The trip over here reminded me of my one attempt at goalkeeping - long periods of boredom interspersed with moments of mad activity. The flight out of akl was two hours late due to an engine falling off - an unnecessary hold up given that Team New Zealand World Police spokesman Peter Rider says 747s can launch w only two engines. This delay gave me the chance to talk to a hilarious american though, decked out head to toe in denim, heading home to San Jose. He called women crumpets and told me how they need to be buttered up...
The late take-off also meant we were rushed through LAX, which really was relatively lax cf my expectations although, sure, before boarding the connecting flight I had to carry my highly volatile chapstick and eyedrops in a clear plastic bag, and yes I had to remove my shoes, belt and jersey going through the x-ray (and then redress alongside the next person in the queue, hurriedly, awkwardly, like the conclusion of a one night stand).
Unfortunately, the flight to Chicago was late (again, an engine explosion), and so I missed my connection to Cedar Rapids, ran the length of the airport in order to make another, and arrived in Iowa with no bag (but couriered to me the following day) and, because I was late, no one to pick me up. Alice had already come and gone but, persistent bugger that she is, she commanded one of her minions to drive her back in to fetch me when she found out about the later flight. Home sweet home is Alice, fiction writer Kate and me, 520 S Dodge St, Iowa City IA.
So far:
I've sat in on a class, poet Dean Young's, in which we watched eye-slitting surrealist film An Andalusian Dog.
I went to see democratic candidate John Edwards talk at Prairie High School - there are a lot of would-be presidential candidates coming through Iowa at the moment as this state is the first to vote for its preferred democratic and republican representatives (although this doesn't actually take place until 2008). H Clinton, B Obama, and R Giuliani have all been talking around the state lately - at bbq's, diners etc.
Edwards' chat was sensible, if broad; he stressed negatie international perceptions of the US, preying on national pride to garner support for action on climate change, a phased withdrawal from Iraq and even universal health care. A weird scene though. Edwards was introduced by the portly assistant principal - decked out in chinos with a creepy cargo pocket, a pale pink shirt and a paedophile vest - and then the inarticulate county Sheriff, a moustachioed man who kept saying Edwards represented 'we the people' as if all the other candidates had ray guns and came from distant planets. He and his wife then ran out to the Foo Fighters and Aretha Franklin, shaking hands and commanding a series of standing ovation.
http://media.www.dailyiowan
The next day I went to a Jonathan Lethem reading at Prairie Lights book store. Lethem wrote Motherless Brooklyn (about a wannabe mobster/detective with tourettes), Fortress of Solitude and seems general obsessed with detective stories, kangaroos and cartoons. He also talked about the 'promiscuous materials project', an attempt to relax rampant copyright protection and acknowledge that good art often takes established art and makes something completely new with it - a man after my own heart. Bizarrely, Alice was hosting the after-reading party so that was a great opportunity to meet both him and a large portion of the 50 or so writers (out of about 100) who regularly socialise in an inwardised, emotionally charged group. Most seem to be in long term, long distance relationships, some of which are more tenuous than others. It was also, of course, a chance for the writers to meet Lethem, and there was much hitching up of breasts, straightening clothes and cautious party navigation to subtly wrangle a good chance to chat to him.
http://www.jonathanlethem.com/
The followoing night we went to The Picodor, a college hangout in a college town - young folk, smoke, hip hop, sexed up dancing. The following night was the American Legion, a Karaoke bar for earnest locals, perhaps a few veterans (The Am Leg was one contraction I didn't use after we arrived, despite there being no amputees present), and the writers go there with nostrils flaring, scenting irony. Two songs on the playlist were by New Zealanders, both Crowded house. Alice put 'Sam and friends' down for Something So Strong - only mildly less sacharine than Don't Dream it's Over but much improved by out of time yank yells. Dancing at the after party was great though: CSS, Peaches and MIA.
Okay! It's fcuking freezing! 57F = 12C or something - I oughta go move about a bit.
Still working on a signout phrase,
Sam
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