muscle & bone tenssssing relentless – skin stretcccccched joints mangled brain dis-shev_om-bu__lated ([°}{°] _questioning never stops ( ‹ \ _questioning questions \~~` _gaslighting agitating ¬_˘ _¬ earrrrritating – earthheadquaches cranium cracked stretched beyond recognizable limit ∆ alien forms are Ï familiar ˘ not foreign
tussled hair eyes limbs – broken spirit bro_ken will frac||tured friendships multiple mishaps per minute or mmm… but it doesn’t taste good :\
chocolate & wine & whiskey & gin & vodka for filling flesh wounds & assuagingmore deeply disturbing soul suffocating shankings -> always expected… yet never ready for the moments -+-+ the moments, so many moments, one long moment, it comes in waves momentous waves ~>~>~> abrupt & pungent fed by each breath in & each breath out & all breath everywhere – no one knows because they can’t know • • • • • • • • • it’s not for knowing if you haven’t lived it _____intimately ______intensely ___all consuming ∫_bending ¬_breaking ∫∫_bending ¬¬_breaking ∫∫∫_bending ¬¬¬_breaking ∫∫∫∫_bending ¬¬¬¬_breaking
|\___ for broke
language has not found a word a phrase a book detailed enough to properly explain, to break down, to disassemble and reassemble – reverse engineer the feels, ª§ª§ª§ emotions, ¿•∏δ„ı˜Â¸ª§§§ confusion
Eeyore is sad depressed downtrodden eternal pessimist living the melancholonical life it is hard being a donkey who’s tail falls off, the world doesn’t know the struggles of living in the shadows of thoroughbreds with strange names, cute bears, smart owls, and clever rabbits, all more appealing to a child’s eye, all more retailable for retailing real-Taylors — Someone says, “he’s like Eeyore – always with a frown”.
head down, eyes glossed, smiles scared away, far far away below the cold waters – brain matters draped heavily over back of rocking chair, tilting • down • back • and • to the • left not lurching, straining weight of the world affixed to vagus – medulla labored heart Bradied a Bunch cardiac stasis performing life-support in slow-mo, no fucks to give – breath comes — or not aorta sputters, coughs out matter of facts! Before Kidney punches deep into the recess of loneliness and squid posterior – depression rages against an onslaught of bromidal joy
Less Than Zero, Brett Easton Ellis’ 1st novel, was released in 1985. The movie, a loose and overall above zero translation of the book hit movie screens 2 years later. The year after that, 1988, I read LessThan Zero for the first time – I was in eighth grade. That was my introduction to emotional dissonance as a form of temporary existence. I’ve since learned some people live their whole lives this way. The entirety of the novel has a melancholic ’80s vibe milieu veiling every scene, every moment, which is the way I felt for most of my life up to that point – and beyond. Even during the highest of highs, nothing ever felt quite right – like everything was going to be ok. Life felt as if I was in a rowboat adrift on Lake Superior shrouded in sea smoke – a simultaneously beautiful and strange experience but always wondering where exactly I was, what direction I was headed and intermittently despondent because I didn’t have any oars. Life was a lot then, so too now.
Fast-forward 40ish years and here we are, living through a new and different hell than the one we experienced during the 2nd “great” reconstruction under the morass of Reaganism. Then, much like today, we had an expanded domestic War on Drugs (or war on the financially disadvantaged, more specifically); Central & South American interventions – (then) in Nicaragua, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Chile; (now) in Venezuela, Panama, Colombia, Cuba, & Mexico; extremely one-sided economic policies benefitting the rich and costing the poor; neocons and neofascists supporting similar political ends in more public forums; and all the while being fed bullshit about it being some version of morning again in America. In many ways, societally, we are in a similar space – though less than zero theoretically, the major difference being technology developed in recent times and its reach.
What does this have to do with negative integers, you say. Well, much like the characters in Less Than Zero, we find a dichotomy occurring that is inherently coherent yet thoroughly disconcerting. The archetypes have similar backstories – good-looking, smart, wealthy, Southern California, – trappings generally associated with a “good life”. So it would be expected that they are relatively happy; But they’re not. All of them feign happiness at times, Julian even appears truly happy once or twice but under the surface they all have no idea what life is about and they assume happiness is supposed to be part of it. They’re simply going through the motions in hopes of uncovering a secret somewhere down the road. This isn’t all that different from most people at that age in life, we just didn’t know that back then. So what’s it mean? Maybe nothing, maybe a lot. It makes me think about the happiness paradigm as it existed then, and now, making it some kind of accessory that comes with certain lifestyles or socio-economic class. So the question is, is being happy the point? If so, I think we’ve failed, collectively, on a grand scale. But maybe the point isn’t about a particular emotional state, maybe it’s about existing in a space that feels ok more often than it doesn’t. Is that acceptable in 2026, when people are living in space? And therein lies the conundrum, can one exist in a state that is neither primarily joyful nor full of existential questions surrounding the meaning of life and interspersed with super-sized episodes of dread, fear, loathing, pain, etc.? And if there are other possible ways to exist, what are they? Reserved (Lutheran); Cold; Stoic (Scandinavian); Indifferent; Passive (Minnesotans & Brits); all of which I’ve embodied at various points and grew up surrounded by but often associated with an unpleasant existence. And, what if the emotional state is masked; externally happy-go-lucky but internally woebegone-staid-unfortunate; does it change the way we perceive the actual emotional state of those we’re viewing? I have no answers, only questions.
Connecting Then and Now
2025 witnessed the rollout of full-on fascism in American politics. The newly installed regime uses force to wield power and overrun anyone who opposes their goals. This return to the ways of the ante-bellum south, where slave catchers ran roughshod over the rights of citizens, has many Americans worried about what it means for our constitutionally defined government framework. Similarly, it seems as if many of our country-people are either unaware, unbothered, or wholly supportive of what’s happening. Do they not recognize themselves in historical photographs – violently attacking Civil Rights protesters? Lynching Black and Mexican Americans for ignoring White society’s expectations? Placing Japanese Americans in concentration camps? Firing LGBTQ individuals working in the Federal Government? How quickly we forget our past. We live in strange and horrible times… – Less Than Zero? No, but teetering.
So the question is, what do we do, as a nation, as a community, as individuals. I recommend resistance in any and every form conceivable. The Civil Rights movement required the work of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, Malcolm X, and Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) as much as it needed the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Diane Nash, John Lewis, and Bayard Rustin. Non-violence has a role, so too does violence, or at the very least the threat of violence. More often than not, power negotiates in bad-faith with those it deems weak or manageable. If we are to level the playing field where compromise can occur, joy and simplicity can coexist broadly, and diversity, equity and inclusion are seen as both necessary and proper by an overwhelming majority, the pen and the sword will both play a role. In addition to constant resistance, advocating with local, state and federal elected officials will galvanize them to fight.
Hereto, opposing political paradigms have intensified and compromise has largely gone the way of the Dodo. At this point, I must confess I’m more confused than I was when I started thinking about this subject, nearly 40 years ago. Less Than Zero really rattled my brain and it’s still vibrating. Maybe this is non-sensical and further evidence of just how far I’ve veered from the days of Cowboy Killers and Old Swill (which I still enjoy on occasion). Or maybe I don’t have the requisite moments of quiet to sit and think things through. Whatever the case, I’m still pondering these questions, subliminally more often but always there.
In Conclusion – We Are More Than Less Than Zero
Educate, advocate, disseminate goodness, go on and hate (fascists), don’t hesitate to complicate the goals and aims of the drumpf estate; move your body six-seven-eight, keep time with those who elevate, allow spirits and souls to reverberate, mix the roux of ‘Sota – love this state
gotta turn up the heat an’ expose ice-gate, move through the streets down Nicollet and Lake – participate in the change we’re making – now don’t be late; If we are to continue paradigmatically opposed, like indifference and hate, we should expect the situation to exacerbate – tensions, crimes, lawlessness, in the aggregate; then it’s time for change – time to create, something based on norms to which we all can relate Please donate to those in need, turn up and turn out, carry the weight; keep on keeping torches bright, find your people, celebrate!
Diamond Lake Creative is moving to St. Paul! We don’t know why. Maybe because it was across the proverbial road and we wanted to see what life is like when you slow it down (not being snarky, St. Paulites). Or maybe we thought being 25 minutes closer to the St. Croix river, which is the border between Wisconsin proper and Far Western Wisconsin (FWW), would be beneficial for its proximity to the Mecca of Cheesecurd Nation. Or maybe we’re joining the Minnesota Wild Hockey Club and liked the idea of living in the city the Wild call home(but you didn’t hear that from me)? Whatever the reason, Diamond Lake Creative is not becoming Lake Phalen Creative nor is Diamond Lake Bistro changing its name to Payne Park Bistro (though that has a nice ring to it…). We will continue on with the Diamond Lake monikers as they are a piece of our history and eventually Diamond Lake will become its own incorporated township – carved out of South MPLS – and we will be members of the inaugural Diamond Lake Guild of Dark NorwegianViking Yeomen.
Anyway, the new digs are old, 141 years old to be exact. The house once served as a layover for travelers heading West, like the Donners, who got Ooooh so close to the promised land but came up short by a few feet. Prior to that, it was a Minnesota Mastodon stable frequented by Caralinoswho traveled back and forth between their homeland in modern day Peru and the fertile valleys of the La Cloche Mountains – which are part of Lake Huron’s North Shore (the surfing used to be killer but since the last ice age ended its been meh). This journey was part of the Western Hemisphere’s Keeping up with the Joneses movement – competing with the Spice Road. The Indigenous peoples of the continents would trade Inti-sun butter, Chupacabra resistant mountain goat chèvre, quasi-lava-cultured Amarillo Llama milk, Mature Mastodon and Mammoth extra heavy cream, and Giant Ground Sloth GroGurt among other double fat dairy dee-lites. For a few hundred years locals referred to it as the Boulevard of Brumal Blubber Augmentation; but, as with many monikers, that came to be seen as too narrow and not entirely fitting a place that would soon be home to the Cadillac Ranch, the Arch in St. Louie, and the Santa Monica Pier. And while much of the rest of the beaten path has been lost to history, you can still find fragments of that time when exploring the area along U.S. Highway 8 between Weyerhauser and Hawkins in Wisconsin’s Northwoods.
What Does This Mean for America moving forward?
What in the name of all that is holy is happening here, you might be asking yourself. And that’s a darn good question. America has never before seen an upheaval so sudden and utterly confounding save for that one time in Harrisburg. Nobody really knows what happened in late July 1877 in the backcountry of Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains and yet, it happened. And 3,500 years prior, events that were in no way connected to the future moving dilemma we face today were tearing apart a civilization that was founded on the idea of mint hash for all. What does this mean for our nation, a country “made great” by subjugating, enslaving, disabling, and killing anyone who stood in the way of unabated wealth accumulation of, by, and for the social elite? We can’t be entirely certain but there is one thing we do know… Mint hash never caught on as a major gateway drug.
If you’ve read this far and are more confused now than at any point in your life, that’s good, confusion is healthy when society is so completely broken, dismembered, bowelless, dead. Now we wait for the meteors to rain down so that “we” may begin again. And here I thought this was all leading to something grand, something hopeful, something, I don’t know, nice – but life is funny that way, funny not funny, I suppose, but funny nonetheless. Next time you’re in Key West, say Hi to Marsha and Salty Sam, they can be found laying on the beach near the 3rd palm from the end. Oh, they’re cats, not people, bring nip.
Wait! What About Those 14 Golden Years in Far Western Wisconsin’s Largest Metropolis?
Oh yeah, I forgot (ADHD keeps me going in 80 different directions simultaneously). Minneapolis is one of the most glorious places on earth. The waters are the lifeblood and the people, good eggs for the most part, are kind, intelligent, thoughtful, emotionally secure (more or less), passionate about making the world better, skilled in a variety of arts & trades, and have more great bakeries/patisseries, breweries, restaurants, bike hubs, and food trucks than cities twice the size. There are so many ways to experience the true spirit of ‘Sota in Minneapolis: kayaking Minnehaha Falls, biking 15 miles to work in a blizzard, being carried away by a mosquito the size of a 747, or enjoying a cat parade. But even more than all of those amazing options, the feel one gets when: brewery hopping for a month, getting eargasms at 1st Ave, eating your way thru Midtown Global Market, or freezing your bits off at the pond hockey championships, the instant community with people you might never see again, but for a moment are the Besties you never knew you needed, is indescribable. And while the stoicism spectrum here provides for many head scratching encounters, the people, again, generally speaking, have best intentions.
Cat incoming
Anyway, the rest of the story is like this… or pretty much so!
One would expect, in the cold climes of the Upper Midwest’s Capital (St.MinnePaulpolis) of all things on sticks, that shish-kebabs would be a bigger deal… but they’re not. Maybe it’s the walleyes’ fault (the State meat) – they don’t work as well on a stick, too floppy. Or maybe, after witnessing the shish-kebab debacle of 1887, in Northeast Iowa, Minnesotans gave a collective UFF-DA and vowed to never make the mistake of kebabing anything in mass production. Whatever the case, it’s not a thing here, and that’s ok. But what Minneapolitans & St. Paulonians do have is a common love of and dedication to supporting that which benefits the larger society/social upkeep/societal success, etc. We, much like US Marines, may argue and fight amongst ourselves about the best Jucy Lucy (it’s Matt’s) or the purpose of life (aside from the annual pilgrimage to The Greatest Fair on Planet Earth!) – but we’ve got our neighbor’s back if some guy from Florida starts talking out their ass. We’ll politely give them a mint and tell them their breath stinks.
A Note to Mother re: The Move
It’s now been 72 days, but who’s counting?
Dearest mother, it is now day 68 of this most arduous & exhausting moving experience. The weather has significantly delayed our efforts as the mules refuse to move while snow is falling. Upon cessation of the fucking flakes, the temperatures plummet & drift between 5° & 25° below zero causing Big Jake to lie down & bury his head in a drift. He’s not much for work in the winter – or the summer for that matter. Little Jacob caught the frostbite & we had to saw off 6 fingers & both thumbs… fortunately he has retained his left ring finger & right middle finger so we’re hopeful he’s still good enough to be marrying material. We can see the dirt floors in most of the house and therefore we know we are close to the end. God is providing abundance in the form of tears from Emma – she weeps all day & repeats some variation of “God, will they ever be fucking done?” We continue, ever forward – dying quietly and moving one piece of salt pork at a time. Give my love to father and sister Christian. Love your most benevolent son, Erik.
Either the brain image I had done last week or the map we used for moving to St. Paul… or maybe both
“Where do we go now?”, said Pooh; and Eeyore, never looking up from the thistles replied, “Who the fuck cares, Pooh – Who the fuck cares?”
And that is not an actual quote from any A.A. Milne book; nor would I expect such language from Eeyore, ever the optimist, cheerleader and go-getter. But the message serves as a lesson for us all, or for some of us. It matters not where you go or what you do so long as you do it with conviction and with no concern whatsoever for those who would prefer you live by their rules. We can’t spend our days trying to conform to every norm, following every law, bending over backward to ensure we don’t offend or frustrate the gate keepers. You only get one shot, the Book of Marshall reminds us, and if you don’t take a chance you’ll never know what if. So go ahead, rock the fucking boat, beat the drum of defiance, and keep the powers that be always wondering if their time has come. Moving is hard in the best of times and we haven’t seen those times yet.
Minneapolis Alleys have some of the most beautiful flower scapes. Wildflowers, wild roses, sunflowers, daisies, and many other varietals dot the otherwise gray shades of cement and siding. The most prominent, however, are the lillies. The alley behind Diamond Lake Gardens has scores of Tiger Lillies and one grouping of Pink Asiatic Lillies – they are magnificent!
101 thirty minute meals for ADHD Adults who enjoy cooking… but are frustrated by the amount of time it takes to make a “30 minute meal” – which can range from 90 minutes to four+ hours. The following list requires little to no cooking and can be found nationwide in local grocers or fast-food joints – with obvious exceptions e.g. Skyline Chile, WHATABURGER, Taco John’s etc.
Skyline Chili
Sazerac
Jerry’s German Potato Salad with black pepper and hot sauce
Manhattan
McDonald’s
Blackberry Brandy (Jeżynówka)
Pint/Quart of Ice Cream
Ritz Crackers
Wendy’s
2 slices of pizza from a local slicery
Gins & Tonics
Pigshit & sauerkraut (if pigs nearby and sauerkraut in fridge)
Taco John’s
Hawaiian rolls with ranch dressing
Whiskey Coke
peanut butter, jelly, spoon, maybe a bowl
Leeann Chin
cheese
Champagne/Sparkling Wine
chocolate chips, peanut butter, spoon, plate
Arby’s
White Russians (caucasians)
Canned tuna with cornichons and Triscuits
lettuce, bacon bits, pepper, Ranch (Western, French, or Catalina also delicious)
Tequila
Taco Bell
Rum & Pepsi with a lime (lime optional)
Pastrami
Sushi
Subway
Triscuits without accoutrements
Kwik Trip fried chicken
Grappa (this is a meal only if you’ve previously had dining experiences with Grappa – don’t do it if you don’t know it)
KFC
Graul’s Famous Ham Salad and their Parkerhouse rolls (mustard optional)
Bourbon
Ben & Jerry’s
Rotisserie Chicken
Long John Silver’s
Twinkies and cheesecurds
peanut butter and a spoon
Canned tuna and rice crackers
Campari & soda (a dozen+ should suffice)
White Castle
Pecan Pie
Fried eggs (requires cooking but if you can focus for 3-4 minutes you’ll have them in the pan and cooking – just don’t forget about them).
Long Island Iced Tea (3 is plenty)
Carl’s Jr.
Mezcal
Brown Sugar Sandwiches
Burger King
Apples
Bananas
Moonshine
Popeyes
Dandelion Wine
Tortilla chips and pico-de-gallo
Tortilla chips and salsa
WHATABURGER
Single Malt
Cheesecurds and salami
Cheesecurds and beer
Del Taco
Uppers/speed/white crosses
a nice tall glass of shut-the-fuck-up (only if in a pissy mood)
Vodka tonics
Royal Farms Chicken fingers and JoJos (not the Dancer)
Church’s
Key Lime Pie
Beer Nuts
Corn Nuts
WaWa Italian Hoagie
Jack-in-the-Box
Cheesecurds and summer sausage
Kowalski’s olive bar and wings bar
Hardees
Tap water (if fluoridated)
Power Bar (not flavorful but filling)
Diet Coke
Blue Hawaiian
Inn-n-Out
Ketchup & mustard packets sprayed on Hawaiian Rolls
Bloody Mary (3-4-7)
Snickers (2-3)
Hot dogs, if a microwave is handy – or you can eat them cold
Cold cereal
Cold beer
Red Wine (no decanting)
White Wine (only if pre-chilled)
Five Guys
Cheesecurds and wine
Cheesecurds and 7&7
Cheesecurds and donuts and Coke
Lund’s & Byerly’s Hot soup bar
Bagel & cream cheese
Rice Cakes and cheesecurds and summer sausage
Old Dutch Potato Chips
Doritos
olives and wine
goat cheese and membrillo
Old Milwaukee, Marlboro Reds, & a full bottle of extra strength Tums
The site is coming together and I take partial credit, like in high school when you 1/2-assed a homework assignment and the teacher said:
Well, it’s better than nothing, which isn’t saying much, but you gave it a shot, though not a very good shot, in fact if it was a basketball, the ball would have never left your hands… actually, nobody would have passed you the ball in the first place so you wouldn’t even be in the position to consider a shot, unless you were considering somebody else taking a shot, which is maybe what happened here – you got to thinking about your classmate’s doing their homework assignment and figured that because they were going to do a great job you didn’t need to create more work for me, given I already know all about the subject and because you have no immediate plans to work for NASA after graduation. And for that consideration, I thank you, and give you an 8/57. If you put your name on your paper, next time, I’ll add a couple tree points.
Now for the update
So anyway, six photo galleries are up, new ones will pop up occasionally, blog posts will continue regularly and unscheduled and never on time, and never being content, I’ll continuously update content in the off chance that anyone visits the site more than once. It’s coming along. I’m thinking about how I want to run the “store” piece of this site. Once that’s ironed out, photographs will be available for purchase via whichever service I’ve latched on to. And finally, the donations page will be up and running soon. Monetary donations and art supplies (new &/or good condition used) will be directed towards Public Schools, Community Centers, Senior Centers, and Services for individuals experiencing mental and/or physical health conditions. It’s coming along. I’m also trying to get my head around a gift option. Something where people can make a donation in exchange for a gift for a person, place, animal, etc. Nothing huge, no giant loon sculptures or 6’x12′ oil on canvas but a small piece of art – 1 of 1, maybe a bookmark, a painted notecard, a Thank You note, etc. etc. It’s coming along. If you have ideas, let me know. For my part, 8/57 is pretty ok, I do better on the art homework. Hope to see you soon. And a huge Thanks to Nate for all the work and expertise you’ve provided – Happy Trails
That fucking guy was supposed to come by at 11:00 to pick up the lawnmower he said he wanted to buy; sum-bitch didn’t show up til 2:45, piss drunk, talkin’ bout he got lost on the way — he lives 3 fuckin blocks from me — and then he asked me to load it up in his truck because he was too drunk to pick it up; and then, after I get the fuckin’ thing in his truck he asks me to tie it down – it’s a fucking lawnmower, it Ain’t fuckin goin anywhere – so I pushed it up tight to the cab and put a couple bricks behind the wheels. He said thanks and started to climb in his truck and I said, Hey, you gonna pay me? And he said, “I already did”. And I said, The hell you did. And he said, “oh yeah, I paid the beer store”. How much you want fer it, he asked? I told him we’d agreed on $25 and he said it wasn’t worth half that. And I said, I don’t recall you mentioning anything about what it was worth, only that you’d give me $25 for it. And he said, Well, I was probably drunk when I said that. So I said, that’s fine, I’ll just unload it and you can find another fuckin’ mower. He didn’t like that so he started diggin around in his pockets, pullin’ out coins and a few singles, a couple rocks, six lottery tickets, a pocket knife, several receipts, five .22 shell casings, a church key, a rabbit’s foot, a small coil of copper wire, some coupons for Subway, and a green and yellow friendship bracelet. And then he said, “between the cash and coins and lottery tickets and Subway coupons, I’ve got about $9 and .43 cents, can I bring the rest by tomorrow?” By that point I was so irate, because he didn’t have the cash and I was crying from laughing so hard – that friendship bracelet musta been a gift from his mom, she loves her some Jordan Love and the Packers but he’s a die hard Vikings fan, swears their gonna win the super bowl, every fucking year, and after 5 games he changes his tune and starts talkin’ bout the draft, that poor fucker, he ain’t got shit in his life that’s worth a fuck, aside from his sister and those 3 cats, they’re the only thing standing between him and a life of failed criminal ventures. So anyway, I started to feel bad for him, and I know he’s a good guy, if aggravating, and there’s no need for me to keep the mower, I don’t need it no more, turned my whole yard into a zen garden so I can meditate in a place that allows me to tune everything else out. I told him he could take the mower and I’d take the Subway coupons and we’d call it even. That may not have been as good an idea as I first thought, given his obsession with Subway sandwiches, he thought I was trying to pull a fast one on him, started to ask what kind of piece of shit mower I was trying to unload on him and that just one of those two dollars off a foot long coupons was worth 10 times what that mower’s worth and that he wouldn’t take that mower if I gave it to him. It was at that point that I decided I was done, I turned my ass around and headed to the house, wasn’t worth the time to argue. That pissed him off even more, he was cursing me and the mower and my neighbors sprinkler that was shooting water on him every 15 seconds and had been since he got out of the truck. He attempted to grab the mower out of the truck but couldn’t get any leverage so he opened the gate and tried to climb in – he nearly got one knee up when his other foot slipped on the wet clay – his reaction time, which ain’t great when he aint drinkin, was really slow. His nose was the first part of his body to stop falling, followed by the rest of his face – he’s a bleeder, that’s for certain. If he wouldn’t a crashed his truck six times on the way to the hospital, I woulda let him drive; but I knew he was in no shape to keep his eyes open and his brain alert, so I helped him into the shotgun seat and drove him to the ER. After they wheeled him in, I drove his truck back to his place, unloaded the mower & put it in his pole shed. 3 days later he called me up & told me that was the best damn mower he ever had & he’d a happily paid $50 instead of $35. I didn’t bother telling him anything, just said glad ya like it. That was last Thursday, I ain’t seen him since, he typically drives by here at least 8-10 times a day, running here there and the next place but nothin’. I hope he didn’t fall in a well.
Have you ever been to Baton Rouge? Nice place, a little warm most months, for my taste, but in January it’s just about the right temperature. Diamond Lake is nowhere near Baton Rouge, unless you’re reading this on the space station. Anyway, if you head due North from Baton Rouge and make a hard left when you get to Cadott, Wisconsin, you can take Highway 29 West and it’ll dump you off onto 94 Westbound and that’ll bring you right into Minneapolis. From there, just ask somebody, if they don’t know, ask somebody else, you’ll find it eventually.
Well, now that you know how to get here, don’t go fallin’ in love with the State, especially Minneapolis & St. Paul, you’ll hate the taxes (ask a Republican), you’ll hate the winters (ask a Southerner), you’ll hate the passive-aggressive communication style (ask a Minnesotan)and you’ll hate that the Packers fans will talk shit regardless of how bad they may be in a given year because they have a lot of titles (a baker’s dozen to be exact) and the Vikings (which is really a much better name for a football team) have less than 13 – , 13 less, to be exact. Packer fans will also remind them they have the mecca of professional sports home fields, Lambeau. The Metrodome was really nice, like an oversized air-dome that you might find on a private school’s campus so the students can play hockey in the summer, but with beer. It replaced The Met (Metropolitan Stadium) – not the home of the Mets, but home of the Purple People Eaters, Twins, Kicks and eventually the biggest mall in the U.S., after it was demolished. Now they have U.S. Bank Stadium (talk about great names, said no one ever) and they like to think of it as a Viking Ship, a Viking Ship that has an uncanny ability to kill birds without firing a shot. But I digress. I’m here to tell you about this place, Diamond Lake Creative.
It’s not a huge facility, maybe big enough to fit a couple baby elephants, 4 or 5 Honey Badgers and 8-10 Bearcats, but that’s big enough for now.
Regionally, we’re at the far end of North, which is the extreme South of Northmore and is right smack dab in the middle of the chain of lakes commonly referred to as North of Normal. People sometimes assume they can get here simply by heading North by North but that’s only true if your starting point is along a line that runs approximately from 93.3° W +/- 0.3° – about Iowa, Louisiana up past Carpenter, Iowa.That said, if you head in a generally northerly direction, unless you’re in Canada, you’ll probably find your way sooner or later. And remember, if you get completely turned around and keep driving past the same wheat field in Kansas, contact a local realtor and start meeting the people you’re going to call neighbors – you were meant to be there.
