Lightning whelk, part four.: zeroenthusiasm

zeroenthusiasm

Lightning whelk, part four.

Oct 04, 2016 21:07

627 miles.

DAY ELEVEN
Monday, September 26th

The next day was spent exploring Silver Spring. While not upfront a very exciting or interesting place, we were able to find plenty to do. That day, the sky was grey and cloudy and the heavy breeze threatened rain, but we were going to try and fit in as much as we could before the clouds broke out into tears. The first place we went to was the National Museum of Health and Medicine, which was not only full of weird medical specimens but was also free. For almost two hours, we were able to walk around and see preserved pieces of brains, deformed limbs, dead babies, skulls, and even fragments of Abraham Lincoln's skull from when he was assassinated. One exhibit had a lot to do with war, back then and now, and showed examples of early reconstructive practices on faces that had been blown off. There were preserved bones with the bullets still lodged in them. We went to a nearby grocery store after that and bought what else we needed for sandwiches. I wanted to make sure we had food we could make when we couldn't or wouldn't eat out, and we also wanted to have a little picnic in the pet cemetery we were about to explore. With some of our remaining food stamps, we got a loaf of bread and cheddar Daiya slices to go with the Tofurky and chipotle Just Mayo we'd gotten the day before. We filled up on gas because we were on a time crunch. We absolutely needed to be in Richmond, VA by September 30th for the zine fest and couldn't gamble on the kindness of stranger until after the 1st.

We parked next door at the Episcopalian church and walked over to the Aspin Hill Memorial Park, the second oldest pet cemetery in the country, where over 55,000 animals and thirty people were buried. Some groundskeepers were mowing and picking up trash. Little grave stones were everywhere alongside statues of dogs and angels. Bronze placards lay flat on the grass. Some of the stones had real pictures of the animal companion who had passed. It was actually far more moving and sad than I expected it to be, and affected us both more emotionally than we'd anticipated. Still, we found a clearing in the grass and sat down to eat our sandwiches. We walked all around the grounds and read almost every stone. The cute animal names and the sweet little goodbyes engraved onto them got me choked up a bit. We saw one stone for a bird, but the rest were for dogs and cats. Some graves still had things being left at them. We found one huge mausoleum. Deer hopped away in the distance. Despite being very opposed to valuable land being wasted on the sentimental burying and preservation of corpses, I still felt it was a beautiful place.

After that, we went on a hunt for Forest Glen, what I'd read was an abandoned seminary in town. No one single actual address seemed available online, and at first the directions we used came up with nothing. Little did we know, we had been driving through it repeatedly. Back in 1887, an inn had been built to attract tourists, and later was joined by a gambling hall. Not even a decade later, it became a boarding school for girls and was renamed the National Park Seminary. It was its own campus for a long time that isolated the girls there from the society around them. At its peak, the cost of tuition was more than that of Ivy Leagues at the time, and the student body exceeded 400 with children who were wealthy heirs to corporate thrones. This was eventually ended by the Great Depression, and the property was subsequently seized by the Army in 1942 to be used by recovering amputees from World War 2, and later for soldiers experiencing mental traumas and PTSD from the Vietnam war. They later demolished several buildings on the property so they could build a mouse colony for their new animal research lab. It had become more or less empty and abandoned in 1978 and had been protected in later decades by preservationists only to eventually be converted into a community of rich people isolating themselves from the rest of the city they were residents of, ironically much like the girls who were kept hidden there all those years ago.

By the time we were driving through it, over a century later, it was barely recognizable because most of the buildings were being renovated into condominiums and luxury apartments. While they preserved or mimicked the style, they were washing over the history and grime. After a few twists and turns, we thought we'd found where to go. Half of the area was upscale homes, the other was the ruins that remained from the Seminary's past. Workers were in the process of fixing one up when we parked. In the distance, standing over a sea of trees that obscured where the bottom was, we saw one building still truly abandoned and in disrepair. We asked a worker if he knew of a way to it, and he told us he'd seen people take a trail. We started walking around until we found it. After a few feet, it broke off into a sidewalk of sorts that was cracked into slabs and moved to an angle by the nature underneath it. We followed it, anyway, until we reached some tiny, dilapidated stairs. Next to a small stream, we saw what was once a little stone bridge. Inside one structure was two goldfish, still vibrant and swimming happily. We could not figure out how they got there. A larger staircase with dead, bare trees arching over it like a tunnel lead us up a hill. At the top was a huge statue of blinded Justice. Then there were two buildings, one of which was clearly once the inn. One of them looked like a castle. Two trucks were parked nearby with workers in them, eating lunch, hanging out, or just sleeping. We explored the perimeter, but neither were able to be broken into. They were still fascinating and mostly untouched, even by vandals. I couldn't decide if it was a blessing or a crime that these buildings were being turned into luxurious homes. We already had more homes than the human population needed, so it seemed a bit unnecessary, especially since these homes were being sold exclusively to the upper-middle class. I think I would have preferred the buildings to be left alone and eventually reclaimed by nature, honestly.

We weren't far, so we got going to DC, a driving experience I was absolutely dreading. Even when I was hitchhiking, I realized how difficult to navigate the street system was, and my last visit or two there had revealed how nearly impossible finding parking was. Still, we had a show to catch at 8 and wanted to get there early. Adam Conover of one of our new favorite TV shows, Adam Ruins Everything, was doing some sorta live tour, and we had managed to be nearby at the right time. I ordered our tickets while still in Philadelphia. By the time we got to the venue, a few people had already lined up. As expected, parking was a hassle, and we ended up almost a mile away. Thankfully, it was at least a free spot. It was a bit nippy out and a strong breeze wrapped us in its windchill as we waited outside the 9:30 Club. A big tour bus was parked on the side of the building with a huge, blown-up image of Adam, his tiny glasses frames and cocked, shit-eating grin crystal clear. While normally a general admission venue, this night was seated. The floor that was typically empty had rows and rows of uncomfortable, white, fold-out chairs that would have everyone sitting in them practically elbow-to-elbow. We got seats in the front row and impatiently waited for it to begin. In the meantime, I ordered us some food from the club, choosing the vegan serapes they had available. A writer for the show and the co-brain behind the touring performance, Gonzalo Cordova, opened with a short stand-up routine that was repeatedly interrupted by assholes in the audience who thought they were important enough to be a part of the rhetorical discussion on stage. One of them sat right next to us and was into his third or so beer. He was funny and held his own, despite announcing that DC was the rowdiest crowd they'd had thus far--he added that it wasn't something to be proud of. With assistance from a projection screen and some hilariously Photoshopped images, Adam put on a great stage show about elections in America, focusing on history to demonstrate that not much has changed about American elections since their beginning. It was a lot of fun and made us both laugh a lot, but predictably digressed into another liberal plea to vote in the upcoming election, despite an hour telling us all the ways American is corrupt and how little has changed over the course of history.

By the time we got out, the rain had started again, but we were determined to get to Duccini's, a small pizza place that has always held a place in my heart. Not only did they have what I considered one of the best pizzas in the country, they also were the only place in DC that did a "jumbo" vegan slice. Many places in the city boasted their "jumbo" slices, but Duccini's had Daiya and wasn't afraid to include those who didn't want to eat liquid meat. Again, we had to park pretty far away and walk, but it would be worth the annoyance. As soon as we walked in, the old owner, who was clearly anything but Italian and always jolly, started shoving some deal down our throats. I cut him off and told him we wanted vegan jumbos. At first, he said they didn't really do those after a certain because it required them to make a whole giant pie and that sales weren't as good at night. I said to him, "If it makes you feel any better, we're not from here, and we came here specifically to have Duccini's famous vegan jumbo slices."
His face lit up and he changed his tune: "Okay, I do it for you!"
We watched as a worker prepared the dough for what would eventually be a 36" pie. He piled on what had to have been at least two and a half bags' worth of Daiya mozzarella on top of it. It was a glorious sight. Tara and I were so grateful that he was doing it for us; so grateful, that we eventually decided to buy the whole thing. He countered our kindness with his own, selling it to us for almost $20 less than its worth and throwing in free drinks. A man dining inside looked at us and said, "You don't know what you're in for!" When it was finished, they had to split it among four of their largest sized boxes, two slices in each one. Tara and I each ate one slice, and they were meals in and of themselves. We walked back to the car with three boxes stacked on each other. We knew there weren't any good vegan spots coming up, so we figured we'd eat giant pizza slices for the next couple of days. And we would.

We had to drive just over the border to Alexandria, VA that night to find a Walmart we could actually sleep overnight in. We tried to make sure we went to 24-hour ones so we could use the bathrooms in the middle of the night. We spent the night editing a video together, which was becoming more and more fun for me. I liked doing something creative with Tara.

The first exhibit in the museum dealt with traumatic brain injury.

A wall of antique prosthesis.

Jars of intestines affected by different medical problems.

I can no longer figure out what body part this is, but it comes from a person who asphyxiated on their steak. Vegan karma!

Scrotum and leg with elephantiasis.

Bones with bullets in them, preserved from wars that took place in and around Virginia.

Fragments of Lincoln's skull.

Early facial prosthesis during war.

We were bid adieu by this bug on our way out.

Aspin Hill pet cemetery. :(

National Park Seminary.

The height of American liberal slacktivism: thinking your Macbook kills fascists/believing it is in any way like Bob Dylan's guitar.

Adam Conover ruining presidents.

Duccini's preparing and serving us eight "jumbo" slices.

DAY TWELVE
Tuesday, September 27th

I didn't want to spend too much time in DC, but there were a few things I wanted to show and see with Tara. The first thing we did, after a half hour of desperately trying to find parking and slowly discovering what was the biggest drought of handicap parking we'd ever experienced, was go to the National Air and Space Museum. Not so interested in air as we were space, we spent a lot of time checking out exhibits about outer space, the planets, and staring in awe at all of the big fucking rockets and spaceships they had there. On the walk back to the car, we stopped at the National Gallery of Art sculpture garden, which I had napped at years before. The fountain was just as majestic as I remembered it, and most of the creepy sculptures that were around it several years ago were still there. I was bummed I couldn't swim in it, but felt better once I saw that they had erected a ramp enabling ease of access for ducks.

The nuisance and expense of exploring DC in a car was too much, so we decided to just get dinner and be done with it. We went to NuVegan, a vegan soul food restaurant and hands down my favorite vegan spot in the whole country. Even Kanye West adores them. We both got huge meals and ate until our souls were full. And then we got the fuck outta DC.

Tara took the wheel for a change and I fell a sleep a little until we got into Fredericksburg, VA, somewhere I had visited almost annually as a child. Most of my mother's redneck family tree was there. It was raining pretty hard, so none of the outdoorsy things I'd intended to do there was possible yet. We ended up at a Starbucks, where we loitered until closing, writing and editing video while a neckbeard wearing an "Enjoy Capitalism" (in Coca-Cola font) t-shirt took up a four-chair table all to himself and bragged loudly on his phone about his skills and experience in Magic the Gathering or whatever.

The forecast spoke of nonstop rain for the next couple of days, and they weren't kidding. We decided to just stay there and preserve gas instead of heading off to Charlottesville or around town where we couldn't even do anything because of the weather. And so over 36 hours in Fredericksburg began. The first night in the Walmart parking lot was awful, as we weren't quite sure how to have the windows down for air circulation while keeping the rain out. In the middle of the night, after a short intermission from the downpour, I awoke to it shooting in. We had to roll the front windows all the way up, but the pink bed sheet we covered the front windshield with slowly sloaked with water, and the little bit of it that was tucked into the closed doors started dripping water down into the seats. The reflective vests we used to cover the side windows did nothing to keep water out, either. Last second, I stuck our two umbrellas out the windows and opened them up. They did an alright job at keeping most of the rain out. It was muggy, uncomfortable moist, and there was little air inside of the car. I felt claustrophobic. Tara managed to sleep better than I did. At least the car smelled like pizza.

Some big things at the Air and Space Museum.

The sculpture park is beautiful; the art is debatable.

Buffalo drummies, baked mac and cheese, grilled asparagus, tuna macaroni salad, red curry tofu, and cornbread at my favorite vegan restaurant.

DAYS THIRTEEN AND FOURTEEN
Wednesday, September 28th - Thursday, September 29th

Nothing happened for the next two days. Leticia Paypaled us $40 out of the blue, so we had our next tank of gas ready. But we weren't going to make a move until it was time to head to Richmond and secure our hotel room. It was raining everywhere, likely due to cast-off precipitation from Hurricane Matthew, which was allegedly set to kill everyone in the upcoming week. The hours spent sitting on the uncomfortably hard chairs of Starbucks were enough to make my ass either unbearably sore or fall asleep. We subsisted almost entirely off of those jumbo pizza slices. One day in particular, I had one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

The second night, we realized that the wind was getting stronger, and that it was blowing our umbrellas away. We needed to figure out how to keep the umbrellas in the windows. I stole some rope from Walmart and then tied them together by the bottoms of their handles from inside the car. This way, their own pull would keep them inside. We slept dry the next two nights, albeit at times cold and at other times humid, and always with a nonstop pitter-patter of rain falling down all around us. It was almost maddening.

I think Tara looks cute when she intensely gets into accomplishing something.

My DIY way of keeping us dry with the windows open.

DAYS FIFTEEN THROUGH EIGHTEEN
Friday, September 30th - Monday, October 3rd

We excitedly rushed out of Fredericksburg and headed to Richmond after filling up. There was no end in sight for the rain, but we had a hotel booked for the next three nights. Tia was taking a Greyhound bus down from Philly to meet up and table at the Richmond Zine Fest alongside us; since she couldn't sleep in the car with us, I used her as an excuse to get a room. Plus, split three ways, we each only paid $40. As soon as we got into the city, we went to our room and just relaxed, spreading out on the big bed. Tara took a warm bath. We weren't going to eat dinner until Tia got in, so we picked up some snacks during a torrential downpour outside a Food Lion: roasted red pepper hummus, Ritz crackers, veggie bacon, cheddar Daiya slices, and cashews. As expected, Tia's bus picked her up late and was taking longer and longer to get to us. When she finally did get there, we drove to GWARbar, the bar dedicated to shock punk band GWAR, and waited for my friend Dakota to get there. The rain had died down by then, thankfully.

I only knew Dakota from Instagram. He was a vegan trans man who looked like a male model and had a beautiful dog named Artemis who I saw a lot on his page. His posts on social media were always funny and unapologetically confrontational, saying things that needed to be said. When he got there, he wasted no time telling us a ton of funny stories and suggesting things around Richmond to do. He was a lot of fun to sit down and eat with. The vegan food at GWARbar was excellent and made me really sick later that night. When we left, Dakota suggested we get in his car so he could drive us over to his part of town in Oregon Hill. After introducing us to his cats, his bearded dragon, and the angelic Artemis, we all went for a walk in the dark, wet, historic Hollywood Cemetery. He knew his way around there like the back of his hand from walking Artemis there so often, and we followed behind while he shared more stories, local lore, and history regarding some of the grave stones. Light pollution in the sky helped illuminate the James River raging below. It was beautiful. At one point, a car was driving through, and we all had to dive down to the ground to stay out of sight. The place was closed at 6, after all, and we were technically trespassing. In the distance, we heard someone listening to pop music. It really creeped us out, even more so when it stopped suddenly. Dakota was absolutely terrified of someone jumping out on him. When we got back to his place, he said goodbye, completely forgetting that he was the one who brought us there. When we returned to GWARbar, we were caught up in a conversation about the end of the world. After getting out of his car, we spent the rest of the night lounging in the hotel room, eating snacks and watching awful television.

We got up nice and early for the zine fest, which was happening for the second year at the big library in downtown Richmond. Our table was on the basement floor in a big room. Tara, Tia, and I did our best to stuff ourselves onto a half-table next to an older guy who made comics. We made due with what we had. For the first time since Philadelphia, I took the zines out. A stack of the death zines were still kind of moist, and the staples on just about all of them were rusted. Everything else that survived smelled like they had been found in a basement, were wavy and felt of fall leaves, and had some dark stains on them. They were legible, though. It hit me all over again how many zines had been destroyed, and I didn't feel at all confident about what I was tabling. I made a new sign with our sob story written on it, partly hoping people would sympathize with us and it would better our chances of sales. We also made everything $1-3, sliding scale, because I didn't think what we had left was even worth money. The zine fest went from 11 until 4, and while Tia did far better than us with her colorful and unique art, Tara and I didn't sell anything for at least the first two hours. Most people didn't even gaze at our table, and the few who stopped to read our sign either didn't react at all or offered sympathy before walking away empty-handed. I felt invisible, and was confused. Zine fests were unpredictable, but this was the worst reception I'd ever gotten at one, and I'd been participating in this particular one for at least four or five years. What was more puzzling than the lack of sales was the overall lack of conversations. People weren't talking to us. They weren't touching anything, opening anything up, or even engaging us in polite exchanges. It was by all accounts as bizarre as it was discouraging. I couldn't blame it on the state of the zines, because at least a dozen people told us the wet, wavy look made them look cooler. None of those people bought a zine, but their input made me feel like the grungey look of everything couldn't possibly be the culprit. There were a few zines that not only didn't make a single sale, but were never at any point even opened up and looked in. I sold one button. Another person thought my pigeon character was a chicken. It was a struggle just to get people to take the free stuff.

In the last hour, I decided to do a run-through of the two floors, hoping to see something I liked, maybe even something that would reinstate my faith in the zine community. Alas, what I saw was the most zine-deficient zine fest I'd been to yet. I'd estimated about 15% of the event was actual, DIY, made-at-home zines, and 50% of that 15% were fucking comic books, a genre that was monopolizing zine fests more rapidly each year. Everything else was professional published and bound books. Someone was selling a skateboard deck and coffee; another was selling essential oils; some were selling plants; at least three tables represented book stores. It was more like a punk rock flea market than anything else, and as usual, I felt like the poorest person there. I was facing no longer being able to make zines because I lost my scam, while these rich kids and college brats were able to finance their every whim and creative phase. By the end of the day, we had made less than $20. It was the worst I'd ever done at a zine festival by almost a hundred bucks. It wasn't about the money, though; it was about the overall response. I was baffled. Foot traffic was abundant and steady, we had zines that apparently looked aesthetically pleasing despite their water damage, and we were selling what was the cheapest and most varied content in the room... but no one wanted it. It was a very disappointing day; devastating, even.

On our way out, Tia and I both supported Tara as she confronted one of the people who put the fest on. This year, they had offered a stipend to "people of color" and "LGBTQ people", stating the overall "whiteness" of zine fests as a reason. Their conclusion was apparently that financial strain was the reason for it. To me, it seemed like they were literally paying for the illusion of diversity, but worse than that, in their attempt at "inclusion", they had completely overlooked an entire group of marginalized people: the mentally and physically disabled and handicap. I thought they should just offer the stipend to, ya know, anyone who lived in poverty and literally couldn't afford to make zines or come to their fest, but since they weren't playing that game, the least they could have done was include people like Tara, whose physical and neurological disabilities actually prevented her from being able to work. Tara was really offended and upset by it, but scared of them being dismissive or mean in response. We pushed her to do what she believed in, though. The person she spoke to, who wasn't white, responded in a stutter, and at first tried to excuse it before saying outright that it was an oversight because "POC" and "LGBTQ" were more "easily identifiable". I personally was even more offended by that response, but Tara at least got to voice her opinion and stick up for herself, and in the process hear that she wasn't the only one who had spoken up about it. We were promised next year would be different.

The rain was taking a break and we used it to our advantage. We went to the adorable Carytown area and walked up the street of small shops. We got pizza at Mellow Mushroom, my favorite pizza in America, and then spent an hour browsing across the street at World of Mirth, a cute toy store full of gag gifts, oddities, and stuffed animals whose co-owner was brutally murdered along with her entire family in 2006. Both Tara and Tia were in paradise, and I had fun looking at all the neat things I knew I would never buy, too. Tara, in search for a stuffed animal to cuddle during the trip--her treasured stuffed cat was left back in Schenectady--met eyes with a soft little lime-green sheep. She said it was love at first sight. She picked her up and held her close to her face and almost started crying, which honestly almost made me start crying. Tara was just too cute for words. She bought her and named her Kelly. Tia also got a new stuffed friend, a sloth. I pocketed a possum toy for our dashboard.

On our way back to the car, we were distracted by some lunatics standing by an altar with bags of large signs, yelling at a man about black Jesus. They represented the Twelve Tribes, a black religious fringe group who, as we learned, believed that only genetic Hebrew Israelites will make it to Heaven, and that the "so-called white man" (what they referred to as "Edomites") would perish along with literally every other person not genetically bound to their particular interpretation of the Bible. We stood silently and listened to the well-intentioned white guy argue with them as they yelled over him, shook their heads at his every word, and read verses from their several Bibles to him in response to his questions. Once the man walked away and gave up, we listened to them congratulate themselves before using the word "faggot". I proceeded to ask them questions, for fun, because one of my favorite things to do in situations like that was to interrogate and force them to say crazy things out loud. I agreed with them about one thing, though: their god was a god of hate. When I asked them, "Oh, so you guys are just another hate group?" they at first said no, but quickly changed their mind when they realized that the hate they spewed was the actual hate of the god they worshiped--they had no problem admitting that their god was full of hate. I had far more respect for people who were realistic and honest about the prejudice that was exercised in the Bible than those who tried to say their Lord was one of love, respect, and acceptance. I asked a lot of questions and learned a lot while we were occasionally insulted. I learned that I was doomed to suffer because I was the "so-called white man". When I asked them how I knew I was the "so-called white man", they asked me, "Do you eat sushi?"
I said yes.
"Can you dance? Do you have rhythm?"
I said no.
"Then you an Edomite," they said matter-of-factly.
When I asked them why their god created people who would inevitably do terrible things and end up suffering in the end, they told me he did it because he could, and that even questioning his motives was blasphemy. They scoffed when I suggested that that type of behavior was unbecoming of a god, and that it was both petty and sociopathic. But yes, their god created bad people (i.e. the so-called white man) just so he could punish them for fun later on. Their beliefs were an amalgamation of their extremist religion, conspiracy theory, '90s media, and a little bit of Alex Jones type of knowledge regarding politics. Comparisons to Pinky and the Brain and Tekken 3 were made by them, and one of their posters used the backdrop to the Independence Day poster, black holy figures holding light sabers. They told us Jesus was going to return on a flying saucer, and that what people had identified as UFOs were actually angels. Soon, the planet would be engulfed in flames, and they would be teleported up into one of the ships so as to be protected from The Rapture. I asked one of them, "Will god make you flame retardant?" and he confidently responded, "Basically." While telling us about how unnatural and sinful being gay was, we brought up gay animals. They told us animals were gay because of chemicals and all the fucked-up things we do to the world. One of them announced, "Even Earth is straight!" and used the pollination of flowers as an example. Tia and I countered that argument by bringing up sea horses, but it went right over their heads. "But we ain't talkin' about sea horses!" I had to slowly explain to them how we had just contradicted what they said about nature, but it went nowhere. By the end of the conversation, it had gotten completely out of hand, and one of them went as far as saying that Adolf Hitler wasn't all that bad, and that, "at least he knew who the real Jews were." I told them it was a joy to waste an hour of their time, but they assured me it wasn't wasted; they had been taping the whole thing to share with others on how to proselytize. We all had a good laugh at their expense, but I also desperately wished that they were not on the same planet as me. We had exhausted all of our resources, so we headed back to the hotel to hang around for the rest of the night.

The next day, we got some brunch at Harrison Street, which boasts on a chalkboard sign outside of it, "Good eats, no meats!" It was good, but I was outraged that the vegetarian restaurant was so behind the times. They had plenty of cow cheese, but not a single vegan alternative, and out of all the vegan options in every grocery store, the veggie bacon they used wasn't vegan. Also, if you can make your French toast vegan, why not just only serve it vegan? After all, it tastes exactly the same. Count on me, the vegan police and elitist scum, to shit all over the vegetarian cafe. We had a jam-packed day planned, though.

First, we headed to the Richmond Science Museum, which I had approached the outside of many times, gone inside of to watch the Foucault pendulum at least once, and even slept outside of years ago, but had never actually paid to enter. Now was the time, with Tara and Tia by my side. We pushed on the rotating limestone globe fountain that sat right outside across from a smaller one to demonstrate the distance between Earth and our moon, and then spent a couple minutes on the inside watching the pendulum, patiently waiting for it to knock a domino over. The first floor exhibit, "Speed", had to do with motion and speed and had a ton of interactive things about it. We got to go into a room that simulated a hurricane's wind at 80 miles per hour; got to race each other against the speeds of various animals, ultimately being defeated by a long shot by a bear and just barely outrunning a rat; got to see how fast we could throw a baseball up against the average speed of a professional pitcher; got to take videos of ourselves in a booth set with a slow motion camera that picked up several hundred frames per second. There was so much to do. A janitor in the elevator got us to go to the downstairs exhibit, "Boost!", where we were able to learn more about our physical capabilities and health. I found out that I have good balance, am pretty fucking strong, have perfect pitch, and am really good at slowing down my own heartbeat, among other things that ultimately don't matter. We spent so much time just in that exhibit that the place was closing before we could ever get up to the second floor. It was one of the most fun and exciting science museums either of us had ever been to.

After that, we went to check out the Hollywood Cemetery again, this time during daytime hours. It was about an hour to closing, and a corny security guard with a nasally Southern accent sitting in his car wasted no time telling us approximately how many minutes we had left to visit and leave. It was a very well-kept and beautiful cemetery, but I was grossed out by how many old graves had freshly planted Confederate flags next to them. I had to tear a few out just to satisfy my own rage. We walked to a 90' pyramid, which was oddly dedicated to the women of the Confederacy. Over 18,000 soldiers were buried in the cemetery and it thrilled me to think that all of those slave-supporting hillbillies were dead, not to mention died for a war they fucking forfeited and ultimately lost. We also spotted a grave of a little girl from 1862 that had a life-size, cast-iron dog statue erected next to it, watching over her. No one knows for sure who put the dog at the grave or why, and people were still leaving her little gifts, spare change, and knick-knacks. The security guard was driving around and announcing to everyone how long they had left before they had to leave.

With the few hours of sunlight we had left, we drove out to the Pony Pasture trail to get an up-close view of the James River and its white-tipped, powerful rapids. We spent a lot of the time there just standing by the boulders and staring out at it in total awe. It was particularly high due to the rain Virginia had just endured, so much so that one spot of trees was still flooded over. We walked along it on a road for half a mile, stepping off to every view space allowed. Dusk over the James was stunning. For dinner, we ate at Strange Matter, an obligation when vegan while visiting Richmond. I got The Revenge, a meal I'd gotten every time and seen evolve over the years: every meat they had sandwiched between grilled cheese sandwiches, each one with a different flavor of melted Daiya on it. It had even won an award from PETA as the greatest vegan grilled cheese in America. It was a glorious meal.

That night, back at the hotel, I'd compared my zine inventory to what it was before we left home, and quantified just how many zines had been destroyed by the rain. I didn't know why I wanted to torture myself, but I needed to know to what extent some asshole had fucked me over. The amount was almost a hundred zines.

Our last day together in Richmond, we got lunch at the place Dakota worked, 821, and then went for a long walk through Maymont Park, a lush, 100-acre park and garden I had been to once before and always remembered as being absolutely magical. Thankfully, it lived up to the hype of my recollection, and Tara and Tia were just as stunned as I was the first time I was there. The waterfall was off and the pools dried, but everything else was in full bloom. A protected tree housed honeybees swarming. An old woman read in a solitary gazebo surrounded by vibrant flowers. Statues marveled at their own appearances in the reflections of the fountains or ponds they were near. We walked through the Italian garden and down a hundred or more stairs to the Japanese one. Every now and then, we'd spot a cute little critter in their natural state; blue-tailed skinks darting in and out from underneath rocks, a frog looking out contemplatively at the water from a rock. But to the left, we stumbled on an area I'd never seen before. It was another pond, inhabited by huge, colorful koi fish, with geese swimming over them, a bale of turtles sunbathing on some rocks right in the center. It was a stunning and tranquil place and neither of us wanted to ever leave it. But we had to get Tia back to the Greyhound station for her 3 o'clock bus home, and we too had to get going to our next destination. We dropped her off and thought about how badly we wished she could come with us. She seemed better than she had any of the times we'd recently visited her in Philly, and I knew it had everything to do with being out of her apartment and finally enjoying real life. We loved Tia and hated knowing we wouldn't see her again for probably five more months.

We started heading to Norfolk, where we had plans to meet up with my friend Nima, a past peta2 tour mate of mine. We got to drive underwater through a long tunnel, which was cool, but the giant ships and congested docks surrounding the entrance into the boring little city were ugly. Nima was still at work when we got there, so we went to a Harris Teeter grocery store and loitered around on our laptops. We impatiently parked outside of Nima's apartment a little later and I got caught up in a discussion with an old woman walking a dog who asked me about my "No gods, no maters, no problem" shirt. She was the embodiment of liberal contradiction. She wasn't an atheist, but was opposed to organized religion, and she hated the republicans and war, but loved the democrats who helped fund them. She knew well enough that corruption was abound in the White House, but it was not enough to get her to give up on voting or American democracy. It was a mind-numbing conversation that I was thankful Nima showed up and interrupted. He showed us his beautiful studio apartment, which was kept immaculate and neat, and introduced us to his precious black cat, Kyla, who was just as soft-spoken as he was. We sat on the little balcony he had and talked briefly about this and that, mostly catching up, and then went out to eat at a Japanese place called Kotobuki he suggested with a separate vegan menu. The food there was spectacular and Nima was good company. He'd be working the next day, but we already had plans to hang out again once he got out. We had to drive toward Virginia Beach to find a Walmart we could sleep at. Nima had offered us his place to stay at, but when we heard we'd have to get up at 8AM, we opted out of it.

Here are the videos we made about Silver Springs and Richmond...

Click to view

Buffalo wangs and the "Hail Seitan" sloppy joe sandwich at GWARbar.

One of Dakota's kitties.

A late-night stroll through the probably totally haunted Hollywood Cemetery with Dakota and Artemis.

Richmond Zine Fest.

The Twelve Tribes disciples are totally fucking insane, as demonstrated through their shoddy Photoshop work.

French toast, soysage, and potatoes at Harrison Street.

The Science Museum! The last two pictures are of Tara's and my results at a thing that quantified how unique your physical characteristics were compared to the thousands of others who had taken it. They ask you yes/no questions about various physical traits to come to these conclusions. Tara's rare, but I'm a fucking anomaly, I guess.