Out I rolled and up I came to the beast that'd help taken me this far. We were in that godless land of Iowa. The sun shone in through the brightly hazy sky canopy, tones of baby blue and robin's egg washed across like errant water-colors.

My mind was a soft blur again as I climbed onto whichever highway my sacred chronicle (i.e. stapled mapquest directions) indicated. I passed over and along the lush hills on two-lane highways, admiring the fields and trees for their deep green pleasures.

After awhile I decided to stop at this super plaza thingy and snag some gas. I knew right around now would be my last meal on the road, so I wanted a proper sit down place. Trouble was, the proper sit down place next to the Route 66 station had that midwestern sunday thing going: scores and scores of small (and not so small) families popping out of cars and idly chat-walking toward the door. That shit did not bode well for quick eating, and it was obviously a locals place.

Best to eat at a corporate whore, for their beds are wide and their service predictable. I decided on a Subway, quite possibly the most sullen and quietly rude one I'd been in. Not that I drew any bad attention, the vibe in there just sucked hard. I ended up going back to my car, eating the meatball thing, drinking water out of something, then brushing my teeth, all the meanwhile enjoying how people skittered this way and that.

'How can such a beautiful countryside have such bitchy people?' I wondered on my second to last bite.

Iowa disappeared an hour after that, the roads climbing up to reveal a cheery looking "Welcome to Wisconsin" sign. I was getting close. The last few hours on the road felt good, like I'd finally turned a corner and found out where I needed/wanted to be.

Wisconsin was alot like Iowa in some ways, but more flat and with a great deal more farmland. I saw alot of rural Wisconsin, you see, because the main highway had a long and winding detour that snaked around this or that town. Kinda fun, actually, although following the detours signs took some guess work at a few points.

And so, with a transmission that smelt like burnt charcoal but ran smoother than goose crap, I drove into the first outskirts of Madison and thought happy things.

Then I encountered 4:30 Insanityville traffic. The happy thoughts thing quickly turned to a "well fucking hell, this is familiar" feeling. Stop and go traffic is a universal for any city above 200,000. Worse yet was that I couldn't find the right off-ramp and ended up going too far. I eventually plunked down along some main road, though, and found a Shell station to ask for directions. The guy looked like he'd been smoking/breathing out of a potato bong for one too many years, though, so I just got gas and sortof started circle-hovering around downtown.

Everything was different from what I remembered, from all the gorgeous leavy trees and bright skies to the heavy road construction that ate its way through half of the main boulevard. I'd later learn THAT was the road I was supposed to have gotten off on--and I did kinda sorta use the backed-up mess. Somehow I circled the capital building and skirted my way along the northern lake, finally finding my new apartment address. And I was right: it was the same set of silly buildings I'd walked near and hung out around back in February.

I was at my new home.

And all my crap was still in (and on) my car! Bonus. I'd only lost the oval piece of spectralite that Mom and I had bought over at The Spiral Staircase near The Inn of the Seventh Ray.

While it was past 5 and Bill, the building manager, wasn't there, I did by some bizarre coincidence run into the owner. His name is Mark, and for a landlord he's a really good guy. I spoke with him about this and that re: my apartment, then noticed that Bill had left an envelope for me with my keys. That was good on his part, since I didn't fancy having to take a hotel room when I had an apartment I'd paid for.

My Old New apartment looked like this:

It was a studio apartment, a glorified dorm room with 250 sq. ft., no kitchen, and the most disgusting shower you've likely ever seen outside of a 30 year old YMCA. I rather liked the place, though. I was used to living in crampt quarters back in college and this was sortof nostalgic on that end. The best part about the place was the view:

Even so, I started to see how this apartment could be a problem. See, I'd been planning on cooking almost all of my food. There was a microwave, true, but the mini fridge/freeze they had couldn't have held more than a week of food, and not even many drinks. Worse still was that the only sink was in the bathroom, and you couldn't exactly fit a Pur water filter onto that thing. Bill tried.

Still, I told myself that "I'd find a way". Funny thing was that 'a way' ended up finding me, but I'll talk about that later.

It was still afternoon then, around dusk, and I was pretty tired from moving things from the car, and feeling pretty lonely. As sunset came, though, I stopped for a little while and marvelled at how unnaturally spectacular the whole thing was, spread out across the sky like a river of star blood:

I was so captivated by the sight that I took my camera, rushed down and out through the entryway, to the lakeside (which I live right near), and found a secluded Mayan path to snap a shot:

I then dipped down to the rocky shoals of the coastline, taking a few final shots of the most beautiful sunset I'd seen in years:

That added a sweet note to a long day and what'd be a lonely night.

I'd spent that first night walking around Insanityville and, having found a sushi place, treated myself to some raw fish and octopus, to try to placate the home-sickness a little. On top of that, I decided to keep to my earlier promise and found an Irish bar--and subsequently drank myself into a pleasantly buzzed drunk state. It's a funny thing when you're drunk, after all, and you're proud of yourself for being able to walk just like normal people.

I got back to my place, passed out on my bed, and awoke the next day to unpack more shit.

Remember how I mentioned I'd find a way? Well, somehow a hell of an opportunity ended up finding me.

During the first day I was moving in, you see, Bill had told me there was a one bedroom apt. that had opened up. Apparently some chick was moving in with her boyfriend, but the space was too small. Bill had asked me if I was interested. I told him I was open to the idea, but I'd have to get back to him. So as the sweet hour of 11 was coming up, I looked around my place and thought it might be a damned good idea to go for the place. I'd gone down to see Bill to fill out this or that piece of paperwork and, so happens, he didn't mind showing me the one bedroom place. It was posh. I was highly interested. I told him I'd have a decision about it by 4pm. He told me, in turn, that the place would go as soon as someone mentioned that they needed a space--but that I was first-up for getting it if I wanted it.

Pimp.

So I gave Mom a call and told her the major differences: 500 sq. ft. compared to 250 sq. ft., an actual kitchen and a full fridge/freezer compared to the mini unit, a loveseat, a slightly less bitching view, and 135 bucks extra per month. She told me to jump on that shit and jump on it quick. I agreed with her.

Just as I was getting into the elevator to go down and talk to Bill, however, I saw him and a japanese gentleman in there. I smiled and waved. He looked amused and smiled back (since we'd been running into each other all day). Apparently, the Japanese man--Yoshi, I think--had just flown in from Japan and was looking for a place. Bill was showing Yoshi my room. I nodded and told Bill I was definetely taking the one bedroom. This put both of them in a good mood, since Yoshi wasn't too keen on the room he'd seen on the 3rd floor. And so I went up with them to my room and put in my good impressions of the place along with Bill. Yoshi seemed to really like it, and I started to move my stuff downstairs. At one point Yoshi asked me if it was ok if he slept there that night. I smiled and told him that the place was totally his now as soon as I got my stuff out.

And so, for the second time in 24 hours, I shuffled half of the unpacked stuff downstairs to the 1st floor (with the elevator, Thank God), then along with the other half of the stuff I'd actually put away. I somehow lost my Norelco shaver in the process, but eh: I was in my new one bedroom and I loved the place. Still do. Sometimes it feels like almost too much room, but it really is an actual apartment!

My new new apartment. Mmmmmmmm.

Considering this entry is getting on in length and I'm enjoying this pint of ale greatly, I'll leave it at that for now and make a jagged strange summary of my time in Insanity so far in the next entry.

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