Composer Nico Muhly is filing dispatches on America as he transports the contents of his late grandmother’s house from Tuscon, AZ, to the East Coast.

West Memphis. Me: “Nice shirt!” Her: “I know. But they need to make me one with twins. I’m having twins.”

West Memphis again. The sign, in case you can’t read it, says “Burgers, Babes, & Beer.” Also, why no breakfast on Sundays and Mondays? This place was especially intense because four eighteen-wheelers tore down the dirt driveway just as I was taking these pictures.

Smoky Mountain Knife Works. Never before have I seen a place like this. It is an enormous barn, about twenty-five-thousand square feet, spread over three floors. They sell knives, guns, and endless tchotchkes, and there is taxidermy everywhere. Some of it is animatronic.

“Buy a knife for a soldier.” I sort of wanted to do it. Imagine, in two weeks, some boy in Iraq opens up a package and it’s a knife, with love from Nico! When I was studying Arabic in college, I got emailed by a million army recruiters asking me to “come translate,” not realizing that I was All Gay And Stuff. It’s totally grotesque to me that the army would rather endanger troops than have gay lips translating. So, I didn’t send a knife. They can call me when they decide to act right.

I always get super uncomfortable taking pictures of the confederate flag. As it was, my outfit in the store was already a four out of a possible ten on the Potential Hate Crime Scale, and the employees were giving me the side-eye. These are stars-and-bars beer coolers and shot glasses. I bought a set of six for my boyfriend. I did not tell the checkout lady that they were for my boyfriend.

This is Christ on a Navajo blanket, turning water into rosé.

This is a picture of a man deep-fat frying a turkey using a device that, mysteriously, is for sale about fifty yards away from this display case.

KEYWORDS: America, Nico Muhly, Travel