Please Visit The Seven Ring Circus

Dear Reader,

It has been wonderful crafting this blog, and growing together with you, forming a type of community.
Which is why it is so exciting to tell you about this new enterprise on the artists and the life of working artists.

 I feel like the time has come to leave this blog as a marking stone on the path at the start of a new adventure and a new venue: http://the7ringcircus.blogspot.com/

Hope to see you there soon!

Cordially,
London Rothko

Sustainable Clothing: Wear Your Values on Your Sleeve

Sustainability can come in the cloth with which we wrap ourselves in. Some idea for new Emperors’ or Empresses' new clothes can be found in an array of new fabrics that are designed to have you looking great as you do good.

From Whole Cloth
Try cloth composed of bamboo fiber -- a wonder plant that grows incredibly quickly. Then there is Lyocell fiber (also called Tencel) that derives from the cellulose in plant cells. Follow the advice given in the film The Graduate, "plastics," but with a new twist; EcoSpun is fiber culled from plastic bottles. Get to know Sasawashi, surprisingly sturdy stuff made from paper and a plant, Kumazasa. Soft and sturdy, organic soy fiber is lovely. And give the familiar standards of cotton, hemp, and linen a go -- this time in their organic form.





Raw Sources
In the interest of baring...where I've enjoyed frolicking in research, may I turn you on to the real deal -- some fine blogs on textile sustainability. If you're interested in the topic, it is strongly suggested that you grace these sites with your presence:
http://www.globalstewards.org/clothing.htm#.UZz1ENhaQgc
http://organicclothing.blogs.com/my_weblog/2006/05/sustainable_clo.html
http://www.greenchoices.org/green-living/clothes/more-sustainable-fabrics

Try It

Thought for today: I think that if you find someone you truly like, and with whom you feel emotionally intimate, you should try to get into her pants. Literally.

Into her pants. Or his jacket. Or her scarf.
We could share! Why let perfectly good garments languish in the closet when someone could be enjoying them RIGHT NOW, this very moment -- and thinking of you in the process.

Six Degrees of Harrell Fletcher

If you will indulge me for a moment (and oh, I do so love to be indulged!) before we pick up the thread of sustainable style in frocks and fripperies, I'd like to mention that I stopped by the Tamarind Gallery, nestled in the Land of Enchantment, for an art reception (yes, one comes for the nibbles, yet stays for the ink.)
Wandering about, looking upon master lithographs well-hung upon the walls, what should I discover but a work by that agent of change, Harrell  Fletcher, one of the many divine influences and muses of I Find Myself Wanting. I could go on in detail (buy me a drink and I will), but to read more, you're cordially invited to Pimp That Muse!: pimpthatmuse.blogspot.com.

It's a Wrap

What do we speak of when we conjure up an image of sustainable haberdashery? We might mean clothing created from earth-friendly textiles crafted in a humane fashion (pun!). We could visit the topic of utilizing pre-made clothes (think thrift stores and consignment shops). We should be bringing to light the practice of prancing about in the skin you're in (Hello Hippie Hollow in Austin!). We might speak of sharing threads (borrowing a lover's sweater, a child's t-shirt, or a friend's frock). Or re-purposing -- sewing over, turning under/inside/upside out a garment and sporting a new style. Or perhaps we're referencing artisans crafting haute couture raiment derived from extravagantly unusual materials (coffee filters, plastic bags, inner tubes, among other noteworthy materials). All are elements of a sustainable style.

In I Find Myself Wanting -- each idea will be paraded in turn in an upcoming post.

It's Our Anniversary!

WHERE LONDON GOES FOR INSPIRATION

It is a year of contemplating and exploring the intersection of sustainability, culture, community, and art.

I Find Myself Wanting was birthed from a seminar at Portland State University with noted social practice artist/activist Harrell Fletcher. Fletcher is known for many reasons, and one of them is his witty and insightful public art projects.And when we speak of public art, we don't mean the musings of one individual to be consumed by the masses, but the public being brought into the making of the piece itself, as well as interacting with it in its place of exhibit -- a public venue. To discover more about Harrell Fletcher, please enter here: http://www.harrellfletcher.com/

HARRELL FLETCHER

It has been a year of discovery, delight, and of engaging in the enjoyment of one of the greatest resources there is: You.

It is with excitement that I anticipate our next year together. There will be ongoing explorations and contemplations of how we can choose to live lives with style and grace, wit and humor -- as we save/re-source/recycle/renew the things that touch us on our journey.

Such as the skin we're in. Literally. The next post will be in a week, and will be unwrapping the latest trend -- the avant-garde spectacle of fashions formed from re-purposed materials.

And that's a wrap.

Slantwise, Skewed, and Off-Center

I'm just as committed to carrying out a bad idea, on following through on the ill-advised caprice, as the next person-- heck, probably more so! But there comes a time when the opposition to an unfortunate plan of action becomes unduly onerous. Proof positive that stupid not only should hurt but will.

A sign.  (Literally, posted on the counter) That an experiment is in progress; negative reinforcement to induce modification in individual behavior and societal norms.

Today's example rests upon parking. Specifically, the skewed practice of attempting to come to rest. Parking an auto in an urban area may be viewed as movable performance. And the critics are having their day.

Without further ado, the note posted upon the Winning Coffee Company register.



Attention Winning Coffee Customers

 Here B the ways and means of parking in the lot behind Winning.

--You can park for as long as you like until 10:30 a.m. Mon-Fri.

-- After 10:30 a.m. parking goes to a one hour time limit. So even if you are at Winning or one of the surrounding businesses you will get a ticket from Park it Place if you are here longer than an hour.

-- Just down the alley behind the apartments is a pay lot if you want/need to stay longer after 10:30.

-- On Saturday and Sunday you can park for as long as you like but you need to get a Winning menu to put in your window or you will get a ticket.

                                         -- Or you can just ride your bike.

Absolutely, Totally, Lovingly Baked

Please forgive my absence, Gentle Reader, but adventures both near and far kept me from you -- yet know that you were always in my thoughts. (No need for concern, my P.O. was informed.)

Now, enough of that, let's get on with it, shall we?

The topic at hand is getting baked. You know how an idea is so right that it gives one goosebumps? A frisson of excitement and pleasure? This is one of those concepts.

Solar baking!

One example of this fantastic phenomena is Solovin', a solar food truck and bakery based out of Albuquerque. Solovin' generated a sensation of warmth that slowly spread throughout my entire...being. (Again, enough about that). Let me put it to you (please?) this way: if you, too, are a aficionado of the television sensation Breaking Bad, know this: there are all kinds of things cookin' in Duke City!).

Let's sink our teeth into Solovin' as an example of right livelihood. Solivin' is moved 'bout town by a converted '67 milk truck with a solar power panel on top that provides power to the truck. The baked products and confections use local ingredients, thus fostering a sustainable community, uniting farmers, grinders (of the beans that make up matte latte, coffee, and sun tea), ranchers, and the fine folks who love 'em. 

Solovin' is  owned and operated by Julie and Aren Irwin, is a fusion of South American and organic cookery. Aren credits Julie with being the guiding genius behind the venture. Julie was fascinated by solar ovens and how they provided a means for individuals in third world/developing countries who were being negatively impacted from trad cookery practices that forced them to daily walk great distances scavenging scarce firewood, only to then be exposed to the fumes from what wood they could scare up. A solution was needed. And that solution is... (wait for it) solar ovens -- which proved to be a very hot concept.

Solar ovens are are sustainable (a key keyword here at ifindmyselfwanting.blogspot.com), ecological, economical, logical, elegant, easy to build, and provide a beautiful product that in many ways has distinct advantages over conventional sources of baking, from providing a more moist, flavorful, baked good, to allowing the baker to enjoy the outdoors, to being customizable, portable, and safe.

There are drawbacks, however (sigh), and these include some things that you may have guessed, and some things that you wouldn't. Solar ovens can do anything an oven can do -- bake and roast -- but they are not the same as a stove top range -- you're gonna have to find another way to fry your eggs. You need to be aware and involved in the process; as the rays of the sun change angle throughout the course of the day (and the cooking process), so, too, does the oven need to be shifted to take best advantage of the sunlight. Environment -- sunshine, buildings, foliage, all come into play. But if one takes these things into consideration, it can become a plus. Being conscientious and aware is all to the good (or so I've been told -- time and time and time again...damnit!).

To find out more about Solovin's South American-flavored epicurean munchie experience, you can check out (and/or like) Solovin' on Facebook.

Hot Stuff!

If you're in Duke City (tell 'em Heisenberg sent ya!) you can get your sun-kissed needs met here: They'll also cater private events -- and how yummy is that!

Solovin' Solar Food Truck and Bakery
503.333.8809
Wednesday = UNM
Thursday    =  2nd and Central
Friday        =  Nob Hill

Two Trains Running

I have a friend who is brilliant, Ivy League educated, decent, and very concerned about the environment. So -- we have things in common...well, one out of four ain't bad.
   
He is in the hard sciences, and he is not unlike Cassandra. And no one likes a Cassandra. The messenger   who brings ill news is often treated  like the missive. That said, my friend persists. He moans and groans about climate change, food shortages, and predicts pillaging and mad throngs in the streets. None-the-less, he commutes to his highly-remunerated job (an hour each way), lives in a single-family domicile, and adores travel and acquiring new shiny things.
   
Here are the two trains that our arguments take, and where the tracks diverge: Me, I think we can implement societal, sustainable choices through individual -- and some government -- action. His stance is that we are...well, stripped down from polysyllable language...screwed. It will take a heroic effort, led by scientists and mandated by governments, to make the change of the magnitude necessary to save our collective hides. And even then... it may still be too late. He bandies about ideas like, "Perhaps a chemical shield to save the ozone," or "There is enough aluminum on earth to make a reflective shield that we would  place in the Sahara.”
 
 I take a sunnier stance -- and not because of the glare off of the Sahara shield.  For one thing, in my 'hood, mad throngs and pillaging are going on already. There is not the same fear of the unknown. It is home. (Whatever "home" means, but that's a post for another day....)
   
I suggest that rather the Sahara shield, he could simply fashion himself a tinfoil hat. Then I light one up, puff, and explain that I'm helping fill-in the ozone layer.
   
Where we differ is that it is my opinion that we can make daily changes that will add up. All of us. The heading towards 7 billion bodies/souls/spirits of us. We can live more communally, re-use and refuse -- before we even get to recycle. We can bicycle. Strip things down, literally and figuratively, and then re-purpose them. There are many, many species of plants (hello Nettles!) that are not on the common menu, but are easy to grow and highly nutritious. There are ways, there are means.


In the end, in may be a bit from column A, some from column B. The hard choices, and the soft sharing. However, there is something in the zeitgeist: We need to do something, probably many things, and soon is preferable to later. Like the search for a soulmate at a bar come closing time, that resolves with a pick up, it'll have to do, until the real thing comes along.  The personal is the political; the political is the person.
   
We do what we can. And then we do some more.

There's Something Sexy about Sustainability

You've no doubt seen them around -- those people perched upon bicycles, sipping from recyclable coffee cups and water jugs, carrying women baskets to market. You've noted them bringing a delectable lunch in a re-usable container. They've caught your eye by not only in-line skating in the park -- but back-n-fourth to the communal green as well.


There is something so desirable about someone doing the right thing. Whether it's the sweet leg and gluteus maximus muscles of a cyclist, the halo of caring around an individual who is living values in a tangible way, or it could be that Mother Nature is whispering in your ear: "This one gives a damn, Mate, for chrimminie's sake!" Whatever the reason, there is just something so hot about a potential friend/lover/neighbor/co-worker doing the ecological awareness thing.


Sustainability is the New Sexy!

GET ON YOUR BIKES AND RIDE!

Willpower: A Shortage

Between attraction and avoidance there is a chasm. Wait – scratch that – a great yawning maw.


The best brawls I’ve ever enjoyed were with myself; the better angels of my nature at war with want and desire.


A friend posited that this inner battle was a cry from the psyche. Good News: it connotes emotional development. Bad News: that development’s arrested. Of course, my initial impulse was to argue; to throw the first punch of cathartic debate.


Theory: Fighting in relationships is healthy. It’s when you don’t care enough to argue that therein danger lies. One or both partners have mentally (if not physically) packed their bags. Disengagement is not a truce; it’s assaying the moat and deciding to swim.


But what if the fight is between you and yours…. Truly? Carrot stick rather than chocolate? Sale or savings? Sexy paramour vs. imminent deadline? Nicotine or not putting that in your pipe and smoking it? Whisky, neat, or milk (which can be surprisingly messy)?


Has temptation ever come upon you unawares, grabbed you by the throat, and shaken you to the very saltcellar of your soul (“We have seen the enemy -- and he is us”)?


Yes, me too!


Now, let us imagine a wicked hour, say, 3:17 a.m., the flotsam and jetsam of the subconscious mind awaiting to ambush the unwary with a bout of, a touch of, a flash of die-hard sleeplessness. What to do? One can consider Nietzsche’s “That which does not kill us makes us stronger,” and the cold comfort of asceticism.


Perhaps one ponders the situation by the pale light of a long night and its immense shadows, wondering: What is the definition of a “bout”? A “flash”? A “touch”? (No wonder you can’t rest!) Yet all around you, people slumber. You find yourself in PJs, illumined by the refrigerator’s wan bulb, wrangling with longing and logic.


All you wanted was a nice, micro-brewed, limited-edition beer, and just one hard pretzel, scant consolation for insomnia. But will the cure keep sleep at bay? And more to the point, will the want outweigh the guilt of second thoughts?


Fight!


And so you find yourself entangled in the web of self-awareness. Pretzel in hand, dropping salty crumbs, you search for a clean glass. Ever the pugilist, you pause, sip and consider.

Save the Wood!

All right. We have a problem here. This is going to be awkward to, ahem, bring up. 


Trust -- if ignoring the issue would make it go away, I would be the first to advocate avoidance. Honestly! We've tried that -- and it worked well for a good, long while -- but, its effectiveness is subsiding; it is time to work up another game plan.


How do we know, beyond all doubt, that it is necessary to re-visit our relationship and interactions with our natural (and unnatural) environments? 

Save the Wood!

Conventional thinking: It has not been proven that global warming exists. If there is global warming, it has yet been conclusively linked to environmental degradation. Were causality shown, it has yet been demonstrated to be catastrophic. So...we learned that polar bears balanced adrift melting ice floes. Sad, yes, but bears don't buy us beers after a long day’s labor. Horrific birth defect rates in China are perplexing, but that is the cost of a burgeoning economy. Toxins, perhaps, impacting the reproductive health of girls and women is still under investigation. Elevated rates of heart defects in babies born to poor women in pollution-heavy neighborhoods is unfortunate -- and so we suggested pregnant women…move. Toxic clouds covered whole cities; we hoped for a better breeze.


But, as of late, it has come to our attention that pollution, by stressing the body/heart/vascular systems, may be a culprit contributing to erectile dysfunction. If this doesn’t make your nuts crawl up like acorns well-hidden by an industrious squirrel during a frigid Fall, I don't know what will!


People, it is time to take action! To speak up, as if with one voice. It is imperative -- and this cannot be stressed highly enough -- to save The Wood. 

Oh You Animus!

A moment of silence, if you will, in honor of all the Stand-Up Guys...(of all genders) who do the work of love-making, care-taking, and Guide to All Purpose Terrain.

Men who are carrying on traditions, yet moving beyond stereotypes towards a better and brighter future. Guys who are

It's a Daddy Thing

-- literally and figuratively -- planting a tree for future generations who will sit under it, and enjoy its shade.

 "Men hold up half the sky" as the indigenous wisdom has it. (That's so rad, Dad!)

On the day devoted to our Fathers, let's have a shout out for the ones who express the art and the heart of nurturing. From the glint in Daddy's eye on the date of conception to the mending and blending of tribe, these Dudes...


 Abide.                       

As not all men who, shall we say, give of themselves are Fathers, some of the greatest Dads are the ones who walk the walk with all those whom they come in contact with by mentoring, supporting others, and sharing of themselves.


On behalf of all of us --  indebted to you for our very lives -- let me say, Outstanding work, Dudes!

The Market Place

In the Market Place. Yes, your friendly local Farmers' Market.

We all know that it's fantastic for picking up fruits, vegetables, spices, herbs, flowers, artisan cheeses, baked delicacies, gourmet condiments, and herbal apothecary goods. Here, performers gather to entertain the crowds, and every manner of people-watching flourishes. Yet the question I'd like to pose is: are you really deriving every possible benefit from your market place experience?

May I suggest that your local Farmers' Market is a wonderful venue to seek a...well, a hook-up.

Besides the produce on offer being fresh and local, there is an excellent chance that that certain someone who catches your eye is also local and fresh. 

Eat Me! Eat Me! Eat Me!

Far be it from me to repute the excellence of pick-up bars, honky-tonks, roadhouses, and dens of ill-repute (ah, the memories!), but we should examine the possibilities of exploring other fields of romantic endeavor--and why not begin with a literal field, that's all I'm saying (and please do take note of my chastely not supplying farmer's daughters/sons jokes, which I would never put on the web ('cause I demand to be feted first).

Find a honey at the market, and there's a good potentiality that this is a special someone...who can make you an omelet from farm culled eggs from happy free-range hens, seasoned with oregano, thick slices of wholewheat bread and raspberry jam, and cups of chicory coffee. (Wouldn't that be nice?)

As if this argument weren't persuasive, you also get to meet and greet the people who grow our food (or their adorable representatives) and support sustainable, local agriculture (doing well while doing good). Now you're part of a community, among fine folks who care what they put into their bodies (in a manner of speaking...).

Imagine yourself meandering around the glorious open vortex of the market, warm breezes of a summer afternoon caressing your skin, while friends, neighbors, and hot strangers come together in a ritual that is timeless and contemporary.

Fresh. Oh so fresh.

For Whom the Belle Toes

Springtime, that glorious season of promise, and during this time of renewal and rebirth--as the poet has it--our thoughts turn to... Locke, Hume, Averroes, Lao-tzu, Heschel, Wittgenstein, and Santayana. Really? Truly. Let us take a moment and consider these philosophers.


Now, let's get down to it, shall we? Let us contemplate bare flesh. In particular, feet. Feet that are fleet in Pumas and Nikes. Bare feet solidly stroking the earth. Kid feet in adorable pitter-patter soft-soled shoes. Ankle-strap platform stilettos.


Let us now focus our laser-like attention closer. Closer...yes. To the toe! Painted. Anyone can paint their toenails. Varnish knows no boundaries. And yet it is usually found on females. Femmes in particular. This is not essential to the sex; it is a chosen gender characteristic. More to the point, a "signifier." A non-verbal means of communication. (Contemplate what Nabokov was able to do with Lolita's toes.)

Let us Spring into a consideration of the implications of the painted tootsie, and an examination of meaning via gender, sex, and for the great, green-blue orb that is earth.

On the pro-paint side, varnish may be a means of self-expression. Champions of the pedicure claim it makes the world a more colorful place, one digit at a time. Varnish can cover or accentuate. Give the individual control over the expression of sensuality, or simply the physicality of being.


On the other side of the equation, some feminists, religious-minded individuals, minimalists and naturalists might ask us to consider that polish plays on consigned sex roles, exploits insecurities, objectifies women's bodies, and (or) that polish and acetate-based remover are among the more toxic of cosmetics. (Oh, that's what the microscopically small print says!...)


Just the other day, I was examining the topic (it was wearing Vamp, by Chanel, at the time).


Polish pours from bottles. Applied with a brush. Removed with balls of cotton. Each product boasts labels: paper, ink, and glue.


There are boxes that bear the bottles, brushes, balls of cotton, ink, paper, and glue.


Trucks that bring them to market.


Stores that stock them.


Industries that stock the smocks the clerks sport....Before we know it, we've stumbled down a hole (down, down, down we go!), when all one wanted was to objectify feet as the innocent, blameless, endlessly fascinating means of desire and fancy that they are. Oh, it gets so complex! I feel the need to have a drink and a think...well, at least a drink. If you have any thoughts on the pleasures and/or pitfalls of pedicures, feel free to bare them in the comments section below. (Love 2 C U bare your sole...er, soul.)

It's a Real Mother 4 U

Yes, it's that day. It is hot Mama Day!

Think about it. We are the stuff of stars. And we pass on that celestial greatness to the future. We are connected to the very first of us. Let us thank --

 the ancestors; those who came before.


Who climbed from out of the primordial ooze; who put their lives on the line to bear us; who hold up half the sky. The passing on of DNA, values, secrets, traditions, mythology and memory.


And let us not limit ourselves to those who give birth (though that is not without a nod of acknowledgment and a debt of awestruck gratitude). All honor and props to those who nurture the next generations. To the people who teach, comfort, feed, amuse, delight, and educate. The women -- and men -- who lead, live, and inculcate life lessons.


To all the Real Mothers out there -- of all ages, sexes, inclinations, and lifestyles -- it's your day, your way.

Mothers -- you are delicious, delightful, and part and parcel with the Divine.

You rock!

Portland When It Drizzles

It is drizzling in Portland as I write this. It has been drizzling for months. A faint rain, as constant and unending as the patience of a saint.


Stumptown is one of the epicenters of the eco-consciousness movement, and so, although water is not a scarce commodity, in an act of empathy and unity with the rationing of the world, I find myself aware of my water usage.


The facet is turned off when brushing teeth. Water running through the rusty pipes of the old dwelling I reside in is caught and used for watering plants. I believe in showering with a friend whenever possible. I drink my whisky neat, saving the thimbleful of water once drizzled into the heavy glass tumbler.

Am I a better person for it? Heck to the yes! While I can't admonish everyone to live to my strict guidelines, it would be against my principle/s (plural? h'mmmm) to advise against considering it.

Conservation is like a muscle. The more one uses it, the more one is aware of it, desires to employ it. Feels the lacuna, the lack, when it is not deployed.

Signs and Wonders

So, there I was, on the merry path to the next whisky bar. I was at the crossroads, that juncture where one more drink can't possibly hurt, and it might just help. No way of knowing, without running experimentation.


I am my own test tube.


So, I'm turning the corner -- and there is a Woman in Black.


We know Newton's third law of motion (or at least can hum the tune): "The mutual forces of action and reaction between two bodies are equal, opposite and collinear." Yep. To every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. For example: a) the bill arrives; b) I leave.


It's long been my contention that somewhere, out in the vast expanse of the space/time continuum, someone had my share of decency, caring, perspective, and goodness. Well, maybe a whole troop of someones. (It's a hypothesis, people!) And there she was, as if from another dimension where goodness and reason hold sway. She was standing stalwart, steady and ready. She held one sign, stood above two others.


We chatted; it's humbling to know that such people are out there, as if ambassadors from another, more reasonable world.

I asked permission to take photos of herself and her signage (see, I am not "seeing weird shit." Nor am I "making crap up"). Like Johnny Cash, this Woman in Black is clad to signify an empathy with all the ills that can and are waiting to be addressed -- and those that are in the process of being redressed.

At the bar, I raised a toast to this lovely sentient being. In fact, she was so cool, one or three for her grand spirit were in order.

Foxtails Brigade on the Plaza

Have you ever thought about how music is truly sustainable? It sustains the soul. Tunes are passed down, interpreted, and made new. Instruments and cases carry the stories of previous times. Artists and audiences mold their respective musical histories and repertoires of memories.
     Me neither!
     But listening to Foxtails Brigade, http://foxtailsbrigade.com/ (from that other SF, San Francisco) make beautiful music (genre: Chamber Pop) in the shared space of the historic Santa Fe plaza, these notions came unbidden yet enjoyed (rather like a house guest).


     Note the the sawed-off wine bottle in the percussion player's set-up. Pre-tilted, it has been recycled for tapping.


   

     

The Salsa Gardens of ABQ

In ABQ, the rocks and earth, mountains and sky are what define this sphere. Tones of sepia and henna, rose and brown.
    
Albuquerque is not "green" in the sense that Portlandia is green. One seems to pedal one's ass on a bicycle to get from one place to another, as well creating a fabulous personal statement.
   
Inquired about community gardens (more on that subject on an upcoming post!) and the topic danced to the idea of Salsa Gardens.

Plants likely to go into salsa (tomatoes, cilantro, onions) because they rock the local cuisine (excuse me, it simply couldn't be helped); are fairly easy to grow, helping a food budget ssstretchh. 

Enchantment, Entrapment, and Beauty

New Mexico. Beautiful, magical, mystical. A land of vast expanses and people of great kindness and graciousness. There is a long history of working within the...  range of a vast environment that is wide-open (how hot is that!), under a canopy of blue sky.
    
This is a part of the country that is used to the concepts of refusing, reusing, and then recycling. What at first glance might look like a mass-hoarding spree is a wisely collected array of items that will be retasked, repurposed, and perhaps painted and used as planters, sheltering tender new shoots of life.
    
Water is a resource that is utilized with respect in this region. If you are visiting, it is good to follow the local custom of conservation. This is why I invited a small (but well-formed) group of individuals to "Share the power of the shower!" (Yes, I came up with the slogan; I would be happy to donate it to any area working with water conservation issues.)    


 In my peregrinations, I had the pleasure of sleeping around (in a manner... of speaking) at the The Santa Fe Hostel -- which is close to the Platonic ideal of an alt-indie space for persons traveling on a higher plane. (Interpret that anyway you like.) Due to an exulted attitude...er, altitude, this comes naturally to many hostlers -- which as a group, often overlaps with the Happy Campers.

 Talked up one of the friendly, hot individuals (could it be all the red and green chili peppers people consume that contribute to the preponderance of pulchritude? Folks here are fantastically alluring!... But I digress...)

about the recycling possibilities at the Santa Fe Hostel, and we kicked it for a few minutes on the topic. Because N.M. has relatively few people, and those folks are spread out, sending out a truck to pick up items may not be the most useful method of reclaiming materials. That said, metal, glass, paper, and "plastics #1 and 2 are recycled" at the hostel. "But really," said my delicious guide, "how many plastics are #1 and 2!"


I nodded sagely. "You are so right!" I agreed. (When in doubt -- or hope -- agree; that's the London motto.)
 
Made a mental note to look at the bottom of plastic containers, where the numbers are stamped, and find out what a #1 or 2 plastic looks like. ASAP. It's always a learning moment. (Damn it!)

London's Town

Oh, I suppose I might have mentioned this earlier (like to my parole officer), but it is easier to apologize than to seek permission. About a week ago I slid into New Orleans, as easily as a sliver of remembered dream. Oh, it is a lovely city. Deep with mystery and mayhem, history and new ideals.
     
The Crescent City has an odd relationship with ecological and ideals; it is a green place, but that refers more to the herb and the foliage than to ecology. And yet, this is a place where people make do, reuse, and hold a deep relationship with the land.
     
On a personal level, in my fervor of living out the concepts of sustainability, when I went into a drugstore, I turned down the bag they offered for my legal script. Buoyed by that small success, when I went to procure my self-prescribed meds (no, I am not a doctor, but I play one in my mind), I asked my freelance pharmacologist if the goods came with minimal packaging. "Not to worry," he said. I felt better already.
     
No, New Orleans does not have many blue bins (yet), but it does recycle beads, hopes, and I've noticed that many of my past amours have been passed from hand to hand (so to speak) and are all the better for it!


Also, as I was there for a gathering of poets (or at least that's the story I'm giving to my P.O.) I put a bright red dot on a five-dollar bill and my marked money is now traveling those old streets, from second-hand bookshop, to bottom shelf liquor shelf, from band box to stripper’s garter, farmers' market to po'boy stand. ‘Round and round it goes, where it’ll stop, nobody knows.


Lucky Dogs -- Feeding Drunk Tourists for Decades!

      If, when you next journey to the French Quarter, and you find a fiver with a red dot on the left-hand corner, please let me know, it's rather like Flat Stanley with currency. Oh, the adventures it will have! (By-the-bye, I stopped by one of my favorite haunts, the Gold Mine Saloon for the long-running Thursday night 17 Poets Reading Series, http://www.17poets.com/home.html. The bill rested there, briefly, and I look forward to reading the book of verse that it procured on its journey about town.)

Optimism Blooms

There are neighborhood gardens and window boxes and farmers’ markets sprouting up and bringing beautiful produce and new community connections. There are co-operative markets, common house meals, and protocols for collecting organic matter for composting. There are anecdotes and examples that feed the soul and touch the heart. One woman worked with bringing local produce into her schools’ kitchen. An elderly individual who wished to stay in his home turned his yard over to community gardeners, and garnered organic produce and new friends in the process. There is a Ranch, on this side of heaven, called Pie Ranch, which is a hands-on learning laboratory teaching kids about what goes into the pie (and their bodies), all the ingredients, from sweetener to flour to filling, all herded from the Pie Ranch. (Ah, it gives new meaning to want a piece?)
  

There are encouraging changes made on personal, community, and societal levels.    

Bloom

     Which is a fine thing. Or as they say on the (Pie) Ranch, “Sweet!”

The (Cheap Ass) Omnivore’s Dilemma

Why does hamburger cost more than portabella mushrooms? As with other aspects of ecology, there are no easy, all-encompassing answers. Yet interesting developments are simmering.

What if we rename and reclaim the Farm Bill?

Spice it up with new name/PR campaign? Throw an opening (artists/activists –adore openings!). We could call it “Epicure You!” Or maybe “Eat Me!” Or “Bite!” (No, Bite has been taken. But something….) The Farming Bill affects not just people who look good in properly broken in caps, but the rest of us, too!

Respecting Others

The rights and principles of the select cadre of undergraduates will be respected at all times. Vegetarians will be responsible for stuffing blue cheese into the hollowed out centers of olives; Vegans will insert the garlic cloves. We can all get along!

A Select Cadre of Undergraduates (Bent to My Will)

To a Fine Crop

It is best to have a contingency plan in place in case our A.S.S. goes to ground. My thinking is to acquire an entourage, a select cadre of undergraduates, bent to do my bidding. If something must be grown, it will be sheaves of tobacco and hemp for paper (if it’s good enough for, perhaps, the drafts of The Constitution, The Declaration of Independence, The Bill of Rights, and Woody H.'s  couture choices on it, it must be good!).

Red grapes will cling to our arbors; hops, barley and malt will be used for the bottled stouts, lagers and ales; olives will grace our martinis.

You Want Me to Put My Hands Where?

Not really knowledgeable concerning gardening, but understanding dirt is involved (those farmers with hydroponic set-ups in closets and basements – adore your work) If dirt is involved, then I am not involved.


I am firmly, emphatically, whole-heartedly committed to not gardening – it goes back to a horrific experience in the heat a summer and –

No!... wait, I feel dizzy, and everything’s going black.

 NO! Put down that ho – Aghhh!

I Want You on Your Knees

Most of the artist/activists are avid gardeners. Some on a theoretical plane, and some on their knees, in the soil, knuckle deep in – I’m not sure what, but it does not sound like something that I would want to be involved with in an intimate basis.

It’s one thing to be passionate about the English cucumber; it’s another thing entirely to pull it from the soil.

Besides, experiments have proven that vegetables have feelings. (Perhaps this is why the clever folks at grocery stores have found a way of capturing them in bins.)

Hard (Choices)



"Drive!" said London.

 To bastardize Winston Churchill (Rhetorical question: Why are cigar-chomping misanthropists so eminently quotable?) "The difficult can be done immediately, the impossible takes a little longer." It is coming to our attention (see "Ego," "Big," "Bigger," and "Playing with Others) that sacrifices may have to be made; inconveniences borne with dignity. This is fine. As long as it is some other person, say, a hypothetical individual, walking the talk.     

 I’ll do my share, within reason. Let us define “reason” (see "Coming to Terms").

I will use mass transit and car-pool. I will notput a bike between my thighs. I will consent to shared showers and turn down the lights, but I do not think it a good idea to carry my own water bottle... because the temptation to fill it with Grey Goose would prove irresistible.

The Cult (of Personality)



"Drive!" said London.

 To bastardize Winston Churchill (Rhetorical question: Why are cigar-chomping misanthropists so eminently quotable?) "The difficult can be done immediately, the impossible takes a little longer." It is coming to our attention (see "Ego," "Big," "Bigger," and "Playing with Others) that sacrifices may have to be made; inconveniences borne with dignity. This is fine. As long as it is some other person, say, a hypothetical individual, walking the talk.     

 I’ll do my share, within reason. Let us define “reason” (see "Coming to Terms").

I will use mass transit and car-pool. I will notput a bike between my thighs. I will consent to shared showers and turn down the lights, but I do not think it a good idea to carry my own water bottle... because the temptation to fill it with Grey Goose would prove irresistible.

Special (Everyone Gets a Trophy!)



Yes, There is a Dr. (John) in the House, with Friend -- Now Trophies for All! 

 Indeed.


We’ll make ours out of re-claimed metals, fashioned upon a forge powered by the energy generated by A Select Cadre of Undergraduate Students! (see “Playing Well With Others”).

Back Peddling

In an effort not to appear sanctimonious wonks, and desiring to get along with others, when someone suggests an idea that conflicts with our own we echo it, proclaim it, salute it. We couch our language in kindliness and hypothetical rhetoric…. So this is how tact and diplomacy work! I think.


This skill-set alone is worth the price of admission!


And then we go about the business of implementing our own original agenda.

Your Money or Your Life



The Right to Fork

 Paradox. The simple life costs money/time/effort/planning/knowledge. And the poor can be penalized for not taking the time/money/energy/etc. to do the things deemed right.

On the one hand, there is the knowledge that disposable tableware is not the best ecological option – balanced against the certainty that we are not coming to your house and washing your dishes. A dishwasher is more energy-efficient than washing up with the water running, but no one is giving away dish-washers.

Money/Time/Effort

One observation, perhaps not surprisingly, is that as in many endeavors, money may be an aid. It is useful in purchasing recycled paper goods and prettily packaged kitchen cleansing products.

It procures solar panels and garden implements and Priuses.

(Professor’s joke: If one Prius is good, heck, I’ll take three!”) If one does not have money, time may prove useful; or energy, industry, creativity. And in a pinch (see "A Select Cadre of Undergraduates"), other people.

It’s Easy Being Green! (Or is it?)



Blu 4 U

 It’s Easy Being Green! (Or is it?)

We brainstorm, coming up with a verbal mind-map of ways to implement ecological conservatism into our everyday lives – and the lives of those with whom we come in contact.

Softly (He Yelled)

One thing that the professor/professional artist (Harrell Fletcher, I'm cool with outing him) is helping us to see is that it is one thing to be right, another to adapt and live your ideas, and a third to convince others to follow. He touches upon ambiguity, cost/benefit analysis, and endeavoring not to come off as sanctimonious wonks.

I, for one, am glad that he had the courage to bring this up.

(Fairly confident that he’s cautioning the other individuals positioned around the table; I haven’t found my ideals yet, let alone endeavored to pontificate upon them, although wonder: is believing in the felicity of Happy Hour and the salubrious effects of a good smoke an ideal or an enthusiasm? (If it’s an enthusiasm, then I’m good.)

We Are Well and Truly... Screwed (Then Synergy SPARKS!)

Foundlings

Inspired by Jonathan Swift’s infamous literary parody, “A Modest Proposal,” which brought awareness of the plight of starvation in Ireland, I suggest “I Find Myself Wanting.”

Who is this Swift of whom you speak so highly? chorus several collogues.

I think: “As a society, we are well and truly screwed.”

But just then, from across the table, comes the sweetest sound – an exhalation – followed by a capsule Swiftian bio.

Another chimes in with the historical events that occasioned the piece, and someone else summarizes “A Modest Proposal.” And Life, once again, is worth living!

We. Will! See?

We have arrived at a consensus!

Namely, to research and consider making a commitment to plans to continue our work outside the classy glass-enclosed (and quite comfortable) confines of the conference center.

This enlarges the possibilities to include group, team and solo efforts. It also includes the possibility of not making plans, or more positively, of not-not making plans, or to bravely envision not-not-not making an agenda –

Stooping to Conquer



GOALS ARE GOOD

We contemplate our goals for further (further?) activism/art outside of class.

Or at least we will talk about it.

Or at the very minimum (and one expects more), we will think about talking about doing something…at a later date.