Looking for a slice of pizza in the produce aisle of life: American Mythology, Part II

"Pretty little girls
Naked to their curls,
Ready to lay in a coffin."

- Kings of Leon

On my way back to Indianapolis airport now and the only light is this little laptop. I have fallen for this place in a way I may never have done had I just stayed in NY. America will always be America, American people will remain optimistic no matter what while New Zealanders remain sad and remote. That’s geography, and happenstance.

This pitch blackness has a Blair Witch vibe to it; there’s a David Lynchian twist around the next bend and everything is loaded with meaning. All innocence teeters on the verge of corruption. 

I had an amazing afternoon and a perfect Indiana day. I adored the IU campus, and my host could not have been better. I found myself falling into the at ease way Americans take life, and feeling strangely happy. The bus driver with the Southern accent asked me if all kiwi girls were beautiful. I told him you’d have to ask them.

Came out of IU and met a composer and a squirrel. Then went to Soma café where I ran into the Minnesotan boy I met on the bus to Bloomington who lives in San Francisco and loves Hemingway. These American boys will be the end of me. What charmers. Beautiful manners, but then that’s a thing here. Sat around the booths with the guys and girls eating cinnamon wheels and drinking hot chocolate. I then headed out into the night, and into the first snow of my trip. A very delicate drift, which soon dissipated. The melting snow gave everything a muted, wet look, like dampened watercolours.

Went to see an all American dance show at the IU theatre with Kylene’s mother, a genteel southern lady with a great drawl.

Midwest. Land of Bob Dylan, Southern food, tall men, coal mines, Fargo, and Jesus. I’m watching the sun come up over the dust clouds. There’s something so old fashioned, so lacking in cynicism. The frost covers everything today. The friendliness and hospitality I’ve found here is off the charts.

On to Indianapolis now, and then to NY. I wish my American tale would never end.

Look ma. I finally made it onstage at the Met.

Bloomington or bust - this sign greets you at Indianapolis.

Idaho-megrown.

Susan Graham's Met opera nail brush.

Pav's piano at the Met.

In Susan Graham's dressing room at the Met.

Utopia diner in NYC.

AVA audition day.

The incomparable Raehann Bryce, auditioning same day at AVA. She sang significantly and is a tremendous talent.

Ice, Philly style.

This dashing gent was attending his 200th performance at the Met if I remember correctly.

The Met exterior.

My New York cab, bound for the Greyhound to Philly.

Outside the Anne Frank house, Amsterdam, during my stopover. My favourite photo of the whole trip.