Africa

The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become

Pure poetry. Those of you unfamiliar with the music and lyrics of 1980s-era supergroup Toto may find the above lines to be thoroughly incomprehensible. Those of you who know Toto well may still feel the same way. What I am trying to say, my friends, is that I, Dale Kiefer, am heading to Africa.

I have accepted a 27 month assignment with the Peace Corps in Zambia where I will be working on an aquaculture project in a small rural village. I know not what else awaits me, in large part, but I do know that my future home will be made of earth and that I will have no electricity or running water, (who's the harshest continent now, Raytheon?) for most of the time that I am there.

I am leaving Ohio in two weeks, but should have access to the Internet occasionally over the next two years. So everyone should start using and reading this blog (I realize now that I am preaching to the born-agains), so that every now and then we can all have some idea about what at least some of us are doing.

And just to let you know, in reference to Katie's post, I have been to many different kinds of bars. Normally the dives I frequent are full of working-class people in their forties and fifties--the parents of those rowdy John Cougar Mellencamp wannabees. They are usually too burdened by their money troubles and alcoholism to sing, scream, and pound their fists on the bar. That's why Katie made reference to my reaction. I don't want any of you to think that I only go to hipster bars with Belle and/or Sebastian.

Stay Real.

my favorite type of schnapps

Hello.

This past weekend, Dale (Honeybear) Kiefer made a trip to upstate New York. I readily scooped him up and took him to a redneck bar. Surprisingly, he had never drank at such an establishment, and it was enjoyable watching him react to the myriad of drunks sing along to John Mellencamp and such. Anyway, to the punchline of the story. I realized that this bar had a wide selection of Schnapps, and insisted on buying shots of rootbeer. Those not part of the McMurdo Summer 2006 declined shots, leaving me and Dale to drink alone.

Two shots of Rootbeer Schnapps in a crappy bar- $6.50

It is great that I not only gave myself an upset stomach, but I did it for the price of three and a quarter bottles of schnapps. Mmmmm.

In other news, I am returning to McMurdo, working in the Salad room again. I was wondering who else is going back. For those not returning, I would love to see you. Come to Saranac Lake, NY- I won't make you drink anything gross! Or, I will try to meet up with you this fall, before I go.

cheers!

Reunion!

Cats are humping dogs . . . and the dog is actually enjoying it; the president is humping Laura . . . and Laura's actually enjoying it; Raytheon is giving money to charity; the DA's at McMurdo are getting a raise; and Leslie Ham, Evan Brost, Krista Eastman, and Jude Larkin converge in Madison, WI in the exact same space-time continuum.
You can rate for yourself the likeliness of any of these events taking place, but I can assure you that the ladder event DID actually occur.
Thats correct, merriment and only slightly bitter reminiscence took place this week amid the large, hard-hitting beers of the Ale Asylum in Madison, WI. Twas a glorious reunion of DA's and electricians, with many more to come! Raise your hats, and perhaps a glass, to McMurdo solidarity in the northern hemisphere!
I send my love my lost sheep,
posted by . . .
The basement dweller

Home

I'm in this place, unmoving. I'm being in my friend's basement in Madison, WI. The floor crumbles with the eroding mortar of the wall; the air is cooler down here; the floor is grey and so are the walls; the windows are slits, covered in red cloth; surrounding me are a washer and dryer, boxes stacked to the ceiling, a weed wacker, paint cans, a fan, old computers, a lamp, a hot water heater, various musical instruments and amps. My bed is crusted with a years worth of storage crud and lies incongruently on the floor, below various pipes and pieces of insulation. My clothes: five shirts, three pants, thermals, fleece, socks, underwear, are dumped on the floor in a long pile, wrinkled and sucking in musty basement smell. Next to my bed: a table with my computer, camera, wallet, phone, CD player, diary, and all my food (over-ripened bananna, jar of strawberry jelly, mostly empty jar of peanut butter). That is what I own and that is how I own it. Here I am being.
First thing I did when I got back into town: break up with the girlfriend whom had been waiting 7 months for me in Madison. Second thing thing I did when I got back into town: run to my cabin for a week of solitude and joyful homelyness. Third thing I did when I got back into town: humor my father with a short visit. Fourth thing I did when I got back into town: set up my digs in this open, cool, grey, foster home basement.
Here I am being. Its 2 am, I 'm in my boxers. My 'roommates' are all graduating and becoming solid, unmovable things. I'm in my boxers, listening to the shins. My face is bearded and gnarled, my armpits stink, but my boxers are clean and my nails are clipped. A cockroach looking bug crawls up my leg and tickles my thigh hair.
I have no job. I have no home. I left my lover.
In the last two weeks since I've returned from the most joyful traveling I ever done, I've found home to be a most peculiar place. In my last month of travel, I made a strong and confident and important resolution to to BE at home, in my parents and in my lover. It took me 36 hrs to abandon the ladder, 48 hours to abandon the former. Here I am being, in my boxers, in an adopted basement.
Home was always foreign to me, but I never knew it to be so suffocating. Maybe the ice has changed me, maybe New Zealand has changed me, maybe I'm simply more aware of my emotions, my habits, my hang-ups.
Either way, here I am, and I'm learning that home is a VERY difficult place to be. I'm learning how McMurdo becomes the only place that you know.
I sleep in, I drink, I party, party, party, and MOVE VERY LITTLE.
So here I am being, compulsively dreaming of the road . . . hmmmmmm . . . my god . . . the road. I'll see you this summer, in all my bearded and smelly glory, cycling down the west coast, loving lovers that I don't have to love (shout out conor), pressing my body against beautiful, light bodies, and being moving through beauty.
Thank you lovers, for making McMurdo, for at least a brief time, become home.

Hey Y'all

Yeah, it was pretty awesome of Evan to set this thing up. Looks like it's not getting too much use so far. Maybe for most of us the pain of corporate micro-management is all too recent and the scars of repression ad injustice levied against us DAs are all too fresh to rehash at this point.

Anyway, I had a great trip through New Zealand and then southeast Asia. I'm back at my parent's farm in Connecticut now but just for a few days before I head out to train horse and herding cattle on a ranch in Wyoming. From one low-paying 10 hour day/6 day a week job in an isolated area to another, but at least I won't be working for the man!

NuNu I'm glad your knee is OK! I'm going to be working just a couple of hours from Yellowstone. In fact I will probably be driving through Yellowstone on my way out to the ranch so you should let me know where in the park you'll be working and I'll track ya down!

Everyone else keep in touch, I'm never in one place for long but come visit me or maybe I'll come visit you!

Here's a picture of me getting kissed by a baby elephant in Thailand!


Later!

help

Hello DAs and other fun friends, I miss you all so much. Not really the ridiculous work schedule or the weather, but you individuals who made the harshest continent on earth so much, you are missed. Now, for the favor.

For those of you who were GAs, who would I contact if I wanted a job? I have a friend who is interested, and surprisingly, not enchanted by all the wonderful stories I have of DAdom. So, if you can help me, please e-mail me at katie.folts@gmail.com

Thanks!

PS- for all the Galley folk keeping it real on the stateside, please e-mail me and chat about life post-ice. It's incredible how so much of you seemed like family, and now I have no idea where you are. I'm in New York, or New England depending if I'm traveling, so if you would want to meet up, let me know. And if you don't want to meet up, I want to know what you are doing that is so much more interesting.

Miss you. And here's to NuNu's successful knee surgery

Hi, it's meeeeeeeeee. I second Nunu, where is everyone???? I'm in California for now... I don't know what I'll be doing or what's next. I guess I should have something to say before I post in here. More deep thoughts later.
Mel