Klippinger, Minnesota


(page 5 of 9)



There are few people in this world who are born for something, for something specifically; we are all spit out unknown, disordered in birth with only the idiotic destiny of genes to guide us blindly through our great meaningless tenure. Klippinger was born on the messiah-track, among those giants whose future is carved in their tenacity to tear at the surface fearlessly and expose their own truth bolder and louder than anyone else, baring their internal flame to the rest of the world though irrevocable acts by night with no rest. Others of us, the common men fear of some stupid final judgment that will never come, but even our rational logic cannot interfere in this dumb magic show, the fear is too powerful. The gods among us rise above and know inherently that the difference between creation and destruction is personal taste. Klippinger embodies this and breathes it into those lucky enough to know him. Klippinger runs out of the VFW and kisses me on the lips, a wet sloppy embrace. We jump into the car screaming, he hangs out the passenger’s side window and shoots his gun into the air as we make our way for downtown Minneapolis, on fire.

......
New York City is a woman. New Orleans is a belly. Minneapolis is an ungendered experiment in rightness, in human goodness, an American venture that presents the possibility of living with the best intentions. It is in this light that I think of Klippinger and believe that he should never leave this city he hates so much, it is why all of us should stay trapped in our worst nightmares, to flourish in them, to seize them, and finally, to conquer them. I don’t see the city he talks of with so much disdain; rather I see a city that pleases itself. Never has a city looked at itself and been more pleased. Other cities build to hide from themselves, like so many people, or perform acts of self-destruction, but Minneapolis, at least in the physical, is not a city suffering from an identity crisis. The buildings are not haughty, they are proud and you are too as you swell from their breath. I walk away from the city with this to report: the chest is full in downtown Minneapolis, it is weaker from afar. Minneapolis, city of progress, austere and regal in its reflecting glass robes of steel stars and sky, is a pleasure to watch.

And this is to say nothing of the people.

Because His Majesty Klippinger commandeers my time in Minneapolis and I will only ever participate in a violent assault on the city. And even as I do so, as the provocateur’s agent, I feel drawn to run from him, to leave Klippinger in his murderous rage and find a bench to sit quietly and make love to city alone. If he saw me do this it would surely be the end; if he saw me falling in love, if he saw my heart exposed to the world Klippinger would castrate me for my own good, knowing that someone would surely take advantage of me sooner than later.

......
Just west of downtown we stop at Lee’s Liquor Bar for what he finally professes is going to be a drug deal.
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About Adam R. Burnett


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Adam R. Burnett is a theatre artist, writer, curator, producer, and cultural critic originally from Topeka, KS. He is the co-founder and Artistic Director of Buran Theatre Company, an ensemble based collective of disparate artists that creates new work in a satellite system of communities across the globe. Adam...read more writes plays and memoirs and short stries that reconstruct history and build new mythologies with an eye on place and travel. He pursued an MFA in dramatic writing in the middle of the New Mexico desert but found it all to be quite silly and gave up on it after a year. Adam lives in the neighborhood of Crown Heights in Brooklyn, NY. He was raised a Roman Catholic and unfortunately he even feels guilty about this bio.
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