live, from the green mountains
yeah, so two weeks later, and still in winooski, vermont.
the folk's basement is entirely painted, though let me just interject here that applying oil-based enamel (which has been mixed with portland cement so it will form a waterproof layer) with a roller SUCKS. especially because before you can paint concrete block, you have to scrub the hell out of it with a trisodium phosphate solution that has to be rinsed. by hand. but the basement looks damned good, my folks are happy with it, and i just made about seven-hundred dollars.
this weekend my dad and i'll be going up to maine, where my aunt managed to grab back the land some developers had grabbed from my grandfather. it's the rudiments of a small house on a twenty-acre lot about twenty miles from camden and, therefore, from the ocean. we'll be there to assess the necessary work and to board the place up for the winter, but hopefully i'll be able to swing over to the coast for a bit. it's always worth it to see the ocean.
and as dreary as painting a basement is, being in vermont has refreshed my spirit, if in weird ways. for one thing, being here has confirmed my growing conviction that small, local, and directly democratic is the way for folks to organize themselves. when you live in chicago, or visit new york, you can theorize endlessly about issues of scale and individual autonomy. you can even dream of workers' collectives and self-sufficient housing cooperatives. but the scale and size of the city remains a huge obstacle to seeing any of these things actually happen; even more, when they do happen they tend to happen only by and for a small number of like-minded radical folks.
but here in vermont, it's fifth-(or sixth- or seventh-)generation family farmers who are forming co-operatives. the folks who make a living on the sugarbushes* are the ones ranting about global warming. and when you call the secretary of the state's office, the secretary of the state answers. my mother brought me a copy of the catamount tavern news, the newsletter of the green mountain anarchist collective... and it's all about dairy farming. not "black bloc" tactics, or "personal revolutions," or the latest wheat-paste recipe, but the steps that small dairy farmers are taking to co-operatively process and distribute their milk so that they can all get a fair and liveable price for it.
the workers at the local homeless services and housing agency voted to unionize, and the board gave them the go ahead, without a fight.
there's still only one walmart in the entire state.
you can actually eat locally without having to try that hard or spend that much more than usual.
i still don't want to live here... i'm too addicted to the hustle and bustle of a major metropolis, and it kind of creeps me out that i've made three friends since landing back here, and it's already hard to go into town *without* seeing at least one of them. (but then again, i've only been into town three or four times, and i've already made three new friends, so maybe i should just quit my bitching.)
oh and speaking of vermont creeping me out, i went out for my morning (early afternoon, actually) cigarette in bare feet today. it's mid-november... there should be *at least* three inches acumulated snow on the ground. but it's sixty. and this is a pattern. that scares me. that house in maine could be beach-front a lot sooner than anyone imagined.
now to enjoy some of this sunshine.
the folk's basement is entirely painted, though let me just interject here that applying oil-based enamel (which has been mixed with portland cement so it will form a waterproof layer) with a roller SUCKS. especially because before you can paint concrete block, you have to scrub the hell out of it with a trisodium phosphate solution that has to be rinsed. by hand. but the basement looks damned good, my folks are happy with it, and i just made about seven-hundred dollars.
this weekend my dad and i'll be going up to maine, where my aunt managed to grab back the land some developers had grabbed from my grandfather. it's the rudiments of a small house on a twenty-acre lot about twenty miles from camden and, therefore, from the ocean. we'll be there to assess the necessary work and to board the place up for the winter, but hopefully i'll be able to swing over to the coast for a bit. it's always worth it to see the ocean.
and as dreary as painting a basement is, being in vermont has refreshed my spirit, if in weird ways. for one thing, being here has confirmed my growing conviction that small, local, and directly democratic is the way for folks to organize themselves. when you live in chicago, or visit new york, you can theorize endlessly about issues of scale and individual autonomy. you can even dream of workers' collectives and self-sufficient housing cooperatives. but the scale and size of the city remains a huge obstacle to seeing any of these things actually happen; even more, when they do happen they tend to happen only by and for a small number of like-minded radical folks.
but here in vermont, it's fifth-(or sixth- or seventh-)generation family farmers who are forming co-operatives. the folks who make a living on the sugarbushes* are the ones ranting about global warming. and when you call the secretary of the state's office, the secretary of the state answers. my mother brought me a copy of the catamount tavern news, the newsletter of the green mountain anarchist collective... and it's all about dairy farming. not "black bloc" tactics, or "personal revolutions," or the latest wheat-paste recipe, but the steps that small dairy farmers are taking to co-operatively process and distribute their milk so that they can all get a fair and liveable price for it.
the workers at the local homeless services and housing agency voted to unionize, and the board gave them the go ahead, without a fight.
there's still only one walmart in the entire state.
you can actually eat locally without having to try that hard or spend that much more than usual.
i still don't want to live here... i'm too addicted to the hustle and bustle of a major metropolis, and it kind of creeps me out that i've made three friends since landing back here, and it's already hard to go into town *without* seeing at least one of them. (but then again, i've only been into town three or four times, and i've already made three new friends, so maybe i should just quit my bitching.)
oh and speaking of vermont creeping me out, i went out for my morning (early afternoon, actually) cigarette in bare feet today. it's mid-november... there should be *at least* three inches acumulated snow on the ground. but it's sixty. and this is a pattern. that scares me. that house in maine could be beach-front a lot sooner than anyone imagined.
now to enjoy some of this sunshine.