Paris: March 8th, 2009

Dear Friends and Friendly Strangers-

I have news, big news, and really really big news.
The news: I am in Paris!

Yes, I do realize the picture is upside down. But I kind of like it that way, so I’m not flipping it over.
I arrived. I looked at my kingdom. I was finally there.

The big news: I saw a rainbow in Paris!
The really really big news: I ATE MY EMERGENCY REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUP. Yes, that delicious yet stale chocolaty, peanutbuttery treat that my younger self packed into my first aid kit for that moment when I needed nothing more in the world than a Reese’s. And now, it is gone, into my tummy.

Anyway.
Paris.
People play accordions here instead of guitars.

I haven’t done much in Paris yet, but you can expect my most amazing post yet by far from the Louvre tomorrow. This post was just a short update on everything.

~Craig

Lyon: March 7th, 2009

Dear Friends and Friendly Strangers-

Every time I walk by the Saône River in Lyon, my internal compass screams in anger for some reason. The flow of the river just puts me off and I’m not sure why. I’ve gone as far as to begin avoiding it because it just seems so strange and I’m not sure why. This is definitely a problem. I had to cross the Saône yesterday when I was looking for a good meal. I did not realize, however, that people in France do not eat dinner until about 9:00PM, so I had a bit of trouble finding food. I walked into this Bouchon Lyonnais on the opposite side of the Saône from where I’m staying, hoping for a good meal.

I sat down in the empty restaurant and after about five minutes, I realized something just wasn’t right. Soon, I was greeted by a very unpleasant French woman who shouted what I assumed to be the French equivalent of “Why are you in this restaurant? It is closed! Get out!”

My appetite would have to wait. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before I found a very nice street vendor selling crepes, so I bought one and sat down at a centrally located table in a Lyon square.

About halfway through my delicious crepe, a man came out of a building near my table and shouted something I translated as “These tables are for patrons of my fancy-schmancy restaurant only! Go away, common crepe-eater!” So I left and finished my crepe in disgust thinking about how rudely the French elite were treating a visitor to their country. I was hoping for a real, delicious meal and all I could get my hands on was this quite tasty, but clearly lower-class snack. Thankfully, not long afterward, I was finally able to find a restaurant that was not only open, but was one of the most authentic places in which I have ever eaten.

My breakfast the next morning was far more “French” and very tasty.

I find some of the French cuisine a bit unusual though…

While in Lyon, I’ve noticed something very interesting about French pop culture. It is exactly the same as American pop culture.

The café that I am currently reaping Wi-Fi from, like the rest of Lyon, has a strange obsession with American music. I find it odd that a place with such a small English-speaking population is so enamored by the catchy hooks of The Decemberists. Don’t get me wrong, The Decemberists are one of my favorite bands– I just find it strange when I hear so many of their songs played so often in a place that for the most part doesn’t speak English.

I’ve also found that French road signs are quite confusing. Not as confusing as London’s road signs, but far more confusing than America’s.

Apparently the boundaries of Paris and Roanne fall somewhere in between those two signs. That made me wonder if to get to Paris, I had to go through some sort of Platform 9 and 3/4 nonsense or climb down into a manhole or something.

This morning, I went to the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon. It’s a pretty impressive place with lots of cool works of art- some of them familiar-

Some of them very unusual-

Actually, I was a bit surprised by how many creepy cherubs I saw.

One of the first parts of the Musée that I visited was the sculpture gallery. It was pretty awesome, but it seemed that some of the sculptures didn’t appreciate my photography.

It was a really impressive gallery. I wouldn’t suggest bringing your dog though- from what I saw, they tend to get bored.

The Musée des Beaux-Arts des Lyon has lots of cool old stuff in their antiquities gallery, like these mummies-

This ping pong paddle-

This frisbee-

Some religious caricatures-

A suit of armor with one very obvious weak point-

And an impressive tribute to 21st century French plumbing.

There was some evidence of a historical zombie invasion-

And a few things that just made me wonder…

The Musée was large, so thankfully they had a place where I could take a nap before I left.

While traveling through the second half of the museum, I found this familiar figure.

I also found this very unfamiliar figure. I like crayons.

There was a very pretty Monet in there somewhere too.

After I left the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon, I… well, I came back here to this café to write my blog, so here I am.

I actually did some serious non-blog writing yesterday– I wrote about 10 pages for my second screenplay (which is more than I have done with it in a while)- so I’m actually making progress on some other important projects while I’m out here.

Well, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day!

Peace and love and all that good stuff to all of you.

~Craig

Lyon, France: March 5th, 2009

Dear friends and friendly strangers,

Before arriving safely in Lyon, I was having quite an uneventful day: woke up early, got on a plane- that’s really about it. After my plane landed, however, I was struck by some very intense culture shock… I was in a strange land where every female looked like a model and French fries were just called fries- not to mention very few people here speak fluent English and the majority of the ones who do speak some English speak it so badly that even when they’re trying to help, the best they can do is send you on a wild goose chase for whatever it is you were looking for (as if I’m not already on one), even if it was right across the street to begin with. Even the animals here speak in strange tongues that I can not understand. Thankfully, I know just enough French to get around… these two incredibly important phrases are enough to keep any American alive in France for an extended period of time: “Parlez-vous anglais?” (Do you speak English) and “Je voudraix en Quiche Lorraine.” (I would like a Quiche Lorraine.)

My plane actually landed in Grenoble, not Lyon– I had to take a train to get here. When I arrived at the train station, I was greeted by someone who seemed like they spoke enough English to help me get around and figure out where I was going, so I bought a ticket to Lyon for 15 Euros. So, I went up to my train and just as I was about to board, I was informed that I had not bought a train ticket at all, I had bought a bus ticket and my bus was leaving in less than a minute. After running down the street trying to catch my bus, I was finally able to board, but instead of taking me to the city, where I thought it was taking me to, it brought me to an outlying airport, where I had to take another bus to get into Lyon so I could meet with my CouchSurfing host (who I wound up being about an hour late to meet with.) Thankfully, this was the end of the misery, for I had finally found someone who could speak perfect English and who would give me a place to sleep and show me around Lyon. I found out that he’s very active in Lyon’s branch of the CouchSurfing project and he goes to a weekly meeting with several of the other hosts and surfers in town. He brought me to a small get-together with several interesting people from all around who were also involved in the project, then I went back to his apartment and got the sleep I so desperately needed.

When I awoke in the morning, Jelmer (my host) and I were off to see the interesting sites in Lyon.

One of the first things we saw was this statue of a guy holding a Mars bar. It was a really incredible testament to the delicacies of Lyon and the wonders of French chocolate… I think.
On our tour of Lyon, we visited many interesting and curious locations throughout the city, such as this portal to Hell.

As well as the Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière.

The Basilica was one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. It was NEARLY flawless.

We also visited the ruins of an Ancient Roman theatre within Lyon.

My first thought when I saw the ruins was “what an odd place to leave those very large leftover potatoes…”

But soon, I realized exactly where I was. I was visiting a colony of very small French-speaking Romans in Lyon.

So far, Lyon has really impressed me. There are so many interesting cultural trends that I never would have expected to see anywhere else. Even their stacks of rocks look fancy!

The only serious problem I’ve had with Lyon is the insect infestation. The bugs here are enormous!

I have had some trouble deciding where I should go next. Many people have given me really interesting suggestions and I would really love to be able to take every single one of them, but I just couldn’t decide all on my own…

Enter Zoltar’s mysterious French cousin.

Soon, I discovered the unfortunate truth… French Zoltar was no more than a scam! A ripoff!
He was merely a petty thief… a pickpocket! He took my two Euros and HE GAVE ME NO FORTUNE! AVOID FRENCH ZOLTAR AT ALL COSTS! He is a horrible, horrible person.

Anyway– I am done for today. I think I might write some fiction tonight, so keep an eye out if you’re interested, but otherwise, until next time.

~Craig

Final London Post: March 3rd, 2009

Dear friends and friendly strangers-

No trip to The United Kingdom is truly complete without a thorough analysis (at the very least) of the London punk scene. There is nothing that can be truly compared to the underground scene in this- the birthplace of punk. Punks here, however, are a bit different from those in the States. Upon wandering into a punk/goth store in Hoxton, I bore witness to hundreds of “hardcore” t-shirts like this one:

Yep. Barack Obama is a god of punk in the UK. Actually, the only figure I heard more of from the London punk scene was Bob Marley. Yeah, that’s right- Bob Marley… punk.

Graffiti here is a tad different from the graffiti in the US also. Although there are signs all over the place warning against posting graffiti, it appears that there actually some specified areas RESERVED for punks to post their art.

London graffiti has so many different interesting themes. Some of it attacks the mind with very specific emotions.

Some of it acts as advertisement for children’s television.

There is even some with the sole purpose to promote international travel blogging.

(Don’t worry, it’s on the designated wall.)

Actually, from what I saw, the London punk scene, for the most part, is incredibly tame compared to it’s American counterpart. Most punks here actually look quite fashionable and instead of darkness, they resonate a certain kind of cheer- a true love for their scene… plus the majority of them have really cute accents.

There is one more incredibly overwhelming aspect of London culture that I have not yet mentioned in my blog. Every time I step onto the Underground, I am immediately shocked by the incredibly large number of people reading tabloid newspapers. It seems like everyone and their mum is completely obsessed with the personal lives of British celebrities, as well as the latest newsworthy gossip. Because I noticed such a large population of tabloid-readers, I decided to take it upon myself to pick up a free paper that was being handed out at the Underground station. Thus began my first journey through a London tabloid.

At first glance, the tabloids here aren’t all that different from American tabloids… they’re all printed on paper and have words and pictures, just like you might expect. Their headlines are loaded with terrible puns just like the ones in American tabloids.

They’re full of creepy celebrities.

And they’re packed to the brim with some of the worst fashion news imaginable.

They contain gossip about people who probably don’t deserve to be in the news in the first place.

(I can’t believe that pervert was GERMAN! The nerve…)
It’s not until you find the more profane (but still punny) aspects of the tabloids when you realize how incredibly unusual they really are.

They even have an entire page dedicated to religious blasphemy.

Actually, to be completely honest, the tabloids here appear to cater more to visiting Americans than they do to the average Brit, despite their incredible circulation among locals. They even make their headlines easier for Americans to understand by using foreign and thus incorrect units of distance.

WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND, LONDON? THIS IS *YOUR* COUNTRY! Use your own measurement systems and stay away from American traditions! I can’t believe Londoners would have the nerve to steal miles per hour from the Americans, who clearly invented vector geometry. Gosh.

Well, I am off to Lyon tomorrow morning! I’ve had a really great time in London and am am extremely impressed by the amount of support I’ve received from my ever-growing reader base. Thanks for everything, friends and strangers and keep telling people about my blog! Peace and love– You’ll hear from me soon.

~Craig

London Post 4: March 1st, 2009

Hello friends and strangers!

Today, I visited the British Museum: home to hundreds of victims of decapitation,

castration,

human sacrifice,

jet lag,

cannabis intoxication,

overexposure,

and illiteracy.

The British Museum contains thousands upon thousands of incredible artifacts from just about any place you could think of. As one might imagine, these objects were brought here by an eclectic bunch:
The living,

the dead,

the confused,

aliens,

Eskimos,

American football players,

visitors from another dimension,

and the devil himself.

I had a really amazing experience seeing all the incredible exhibits at the British Museum. When I left the museum, I felt like I truly had a little bit more knowledge about the world around me. I would suggest it to anybody who is visiting the UK and to those who aren’t visiting- feel free to live vicariously through me.

I’ve also noticed a few more interesting signs around London, like these ones-



and this one, which wouldn’t have stood out as unusual if it wasn’t for it’s location…

Anyway, I found those flowers that my fortune cookie told me to look for. It’s really beautiful here in the early springtime. I decided that since the cookie told me to give flowers to my friends, I’ll give these to you!

So far, London has been an absolutely wonderful place and I’ve discovered that the grass really is greener on the other side. I’m serious! Look at it! It’s so green!

Well… my camera doesn’t quite capture the intense greenness of the grass, but wow, you should see it!

I’ve finally gotten a merchandise store set up at http://www.cafepress.com/weiiilf
You can buy all sorts of great stuff to turn yourself into a walking advertisement for my blog IN STYLE! You can get t-shirts, mugs, stickers, teddy bears, even naughty underwear with a few special Whatever It Is I’m Looking For designs!

Well, I’m off for dinner! I hope everything is well- have a beautiful day!

~Craig

London Post 3: February 28, 2009

Dear friends and friendly strangers-

I’ve heard people call America a melting pot where lots of different cultures mix together and form one homogeneous mixture called “American Culture.” Well, if America is a melting pot, the the UK is a veritable beef stew with lots of meaty chunks and vegetables. The diversity here is absolutely amazing. Walking down the streets of London, I have heard at least 15 different languages spoken with pride: English, French, German, Spanish, Chinese, Swahili, Gibberish, Dutch, Croatian, Gobbledygook, Italian, Pig Latin, plus several that I didn’t even recognize.

On the streets of London, each of the hundreds of separate cultures stands out and every group operates at least a few storefronts and restaurants all over town. Yesterday, I took my chances at an Ethiopian restaurant (London has a remarkably large population of Ethiopians.) The food was alright… I guess I could get used to it if I had to… and the service was absolutely terrible. In fact, the service is terrible just about everywhere in London– it’s definitely not the kind of place to go if you’re looking for fast food, although they do have a few fast food restaurants that vary only slightly from their American counterparts.

The advertisements for food here are a bit different too.

I’m staying in a hostel for a couple nights because my couchsurfing host (an Indonesian guy who made some really fantastic food) was going on a business trip to Germany. It took quite some time to figure out where my hostel was– it’s kind of off the beaten path in a little corner of Greenwich. As if I wasn’t confused enough already, when I arrived at the hostel last night, I discovered that it is connected to a Rastafarian pub, which is everything I might have expected a Rastafarian pub to be minus the mysterious haze (no smoking indoors.) Despite the fact that I was the only American (the only Caucasian for that matter) in the place, the people were welcoming and the atmosphere was incredibly mellow and friendly with chilled out reggae that made me want to relax and enjoy life playing over the speakers. To get into the hostel, I had to speak to the incredibly friendly barkeep, who gave me a nice discount on my nights here because the computer messed up my booking. Once I actually got into the hostel in the back of the pub, the wonderful Jamaican atmosphere was gone and I was in a new place altogether.

The people in my room are incredibly friendly and the diversity is even more noticeable than on the streets of London during mid-day. Each person is from a different country and has a different accent, but they’ve all found this wonderful little place to relax after a long day. They were incredibly welcoming to me and I almost immediately felt like I was part of a nice little family of misfits and vagabonds from around the world.

I have to admit though– some of the culture in London is a bit questionable…

But hey, they cater to absolutely everyone here.

They make it very easy for travelers to fit in here, but you have to watch out for the exchange rate, especially when you’re going somewhere like the dollar and forty-two cent store. Those extra pence are killers.

I have decided on my next location, by the way– I found a cheap flight to the Lyon area in France- one of the oldest and most authentic parts of the entire country. I’ve already gotten tons of suggestions for my next journey after that, but I will always be accepting ideas from my readers on places to go– this is YOUR travel blog, not mine– I’m just the guy who delivers it to you

And at that, peace and love, friends and strangers– I hope you have a wonderful day! I love you all!

Soon, I’ll have t-shirts and other fancy merch available- I was thinking of doing a Shroopy design and an ENTER ZOLTAR design- so you’ll be able to help me out *and* have an awesome new shirt or mug or whatever at the same time.

~Craig

London Post 2: February 26, 2009

Last night, I happened to run into one of my personal heroes on the red carpet at the NME Awards.
Yes, that’s right, I actually MET Noel Fielding of The Mighty Boosh.

Sadly, this was the best picture I got, but still… good times.

I woke up fairly early in the morning (the jet lag is getting better, though my internal compass is still a little screwy) and started exploring right away. When I first arrived in London, I was a bit intimidated by how different everything was from what I was used to, but this morning, that was all gone and I was ready to see the world! In London, there’s something new and incredible at every turn, like this barber shop on Fleet Street that I was far too afraid to actually use (well, that and I got a haircut last week and I don’t need a shave.)

Soon after leaving Fleet Street and heading towards the River Thames, I discovered a Salvador Dalí exhibit that had over 500 of his works and the largest collection of Dalí sculptures in the world. It was by far the strangest place I have ever been, in a very good way. It was almost as if I had been slipped some sort of “strange drug” like my grandma had warned me about and had become lost in some sort of bizarre fantasy world. But not long after being lost, I was FOUND in Westminster Abbey. The absolute awe that overtook my senses as I realized exactly where I was and all the greatness that surrounded me might never be surpassed. Science has always been a great love of mine and the second I saw the tomb of Sir Isaac Newton… well, I didn’t do anything *that* second. In fact, I just stood there for quite some time, completely humbled and overwhelmed by the incredible person who was buried just feet away from me.

After my tour of Westminster Abbey, I realized how much I absolutely can not stand tourists, just standing there, gawking at stuff, having their pictures taken in front of things… it’s disgusting! If you’re going to go somewhere, do it for the REAL experience, not just so you can brag about how “cool” your vacation was… That’s why I’m not going to be visiting many pointless tourist traps. I’m going to see the real London and the real world, not just a bunch of stuff people built only because they wanted tourists to come gawk at it. (Of course, Westminster does not fit into this category… it was wonderful and perhaps one of the most truly “holy” places in the entire world… whether you are religious or not, there IS at least one person buried there that will leave you completely stunned.)
After that, I went to get my sister Julia a souvenir.

And so, I decided for the rest of the day, I was going to explore the streets of London and check out the modern world in the United Kingdom.

You know you are in an interesting place when the graffiti looks like this:

And the bums on the side of the road play classical cello:

One of the first things a foreigner notices when wandering around London happens to be something that many people around the world stereotype the people of London for. The city is absolutely DROWNING in alcohol. I would be willing to bet that there is far more alcohol in London than there is water. Their storefronts look something like this:

The fact that they drive on the left side of the road had little to no impact on my view of the city, however it might be confusing to some of the drunk drivers, who are already going a bit too fast because most of the roads have no speed limit. Thankfully though, it appears that they have taken desperate measures to slow down the drunk drivers in their town.

I can’t even imagine what seeing this on the street might make someone who was completely hammered out of their minds feel like. I wouldn’t think it would feel good, that’s for sure.

Speaking of drivers, I was witness to a legitimate car chase today. Whoever was trying to get away from the cops was a very skilled driver, right out of a James Bond movie.

Speaking of the police, the police in London are very friendly. It seems that instead of going out and trying to uphold a bunch of laws that people are going to break anyway, they actually really care about the people in their city and their only concern is to make London a safer and happier place for everyone. How nice.

I’d like to say one more thing in this post…
Lobster phone.

Okay, that’s not really all I have to say.
I’d also like to say that if you haven’t helped yet, I would really appreciate any and all financial donations, to keep me going in this big world. The Underground (the subway to you Americans) is a bit expensive and I don’t want to use up all my money before I’m done showing you the world! I don’t like to preach and I don’t like to beg, but every little bit counts. Thanks, friends and strangers. I love you all.
CLICK THIS LINK TO DONATE—> Donate
It’s pretty simple… REALLY simple if you already have a PayPal account.

February 24th, 2009 from St. Louis, Missouri, USA

Well, I’ve officially begun my journey.

Yesterday morning, I packed up, moved out and got on my way… or so I would have, had the University of Missouri staff not been completely incompetent when it comes to getting a student out of their system. I was directed, re-directed, relocated and moved without accomplishing anything at all- until I finally found the paperwork that I needed and at that point, all I had to do was sign. It was nearly impossible to find someone to inspect my room as I was heading out. That step took about two hours, when the actual inspection only lasted five minutes or so.
But enough complaining. Here I am at Lambert Int’l Airport ready to embark on the journey of my life.

My ride to St. Louis was long and nauseating, but my bus had it’s own wi-fi, so I made it through alright. When I arrived at Union Station, I had one main priority. Since my trip fortune cookie was kind of a bust, I decided I needed to get a PROPER psychic reading.

Enter Zoltar.



According to Zoltar, not only will good luck and happiness always be within my grasp, but a mysterious Virgo from the east will bring me luck! So, my new trip fortune: I will get lucky with a virgin from East London. Sweet! Better than handing out flowers to everyone at least (though I still plan on doing it…)

St. Louis gets such a bad rap for its high crime rate. They call it “one of the most dangerous cities in the country.” Dangerous? Really? That’s not the impression I get from the very large peace-bearing Egyptian woman.



She brings peace! How can a place with such a sombre deity have such a high crime rate?
I intend to answer that question right now.


JAYWALKERS!
They’re everywhere! It’s as if the citizens of St. Louis were never taught that the little red hand means STOP! St. Louis has the worst jaywalking problem I have seen anywhere. People here feel completely free to run out in front of speeding cars with no worries of becoming road kill! It sickens me. *Shudder.* Don’t even get me started on the littering problem…



I only had one other serious issue with St. Louis:



The handicap access at the nuclear fallout shelter is… shall we say… “handicapped.” Shame on you, St. Louis. Discrimination against the physically disabled went out of style in the mid ’90s. St. Louis is far behind the rest of the country when it comes to anthropological fads, not to mention zombie protection. What are they planning on doing when all of the invalids are transformed into mutants by the radiation? Nothing. St. Louis doesn’t think ahead.

For the most part though, despite the rumors, St. Louis seemed like a very peaceful city… well, it did until the Nijinski Hare, or as I like to call it, The Hallucinogenic Rabbit Hole Monster of Death went on rampage and destroyed the city, brick by brick. There’s nothing the Egyptian peace-bearing woman can do now…



Still, even in a city fraught with jaywalkers, litterers and giant monsters inspired by heavy drug use, I felt completely safe. Real criminals don’t use drugs!

And now, as I sit here, safe in my good ole’ airport, I await my arrival to my first REAL destination… London!

Columbia, Missouri, USA

I began my adult life as a journalism student at the University of Missouri in Columbia, MO. I have learned a lot about myself and about life during the six months that I have stayed here, but one of the most important things I’ve learned is that I do not belong here. I’ve never really fit in with the mainstream crowd and I’ve always known that I was destined to live my life somewhere outside of Missouri, where I was born and raised, but it was during this length of time in Columbia that I have finally grown to understand that my destiny lies somewhere very different from the average American’s.

From childhood until college, I was always far above my peers in intelligence (though many of the people I have met in college can brag the same.) I was placed in accelerated education classes and in the long run wound up scoring a 35 on my ACT. My range of general interests has always landed even further away from the norm than my IQ. I am more than a bit eccentric. At sixteen, I was already a quantum physics buff and by seventeen, I was working with extremely powerful magnets in fairly successful attempts to invent a new type of engine that uses very little energy input. However, despite my deep love for science, I consider myself more of an artist. I’ve written a screenplay, several short stories, most of a novel (which will be finished at some point) and way too much poetry; I’ve dabbled in film and the visual arts and I am a talented keyboard/synth player and although I’m not very good at it, I’ve at least attempted to play a mandolin.

After spending a semester and a half in college, I have realized that my path to greatness might not fall within the boundaries of what is “normal.”

That is why I am writing this blog.

My goal: to travel the world until I find my true calling; the place where I really belong.

And so, my first post: Columbia, Missouri, USA.

On the surface, to most, Columbia is the quintessential college town, however, I am not a fan of cliché. Yes, Columbia does harbor three colleges and thousands of college students, but as a place, it has its own very unique flavor. Those who call Columbia an “average college town” clearly haven’t discovered the real Columbia underneath this terribly overused misnomer. Columbia is a city of progress, but it is also a city of monumental disdain. In the past year, over one billion dollars have been donated to the University of Missouri to build, build, build more and more buildings for their campus in which to train thousands and thousands of America’s next generation of college-educated workers. Many of these people will live very financially successful lives and several of them may even end up living very happy lives, whether economically sound or not. For many people, however, spending tens of thousands of dollars to receive a heavily commercialized education will not only lead to financial disaster, but it will transfer them to a workforce where they will spend many years doing what turned out not to be their dream job just to pay off their enormously crippling college debts. There are so many alternate courses to success out there that could yield really fantastic results and a lot of them are sadly overlooked.

I have decided to attempt to take an alternate route toward happiness, toward success, toward… well… toward whatever it is I’m looking for and not finding here. Beginning on February 25th, 2009 in London, UK, I will be backpacking around Europe and blogging about all the interesting places I find. Of course, I will be returning to Wentzville, MO where my family is after about a month to re-assess my goals and decide whether it’s worth continuing my blog based on whether I’ve been able to make any significant financial gains through any reader support I have gained. In the circumstance that I can not get a firm enough reader base and/or do not earn enough donations from my readers to continue my blog, it will end right then and there and I will take a good look at my life and try to decide what I really want to do with it.

I plan on updating my blog not only with stories of my travels, but with fictional short stories, poetry and reviews of local music shows from interesting places that I write along the way as well.

The Blue Note

I saw lots of great bands at the Blue Note while I was in Columbia and remember lots of fun nights.

The Peace Nook

You can barely see it in the picture just like you can barely see it in real life. Down some stairs inside that little inconspicuous doorway squeezed between a toy shop and a sandwich place lies The Peace Nook- a not for profit shop that sells all the interesting goods a hippie could ever ask for: liberal books, organic foods, bumper stickers- they even give away free condoms. And all their profits go to charities supporting human rights and the environment.

Monumental disdain

Situated on a very large rock (more of a boulder, really) in front of the courthouse is a plaque honoring Boone County’s lost Confederate soldiers who apparently died in the name of “patriotism.” Rrright…

A strange discovery

A crucified doll at some sort of fraternity initiation camp in the woods. I seriously doubt that there is any sort of statement here- just a very creepy doll.

Lounge art

Nobody knows where this mural came from, why it is there or for that matter, what it is supposed to be. It is one of the many mysteries of Mizzou’s Mark Twain Residence Hall.

The stream and the smokestacks

This picture was taken from Flat Branch Park as a statement of the human race’s destruction of the natural world. The power plant in the background burns coal to supply electricity to the University of Missouri. And that stream there in the foreground? Yeah, it looks pretty, but in reality, it isn’t a stream at all. It is a sewer runoff.

The sewer that feeds the stream

The water from the stream that runs through town is provided by this sewer. It is also home to many years of painted, painted over and repainted graffiti. So many unusual political statements are caked onto these hallowed walls. For a liberal college kid, this is one of the most sacred (and interesting) spots in town, despite the dirty, grungy nastiness of the water that runs through it.

Sexist statue

A statue downtown depicting four naked women trying with all their might to hold some naked men performing a circus act of some sort steadily above their heads. Perhaps it could be argued that the creators of this statue were declaring some sort of feminist statement about women as the foundation of society, but to me, it looks much more like a group of women being forced into hard labor by the men above who are just messing around. Clearly the makers of this statue saw a fine line between men and women and only enforced the gender roles that have become obsolete in modern society.

Broadway Diner

Broadway Diner- the place where I invented The Craig Sandwich: bacon, maple syrup and vanilla ice cream in between two slices of French toast. It is perhaps the most fantastic delicacy to have graced my taste buds thus far in life.