Hiram, Ohio

driving to hiram was gorgeous. the sloping green banking the roads. i wanted to buy a house and some land out there and stay and eat and write and stare and live.
a big blocky house with white paint peeling and the bones of wood scraping out from underneath its skin, keep company with ghosts. pick apples. play the guitar. run through the rain kiss outside climb trees stay up till dawn getting drunk on candles and pots catching leaks. build a fence around nothing.

our show was way off. it was in a small ballroom for crowd of maybe 30. in an attempt to craft a story of solomon sparrow to weave through the evening, we have shaved off time for so much poetry, and the energy lags, and felt like sloppy community theatre, and with a low energy crowd, we weren’t too happy with our show, but we learned a lot from it, and folks still enjoyed it.
after bringing stuff down to the van, the sky opened up and poured it iself all over the streets. POURED itself. buckets. we sat in the van and three shirtless jocks jogged past like smiling phantoms while a man stood across the street from us, still as a statue which we thought he was till he turned and freaked us out, standing there getting soaked. we went and got some grub with a couple of teh student organizers, will and jenn. burgers for a buck with a beverage purchase. sweet.
we stayed in the hiram inn, supposedly haunted. a sweet house inn with tasty old school dark wood four post beds and robes. derrick and i pimped out in them. baz and dan's room however looked like the beach house room of a seven year old girl decorated by her grandparents, with one large bed with a pink peach bedspread, yellow pastel walls, and white wicker chairs. our room however had beautiful victorian looking wallpaper with green illustrations of crests and huntsmen and lions and hounds. slept beautifully.