Things have been quiet around here, since the spring actually.  But even more so of late.  That’s the way it goes.  I work.  I raise a kid.  I bring in firewood and wash dishes and take out the trash.  And I read ‘One Fish Two Fish’ and try- for my own personal satisfaction above all else- to get the different sections in order, remembering 9 years ago when I was a daycare provider for 3 year olds and I read that book so often (at least twice a day for about 6 months!) that I could recite  the thing backwards and forwards; the kids would play this fun game where I’d “read” the page without looking at the book and then they’d make me describe the illustrations on the page.  Of course, they were 3, so I was always wrong (“it’s a yellow hat!” they’d protest, regardless of if it was of not).

I’m going back to that place, where life was an exploration, and fun, and fantastical.  I’m going back there and this time my co-pilot is my own kid.  I don’t know if you should be worried for her, or for yourselves.

Last week I went out back and cut down a perfectly healthy baby pine.  It’s not that I hate trees or believe Jesus will be coming down the chimney in a week.  It’s because it’s coming up on winter solstice, and there’s no better time to bring the living into your home and celebrate their slow, meaningless demise.

No, actually, it’s just my conservative side.  I like traditions; good ones anyway, about family and warmth and giving and Macy’s.

Besides, it’s all a part of my highly complicated land-management plan for our little homestead: remove enough trees for next year’s firewood, plus one baby evergreen.  If you do this, too, per every 10 acres you’re in charge of, you’ll preside over the most perfect chunk of earth imaginable.  Also, add an 18-pound eating, pooping, giggle machine for optimal results.  WARNING: said addition will be considerate enough to wake you up every 1 and a half or so throughout the night.

I started the other day back to getting this book-thing going.  75% of it is written, but just needs to be edited and filled-in to some sort of logical order.  Then the rest of the writing is just connecting the dots.  I think it’s more fun, for now, than this blog.

This blog has turned into a burden.  Everyday I think about it, want it, flirt with it, and go to bed.  It’s not that I don’t love writing, or that my opinionatedness has dried-up.  Nor is it true that there’s not plenty to be writing about, linking to, and saying in regards to the public sphere.

That article bellow, for instance, about our evolution towards caring and compassion?  That, my friends, is scientific evidence towards integral theory.  It also happens to be the subject of at least one book by Nineteenth Century Russian anarchist Peter Kropokin.  The materialist interpretation of Darwin, of course, won popularity.  But all these years later, Prince Peter’s interpretation of the Theory of Evolution seems to be slowly coming into our consciousness.

Perhaps exactly as integral theory- or even Kropotkin himself- could have anticipated.

And there, my friends, is a book.

What else?  The beer business is good.  I like beer, other people like beer.  Some beer is more interesting or exciting to drink than other beer.

And there, my friends, is a livelihood.

Now, it wasn’t hard to foresee that absolute garbage would come out of Copenhagen.  If there’s anything positive to be taken out of it all, it may be this:  a lot of smaller, poorer nations, as well as a lot of activists, NGO’s, and concerned people, are seeing that we can’t count on the State or the Head’s of State to do what’s right over what makes rich people richer, and so we’re on our own.  Fuck them.  We’ve just got to do what we can, despite and regardless of those who hold all the power.

Though it’s true that the summit itself represents a kind of forwards-progress for the whole planet (coming together, under consensus, to address issues of our collective survival).  It’s been a failure of sorts, but a positive one.

That, my friends, is seeing the glass half-full.

But then there’s America’s “health care reform”.  Is the Senate Bill good? Bad? Not so bad that it should be supported?  What did you really expect them to do, write a Bill note OK’d by the health lobby?

Listen: If your house catches fire, your community sends people to put the blaze out.  It wasn’t always that way; in fact, 200 years ago it wasn’t that way at all- we collectively evolved to consider it a right, a want, of people to be protected from such a disaster.  If you have a child, your community provides highly educated and skilled people to teach your kid the things they’ll need to know to make it through their time in our world.  It wasn’t always that way, we just collectively evolved to consider a basic eduction a right, a want, for people to advance through life.

It’s called taxes.

But if you break your leg or develop cancer or find an odd lump you want checked out?  For reasons as odd as capitalism, we say: pay up or die!  I have a word for that, it’s taken from the French, who actually took the word from the English; it’s pronounced the same in Canada, Germany, Holland, Belgium, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Portugal, and in fact several other countries throughout the world.  The word is bullfuckingshit.  Look it up, I just did:  it means “the current system of health care as provided for in the United States of America”.

But elected leaders?  Are we really so surprised?  Do we really count on these clowns to give us what we want?  No.  We must demand what we want.  We must take what we want.

War?  Don’t protest war.  Live a life that ridicules the logic of war; be a part of a movement that exposes the fallacy of the logic of war.  Capitalism, and the State, will always have someone to fight.  Be smarter than that.  Be more human than that.

The holidays, as it were, always get me down.  Put me in a funk.  It is during this time that I am my most Buddhist, my most nihilist, my most cynical, and my most compassionate.  Today there was a car trying to back out into a busy street and a line of cars unwilling to spare 4 seconds on their rush home to stop to let the person pull out.  You know what:  fuck you to each and every one of those 7 cars who swerved and sped-up and wouldn’t let that person pull out.  Take a moment from your meaningless existence and cut that person some slack- they, too, were just trying to get home from a long day.

The truth of the matter is that your entire existence will be gone at any moment, and you don’t know which moment.  If you’re not careful you’re only impact on one of your fellow travelers could be “what an asshole”.  Is that the purpose of you life?  I doubt it.

But what do I know, sometimes I’m that asshole too.

I feel a change coming on.  I don’t think this blog will ever be the same.  Or, this blog may not be anymore.  It’s hard to say right now.  What I do know is that I haven’t been able to make the time or the motivation to pontificate on politics or social theory.  Or maybe I’ll just get back in the swing of things with the onset of winter.  Or maybe I’ll start telling you tales of my youth.  Or maybe recipes for yogurt herb bread.  Just kidding on that last one: my cooking is about as memorable as the ’78 Mets.  Don’t know what happened to the Mets in ’78?  Me neither.

Anyway, good luck out there.

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