The little hippie oasis in the midwest

I remember the first time I came here. I’d been out in the mountains for a few weeks, tracking coyote on a mesa and worshipping a waterfall goddess. Then I went to Las Vegas and I was like, “woah, people! Cement! City! Yikes!”

And then I came here. It was summer and I drove into town with my windows down, looking at all the people walking around in long pretty skirts and tank tops. They were dancing on the sidewalks! Ah, hippie heaven. A town full of people like me. I came around a corner and the people changed. It was the God Hates Fags people. I recognise them because I wrote a paper about hate one time, and studied the guy extensively. But that day they were God Hates America people, holding signs about how much God hates America and America is going to hell for not killing the gay people and the witches and whoever else needs killing according to their god. I had to stop at a red light, and I was just staring at them, this family that I’d read all about. I recognised the wife from a documentary they did, and she looked up at me and yelled, “GOD HATES AMERICA.”

I was inspired (I was also reading Inga Muscio) and I yelled back, “your god is a son killing, war mongering sadist!!” Which upset a nearby cop and he yelled at me and told me to roll up my window and keep driving, except that the light was red.

Now I’m here again, and it’s still awesome and backwards.

I hung out with Darcy and we smelled and tasted all each others herbs and tinctures and yummy things. Then I met this very awesome cool sex worker who previously existed only in the internet, and we hung out in my van and ate Indian food and she was my call person while I cleaned a house (well, it wasn’t exactly house cleaning and it deserves it’s own post someday). It turned out that she knew one of my ex’s from this festival that they both go to every year. We went to the strip club here, which I dubbed the Strip Club At The End Of The Universe last time I was here. Never before have I seen a club so empty of customers and so full of grown women who you just want to shake and say, “stop sitting with customers for free! Dump your abusive boyfriend! Get outta this bossy club and go someplace where you can make money and they don’t tell you what to do!” It hadn’t changed much. There was one customer. He tried to read me poetry, and I told him I didn’t listen to the poetry of random men who didn’t pay me, which got him all upset so he told me that he won a trophy from the American Society of Poets, which only cost him eighty dollars. Yeah, so did I. When I was twelve. I tried to ignore him and not crush his delicate ego, for the sake of the girls who might someday get some money out of him, tho it seemed unlikely.

Then Darcy and her boyfriend and I went to the best Indian buffet in the whole world, which is right here in this little hippie oasis in the midwest and which I’ve been looking forward to since the last time I was here. Afterwards we picked poplar buds by moonlight and I started oils and a tincture.

This morning the cops came. I was sitting right here in this very spot that I’m in now, in front of Darcy’s house, and he cruised by three times and then came up to me. For a cop, he wasn’t too bad. He didn’t ask for my ID, just asked what I was doing here. He suggested that I make myself look less suspicious by moving often and by having Darcy go door to door telling all her neighbors that I was her friend. I told him I wasn’t that invested in other people’s suspicions, and he was welcome to tell whoever had called himself. He asked for Darcy’s last name and I made my eyes all glassy and stoned looking and said, “dude, she’s, like, Darcy Blue, cause she’s, like, a sea turtle, man, and it makes her blue blue blue like the ocean!”

He rolled his eyes and said, “yes ma’am. Darcy blue like a turtle in the ocean. I’ll pass that on to the next officer in case we get any more calls, ma’am.”


  1. Sounds like a lovely break. You’re totally not in the Midwest though. The Midwest has no cool hippie oases, just miles of suck and a few decent college towns. You’re in the, um, West West! Which is much better. Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho, Montana — I will take any of those places over Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Illinois, etc.

    Can you tell I was scarred by my year in Ohio? I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel about W. Pennsylvania.

  2. Snicker….In high school I started the Outdoor Club so I could get transportation to go on farther away adventures than my feet could take me. The OC adviser lived next to the little town Catholic church and we were all in the church parking lot waiting for rides home after a fun weekend of camping. The town cop came over to hassle us and asked what we were doing. We said we were standing around the no campfire, drinking no hot chocolate, roasting no marshmallows and eating no popcorn and singing no songs. (each of us added a line) The cop glared at us and peeled out ;-p

  3. Well, guess you aren’t in Asheville anymore….too bad, I really wanted to meet you. You seem like such a genuine person. Maybe next time, and good luck in the midwest!

  4. Hey, just found & LOVE your blog. I’m going to link it to mine okay? Would love a recip if you like mine too…

    xo ~ Casey

  5. I saw the 20/20 epidoe on these whacko “God Hates Fags” folks, too, Tara … I assume you mean Westboro Baptist Church?

    This link to John Stoffel’s report does what it intends to do …

    Jesus will have some clarifying words for these hypcorities when their time comes. For me, it’s what they do to their kids that is worst of all.

    ~ Irish

  6. OMG, Susan, PA was so traumatic. I don’t know what I was thinking.

    Casey, I’ll getcha back in a second.

    Irish, yeah, but don’t invoke them by saying their name!

    Rebecca… hells yeah!

  7. Hey Now Susan! The Upper Peninsula is a haven of backwards Moon Mountain River Walking Herb Eatin’ Sky Worshipping Folk. Well….they’re the ones that came because of the college and didn’t leave.
    Some of the hillbillies are kinda kooky, but in that militia-simple kind of way. Mostly good but also mostly afraid of differences.
    There are at least 2 Midwest safe spots (Madison, WI being the other).
    Ok, defense of my paved prairie flat lands over. Much as I run, I’ll always be a Midwest Grrl at heart. 🙄

  8. Your blog is so much fun! You’re a very clever girl, but I’m sure you must know that by now. You’ve also opened up my eyes a bit towards stripping. Thanks for that.

    Now, to my question, the little hippie town sounds like an interesting place worth checking out, but I couldn’t find the name anywhere. Where is it?

  9. Pingback: hippie goddess

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