Bob is an Anarchist

We're here at the Dreamtime Village. (www.dreamtimevillage.org) Lucas gave us a ride from Soldier's Grove, WI, in a borrowed car. Who's Lucas? Bob met him yesterday at the Country Garden Motel and Lodge. Only 42 dollars for a room. Bob and I shared a room. Risha Murray gave us a lift in her pick up truck from St. Isaac's. She called us "fakers" for taking a ride. She dropped us off at the Country Garden's motel, where the "lodge" tavern doubles as the front desk. Within minutes we had a room.

Buck antlers and trophy heads adorned the walls, and a leather feed bucket hung from the rafters. There were rafters. The only humans inside were Anna the manager and Lisa the bartender. Lisa hates the Packers because they ignored her handicapped brother during a charity event in Soldier's Grove. I told Lisa I didn't blame her for her radical stance, but I couldn't get behind it since Favre happens to be my spiritual guru. Anyway, it was a perfect place to catch the second half of the Packer's awe-inspiring, ball-stomping victory over the Chargers.

Actually, Bob didn't watch the game. He has an aversion to professional sports and the people who watch them. He was wandering around the back of the motel with his camera. That's how he met Lucas. Lucas was playing a saxaphone on a bench behind the motel. Bob stood three feet from Lucas and recorded him. Lisa and I watched from the bar. Then I told her about our plans to visit communities in the area, like Dreamtime. She had no idea it existed, so we talked about Bar fights and who the toughest guy in Soldier's Grove was. It's Dave Pugh.

Back to Lucas. He's young. Bob-type young. And he has lots of red hair, and a tattoo of one four empty bars of music on the inside of his forearm. Whenever he finds a riff he likes, he'll pen in the notes on his arm to write down in a ledger. He knew about Dreamtime and said he'd get us a ride. I felt a little conflicted about this, since Bob and I have only walked one day of our now 7 day journey.

Also, I was fairly sure Lucas was going to kidnap us, take us to an abandoned house and make Bob cut off my testicles with my Gerber hunting knife. I made Bob record my last words for the camera in the motel parking lot just minutes before Lucas arrived. Bob didn't seem scared in the least bit. He's very trusting, which is really a bad trait of his.

But Lucas didn't kidnap us, rob us, or make Bob remove my special organ. We got to Dreamtime around 2 pm. It's in West Lima, Wisconsin. Population 50. The closest store is about 6 miles away. (We're in the Driftless zone of Wisconsin-see map above- the part not touched by the glaciers. It's quite stunning to look at. People call themselves the Drifltess, which is funny because so many drifters came here to start farms and communities, like Organic Valley Farms). So that's where we are. At the moment we are two of about a dozen people staying here.

We've only been for a few hours, so I don't want to make any sweeping conclusions. We came in trying to get a hold on the philosophy of Anarchy. Most people get sort of freaked out by the word. The people here know that, and diplomatically distance themselves from the label. I can say this is a community that revolves principles, and those principles find expression in the way they eat and grow food. One of the guests, who arrived on friday from Chicago with his girlfriend, was more forthright in discussing anarchy. He said militant anarchy has it's place, but resistance starts and ends with "food and fuel." When we asked Zon to enumerate the basics of anarchy he visibly recoiled. Then he pointed to a pile of horse dung in front of us and said, " this horse shit is what believe. We take this horse shit and turn into it something beautiful. This horseshit will help us feed hundreds of people over the next few years." So there you go.

Anyway, as we were filming people in the main lodging facility, "The Hotel", I asked people about the kind of music anarchists listen to. Francis named a band I never heard of, but Bob chimed in, "They're excellent. or they use to be." Francis concurred. Bob said he liked post-rock music. Francis said anarchists tend to favor any "post" music. Bob nodded his head. I knew it. Toads, post-rock music, the funny looking mesh hat with the pink bunny rabbit on it: Bob's a neo-anarchist libertarian socialist. Both Francis and Bob sort of chuckled when I mentioned the Beatles and the Stones. "I use to like the Beatles", said Francis. "Who doesn't?"
Then Francis and Bob exchanged knowing glances and head nods.

They're eating dinner now. Bob is helping with the cooking and place setting. Lending a hand, establishing himself as the good one. Again. I'm the fluff schmuck who likes to "blog". Oooh.
I have no idea what the next few days will have in store. I'm sure we will learn a boatload. I will tell you this. I am staying in a the room of a legally insane man who comes to Dreamtime every five weeks. Tonight I'm going to commune with his spirit. Bob is going to discuss Post-Rock and make everyone like him more than me.

Until then.