bowlingalley.

I've found [[god]].

I've found [[god]]. Did [[you]] now?

I've found [[god->you]]. Did [[you]] now? [[Yes]].

I've found [[god->Yes]]. Did [[you->Yes]] now? [[Yes]]. [[Where]] was she?

I've found [[god->Where]]. Did [[you->Where]] now? [[Yes.->Where]] [[Where]] was she? A [[bowling alley]].

[[Cut my stomach open, take it all out, try again.]]

The bowling alley isn't what it used to be. Fewer and fewer people come every year. As the owner grew older, she moved the business to Menomonee Falls in the 1970s. She retired, and her son, Pete, took it over in 1984. "It's not like it used to be," said Pete, who has been involved in bowling for years. "It was a big, big enterprise. There were 200 bowlers." Bowling alleys have been closing nationwide. Milwaukee County estimates there are about 80 that are open in the city, and more in the suburbs. The national average is about 70, but it's not clear if Milwaukee County includes many aging and closed lanes, Pete said. Bowlers, though, appreciate the lanes. It's a sport Pete and his brothers played when they were young, and he enjoyed working at the bowling alley. The few who use the bowling alley all know each other, and when they were teenagers they played together. In recent years, some of the younger bowling leagues have included men and women, but that's beginning to change. Kathy Kukie, who also lives in Menomonee Falls, started bowling decades ago as a teenager. She and some other bowlers of the Milwaukee County adult league play together as a couple. They gather every week at Milroy Lanes, a medium-sized bowling alley in Menomonee Falls. This year was the second for the league, and it's one of a couple leagues that do not allow women. Kathy and her partner, Midge, are in their mid-50s and have known each other for years. The team is good, and they have won more than $300 each for the season. "We're probably one of the most winning teams in the county," Kukie said. "There's only a couple teams that have won more." Kukie, a retired teacher, volunteers with a math program for kids, which requires her to spend some time away from bowling. She's currently trying to raise money for the program, which she and her partner started 18 years ago. The average league cost is $250, and the team's new goal is to raise $10,000. "There's not a lot of social activities for seniors to do in our town. … All of my friends are dead." Who will replace the bowlers at the bowling alley is one of the concerns in the town. A benefit for the association will be held at Milroy Lanes on May 12, where they will celebrate the bowling alley's 70th anniversary. But a long-term plan to attract new people and keep current members is still being worked out, Pete said. What is known is that there is a need for another bowling alley, because some seniors are starting to age out. "It's something for those of us who enjoy bowling," said Mike Beech, a semi-retired health care worker who often comes to Milroy Lanes with his wife, Jodi. "Who else is going to take our place?" Their league meets at the bowling alley every Wednesday. "[[People]] have found themselves having to move away," said Beech, who has been bowling for nearly 50 years.

[[Cut my stomach open, take it all out, try again.]] That makes no [[sense]].

[[Cut my stomach open take it all out try again!!!->sense]] That makes no [[sense]]. [[Why]] not?

[[Cut my stomach open take it all out try again!!!->Why]] That makes no [[sense->Why]]. [[Why]] not? You don't have a stomach. You aren't [[real]].

Everything is [[generated by computers]] these days. Nothing is real.

There aren't any people left on the streets. God took them with her. Do you want to go [[bowling]]?

Please remain calm. The end [[has]] arrived. We can not save you.

That's too bad. Let's [[go bowling]].

We're doused in [[mud]] and soaked in bleach.

Strike! Not really. You can't bowl. You don't have [[fingers]].

They took them away. They said you didn't need them anymore. No one needed them. God would come soon. It was time to relax. Fingers don't help us relax. Fingers allow us to [[act]]. She doesn't like that.

Bowling was fun. I wish we could still [[bowl]].

[[God]] wouldn't want us to. I wish I was [[real->real2]].

It's best not to act against god. We don't need fingers. We don't need stomachs. We are in heaven. There are no bodies in heaven. There are no bodies in heaven. There are no bodies in [[heaven]].

Real like the streets we walked on. Like our skin, our fingers, our stomachs. Real like the [[poetry]] we used to write. Real like the last words we spoke - when we said goodbye to everyone. When everyone said goodbye to everything. When god took us out of the bowling alley.

49 days. 49 days were all we were given. 49 days until [[she]] came. They took something away from us each day. The government said we wouldn't need them anymore. I remember that last day - when I woke up without a brain. I could still feel. I could feel everything. We were all concious. We couldn't move. We died on the cold, hard floor of the bowling alley. If only death was real.

poetry isn't real. but the ideas are - how else are we supposed to write what we have to say? an idiom is just an idea. she doesn't agree, not really. all this shit, all this waste of time, wasting out his life for these fucking foolish notions. just so that he can feel powerful, just so he can feel worthwhile. it's for the other people. the people she loves. it's for them. even when she tells him to give it up, he can't. she leaves. she doesn't talk to him for months. it's raining. she wears his flannel coat. it's still raining. she tells him he's crazy, that he's wasting his life, but he doesn't listen. he can't. his mind can't. he realizes he loves her, but he can't stop thinking about it. he wants to give it up, but he can't. it's impossible, and it hurts him, but he has to do it. he turns around and walks away. she watches him as he walks away, wishes she could have stopped him, but she can't. it's better that way. it's too late. she has nothing left. it's a long distance to hitchhike. it's dark now, but she lights a fire. the car passes by, slows down, sees her, stops. they talk. it's raining. the driver is nice, tells her to get in. they talk. she writes a poem in her notebook, she has no pen, so she improvises. it's all just, meaningless words, over and over, until she is finished. they are all just, meaningless words, over and over, until she is finished. when he stops at the next intersection, she gets out and says thank you, again and again. it's still [[raining]].

I'm counting sheep, I'm [[running out]].

poetry isn't real. but the ideas are - how else are we supposed to write what we have to say? an idiom is just an idea. she doesn't agree, not really. all this shit, all this waste of time, wasting out his life for these fucking foolish notions. just so that he can feel powerful, just so he can feel worthwhile. it's for the other people. for the victims of men. who will never be enough for him. who will never understand how it could possibly be him - he's the fucking fool, he shouldn't even be thinking it. what kind of person is so unfulfilled and self-centered that he thinks of fucking other people over to find happiness? who believes that this is how it's supposed to be? he believes that this is how it's supposed to be. she shakes her head. she's not done. she likes his lover. she can understand the why, she can make the link, she can see where it's going. he could have it all, with just the right distraction. he doesn't, of course, they didn't talk about it. he forgot, or pretended. he probably didn't want her to know. she would have known, anyway, by [[now->soon]]. it's not like it's a secret, the way she is.

I used to think God lived in my [[walls]].

I used to think God lived in my [[walls]]. [[Really?]]

I used to think God lived in my [[walls->Really?]]. [[Really?]] Yeah. Just watching over us. Wondering what I could possibly do that would deserve this life of hers. Didn't realize I was the one living in her. Lately I have felt "tied up" in this and that way. And I've started wondering about the clothes on my floor. Why are they still there? Didn't I just clean them yesterday? I'm sure that God loves [[clean clothes]] just as much as I love dirty ones. So why did she make them here?

I'm counting sheep, I'm [[running out]]. Where are you [[finding]] the sheep?

I'm counting sheep, I'm [[running out->finding]]. Where are you [[finding]] the sheep? In my [[head]].

I'm counting sheep, I'm [[running out->finding]]. Where are you [[finding]] the sheep? In my [[head]]. We don't have heads. They aren't real. [[Poetry and rain]] aren't real.

[[Nothing is clean.]]

Laundry is not put away. Clothes and dishes sit in my living room and on the coffee table. I have no motivation to write, to clean, to do anything, because it's over 100 degrees here in Arkansas. I hate being sick. It's not something that I get. I never get sick. I feel like I'm going to barf, even if I'm not. She has it now. I saw her yesterday. She's so pale and miserable. All I want to do is take care of her. She was miserable yesterday, but today she was up bright and early. I wanted to ask her if she still has her cough medicine. I got sick a few weeks ago, and I have no idea if she has it or not. I don't know what else to say. Hopefully I'll feel better [[soon]].

Day 10 Our homes were torn down to make room for the landing strips. We've holed up in an old bowling alley for now. At least there's heating. Yesterday they took our hair, today they took our noses. Breathing is harder, but at least we can't smell the bodies. I [[miss]] him.

Day 25 I don't miss anymore. Surprisingly, being in a bowling alley for two weeks makes you rather good at bowling. It's all there is to do when we're not foraging for food after all. That and [[writing]].

Day 32 She's sick. He's mad. I'm [[leaving]]. He doesn't like the things I have to say.

Day 34 The fire won't start. As the sun fades away, the world gets colder. Soon there will be no light left. I pray for a [[ride]].

Day 37 There aren't many places left to go. There isn't much left of anyone or their bodies. I've been replacing the missing parts of my body with objects I find, but it won't work for long. Not like there's that long left anyway. I miss [[them]]. I want to never miss.

Day 44 She died yesterday. I didn't get to say goodbye. He's still upset with me. At least I have a [[shelter]] for the last couple days.

Day 48 [[Heartless.]]

Day 49 [[...]]

Same time next week? [[Finish]]

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