In this political climate, it’s good to get our heads out of certain subjects and back into nature, where the unseen world of trees provide succor for the mind. Trees are beautiful, and immensely powerful, with the ability to either hold back erosion or to poison the soil. That is why we need to be … Continue reading
Author Archives: Robert Langellier
One for All
When I was in western France in May, I caught a ride with an anarchist out of La Rochelle. Populism had split Europe, and Trump was now splitting America. Allison and I were headed south toward Spain, trying to find somewhere warm. The man in the junker was white and Rastafari, a product of the … Continue reading
Going to Europe for awhile
I still go back to my parents’ house in Springfield, Illinois every time I move. Each time I go home my childhood room is fuller with the scraps and detritus that have fallen behind me. This bed I’m lying in, for example. A violin, a banjo, a few lamps, boxes of CDs, boxes of books, … Continue reading
It’s time to meet my coworkers.
I’ve been trucking for a year now, and so far all of my blog posts have been terribly obnoxious exaltations of the working class. I titled two different posts as “Lost in America.” I profiled a drug runner, a gang banger, an old man with regret, a young woman with determination. I made us look like … Continue reading
There Are Worse Places to Die
Sucks to be stuck in the desert, out in the sand dunes. Sucks that you don’t even have any drugs. You haven’t had any narcotics in, like, a while. Reflect on how you got here. A car. You hitchhiked. That’s right, you’re here on purpose. It’s hard to remember, because walking for four days in … Continue reading
Dead Turtles
I left the purple-white dame’s rockets fields of upstate New York and settled the night in Austinburg, Ohio near Cleveland. The morning came and for the first time in Ohio local history the sun appeared in a blank sky. I rose and took a walk. Behind the tree line lay a meadow with a new … Continue reading
When the Brakeman Turns Away
Carrizo Mountain looms unmagnificently in the sunrise. Nothing else looms but absence. It’s beautiful in the way sad things are. I peed in the dirt parking lot that marks the entrance to Carrizozo, New Mexico, and put a shirt on. The town — or what’s left — is lined with poplars, elms, and mysterious painted burro … Continue reading
Murray, KY to Paducah, KY
“There were green lights, that’s the last thing I remember. I got a big scar on my head from the baseball bat. What really screwed me up…what screwed me over in county court was after, when I said, ‘Imma go get my piece, and Imma come back and shoot every one of you fuckers.’” Paul … Continue reading
Ode to the South
We’re done with the Mexican olives, the cabbage palms and the chachalacas of Weslaco on the Mexican border, and now we’re heading east. The earth in south Texas is stripped and raw, red as blood, deep as sunset, bare as a wound. It is like skin clawed through to the flesh, sore and screaming hot … Continue reading
Lost in America Pts 3 & 4: Outtakes from the Bel-Aire
“Henry James Branlett, Jr.” Says it slowly, loudly, holding out his ID. Branlett’s one of the only black people at the Bel-Aire. He lives on the far end, away from everyone. That’s where everyone wants him. He’s a troublemaker. 50 years old, alone. No job, no social life. A bible. He keeps his room busy … Continue reading
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