Life on the Mississippi

Portraits of the urban river in words and pictures

I came down here a couple of months later and started this, called Return to the Nest. I left magic markers here for people to write on it. I built this in the dark so I wouldn't be arrested. I generally started just before dark and stayed until dawn

I don't live here. Right now I have a van to sleep in. But there are a lot of places I've lived like that. I built another one like this in Gainesville, Florida. It was pretty famous. They call it Badgerville. I spent five out of seven winters in that thing. It was covered with shitty plastic, but was waterproof, and slept eight people, and had paving and a fire pit and seating, and alligators and otters in the stream and even armadillos. Crazy as hell. Beautiful place.

This is where Father Hennepin got out of his canoe so that he could travel above the falls. The rapids started here. For thousands of years, people got out of their canoes here. They drank from the stream because it was fresh and pure and then they portaged above St. Anthony Falls. This is where they landed. It's a sacred place, a place of memories. I didn't pick the place, the place picked me.

Mike Mosedale

I swim here once in a while. It's polluted as shit. I've never gotten sick. But then again, I eat out of dumpsters and I've got pretty good immunity.

It's been 11 years since I decided I would no longer create a taxable income because I will not pay for prisons and bombs.

For six and a half of the last 11 years, I've walked around the country. I build places along the rivers and streams because this is energy.

The only people who will knock it over are the police. Minneapolis will probably destroy this one, just like the last one. The excuse last time was that a homeless person might sleep here. They probably spent $2,000 to destroy a sculpture because a homeless person might sleep there.

I declare myself to be an act of art. My existence is my performance.

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