Further Experiments in Living

Here at The Warren things work a little differently than I have become accustomed to. Here following is account of a new systems, mores, and design statements.

Today we have our first house meeting and we decide:

- meetings will be held biweekly instead of weekly
- check-ins remain intact!
- each meeting will be led by a different person (both the agenda and scheduling - which pleases me greatly and hopefully everyone will feel equally responsible for meetings)
- we won't have chore rotation but we will have a point person (on a rotating basis) to cover basic groceries, hoping that people can be fairly responsible for general upkeep
- one person is in charge of the bills

I make banana bread! But it's super dense because I use baking powder instead of soda. Oops.

I miss: cunts on the walls and a general collect-all-keep-all-find-it-all beautiful style, dance parties, a belief in home made remedies, a love of cleaning products that aren't meant to kill everything.

But -

It's nice and cozy and keeps me on my toes. I have to explain myself sometimes and that can be good for a body. The light tickles every corner of the house and there is always a slight smell of crisp leaves floating at the edges of things. And we still smoke cigarettes on the porch and talk about our days. People sing as they stir pots on the stove and we steal other people's internet (oops). Risto and I make fools of ourselves often and lustily. I am getting used to what seems upfront and on the outside and on the surface and in the pictures on the walls a slight boug factor. I like to think of us as secret agents out in the world, looking and acting normative, but sweetly, quietly thinking/talking/being radical slyly spreading our ways with mere suggestive and example.

It's different. We're different. That's funny but quite alright.

accidentally stoned on an incidental rock

hullo world, i'm ready.
well, never-ready-but-ready-enough-anytime.

my days have been slipping by in smoke, rhythm, and gusts of cold wind. i confess: i have been in the reg. no, no, i take it back, wait: i was only there to print enough pages to make people wait awkwardly while i answer my cell phone unavoidably, talking in short bursts of reception in the quiet 1st floor. so where does the time go? how to patch together a rhythm of holes and gaps?

crisis averted then,
leli might add peanut butter. (or cheese? and.) i say chili powder, always.
i'm living on apples and bread and free cookies and when there's a meal it's an excellent meal.

maybe tomorrow i will theorize something. i would like to theorize a very nice rock.

for now, we play and we dream and we play

finding roaches in the pot

leli's new idea for weed edibles:
make weed butter, put it in a frying pan, and then throw in some eggplant. ("it'll soak it all up like sqqqqqrch.")

three squidlings have been rooting and unrooting themselves from this couch, making cranberry oatmeal chocolate green-cookies (i'll let you know how they turn out) buoyed by russian mumblings and excellent books.

recently i've been reading: bitch magazines from 2001, "the invisible man" (ralph ellison), and a book of perry bible fellowship comics which are kind of funny and kind of lame. also this article on prosecuting mass rape as genocide and tying it doctrinally to ideas of shame, stigma...some international court of justice framing it as "a fate worse than death." so, as leli illuminated to me, talking about talking about talking about rape (meta 3x).

hmmmm and i just received a sobering call. life is strange and fabulous.