But never more engagingly told than in HUNDRED MILES TO NOWHERE" --Will Weaver, author of Sweet Land and The Last HunterA singer-songwriter moves from New York City to rural Minnesota for love, and finds somewhere, and someone, in the middle of nowhere. When Elisa Korenne took a month's break from New York City to be the resident singer-songwriter in middle-of-nowhere Minnesota, she didn't intend to stay. Then she fell in love with the local outdoorsman/insurance guy. One cross-country romance later, Elisa gave up subways, theater, City Bakery cookies, and her Brooklyn apartment to become the 1,153rd resident of New York Mills, a rural town ninety miles from the nearest metropolitan area, Fargo. She had to resort to moonshine to stay sane.The barista knew her weekend plans before she did. The postmaster set up gigs for her behind her back. Chris expected her to eat roadkill for dinner. And you wouldn't believe the uproar when the Finnish Lutherans in town learned she was Jewish. Despite a gun-toting Millenialist neighbor and the furnace dying at twenty-six below, Elisa moved to Minnesota and married Chris anyway. Then a tornado threatens to destroy the home she had finally made for herself.Hundred Miles to Nowhere is A Year in Provence for the Prairie Home Companion crowd, or Coop for fans of indie music.

    Presents practical, Buddhist-based guidelines to achieving happiness in romantic relationships through a series of inspirational quotes complemented by thematic watercolors and divided into three sections that explore the concepts of illusion, reality, and life.

    This was Bowie's third appearance on TOTP but this was the one that properly resonated with its audience, the one that would go on to cause a seismic shift in the Zeitgeist. This is the performance that turned Bowie into a star, embedding his Ziggy Stardust persona into the nation's consciousness.With a tall, flame-orange cockade quiff (stolen from a Kansai Yamamoto model on the cover of Honey), lavishly applied make-up, white nail polish, and wearing a multi-coloured jump-suit that looked as though it were made from fluorescent fish skin (chosen by Ziggy co-shaper, the designer Freddie Buretti), and carrying a brand spanking new, blue acoustic guitar, a bone-thin Bowie appeared not so much as a pop singer, but rather as some sort of benevolent alien, a concept helped along by the provocative appearance of his guitarist, the chicken-headed Mick Ronson, with both of them unapologetically sporting knee-length patent leather wrestler's boots (Bowie's were red). 'Most people are scared of colour,' Bowie said later. 'Their lives are built up in shades of grey. It doesn't matter how straight the style is, make it brightly coloured material and everyone starts acting weird.'Suddenly Bowie - a man called alias - had the world at his nail-varnished fingertips, and in no time at all he would be the biggest star in the world.