it's the final countdown.

Hello readers.

I meant to write more, I really did.

It's been a crazy, fantastic ride, and we open tomorrow.

One day I'll write it all down and make a one woman show out of it.

Until then, I hope I'll see you at the show.

I love you all, everything.

xoxo
Elizabeth

Let the Good Times Roll.

My friend Jeremy Beiler said "I saw some good press about you." And this is what he was talking about.

Holy Mackeral!

She's crafty -- she's just my type.

I like this story, because it uses the term "genius bear."

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/25/nyregion/25bear.html

She's got a ticket to ride.

Tickets are on sale!

Buy them on the interweb!

You know you're coming. So why not get your ticket now, so I know, too?

C'mon. Do it!

Got to get you into my life

This is a guy I'd like to meet. He also likes to find and take pictures of cool stuff that other people don't see. Like, for example, the Machpelah Cemetery in Queens, where Harry Houdini is buried and an abandoned train station in Inwood. His pictures are beautiful and make me want to tromp around New York, like I used to tromp around the woods near my house -- with a backpack, a sandwich and a book.

Go here for a little nerdy vacation.

http://kensinger.blogspot.com/

No Sleep Till Brooklyn.

Well, that was a very difficult week.

Thanks everyone.

I found out that the show is definitely true, though. Optimism is a choice, not an inherent personality trait. But if you do choose to be optimistic, not only will it more than likely come true the way you hope it will, but you will also feel happier in the meantime.

(I know, I know. I just gave away the ending. But I just can't imagine that anyone is actually reading this.)

The big opening night is in exactly four weeks! That seems like no time at all! That seems like acres of time!

This is the good part, too. Oh, good. Good, good, good.

However, I miss my friends and family, and hope I see them again soon.

Sometimes you can't make it on your own.

You know, at this time, I'd like to use this space to give a shout-out to the cast of Our Town.

That's right, you two people who follow my blog, to the cast of Our Town.

There's this group of people that I hang out with almost every night, and almost all weekend, and they are the nicest, smartest, most talented, funniest, most generous and all around bestest people that I've known and I feel so lucky to be in their midst.

It is hard to have two jobs and work all the time and try to squeeze creating and rehearsing your one person show in there somewhere, and these people are unrelenting in their helpfulness. They give me snacks, and hugs, and kind words, and they pick me up when I'm down, and I cannot think of a better way to spend my time, but in their company.

Thank you, cast and crew of Our Town.

Good show, all.

Time is not on my side.

Too much to do. Aaah! Aaah!

Currently sifting through the press photos we took on Friday. Thanks so much to Sam Burrow and Amanda Duffy for making me look so good. Truly. I don't remember the last time I saw 20 pictures of myself that didn't make me want to die.

I'll post them soon.

The first half of the show is rehearsed. The second half is not. The second half is a lot harder.

I am still not sure how I am going to get people to come to the show.

Love the One You're With.

Thanks to all who came to the read through on Tuesday. It was really great to have you there, even though I was very nervous.

I feel like maybe, it is probably going to be ok.

Here's a nice link to look at.

I just love her stuff -- it makes me feel calm and happy.

Don't let me be misunderstood.

Hello all.

There's much to report.

The biggest thing is, the first read through is tonight. I invited everyone to come and hear it, both because I wanted to read it in front of a group to hear how it works, and also because you know, if something is scary and hard, the best thing to do is to make it even more scary and hard by inviting everyone you know to come and watch you fail. Great plan, Elizabeth! Good thinking!

No, but seriously. It's no good telling stories to an empty room, and I wanted to invite people I know and love to come and be a part of it -- you know, community building and all that fruity hippie bullshit. Hopefully, the audience will keep me honest, and let me know if it is good, or if I should consider carefully and ignominiously slinking away.

It's been quite a haul to get ready for this first read -- the video is almost all totally ready (thanks Rachelle Beckerman!) and the script is in a good place (I think) and I've rigged up a whole system where I can operate the sound and the video at the same time as I read the script. I feel a little like a one man band with a harmonica in my mouth and cymbals on my knees, but it should be fun to watch me maneuver around, if nothing else.

I hope, I hope, I hope.

I keep thinking this is all going to get easier, but you know, it just doesn't. Not ever.

Good thing I like it when things are hard.

See you tonight.

xo

Bright Future in Sales

Got my venue assignment yesterday!

The show will be at The Actors' Playhouse, which is exactly across the street from Barrow Street Theatre in the West Village. Like, you can see it from the lobby.

So, since I'll be doing both shows at the same time, I'll finish one, cross the street, and do the other. I think this is hilarious and awesome.

Here's the theatre's website. I like how the "before and after" shots of the theatre renovation aren't really a one-to-one correlation.

www.nyactorsplayhouse.com/

One problem -- the theatre has 162 seats.

How am I going to fill 162 seats, 5 times?

I was kind of hoping that I would get a space with like, 40 seats, so I could fill it and sell out and feel good about myself.

Now I have to find, like 800 audience members. Or, like 500. 500 would do.

Oh god.

Please come to the show.

Love, Elizabeth

A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head

Hi everyone.

Sorry for the radio silence.

So, in the last week, I've been sitting on the script, and have delivered the video into the able hands of Rachelle Beckerman. While it was mildly traumatic to give up my computer, it's really fun to watch what someone else does with the stuff, and I find that I can get so much more done when I'm not farting around on the internet at night!

I was dragging my feet about memorizing the script, so I did what I know best. I made a little schedule with deadlines.

Then, I recorded the whole script into my little tape recorder. I did this in my car -- both because it's a private enclosed space that makes a pretty good sound booth, and also because I felt safe and invisible when I was sitting inside of it. I did this in between shows, when the car was parked on the street in Greenwich Village. I'm sure that people thought I was crazy. I'm also sure they saw crazier things on the street that day.

I drove down to the beach that night to visit a friend. And you know, every time I get in my car, I think about how all the alternate side parking, and car insurance, and hassle associated with having a car in New York just melts away as soon as I start driving away from the city. And I had that same feeling, you know, of "I could go anywhere tonight. I'm on my way to Avalon, NJ, but really, I could go anywhere from here." I don't know what that thing is, but it is strong with me.

Now, once I got to Avalon, NJ, I was very happy to be there and sad to leave. It was so nice and comfortable to sit on a big couch and drink wine and hold a baby. But I wondered if it was only so nice because I knew I had just the one day? It felt really good to be at rest and not in motion, though. But I'm still scared of being at rest in the wrong place. So I'm still in motion, looking for the very best place to be at rest.

What I'm telling you, is that the problem whose solution is is kind of the story of the show is actually still a problem. I haven't solved it at all and I am a fraud.

I feel fine about that.

xo
Elizabeth

The best imitation of myself

Hey you guys.

I totally forgot that I have to memorize it.

I got so excited about being accepted into the fringe, and then so swept up in finishing the writing, that I totally forgot that I'm going to have to remember what to say next for 80 minutes.

I have a pretty good memory, but I don't know about this. Shit. 80 minutes? That's a lot of minutes.

In other news, I met with my awesome production team, who are going to lift the technical and production worries off my shoulders and make everything wonderful.

I'm not totally happy with the music and the projections. There's a puzzle there, and I haven't figured it out, but it's not quite right. Rachelle Beckerman can help me, I'm sure of it.

xo
Elizabeth

Mysterious Ways

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I think I finished the draft, and I think it all makes sense.

For those keeping count, this draft is draft SEVEN since I first began. The first draft contains everything, and, is like 200 pages long. Listen, I drove around for 9,000 miles. A lot of things happened.

That got boiled down to the 38 pages that I read in January.

Now I'm down to a lean, mean, 26.

Not that the page count is what's important. I cut out a lot of redundancy and things that I thought were super clever but are actually unnecessary.

And now, you know, it feels kind of good to edit. Because I feel like the more I cut away, the stronger the story is. Like, I can still write the expanded version -- I might just have to put it in a book, and not in this particular play.

Oh, man. Am I going to have to write a book?

Maybe I am. Maybe, I am.

Fuck.

You say goodbye, I say hello.

Um, I just found out this existed:

www.great-lakes.net/tourism/circletour

It has everything I want! Shipwrecks! Secret beaches! Hidden lighthouses! I can see Niagara Falls AND Mackinac Island all in one trip!

You've got to live with what you are.

Lately, I am annoyed by everything. I fear that I am miserable to be around. I am starting to feel anxiously consumed by the show, but I do not want to talk about it, except here on the internet.

I mostly do a lot of thinking about it. Which brings up the tricky question – do I still believe it? Is it still true? Does it still matter? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.

I have to say, I have a little less faith in the goodness of humanity these days. No real reason why, I'm just feeling a pull towards cynicism and hardness. Because, you know, it's easier, and it protects me from feeling exposed and disappointed.

Also, I seem to keep getting older, every day, and there’s a struggle between the part of myself that’s confident that all the choices so far I’ve made will add up to a life that I’m proud of and terrified that I’ve all made the wrong choices. That, in fact, I’m making the wrong choice right now. That right now, I’m missing something that could have made my life turn in some miraculous way.

Not that it’s so bad right now. I’m just worried that I’m missing something. That since I chose this, I’ll never have that, and what if at the end of the day, I realize that I wanted that, but now it’s too late.

When you’re in a restaurant, do you ever not order the thing that someone else is ordering, because you don’t want to copy but then you spend your whole meal looking at what they’re eating and wishing you had that, so much so that you can’t even taste what you’ve got, which might be really good, if you weren’t so busy being covetous?

Like that.

So, yeah, it’s hard to work on the show, because I'm not fully behind what I wrote last time anymore. Things are different for me than they were 2 years ago. And I’m not sure what I do believe right now. I'm in the middle part of something right now, and I don't know how it's going to end up.

But one thing that I wrote is definitely true – you can’t just make the choice to have faith and and be optimistic one time and be done with it. You have to keep on making it. That’s what makes it brave and hard. In the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, or worse, no evidence of any kind, you have to choose to believe it’s all going to be ok. And then you have to do it all over again. Which is one of the reasons for the show's title.

So I guess I do still believe it. I just didn't remember that I had to choose to believe it.

You know, you would think that by this point, having written a one-woman show about the subject, I would see this kind of thing coming, and not get surprised by that lesson anymore.

But, no.

Stuck in a moment, and I can't get out of it.

Ok. So.

I’m working on the script, right? And it’s, um, excruciating.

One of the ways that I work on the show is by listening to the recording that I made of it when I did it in January. I listen to the recording of myself doing the show while I'm on the subway in the mornings. And sometimes I laugh along with the audience at my own cleverness, but a lot of the time, I cringe and flinch when something doesn't land, or is rushed, or overexplained, or indulgent. It's a brutal way to start the day.

I have a lot of new respect for writers. You know what I think? I think it’s not that hard to be an actor. You put all these things out there, and you try your best, and you let all sorts of personal things show, but you’re with someone else, at least one other person who’s doing the same thing with you, and you’ve got a director holding you up and leading you along, and you have a script to follow and lean on, and it’s all in the service of something else, something that you (hopefully) think it true and good, but it’s all someone else’s true, so there's not a lot of risk.

Writing something, you can't deny that it belongs to you, and represents you. It's more personal, more revealing, more dangerous, and so so lonely.

I feel like I'm lost in the woods. I've never taken even one creative writing class. Ever. I don’t know any of the rules about structure or story, or how to start, or what to do next. I just keep listening to this recording of myself, and then I try to rewrite in a way that's less cringeworthy. But I get stuck, and frustrated, and demoralized. I feel like I’m just pitching myself out into the ocean and swimming around a little and then getting thrown back to shore again, and again and again.

Which is it, Elizabeth – the woods, or the ocean? Make up your mind.

You see what I mean?

Anyway. It has to be done. I wrote the show under a lot of time constraints last time, and got something finished. Now, I have the opportunity to make it exactly right. No excuses.

Well, one excuse. I don’t have that much time. Right now, I have a nice day job in publishing, and a nice acting job in an Off-Broadway show at night and on the weekends. Everything’s great! However, these are the times when I can work on the show: On the subway, backstage, and in bars.

Which is, you know, about right.

Back to work.

run run run run, run run run awaaaaaaaay.

After a mighty fine start, I am stalled, and woefully behind schedule on the re-writes.

Plus, I have a sneaking suspicion that I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm at the part of the process where I think about quietly sneaking away and hoping no one notices till I'm long gone. You know, like I do at the bars, except, like, with my whole life.

I would pack an overnight bag and drive away until I found a small town that was kind of like the one on Northern Exposure, but also like Santa Fe. I would be adopted as the mysterious, quirky, beloved stranger -- with a secret. I could open a jewelry store and grow my own food.

The thing about it, is that I actually could do this, and it wouldn't be that big of a deal. I mean, it would be a little bit of a deal, sure. But, ultimately, not that big of a deal. I've got a nice life, but nothing is really keeping me where I am.

However, while it makes for a delightful premise for a tv show or romance novel, I fear that I might run into some very non-romantic logistical problems if I did it.

Still, though.

This might be why I keep a car in Brooklyn.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right.

I am having a terrible time revising and editing the show.

Here's the saga so far, written in haiku.

Rewrites are so hard.
I have to make it shorter.
There's too much to say.

What am I doing?
Nothing I should be doing.
That, I know for sure.

Procrastination.
I'm afraid of what I'll find
Once I start trying.

Cowboy up, Cowgirl.
Don't be a sucky baby.
Be like Obama.

Tomorrow, for real.
I promise, I swear to God.
Tonight, the Obies.

Here I go, again, on my own.

Well, Elizabeth, it looks like you've really done it this time.

My show got selected by the Fringe Festival, here in New York, so now I actually have to do it. Like, really do it. Like, not "Oh, I'm sort of doing this kind of thing, and I don't even know if it's even a thing, and I'm just reading it anyway." Now, it's all, like, "I'm doing a one-woman show that I wrote. For myself. About my life."

Gross! Gross! Ew!

But, there it is.

(I realize that I'm currently complaining in my BLOG on the INTERNET about vulgar it is to put oneself on display.)

But, I thought that if I was going to do a show about the trip, I should do it in the same spirit as I did the actual trip -- which is to say, with as much bravery and curiosity as I could muster, and, just like the trip, I should let you all in on my trials and travails along the way. It's so meta! How could I resist!

When it's over, I'll have a written record of this solo adventure, which is about the other solo adventure. If I keep this up, I'll never run out of material. Clever girl.

I also decided to do it bloggy-style so you can opt to follow along as you care to, instead of me bombarding your inbox with long messages you may not be interested in reading at that very moment. The blog will also be easier to forward to your friends. Also, I'll keep information about when and where the show is here, for reference, and collect other fun things for you to look at.

Finally, there are really only two things that actually motivate me: deadlines and the threat of public shame.

Well then. Here we go.

xoxo
Elizabeth

You May Ask Yourself, Well, How Did I Get Here?

Here's some backstory, in case you missed it.

In the summer of 2007, I took a very long trip around America.

I made a list of all the places I had ever wanted to see, but hadn’t, and all the places I thought I’d have to make a special trip to see if I was ever going to go, and I pulled out a map, and I found each of those places, and, just for kicks, I traced a route that would take me to all of them.

Then, as is often my way, I did some math. I figured out how long it would take to drive this route. I figured out how much gas it would take. I figured out where I had friends I could stay with along the way, and where I could camp, and where I would have to stay in a hotel and how much all of it could possibly cost.

You know, just for kicks.

And it dawned on me that, since I had some time between acting jobs, it would actually be cheaper to take this trip, and see America’s greatest hits, than it would be to rent an apartment in New York City for the same amount of time.

The idea was crazy and delicious. And probably, it would make a really good story when it was over. Plus, it scared me a little.

The rule for me is, if something seems scary, ridiculous, uncomfortable and nearly impossible, it’s probably the thing I should do.

So I drove off, not totally sure where I was going, or what I was doing, or how it was going to happen, but pretty sure that I would be fine and that I’d figure it out along the way. Lot of things happened – big things and small things, and things that were funny and sad and personal and universal, and I wrote about some of them in a series of e-mails to a list of people who I thought might be interested in where I was and what I was doing. And the response I got from those e-mails was all like, “Elizabeth, these are good stories, and I like reading them, but sometimes, you know, they are a little too long for an e-mail.”

So, when I came back from the trip, I started thinking about writing a book. Or a book of essays. Or something for the radio. Or something. But the problem was, I didn’t know how to do any of those things. So, I just wrote up all the stories and let them sit. I had a giant crush on America now, and I didn’t know what to do with it. So I went to work on the Obama campaign. That’s a different story all together, but suffice it to say, my crush on America became enormous and unbearable.

And then, other things happened, and then more things happened, and I still had all these stories, and it seemed sad to just let them languish. So, I kicked myself in the pants, and I took some of the stories, and made it into a…something. I added music, and pictures, and made, like, a whole thing.

I feel weird about calling it a one woman show. But it’s ok with me if you do.

I performed it/read it at the Fortnight Festival Works in Progress Series, in front of about 100 people, over two nights. It was terrifying and horrible, and I thought that surely I would die. I did not, and I was shocked how much people liked it. It turns out, we all have a lot more in common than I thought, but just as much as I’d hoped.

I thought it was too strange and personal and specific to mean anything to anyone else, and that it might be, at best, boring, and at worst, totally self-indulgent. To be honest (because what else is the internet for, right?), I'm still a little (very, super, extra, doubleplus) worried about these things.

Please reference the beginning of this post about my feelings on doing things that are scary and uncomfortable. Point taken.

So here we go, all over again.

Oh, hell.

Let's Start at the Very Beginning.

Here's those emails I wrote from the road, all in a row.

# 1 – Don’t Fence Me In.

Hello friends -

A few years ago, when I got a car, I discovered how a nice long, scenic drive could clear my head. Not the most ecologically sensitive meditation method, but it worked for me. I'm coming to the end of a chapter here, with grad school over, internship finished, and summer Shakespeare coming to a close, so I'm going to take my time returning to NYC and drive around the country for a little bit first.

The route is: (roughly, and subject to change)
Leg 1. Normal, IL (home of the Illinois Shakespeare Festival and my current location), to Milwaukee, through Minnesota and South Dakota to Wyoming.
Leg 2. From Yellowstone through Idaho and Oregon to Portland, then down the coast of Oregon, continuing to San Francisco.
Leg 3. From San Francisco through Nevada, Utah, Arizona and New Mexico to San Antonio. Then onto Houston and New Orleans.
Leg 4. From New Orleans, through the south and the mountains up the east coast and back to NYC.

Really, I'm just travelling around the perimeter of the country -- ending up back east by taking the longest possible route. I am skipping the Midwest. I have spent enough time here, thank you very much. Milwaukee, Wyoming, Portland, San Francisco, San Antonio, and Houston are all scheduled stops where I've got people to stay with. Otherwise, I'm camping or staying in motels, so I can take whatever path or detour appeals to me.

Do you have suggestions? I am particularly interested in hot springs, local specialties, back roads, swimming in lakes, and things you personally love to see and do. Are there campgrounds and parks that you adore? Little towns that are good to stop in? Routes to avoid or seek out?

And if, by chance, you are anywhere nearby where it seems like I might be, let me know and I'll drive on over to meet you.

I'll keep you posted on adventures and other excitement from the road -- I'll have my laptop with me and might have it in me to send an update or two along the way. And by all means, give me a call starting on August 13th -- more than likely, I'll be in the car with nothing but time to talk.

Hope you're well -- I'll be back in NYC in mid-September for about a month before I leave for a gig in Milwaukee. If you're in New York, I'd love to see you then and there.

xo
Elizabeth







#2 – Wide Open Spaces





News from the road:

Odometer: 2672.
current location: Ontario, OR.
Number of speeding tickets: 0
Number of times stopped for speeding: 1 (Damn you, Idaho State Police)
Least favorite state: Idaho
Most favorite state: Wyoming, although Oregon is looking pretty good so far.
Most recent significant purchase: Bear deterrent spray ($39.95)
Most harrowing experience: "sleeping" in Yellowstone, with said bear
spray in hand.
Condition of left arm: fairly sunburned.
Hot springs visited: 3
Most desired device for the road: something that will simultaneously
charge my cell phone, computer, ipod, and camera from the cigarette
lighter in the car. Which is to say, an iPhone.
Best bands in the world: The Beatles, U2, Journey.

More soon. On to Portland.

Send me your address if you'd like a postcard, please.

xo
Elizabeth

P.S. I'm happy to report that Americans are friendly, smart, interesting people. Even in places like Idaho. When I'm asked where I'm from, I tell people "New York City" (the real story is too complicated), and while I brace myself for whatever reaction that might engender, the overwhelming response is. "That's an expensive place to live, isn't it? Isn't it hard to make a living there?"





# 3 – Taking the Long Way Around





4165 miles. I'm overdue for an oil change. I'm in San Francisco now, on my way out tomorrow.

Guys, I'm a little tired -- physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally. There's a muscle in the back of my right leg that hurts a little when I push the gas or the brake. I long for cruise control. I recently heard a story on NPR about how blood clots in your legs can develop from sitting still too long, and can kill you without warning. Briefly considered buying "compression tights," but I can't bear to drive in a spandex suit, even if it means I lower my risk of pulmonary embolism.

It's a little harder than I thought to be on the move all the time.
It's not that it's that difficult to be transitory, or be by myself, or make it up as I go along -- but it's become increasingly clear how deeply hardwired I am to just get to the end, tough it out, push through, make it happen. So this aimless wandering I've set out for myself is a bit of an internal struggle, and I have to remind myself frequently that the drive is not just the means to the trip – the drive actually is the majority of the trip. It's hard, it's infuriating, it's fascinating and glorious and I think there's something interesting on the other side of this struggle -- which is what prevents me from tearing straight across the middle of the country and landing in New York in 3 days. Besides, I ask myself, what would I do when I got there? Generate income? Pish. Self discovery is much harder to come by than cash.

I'm heading southwest now for a long stretch -- about 2 weeks before I land with family in San Antonio. This is a long time on the road -- and yet, I have to get back east eventually, so I might as well take the scenic route, yes?

Since last we met, I wound my way through the Coumbia River Gorge, to Portland, down the Oregon Coast, inland to Ashland and Crater Lake, back out through the Redwoods, down Route 1 to Mendocino and landed this weekend in San Francisco, where I've been eating and drinking and bathing and using electricity like mad.

The next part of the trip goes roughly like this: Head east (east! east and south!) to Yosemite, through Nevada and spend some time in Utah and Arizona (parks and canyons), through New Mexico, then down and across Texas, landing in San Antonio, where you will likely hear from me next.

Other news:
Warnings on Bear Deterrent Spray: "Do not spray on self, tent, or clothing" "do not store bear spray in hot car."
Where I am storing my bear spray: In my hot car.
Newest disaster fantasy: Bear spray explodes in the car, blinding me. I drive off the road. The car explodes, causing yet another forest fire. Smoky the Bear cries bitter tears, then eats me.
Solution: Keep bear spray in beer cooler. Other suggestions welcome.

Best convenience: Combination espresso stand/car wash.
Best name for a town: Rufus, OR
Dorkiest roadside attractions visited: tie between the Laura Ingalls Wilder Homestead in Minnesota (where I did, in fact, take pictures of the actual Plum Creek) and The Dalles, OR (where, in the computer game, it was the end of the trail and you had to float your wagon downstream without drowning in order to reach Oregon City). Yes, I am, actually, this nerdy. Now you know.

Pressing question: Which is the best movie soundtrack, Moulin Rouge, Magnolia, O Brother Where Art Thou, or The Muppet Movie? I've done the bracket in my head a number of ways, and I have to admit, The Muppet Movie keeps ending up the winner, each time.

Greatest lesson learned: If you wear your bathing suit everyday, it is much more likely that you will go swimming every day.

Major thanks for your advice, suggestions and hospitality so far.

Thinking of you often -

xo
Elizabeth





#4 Born to Run





Hello dear readers.

My odometer is at 7596. My hair is more blond than red now, and I have something resembling a tan.

I've crossed back over the Mississippi, west to east, this time. Currently I'm in Vicksburg, Mississippi, where the internet connection takes its goddamn time, the phone signal is weak and spotty, but the grits are good. I am, truly, in the heart of Dixie, and can see the mighty Mississip from where I sit.

It's taken me a little longer to get back to you than I thought – I successfully landed in San Antonio, coated in a thin film of sunscreen, dirt, and the kind of particular sweaty nastiness that accumulates when one drives long distances. I was more than a little delirious, having spent the previous two weeks camping in the mountains and the desert and the canyons, and having experienced both the "Historic Route 66 Motel" (never stop in Santa Rosa, NM. Never), and the Texas/Mexico border.

My car is truly a spectacular field of bug death -- the bugs here in the south are massive, and they all seem to want to die on my car -- on the front bumper and the backs of the side mirrors, especially. They fly right into the windshield, and explode in spectacular ways. It used to make me flinch and grimace, but now I just sigh and keep driving. Many of them are, apparently, bright yellow on the inside, so the ultimate effect makes it look like a gang of elves has pelted my car with tiny eggs. My windshield wipers are completely useless, and just smear the bug guts around. I'd get a car wash, but it's useless to fight it. I'll wait till I'm back in Yankee territory, where, I hear tell, it is actually not still summer.

I have many stories to tell. Many things have happened, crisis has, for the most part, been averted, and the close calls have provided me hours of entertainment, after the fact. I wish I had more time and more money and more stamina, but I'm close to the end of all of those things.

I've written some longer stories up, or started to, and will be glad to send the complete tales along when they're edited for length and clarity, if you're interested. Chapters currently incude, but are not limited to:

The Time I Went Crazy -- A Ghost Story.
(Elizabeth senses the presence of evil in the park, and spends the night crouched in her car, in pajamas and headlamp, twitching and preparing to battle the invisible menace.)

Animal Encounters
(includes "The Time I Saw a Bear" and "The Time I Thought I Could Talk to Animals")

Saturday Night at the International Youth Hostel.
(Elizabeth accidentally arrives in a college town on a Saturday night, and spends the night trying to explain to foreigners why a cracked bell in Philadelphia is a big deal to us, why meat is so cheap here, and other American conundrums)

How I Learned I'm Not a Nudist, and Decided, Once and For All, Not To
Be a Stripper.
(adventures in communal, co-ed bathing)

Border Patrol!
(Thoughts and experiences on the edges of the country)

I'm off to Atlanta today, driving across Mississippi and Alabama (which are, actually, not as scary as I thought -- kind of a running theme on this trip), and will send some more pictures when I land in one place again.

I should be back on the eastern seaboard at the beginning of next week, and probably in New York around October 1 -- at least for a little while. If that's where you are, I'd love to see you then.

Many, many thanks to you all for your advice, suggestions, insight, couches, spare rooms, books on tape, camping equipment, snacks, and all around good thoughts. You've been on my mind, and I hope I'll see you soon.

xo
Elizabeth






#5 Runaway Home





Dearest friends and associates:

I made it back to the East coast -- arriving safely at my parents quiet and comfortable house in Rose Valley. Pennsylvania.

To close the loop as I began, here's the stats:

Total miles: 9,113
Total days on the road: 42
States visited: Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming,
Montana, Idaho, Oregon, California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico,
Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North
Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania.
Nicest view on the last leg of the drive: The Appalachian Mountains.
I love those Rockies, but those old mossy mountains have mysteries in them.

Biggest surprise on returning home: My car registration expired in
June. Oops! Ha, Ha!
Fastest I drove: 110 Mph. Nevada desert. It was fun, but it made the car shake really hard.
Status of Bear Spray: Undeployed. Perhaps I will carry it on the subway.
Most completely unnecessary item: Vegetable steamer.
Most surprisingly useful item: Silk scarf from Paris.
Strangest item acquired mid-journey: My grandmother's mink coat.
Worst hairdo for a cross country drive: Long hair with bangs.
Hairdo I am currently sporting: See above.
Most critical lesson learned the hard way: When you slide down a waterfall, wear shorts.

Many of you asked me if I was keeping a journal throughout the trip -- well, sort of. I've never been very good at being diligent about that sort of thing. I did, however, make use of a digital voice recorder during the trip to document things I saw, ways I was feeling, where I was, etc. (If you think this whole thing is starting to smell suspiciously like an elaborate performance art piece, I really can't blame you.)

Here are some of my favorites:

*****
I think I just hit a bird. In Yellowstone National Park.

There's an adult superstore called "Imagine That!" and it only has a rear entrance.

(the following recorded over several hours driving along rural routes on the Northern California Coast and Routes 101 and 1)
Part 1. Oh my god that was the longest drive I've ever done. I thought I was going to die, I thought I was lost. I thought I was never going to get out of the woods. Oh my god I've never been so happy to be on a highway.
Part 2. Four…thousand…miles.
Part 3. Why would ANYONE live here?
Part 4: I hate Route 1 more than any other road on earth. Even the New Jersey Turnpike. I hate it. I hate it so much.
Part 5 : Fine. Fuck you Route 1. That's fucking beautiful. Yeah, you're fucking right.

Bear! On the road! Bear! Bear! Just...on the road. In Yosemite. A bear.

The general store manager at Crane Flat service station just offered me a shot of amaretto in my coffee. It's, like, 9 o'clock. I guess she has picked me out as somebody who drinks in the morning. Or at least, would understand that she drinks in the morning. Huh.

You should really only ever listen to Pink Floyd when you're driving through Nevada. Only. Holy fuck, look at the Clown Motel! (this is followed by several minutes where Elizabeth accidentally left the recorder on, in which we faintly hear "Another Brick in the Wall" punctuated by Elizabeth laughing and sometimes singing along -- especially with the "Hey! Teacher! Leave those kids alone!" part.)

If I could actually use my jar of pennies to play the penny slots, I would be much more likely to do it. But I don't want to give them a dollar.

The Oasis Hotel has a big flashing sign that says "Tired?" But then, it doesn't say "Stay at our hotel!" it says "Starbucks!"

Just because you can get free refills of Dr. Pepper all day at the Grand Canyon doesn't mean that you should.

My annual park pass totally melted in the Arizona sun. I left it in the windshield of my car to display, and it has melted and bent to form the shape of the dash. It melted in the sun. I can't imagine that the magnetic strip is going to survive. I hope the rest of my wallet is ok. Fuck.

Elizabeth! This is not an off road vehicle!

15 dollars for meteor crater? I don't have 15 dollars to spend on meteor crater. Not even with a movie and a guided tour. 15 dollars? That's highway robbery.

Petrified Forest National Park. Most boring national park ever.

There's a big storm cloud to the left of me, and a big storm cloud to the right of me. And the road is going right in between the two of them.

(big sigh) You know, (another sigh) my car smells like rotten food, (voice trembling) and, (voice breaks) I just, (sniff, sniff, then wailing…) I don't want to sleep outside anymore...(sob, sob, sob…)

So now, I am about to drive the same stretch of road for the 3rd time. Because, I finally, actually, left something behind, which was my phone, at the "Sun and Sand Motel and Restaurant," where I stayed last night. I left my phone there this morning, so I drove back to get it. And now I'm going to drive back where I came from. So that's 100
miles extra. Good.

I've seen two liquor stores called "El Cheapo Liquor." Which is, atleast, honest.

"Alway's" most reasonable? That doesn't make any sense at all.

There's enormous cockroaches, and right now, it's all strip malls. Bleah. Why would you want to come here, Mexicans?

Ew. One stop deer processing and cold storage. Gross.

Uvalde, Texas calls itself Tree City USA, I can think of, like, 1,000 places that are more worthy of the name Tree City USA than Uvalde, TX.

How can I still be 60 miles away from San Antonio? How is that possible? I've been 60 miles away from San Antonio for, like, an hour.

Gross! Taxidermy/Cold Storage? Gross.

"Prison Area. Do not pick up hitchhikers." Love that sign.

"Hay Mini Storage." Looks like "Hay! Mini Storage!" (I don't know how to transcribe it -- but do the thing where "Hay!" gets two syllables -- the first at a higher pitch, the second at a lower pitch. Or call me, and I'll demonstrate.)

"Lumpy's Pig Out Barbecue."

There's a box made of pressboard, with a blue tarp on top of it, tied around with rope, and on the side it says, in spray paint, "free dog."

I like the south because here, when you get 40 dollars out of the ATM, they give it to you in 5's.

There's a town in Mississippi called "Chunky."

I'm on the "Alabama Adventure Freeway." Whee!

There was a sign that said "Bat Cave." Batman would be so upset.

There's a witch driving a minivan. She had a bumpersticker that said "Get a taste of religion. Lick a witch." She's driving a minivan.

Pennsylvania welcomes me!

*******

I wanted to attach some photos, but I took so many that my computer crashes when I try to load up iPhoto. It's all just your typical beautiful majestic bullshit American scenery anyway -- blah, blah, blah.

Once again, many thanks to you all -- your help came from all over in form of equipment, music, company, lodging, food, entertainment, useful advice, encouragement and love, and I am eternally grateful to, and for you. Thanks to everyone who offered me a place to stay or visit that I didn't get to (Southern California, Colorado, Northern Texas, the rest of the Midwest) -- I'll catch you the next time around.

For all of you who said you wished you would do a trip like this, I say to you, emphatically, that you really, really can. And moreover, if you have any inclination or curiosity about such an adventure, you really, really, really should.

You must have, or have access to, these things: A car, some basic camping equipment, a national parks pass, a willingness to ask for help from friends, and friends of friends, and about $1,500 -- cash or credit -- for gas, food, lodging, entertainment. Gas included, I spent an average of $30 a day. However, I can entertain myself pretty cheaply, am not scared of sketchy motels or sleeping outside (anymore) and found that I required little more than nuts, berries, and the occasional cheeseburger. I was very, very lucky to be unemployed and homeless during the trip -- I had no job to take time off from and no apartment to pay rent on. If I could do it again, I'd get a credit card that had some kind of cash back or rewards for gas purchases.

An ipod or other music playing device certainly doesn't hurt, and you would be wise to bring lots of sunscreen, water, a hat, and a good pair of hiking shoes. The silk scarf is up to you, but I certainly recommend it. It will keep your stupid bangs out of your eyes and make you feel like a 1940's movie star when worn with sunglasses -- even if there was no shower at the campground that day.

I'll see some of you in New York this weekend, others, some other time -- and soon, I hope.

Best love,

Elizabeth