Just realized how freakily "American Psycho" I was sounding; jumping from mind numbing musings on music and musicians to my accessories of death. I'm sorry. At least it wasn't five pages about Whitney Houston.
I flew through Nebraska, pausing just long enough to appreciate some Willa Cather-esque scenes, and miles and miles and miles of corn fields. Which are strangely beautiful. Early in the morning, when the light and shadows of the stalks stretch on to the horizon... I restrained my urge to photograph, though, as I realized that no one would most likely agree.
I did not restrain myself so well at the Geographic Center of the US, in Lebanon, Kansas. Despite the fact that there was pretty close to nothing there, I still snapped picture after picture. Mostly of me and Stripes modeling our wax lips, next to the rock cairn, next to the empty motel, next to the tool shed filled with three pews and a cross.
Right now I feel like I am on an "American Gods" pilgrimmage. Last week I only hit religious sites, this week it's only wacky roadside stuff. My trip tends towards waves.
On to Oklahoma!