What I Know of a Creek

Amazon distance

This morning, like most mornings, I rode my bike to work along a creek, my pockets stuffed with peanuts.I've been feeding the crows, you see.  My best friend does this, and taught me.  He holds his hand in front of his face before tossing unsalted whole-shell peanuts where the corvids will see them.  It'd been a practice I'd long intended to pick up, but I've only started it recently, and only after finding the corpse of a dead crow on one of my rides home from work.The name of the one go … [Read more...]

The Dance of Desire and Delight

It is strange to be a writer, particularly in the midst of life.Those of you reading this who also write may understand, perhaps agree or disagree, but it seems to me there exists an often difficult and fascinating conflict between the voice of narration and the body of experience.I am writing this in a notebook.  The pages of compressed wood-pulp glare garishly white at my return glance as I attempt to interrupt its pristine nothingness, its blank receptivity, with ink scrawls of black. … [Read more...]

Dionysos in a Paving Stone, Brighid in the Broken Glass

pic1

I stood on the corner of the street, waiting for a bus to take me from Seattle and saw a friend.  It's been awhile since I'd seen them*, and I'd never been where I was about to go, so they were a welcome sight.  After a brief embrace and a few words, we'd realized we were going to the same place, taking almost the same route.They'd never been either.  Both of our first times."Were you at Mayday last year?"They nodded.  "Yeah--last year was my political Beltaine, this year's my spi … [Read more...]

A Light That Never Goes Out…

St. Mary's

I saw my first Beltaine fire in a Paschal flame.Eighteen years ago now, I think, though I do not trust my own accounting.  My friends had returned home to family but I remained, for my family was far away and I wanted, instead, to wander the long rock outcroppings and listen to the sea.I went for a time to a Christian college in Cape Ann, Massachusetts.  This is not that story, for there is little to tell: a young, awkward, secretly gay guy, raised in abject poverty, given a massive s … [Read more...]

Disenchantment, Enclosure, And ‘The Burning Times’

hans glaser

“Slave owners knew that to master a human being, no matter what his race or color, all you need to do is strip him of his identity, his land, the strength of his culture and the memory of his ancestors.”From the Film, The Language You Cry InI have thus far spoken of Disenchantment in general terms, providing modern examples of how it relates to specific places and how Capitalism is sustained by materialistic conceptions of the everyday.  I’ve tried to show how Capitalism and disenc … [Read more...]

Some Walk Away

black-square

In 1973, Ursula K. Le Guin published a short story, called “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas.” She describes in flowery language a sort of utopian city (Omelas) in which every inhabitant lives in utmost happiness, wealth, contentment and joy. Every person enjoys unparalleled success, health, and all the benefits of social progress…except one person.In a basement, you see, there is a child that lives in absolute squalor and abuse. No, more—the child must live in horrible conditions in order … [Read more...]

What We Built From Ruins, Part Four

Berlin Raben

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] I. The grove was still as the sun set, a chill upon the evening settling the spirits of the students into a contemplative gaze.  The Druid felt the cold in his bones a bit more every year, and this evening particularly.  Age and the world weighed upon him almost as heavily as memory.He sighed.  “We’d thought we could go on like this forever, you know.  You, who weren’t yet born cannot perhaps understand what such an illusion is.  What are your illusions, w … [Read more...]


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