NORTH DAKOTA IS NOT SAN FRANCISCO

There's that half-awareness between dream-state and full alert, when the normal individual is still wondering about Hortense Klewt, her brother Brutus Klewt, and whether their good friend Chastity MacGregor will ever end up married to Brutus. While being painfully and keenly aware of the effect the sound of running water in the cloistered room at the far end of the hall is having on his bladder.

The thought that automatically comes to mind is "woman, there is a drought, don't you know?" Followed by "I gotta go pee on the roses, the poor water-starved roses!"

Clench, clench, clench, clench, clench!

At last my apartment mate finished her ablutions -- my heavens does that girl splash a lot -- and after politely waiting for her to scoot back into her room so that modesty and discretion are maintained, I went to the bathroom.

Yes, thank you, I feel a lot better now.


I still do not know why the name Hortense Klewt came to mind. Or why I became convinced that the town's utility ditch and digging contractor (Brutus) was her brother. He is a silent man, large of frame, eccentric of haircut, and slow of speech. It is not that he is devoid of any intelligence, but that he finds his thoughts hard to put into words.
He thinks mostly of little fluffy kittens.

Chastity MacGregor is the local librarian mentioned in a previous post.
Someone in my dream was outraged that I merely made passing reference to her, and the small town in North Dakota where she shelves geology textbooks, without going into any further detail than her thick overcoat, necessary because of the horrible windswept cold of the place. "What were her dreams", he asked, "her girlish hopes, and what did she want out of life? What was she like as a person? Merely mentioning her and the temperature of the town was cruel to my readers, who wanted more!"
Undoubtedly my readers want to know more.
About a small-town librarian.
In North Dakota.


Sometimes I do not know who is less tied-in to reality; me, or my readers.


For an imaginary figure, and merely a bit-player at that, miss Chastity MacGregor is taking on quite a life. For some reason I just knew that she lived with an old college friend -- miss Hortense Klewt -- and that naturally the town digger of pits, pipe beds, ditches, trenches, and other necessary holes in the ground, Brutus, would be Hortense's older brother. Taciturn, thoughtful, and with an inner-life that was so different from what one would expect, given his physique, that people would be flabberghasted if they found out.

I have never been to Horsenail, North Dakota (population: 5000), but it seems as real to me as the light of day.

Both of the ladies mentioned are in their late twenties, Brutus is turning thirty two in November. Hortense is concerned for her brother, who has a hard time making friends, and she really thinks that Chastity would make a lovely companion for him.


" ... the lovely miss Chastity MacGregor shelving geology textbooks --- She wore a heavy overcoat, because of the drafts and dankness; the interview had taken place in mid-winter, and North Dakota is a frigid place, where strangers wearing multiple layers randomly hug just to stay warm."

[SOURCE: Femsplaining and beer.]


So far, the only real contact between the two has been shy glances from opposite corners of a dimly lit room, in which there were plenty of other people. Chastity sat near the closet, Brutus near the window. They did not say a word all evening. The other people drank tea.

Considering the utter lack of depravity any one sofar mentioned in Horsenail is displaying, I am surprised that the population remains so stable. Do they even reproduce? Maybe their numbers are augmented by a steady trickle of new settlers?


The cold season has already started in North Dakota. Due to climate change, they barely had any summer this year, and soon the howling winds blowing in from the badlands will make going outside a challenge. It will be a long cold winter. Not only thick overcoats (good indoor clothing in any case), but also mufflers, woolen blankets, and Ugg boots.
Gloves, earmuffs, and fur hats.

During the darkness and gloom of the North Dakotan saison hivernale (from end of September till the beginning of June), Hortense, Brutus, and Chastity will experience many wondrous things. They will learn more about themselves and each other. There will be more shy glances, steamier and shyer than ever. More cold. Chastity and Brutus will discover that their hearts beat fonder whenever the other person is near.

Both fluffy kittens and geology textbooks will be mentioned.


It is unclear whether there will be any passion, as I'm inventing this as I go along, but you, dear reader, will assuredly know far more about Chastity MacGregor and her dreams and hopes several months from now. And you may be left wondering about Hortense Klewt, who might be looking for a new roommate at that time. Life remains uncertain, always.
I can assure you that Hortense is a very good person.
Whom you might want to get to know.
She's warm and caring.
Reserved.

Possibly the belle of Horsenail!


No, I don't know what any of these people look like!

They're all imaginary, be real!



My apartment mate left forty minutes ago to go to work. Soon I shall light up a pipe and have my second cup of coffee. By lunch time I shall be in Chinatown, having a bite to eat on Stockton Street and observing the people passing by. Some of whom have shapely ankles.
And delicate bone structure.

Unlike the good people of North Dakota, I have a dirty mind.



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