Back to the Beans
I remember the first time I had coffee that didn’t taste like sludge.
Did You Catch Anything?
I stood in the middle of the stream, my line whizzing back and forth, back and forth as I tried to remind my arm how to lay the line down gently.
Native Plants Are My Love Language
I’ve found that loving myself means letting myself love and delight in the things around me.
Looters Get Shot
I’m not convinced that looter’s increased presence in my life is the result of a newly expanded horizon of awareness.
The Wall Tent
An 8×10 waterproof canvas tent with metal poles and the space for a wood stove, that tent has seen most of Oregon.
I Bought a Wetsuit and It Was a Full Body Experience
I am not sure how to accurately convey the unpleasantness of this experience. There was no part of my body that went gentle into that good night.
Postscript
Dear M,
I hope you are enjoying life in Oregon. I am trying very hard not to miss you. Sometimes, it works.
On Running from Goats (and Other Scary Things)
I hadn’t planned on landing in Bend, Oregon and instantly feeling like I had found home, but I did.
Longing for Roots
So what do I have? I have my ancestors. I can’t visit them, anyway—most are long dead—so distance doesn’t matter. Still, though, this litany of names acts as a sort of symbolic rootedness.
Why I Am Going on Strike
Our struggle is against the authorities who misuse and abuse their power. Our struggle is against the evil that enslaves the world and is manifested in the actions of the University administration.
