Chicago.

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Listening to: Frightened Rabbit’s “The Midnight Organ Fight” & Bukka White's "Sky Songs"
Just listened: Mixtape from Malorie
Reading: My Ishmael by Daniel Quinn
Just read: Rant by Chuck Palahniuk
Feeling: Grateful for this opportunity, homesick for Boise.

I’ve been lazy about updating since the initial novel diligence of opening a travel blog. Sitting in a twenty-four hour café, wide awake with very unreliable internet and no poems floating around in my head, ready to be transcribed, I am reflecting on the trip so far and think it’s only fair to put up the thoughts appropriate to share for the public to read. If my memory serves me, the last time I updated was in Nevada outside or Reno. Since then I’ve seen, in the way of cities, Salt Lake, Denver, St. Louis and Chicago.

• Salt Lake contained the three best cafés I’ve seen on this trip, which I found interesting. Lots of music culture. We played a gig at “nobrow coffee” and spent a little time busking. A fan of Nate’s music, Ben F—, was very generous with his time and finances. We had delicious coffee and big breakfasts on him for which we were very grateful. It is people like Ben F— that give me hope for humankind, that unassuming generosity. It would be impossible to touch on all the people I’ve met throughout this trip, most of which are homeless. But I love having the chance to talk to so many people without obligation, agenda or timetable. It was in Salt Lake that I “finished” the poem that had been giving me so much trouble, title pending, but for now called Homecoming. (It was in Chicago that I realized the poem needs to be twice as long.)
  
• Denver was an interesting city. Driving across the Rockies was incredible, reaching nearly two miles in elevation and then just coasting down into the city. The Metropolis coffeehouse was wonderful and A—, the barista, was wonderful for conversation. Lots of knowledge about the music I love and tips on how to fully enjoy the city. Biking around Denver was wonderful as the hills were slight and balanced and the traffic was, for the most part, considerate of bicyclists. We played music on the 16th St. Mall where we met D—, a blues guitar player with alcohol on his breath and a longing for a guitar of his own so he could practice. He didn’t need much—I’d liken his playing to 1930’s Skip James on uppers. He dabbled in funk and a few of his progressions were pushing rockabilly. I’m honored to have played music with him.
  
• St. Louis was humid. I didn’t enjoy the city as a city but I loved my time there. We spent an entire day at the free St. Louis Zoo and I became a child again, full of awe and wonder. The Insectorium was incredible, and the Herpetarium, and the Primate House. I only have two complaints about the St. Louis Zoo: no mantis shrimp and no Scolopendra gigantea, or “Peruvian giant yellowleg centipede.” They had other species of Scolopendra, but no gigantea! Lame! I also played my first game of disc golf in St. Louis with John N—, who hooked us up with a parking place, the comfort of his home, meals and the great company of him and his wife Sage.
  
• It is difficult to write about a city before leaving it. In my personal writing I’ve captured a few conversations and observations, but nothing worth sharing here. Chicago is huge. People are impersonal at best and everyone seems to be in such a rush (during the hours of 9 and 5) that they cannot enjoy a single breath. At night, people are either numb from alcohol or in a café where they are inclined to wind down but still seem preoccupied with tomorrow’s 9 to 5. The homeless population seems more ruthless here. Less likely to pause for a conversation without agenda. I am not holding them at fault—making sustenance in a city like this must be difficult.
  

I am excited to see NYC and Boston. From Boston I will be flying back to the West Coast in early July for a family reunion, my brother's wedding, and to spend some time with a certain lovely lady in Boise from whom I can hardly stand to be away.

To soften the pangs of homesickness feel free to contact me via facebook, or me email at [e-mail]

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow
—Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

From Chicago, this is
Benjamin.

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