Monday November 20, 2000  Nebraska, the state

I am visiting my grandmother.

I am driving into Russell, Kansas, hometown of Bob Dole. I am thinking of a A&W billboard. I am thinking of eating chili, and french fries, and a root beer float. The root beer float is big, in a frosted glass. The root beer is cold and fresh. I can taste the float.

I am leaving A&W. I have no cash and they don't take credit cards. I am feeling sad. I am angry at Bob Dole.

I am in the next town eating a dinner, that does not include a root beer float. For this, it is no good.

I am plummeting through the dark night of Kansas.

I am picking up a hitchhiker. He is just out of jail. He is just out of rehab. He had been in for 4 DUIs. He says that rehab works for him and he wants to be there. I am asking because I am curious about all of those people who get sent to rehab. He is saying that many will not admit they have a problem. Many are not ready to change. He is going to see his brother who wrapped a car around a tree while he was locked up. It was a few days ago. I am not asking if his brother was driving drunk. I am still in Oklahoma.

I am a Cranberries song. I don't know which one. Wait, is that right?

I have 3 stations of 80ís to chose from.

I am drawn to my ancestral home.

There is a Cranberries song on the radio. I am not sure it is a Cranberries song. ìKiss Me da-da-da da da da da, Kiss me...î I feel an overwhelming sense of well being.

I am crossing the country by bus. I am full of the sky, and the clouds. I am stopped at a rest break. I am breathing in more and more as the wind rushes by me. I am taking in more of the blue to keep inside of me until I can come back. I am back on the bus. I am glued to the window, taking in every detail. I am glued like I have been during no other part of the trip.

I am talking to someone about driving across the country. She is complaining about how boring the drive across the plains is. I am thinking of that day on the bus. I am thinking about sitting on my grandfathers lap, driving the tractor, when I was six. I am walking along the side of the road, one of those few times that I am wide awake two hours before dawn. There is an early light. I am seeing the world for the first time. My eyes are wide open to a new world. I am having a hard time explaining to my friend why the plains are not boring to me.

I am plummeting through the Kansas night. I am visiting my ancestral home. I am dancing. I am dancing in the beetle. I am fastened with my seat belt and driving, so I am not really dancing. I am wiggling my stomach.

I am a Cranberriesí song.

I am in a state of Nebraska.

MiXiM