Btw – I reached the six month no smoke date. Once I get to town I’ll try the running thing.
Talking to Others When I look back at any given day interacting with people I’m mildly horrified. I just don’t like how my forays into verbal communication with da people go. Some clerk asks for a zipcode – BR549. Sorta falls into a dead zone. Somebody yapping on a cell phone – I grab a candy bar and talk to it – I’m looked at. Oddly. The walmart greeter can’t seem to understand that when cash has been exchanged the transaction is over and no I don’t need a receipt to exit the store. How can they be vacuous when I point out that had I opted for the planet killing plastic sack we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation? Do you realize you’re accusing me of being a thief? Shall I get offended right back at ya? Do you want to be responsible for me chewing the eyes out of the security goon you desire to summon at this moment? Describe in paragraph form the taste of the boot leather of your corporate masters you swear fealty too. And then I waved at the self checkout moniter who came over to see what the commotion was all about and walked out the door, certain that the walmart swat unit would be tazing my ass any moment.
So I want to learn to walk around the zoo without talking to the animals.
If I ever go panhandling I’m going to dress in British sorta clothing and have a sign that says “Spare a Quid, Mate? And when asked if I was from England I’d say “No, I’m from Arkansas – catchy sign, innit?”
July 25th I have been reading Archdruid’s lastest post for the last three nights. As always he’s a slog through read for me, but well worth the time. Greek philosophy, industrial erasure, and the myth of progress all wrapped up into something that explains why I like to stuff seeds in the ground. Everybody’s gotta do something; cantaloupes just might be my way of expressing myself in an age of serious limits.
I’m in a 98% empty house now and the garage got packed up today. Started a burn pile for the years and years worth of old trim and lumber that I collect – it’s a sickness. Can’t wait to see what the place looks like dejunkerated.
July 19 When green beans come in the term to describe it is “inundated”, especially when you’re crazy like me and plant like, 400 plants. And, the absolute worst time for them to come in is in the middle of a move to town. Most of the beans will go to the pigs after boiling to soften them up – for some reason the pigs don’t like them raw but cook em a bit and they love them.
I am occupying a corner of the living room here at the farm, the rest of the house is empty and moved to the new place. August 1st the new people will be here to take care of the critters so I can go live with my wife and kid. Limbo sucks.
July 15 I wake up on the farm, do critter stuff and spend the morning weeding and picking the garden. Then it’s load up the truck with whatever seems to want to go on it and haul it to the new place. Unload and eat dinner with the family. Then it’s back to the farm for the rest of the day and night.
This is quickly becoming not a whole lot of fun. Note to self – 400 feet of green beans is more than enough 😀
The For Sale- Chickens and Ducks sign (and a craigslist ad) has brought in 200 bucks this week. I’m pretty much out of chickens now except for some young purebreeds that should start laying in a month or two. No one wants ducks for some reason. I hate to kill laying birds but if they don’t sell I’m afraid a bunch of them are going in the freezer. Sell chickens, buy hog “fatner” with the money, butcher hogs, sell pork… boredom is going to kill me when I don’t have this level of complexity attached to everything I do.
July 14 We rented a house in town.
Nice town of about 12 thousand where the wife teaches at the college. Bailing out of the farm is pretty off the wall but the long and short of it is as simple as giving the boy three years to ride his bike around with friends before he’s 16 and the car fixation kicks in. At this point it would be cruelty to keep him isolated on the turnip patch with no siblings or nearby kids to hang out with. The wife wants a break from six different kinds of critter poop imbedded in every square inch of everything, and the never ending state of remodeling on this moderately small and dumpy house has been getting on her nerves for a looong time. Me? Whatever. It’s a nice house in a town that is 100% bikeable for 99% of “stuff”. I can go to the turnip patch a few times a week and keep up with the garden, the meat and egg thing is a bit more complex. That will take some cooperation with people I know still on dirt. I can’t eat a storebought egg anymore, and the boy said you betcha to the move… as long as we weren’t reduced to eating Tyson chicken. Raised him up okay so far!