side of the highway then climb up on top the Uhaul and look around.

I went passed Pierre, South Dakota yesterday, which is where Ben died. I’m glad that if he had to die he died in a place like Pierre. When I saw the sign for the turn off I felt my chest tense up. I had almost rerouted through North Dakota to avoid Pierre, but didn’t. After that initial chest-tightening, I felt fine though and didn’t think about it.

Also yesterday, I detoured through the Badlands. They come out of nowhere – just like the Grand Canyon does. Unexpected. The first big outcropping I saw – you come around a turn and see the pink and tan marshmallow formations cut into the empty plain – I grasped.

There was construction on the driving route through the park grounds. I was stopped by a flagger so that a digger could slowly make its way in front of me. The Flagger came to my window to chat with me while we waited. She was Native. I’ve seen Natives all day. Natives and the badlands. It makes you think about what the Country might be otherwise.

I’m drinking a bit of beer as I type and it’s gone straight to my head. I’m in an Applebee’s and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. The car broke down in Billings, Montana and it took all afternoon and evening to sort out a mechanic and a hotel. I’m paying through the nose for the hotel, but I can walk to the shop from there.

The Applebee’s is across the street from the hotel. My waiter has an accent like a cowboy. He seems apologetic when he says anything. “I’ll take your order.” Hangdog cowboy.

10.19

I got up at 6am just as my parents were headed out to work. It was still dark and cold. I put a Ziploc baggie full cookies my mom made for me in the passenger’s seat and headed South on 35 for 70 miles until I reached 90 West, which I will stay on for 1,400 miles give or take.

I watched the wind farms in Southern Minnesota turn into the empty yellow pastures of South Dakota, which looked pinked through my sunglasses. I started taking pictures and making little videos that I imagine I will post here soon.

I stopped for lunch in a town called Plankinton. 2 block main street, court house, bars, gain elevator. I came into one of the bars for lunch expecting – I don’t know – saw dust on the floor. Instead I found leather couches inside and wireless internet. I got my laptop from the car and logged in to my email. I saw R. was online.

I meet R. at a month long artist residency in Vermont shortly after I meet Z. I was enthralled with Z. at the time, typing out messages to her at night on my laptop in my studio, planning a weekend with her Montreal. I couldn’t think of anyone else when I masturbated. I told this to R. We were fast friends.

In the South Dakota bar I update R. saying that I’m back in the US, thenI asked her if anyone had ever accidentally had anal sex with her. I accidentally put my penis in Z.’s anus in South Africa. Things had been a little tense between us; I was leaving in less than a week. I figured I would break the tension by having a loud fuck. It was going well. I was being aggressive, then I accidentally fucked her butt. One or two strokes, but still, she and I both found it arresting. I got in the shower feeling like like a screw up, I couldn’t even fuck away the tension. After the shower she and I had sex again – a kind of it’s OK, these things happen sort of sex. A few days later I left. As soon as I got home Z started writing to me about how sad she was. I hadn’t expected that.

I got back into my car and started driving again. The pastures turned into open range. Occasionally I saw black steer eating. The yellow grass still looked pink through my sunglasses. I feel like South Dakota is empty. I’m sure people who live here would disagree. South Dakota is exactly right for me right now.

10.18

I spent the last three months in Sub Saharan Africa with Z. – almost all of that time in a little town called Tororo in Uganda, close enough to the Kenyan boarder that you could see the rain coming and say, “It’s raining in Kenya.”

I’ve returned to the US without Z. I’m in MPLS. Z. is in Tororo and I’ve been getting emails from her telling me how sad she is. I didn’t expect that. She has made choices in her life that have required that she be the only skipper of a lone boat.

How do I feel? Out of place. I was sick on the airplanes coming how. I started vomiting in Entebbe, Uganda and stopped three continents later in JFK, where I also lost my hat. I just turned around and it was gone. I had bought that hat with Z. in a little town in Mexico from an adorable woman in the market who demonstrated the hats ability to retain it’s shape after being crushed. She crushed it in her tiny hands and made her round face crush up at the same time. I bought the hat to protect me from the African sun.

It’s autumn in MPLS. Z. told me I would feel out of place when I came back and I had said “No. Especially not considering we had spent two weeks in South Africa before flying back to Uganda” (I got on a plane the next day bound for MPLS).

I am walking down the street. I try to remember the dirt roads in Tororo, the mud huts and the children, the market where I spent so much of my time walking around, sitting and talking with people as I drew their portraits with watercolor pencils. The two places are absolutely irreconcilable. Either they are two on different plants or this one planet is so much stranger that I had ever imagined.

Tomorrow I will start driving to Oregon. I don’t think I will make it all the way through South Dakota. My aim is to reach Rapid City by dark.