BODY;ENCODING=QUOTED. EDWIN
Hello?

Are you there?

Can anyone receive this?

We're looking for a happy place. We have a guide, but any help would be appreciated.

We're in Minnesota. What was Minnesota. I saw a sign for it.
If you think you can help us find our way, or want to meet us; we'll be in Minnyappleus soon.

Share in our journey to find the happy place.

Here is where we expect to be and when:

Thurs. July 31 8:30pm
Parts 1 & 2
Bedlam Theater Parking Lot

Sat. August 2 - 4:30pm
Parts 2 & 3
Outside Theatre de la Jeune Lune

Sat. August 2 - 7:30pm
Parts 1, 2 & 3
The Soap Factory

Thurs. August 7 - 7:00pm
Parts 1 & 2
Bedlam Theater Parking Lot

Fri. August 8 - 7:30pm
Parts 3 & 1
The Soap Factory

Sat. August 9 - 7:30pm
Parts 1, 2 & 3
The Soap Factory

Sun. August 10 - 8:30pm
Parts 1, 2 & 3
Bedlam Theater Parking Lot

Bedlam Theater 1501 S. 6th St. Minneapolis
Theater de la Jeune Lune 105 1st St. NE, Minneapolis
The Soap Factory 518 2nd St. SE, Minneapolis
END:VNOTE

There was a great silence for a week. or was it more? I heard nothing from the Teens. I had begun to think that maybe they had run into trouble. But this came in today.

BODY;ENCODING=QUOTED. LIEF. 01001001 Remember back when The Evening News was still a modern concept? Every channel had its own opinions on what was happening. We simply had to pick and choose our favorite theories. We’d argue over our TV dinners about what had caused three hurricanes to hit the coasts so far this month, about why gas prices were up to thirty, forty, fifty dollars a gallon, about where the latest riots had broken out. We’d argue about what was really happening. Then an ad would come on. Eventually it stopped being something we’d watch Tonight At Nine/Eight Central and became something we watched out our front windows. 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 There haven’t been news broadcasts for some time now. There hasn’t been much of anything in almost a year now. I think it would be easier if we all knew what had happened. If we knew why we were living like this. Maybe it would make life more bearable. Then again, maybe not. 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 We're still trying to find some sense. But answers won't change the situation we're in. Really, we're trying to find a place to live freely. To be happy in. Sara's got directions, she's leading us there. We're on our way. I hope. 01100011 01100001 01110010 01100101 END:VNOTE

Another thread came in. Although I’m always pleased to see something new from the Teens, their entries often sadden me.

BODY;ENCODING=QUOTED Moonbeam01101000-01100101-01100001-01100100-The night has fallen as i crawl up onto the van to start my night watch. It's easy to lose your head up here, all alone, while the darkness surrounds you with sorrow, and you’re searching for something that might be searching for you. 01110011-01101000-01101111-01110101-01101100-01100100-01100101-01110010-01110011-I want to sing to keep my mind off this situation but i can't for i might wake the others or attract unwanted guests. So to keep myself sane I silently pretend i am sitting on a dock at the end of a lake near my childhood home:[THT ENCD] “It's a perfect day and i have my feet swinging over the water.I am laughing with my best friends.; embracing, kissing and hugging as if we hadn't seen each other in yearsthe sun gently tickles my skin. 01101011-01101110-01100101-01100101-01110011The brush that is all along the shoreline is covered with birds
01100001-01101110-01100100 a harmony unlike any other
just pure sweet song for my friends and I. 01110100-01101111-01100101-01110011 one bird stands alone and suddenly it flies up, up and away.i miss this beautiful bird that flew away all alone.” 01101011-01101110-01100101-01100101-01110011
see even my happy thoughts turn sour somehow01100001-01101110-01100100 this thought slowly trails away as i forget where i am, as i lay my head down on top of the van forgetting i was on night watch & thinking i was at home, in my bed. 01110100-01101111-01100101-01110011 END:VNOTE

What kind of world do we live in? What is wrong with us? Why should any person; young or old, need to stand watch to guard against the night, against other people who would do them harm? Other people. Not wild animals, not a force of nature- but other human beings. I know it’s nothing new- I remember enough of history to know that this type of behavior has always been with us. But all the same I wish that anyone could sit under a starry night sky and enjoy that moment without the threat of attack tainting it.

BODY;ENCODING=QUOTED JENNIFER01101001.01110011.00100000.We keep moving. Only stopping when the van breaks down. I try to keep their spirits up, but this task is proving to be harder and harder, and usually unsuccessful. All of us have lost everything. All we have left, every piece of our lives exists in the van.01100001.01101110.01111001.01101111.01101110.01100101.Our old lives were already broken, but none of that should have mattered on our special night: Prom. We still held on to that one milestone in our lives, still trying for some sense of normalcy. 01100010.01101111.01110010.01100101.01100100.But that’s when everything fell apart. No prom, no school, no home. All gone. 01100101.01101110.01101111.01110101.01100111.01101000.And now… the nine of us travel on, after losing almost everything. We continue in the direction of our goal in the direction of our future. 01110100.01101111.00100000.01100100.01100101.01100011.01101111.01100100.01100101.We alone are resilient to the complete madness the rest of the world has become. We alone move forward, in search of our happy place. 01110100.01101000.01101001.01110011. END:VNOTE

I wish I could easily dismiss the feeling of being alone as simply a phase in life. But whatever age, we’re all feeling wary, untrusting of others.

Some days the signal is stronger than others- I’m receiving more feeds from the Teens as I walk toward where they drove. I’ve seen a sign or two of their presence- pieces of paper tacked onto telephone poles asking if anyone else is looking for the happy place.

I tag the posters with my webdress, maybe if someone else reads this, we can all help each other.

Maybe.

BODY;ENCODING=QUOTED. FRANKIE 01001001-00100111-01101101-This is weird. Our whole situation, not knowing where things are going, not knowing who’s on our side, not knowing when the next time we can eat, not knowing if we’ll survive the next day, its all just weird. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. 01110011-01101111-01110010-01110010-01111001-The closest I’ve come is when I was twelve and I made my mom go on the new roller coaster at FunFair and when I got to the front of the line, I started bawling. I remember I did not want to go on that roller coaster but my mom forced me onto it because I forced her to wait in line for 2 hours. “You can cry all you want Franklin, but we’re going on it!” God, my parents were awesome. 01101001-01110100-00100111-01110011-00100000-01100010-01100101-01100101-01101110-I would have never dreamt a year ago that I’d be living in a van with acquaintances from school, without a family, and without my parents, and without my bed, and without my baby blanket, and without my golden lab, and without my computer, and without my cell phone, and without my TV, and without my awesome movie collection. I just don’t get it. I’d like to get. I’d like someone to explain this all to me. 01100001-00100000-01110111-01101000-01101001-01101100-01100101-END:VNOTE

more notes are pouring in. They're like journals rather than messages. I wish I could connect with them. But their communication seems to be a one way stream. Like I thought mine were.

Following breadcrumbs. Since the day those Teens drove away in the van, I’ve been wandering looking for signs of other Friendlies.

It looks like they are searching for other people too. And sending their messages out- my eyefone came to life, with a message. At least I think it’s a message. Maybe it’s another webdress, and I caught part of it.

BODY;ENCODING=QUOTED
01000010-01101001-01101110-01100001-01110010-01111001-00101110-00100000-I haven’t the slightest idea what happened. Seriously. Everything looks weird outside. Maybe it’s because the windows are dirty. People were talking about the end of the world. I don’t know. Birds and oil and stuff. I wasn’t really listening. I was reading a book.01101001-01110100-00100111-01110011-The van seriously stinks. We’re driving to god knows where.01110011-01101111-I’m really not sure where we are headed.
Everything looks so empty.

Where is everyone?

Maybe they’re all on vacation. Maybe in Europe. I find it easier to just not ask.. 01100110-01110010-01100101-01100001-01101011-01101001-01101110-01100111-I just remembered something. It’s really random- Kate was talking about her sister, and I remembered something I did with my sister when she was little. She would always follow me around. She would grab my hand with her little fingers and make me promise I would never let go. “say it Gwen!” she would say, “Promise me you’ll never let go!” “I promise I’ll never let go Jess,” I said, “Love you, Gwen!” she said smiling.

I think about it whenever I really miss her. I hope she’s smiling, wherever she is. 01110100-01100101-01100011-01101000-01101110-01101111-01101100-01101111-01100111-01101001-01100011-01100001-01101100-
END:VNOTE

I wonder if I can find them again. I hope they send more.

There was a scuffle in the morning that woke me.

The Teens were separating two of them from each other.

I thought better of taking the opportunity to introduce myself. I remained hidden and watched as they settled their dispute, packed their belongings and drove away.

Of course I shifted through their leavings, looking for some foodstuffs.

Instead I found this:

-----

There are no more children or turkey dinners with the family or snowfalls. Or Sam. They are all gone. Gone to a place that can only be located by the boundless slopes of the inaccurate map in our dizzied minds and hearts. Sometimes these things appear before me, for a quick moment; a flash of a memory here, a hint of a recollection there…and I feel a sharp pain in my heart for all of us. For what we lost, for what we will never see or do.

I remember, most of all, one day in particular. It was one much like today, when Sam and I sought refuge in the dense woods. I remember how he had held my hand under the trees in my backyard, as the leaves tumbled like snow onto their heads and bodies. When it got too cold in the chilly breeze, he gave my his sweater. He asked me if I wanted to go inside. I said no.

Why had I not gone inside when he asked me to? When I felt cold?

I had stayed in his arms as long as I could, and felt his skin against mine and cherished every second of it. In my opinion, it is best to be in a place that is painfully cold in someone else’s arms than to be all alone somewhere where its comfortably warm.

----

It's easy to fear others

Difficult to remember that even for all the fighting and fear that we all have something shining.

I wish I had said Hello.

A Van!

A Van drove right by me- almost ran me over.

I haven't seen a moving vehickle in so long, I just stood in the middle of the road shocked as it came barreling towards me.

It was full of teens, and as they swirved to miss me- I saw their shocked faces matched mine.

Teens. In a Van. A Van?! Only The Communities still have working Vans. Where did they come from? Where were they headed? Why did they seem so surprised to see me? I'm not the one driving a Van!

They stopped the van a ways down the road, and piled out yelling at the driver and began to search for me.

I of course played it safe, I haven't lived this long on the road by not. Right after the initial shock wore off, I dove into a bush and hid. It was a graceful leap and roll, as I rolled that is what I thought.

Until I actually landed on the thorns.

Now it's been two hours and the group in the van is calling off the search- why did they bother to search? Maybe they're nice. Maybe they're not.

Maybe they're deciding to camp out here. Yep. Darn!

So I'm sitting in a bush waiting for dark so that I can slink away-

But there's a Van- a working Van, full of teens, who are fighting with each other and is one of them chained up? And now- Music?

They dance around, all happy- Happy. It's a somewhat sad kind of happy- but that's the same as overjoyed nowadays.

And I'm beginng to think, maybe I should climb out of the bush and say Hi.

But the clinking of the chains on one of the girls keeps me crouching.

Besides, I'll probably need the rest of the night to figure out how to say Hi without scaring them.

"Hey there, I'm the guy you almost hit with the Van"?

"Hello- don't mind me- I'm just crouching in a bush for my back"?

"Howdy neighbors"?

"Top of the Morning, mind if ask where you found a working Van?"?

Thorns in the backside are terrible for concentration.

I saw a street of old houses today. This isn’t really noteworthy I suppose, all the houses on all the streets are quickly becoming old.

Either broken into, burned up, or simply weathered- It's pretty surprising how little time needs to pass before houses turn.

It was a string of weathered houses this time.

And I don’t know if it was the street, the style of houses, or just something about me, but I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

This one house- I think it was weathered white with peeling red shudders. The colors were almost completely muted from the dust, but here and there you could see what it probably used to be.

It looked nothing like my old home, but somehow it reminded me so much of it.

Of painting the moltings with my father. Of patching the roof, cutting the grass.

Upkeep, he called it.

It was part of what turned my old house into my home.

This was just a house that I was looking at. Maybe not even that. With no tenants maybe it could only be called a building.

Looking at the dust-covered, paint-pealed shudders; I couldn’t imagine it or any of the other buildings ever being called home again.

And so I cried to myself, for myself, for us all.

For we may find places to stay, but will we ever call any of those places home?

I can't get a piece of song out of my head.

An old, half forgotton tune from long before.

A couple of words looping through my head over and over, never getting to the next part.

Did I even ever know the next part?

I don't know. I don't even know who sang it.

If I spot an Idol on the road, maybe I can ask- usually they can pick out a tune from half remembered lines. That talent always amazes me. Tone deaf phrases are belted at them and like the old Mthree players they'll call up the song from memory and sing and dance it for you.

But that's how they eat, how they find shelter

Sometimes how they avoid trouble from others.

I guess if I was an Idol I'd remember lyrics better too.

I wouldn't even mind it if one of them couldn't remember the lyrics, just hearing something else would be so nice.

Something else to be in my head.

As it stands, all I hear is "Woah! there will be snacks, there will, there will be snacks!"

And to distract me from this?

The wind blows and a rusted metal sign taps against its post.

I could use a snack…

Not that I’m complaining, I prefer going it alone.

If I didn’t, I could have joined up with one of The Communities.

Well, not so much The Communities themselves- If you weren’t part of The Fed or The Biz when they began or you weren’t born into them, there’s no way you’re getting in.

But there’re always the barnacle towns right outside the gates.

They get the skim from The Communities; they even have power a couple hours a week.

But I just can’t stand to live next to the walls- always wondering what’s it like inside, knowing I’ll never find out.

I’d rather walk in hopes of finding something better.

My dad would be proud; the american dream is alive and well.

Unless the Second Comers get me...

Plastic.

It really is amazing stuff.

I’ve been using the same water jugs for years now and they’ve yet to let me down.

The grass is dry but the ground beneath me is lush and green- astraturth- plastic shavings.

A windmill spins for no reason. The blades are brittle to the touch but still turning- Plastic.

A cracked dragon tattooed with tags of previous visitors stands guard over the 18^th hole.

Its plastic eyes shine in the sun.

If what they always said was true about plastic then some day when we’re all gone; someone will come along and discover our mini gulf courses, and try to decipher meanings from small Eiffel towers and spitting fish.

I tag the dragon as well and leave this webdress in case someone else stops by.

A three foot hot pink sphinx for the pharaohs of the road.

Does anyone remember the Good Old Days?

The days when anything was possible.

When it was safe to walk down most streets in the daylight- some even at night.

When acid rain, global warming, rising ocean levels and superstorms were called theories. Possibilities. Pressing but avoidable future threats.

When gas powered so much and cost only $6 a gallon.

When it could be purchased with money.

Do you remember money?

Do you remember the cities lit up at night, blazing away like beacons of life to welcome travelers from far away?

Burning away, rows upon rows of towering glass and light. Beautiful but devouring.

Does anyone remember these days?

Or am I alone with memories of a happier time?

Memories of a time that brought us to now.

I spotted another pack of wild dogs today. Thankfully they didn’t catch whiff of me.

One of the problems with traveling solo is an inability to fend off packs.

Of anything.

It amazes me that we used to keep them as pets- but they were gentler then- and there were smaller kinds.

But they’re gone.

You’d never see a pack of wild chiwalla’s.

The gentle just don’t survive.

It's time to tighten an old belt as the folks used to say-

Of course they meant less things, less trips, less nights out, less clothes.

Not exactly the same for me. I mean it more literally, haven't found enough to eat for a while now.

Maybe someday I'll find an actual belt to tighten. I found an inner-tube to a bike tire - I've cut and tied it around my waist.

There were these groups of people once "Back Then" who were against using animals for food and everything... Veaggin's or something. My sister was one I guess and she had all of these books on how to be cruelty free and stuff. So she would read the books and then bring home fake meats, and not-cheeses products, and purses made out of old billboards. And one day she brought home a pair of pants made out of old bike tires.

I thought it was stupid.

So now I sit here wearing recycled bicycle stuff, but I'd never say I'm saving the earth. I'm just trying to live on it.

And I don't eat meat but rarely, but it's not because I'm a Veaggin person. I'm not. I only get to eat what I can. See, I'm an Opportunist.

We all are nowadays.

We have to be.

I found you…

Sifting through the wastes of … what was this? The Maul. That's what my father called it. "Come on son, we're going to The Maul"

It was one of those places, where you could find things. Buy things. It seemed like anything. Anything you wanted was there. But that was when I was younger, and I just wanted what I wanted. Now I'm older and I'm looking for what I need and The Maul is emptied, except for racks that once held clothing, bins that carried candies, and posters of the things that once were here, of things that people wanted… but only wanted.

Empty promises of wants fulfilled, still selling the idea that wants and needs are the same. I was about to leave, disgusted and empty-handed.

And then I found you.

Slim in design, easy to carry, touch screen, with on screen keyboard, camera, GPS, wireless- for whatever good those features do nowadays- and best of all, powered by your own solar.

And I'm giddy. I remember when every few years, the latest version of you would come out, and the lines that would form around blocks.

Like the lines nowadays, but happier. Because it was still for something that we only wanted.

I don't need you either- the wireless feeds sputter on and off of their own accord, the GPS sat system has been down for years. And when I see a group of strangers approaching, the last thing that I'm going to do is ask them to get together for a photo op.

But still, I'm giddy. Because I always wanted you. And hey, you won't take up any space, and I don't need to plug you into my own solar.

And I can write my thoughts out as I walk. Because maybe somebody, somehow will be able to pick up this feed. Maybe I'll connect with someone else out there- they'll read me, agree, argue, dismiss, laugh at, cry with, care for…

You are a want. Plastic and metal, from all-too-quickly fading science. But you make me hope.

I'm glad I found you.