The Hour of Questionalble Descent

We are at Finney Farm in Skagit County, Washington. The stretch of highway that Finney falls on is about 25 percent anarchist rural community, with Feral Farm, River Farm, and many stragglers singlin' out by the creek. Here at Finney, we've been doing half a days work for stay in the community house and food. We have the whole community house to ourselves, minus dinner time, when all the households on the land come and cook up basically the best food Leanne or I have ever eaten, every night. Oh my god.

Soooo we've been picking blueberries and blackberries, and separating the blackberry growth from the blueberry growth to prevent takeover. I'd say I've eaten about 1000 berries these past three days.


Now that we're up to speed, let me brief you on our last few days in Seattle. We moved into the backyard of Firebreathing Kangaroo for the time of it, and from day one at the place began a bender not soon to be forgotten, but certainly to be censored, considering my family and the kids at CAMP all read this blog... But to structure your imaginations, I'll share a bit of it.

It all started around 2pm on friday when I met some young busking punks outside of Left Bank Books, the oldest anarchist bookstore in the northern hemisphere, so this kid Bubbles tells me. They got 5 bucks and bought some tall cans and shared. We were eventually given 24 pbrs (no kidding?), I drank some, and promptly got a little tipsy and decided to find my way back to FBK. There, I meet Dave Salad, who became Leanne and my best friend in Seattle. He was, in fact, our essential "sugar daddy," making the agreement that so long as we would stay up and hang out with him, he'd make sure we were in food and beer. Friday night, about 15 of us sat around a bonfire listening to the Endurance Voyage on audio tape until we all passed out in our respective places. Saturday, five of us woke at 9am (some of us unwillingly, to Dave Salad in a Davey Crockett hat blasting Born in the USA and dancing around the geodesic dome). I learned that I had slept through a dude coming into the tent and strangling one of it's inhabitants, only to be bit on the face an hour and a half later, and successively get his lights punched out. It was over a girl. We all stumbled to the bar for pitchers, discovering that morning is cold and that we were all in need of naps to cure our hangovers. So some of us napped, I didn't, and thus, Saturday was a blur. It was pretty much a porch and gas station day, and I know that it ended in the dome listening to Born in the USA. Apparently, we all made it pretty far that day. Suuuuunnnndddaaaayyyy was a hangover. I woke up and went into the house for water and found one of the regular "can guys" (can collectors, you know, for money) in the living room, which had been completely turned upside-down the night before and was covered in beer-dirt. For the day, I resolutely hid up high in a tree and thought about the last 40 hours of my life. Pieced em together. Waited for the day to end. Monday I listened to Dan's records the whole day in his bedroom, which had such old favorites as The Wipers, Rites of Spring, and The Sonics. And then the today's goods of Under Pressure and Brain Handle. I stayed there the whole day. And I slept there. I quit the dome two nights in cause of Dave Salad's tendency for waking up early.

SO we got up to Concrete, Washington, here we are, calmed down and eating berries.


I have to break it down here and tell ya'll who are out there and able - these are the best days of my life. I want you to be a part of it. Join me some how. Call me, write me, hop a train and meet me in in fucking San Francisco already. Who needs money when you have guidance and each other to work with instead of work for.
I realized the other day that every turn I make feels like a quote out of a Jawbreaker song. So I'm gonna post the lyrics here of one I was singing today while brushing off spiders in the blueberries... ("Save Your Generation" from Dear You)

I have a present: it is the present. You have to
learn to find it within you. If you can learn to love
it, you just might like it. You can't live without
it. There's a million open windows. I'm passing these
open windows. There is plenty to criticize. It gets
so easy to narrow these eyes. But these eyes will
stay wide. I will stay young. Young and dumb inside.
I have just begun to forget my lines. If you could
save yourself, you could save us all. Go on living,
prove us wrong. Your leap of faith could be a
well-timed smile. Survival never goes out of style. I
have a message: save your generation. We're killing
each other by sleeping in. Finnegan, begin again.
This one can be won. One can become two. Two can pick
and choose. You could be the first. You have to learn
to learn from your mistakes. You can afford to lose a
little face. The things you break, some can't be
replaced. A simple rule: every day be sure you wake.

0n a last note, love to the loves of St. Louis who I've been living off this week - Mama, Bub, Jake, Patrice, Lyndsey, Rose, Peat, Patrick, Ralph, and Joe of the Steins. I trust you all in what we're doing in life.

And Dave Salad, we's gonna be friends for a long time to come. See ya in Santa Cruz.