This weekend we went to Fort Bragg and spend two days on the beach, two days of community service volunteering and a new mystery team to sleep in a barn with.
This weekend we found a new friend a leprechaun clown, chinese food, sheep in the dark while looking for frogs, mastiffs and bonfire singers, stories and warmth, our unfriendly team and their far out team, cool ass girls who don’t talk much, no alcohol, sheba singing Ethipopian lullabies, fortune cookies, denied Thai food, ditching the plan, following the plan, a cool ass 25 year old female farmer with a boyfriend’s beard she pulled on when she was talking, full scheduled days and enjoying every minute out it, new people and new places a welcome break, all kinds of people when you are open to them, lovely barn to sleep in own private side to write by flashlight light until I fall asleep. Tossing and turning and waking up every two hours or so because someone was knocking feet with me in our sleeping bags and the cold was seeping into my bag. Something I forgot about from Silver Falls– not being able to sleep fully through the nights because the cold wakes you up.
Got a lot of postcards, and cards, and a writing exercise book.
Overwhelmed a bit right now. Would rather have gotten everything blogged before I went to work today, but what can you do. This is my life. I will write it all tonight, or I will never write it.
To start with, though. The whole car ride to Fort Bragg was populated with the strong smell of garlic. Syd, Jess and I in the backseat. We had brought a bottle of diced garlic, and when we got to the ocean, we realized it had leaked all over our car.
I had to keep repeating that it wasn’t me or Carinne, as we have already previously identified that I constantly smell like onions and garlic. I’m always chopping them, cooking them, smelling like them.
The road there is the most windy road I’ve ever experienced in my life. Everyone always gets carsick, we’ve driven it once before when we went to camp Mendocino back in October. You’re driving in a tight spiral, sheer redwood cliffs on the right side of you going there, and the right side of you going back.
When you finally emerge, you look back and see the mountain that you just drove through, and you realize that even though these mountains don’t seem as big as the Rocky Mountains, they are still mountains.
7:25 am Sunday morning
“COFFEE!!” brought in by gowan.
Cuba, code pink member. talk about trip over coffee. doesn’t think that normalizing relations will cause globalization, thinks that the revolution is too ingrained. saw grave of che.
sheep with ram-like horns not as scary in the morning. the night before we went on a night hike, and saw twenty pairs of eyes in the dark. and walked toward them with confidence. and petted them like dogs under the starry night sky.
propane smells like ass.
walk with gowan— sustainability. life changing. learned so much. can’t even start now. have to try to write it later. she is a person. she is a really, really cool person. 25 and an agricultural and teaching genius. and humble.
-so much money from composting to be made. sheep coughing up their grass– digesting. nemotodes/whales. soil- growing soil. come back and woof.
during bonfire that night— could hear the ocean. we could hear the ocean as we fell asleep. how cool is that? could see it when we woke up.
not like the farmers here: chiller, warmer, realer, on the level and approachable. kindhearted. sustainability for the world, not just for self.
breakfast all together. 25 people in a barn. two of our people still on the floor, sleeping through it in their military sleeping bags.
The night before we planted kale and strawberries. and ate at a chinese restaurant and I got mushu– and it was the best thing. like chinese tacos- as the waitress explained it to me.
What follows is notes from the weekend. Apologies for the lack of coherence at times, I don’t have enough time to edit, or explain fully. Hopefully the notes from the weekend will be enough. They are enough for me to remember most of it, at least.
Wherever you are, you are.
Be it all.
Pacific Ocean! 9:24 am 2/28/215
Express yourself. Become yourself. You’ve a right to be just as the “trees and the stars” and the person sitting next to you. And chances are the person sitting next to you would be honored if you started up a conversation with them.
Walking to the beach on a side path no one else is taking, to take a picture before I left. Intercepted by a man walking past me right as I was about to pull my camera out.
“What organization are you a part of?”
He laughed, said that he was from Cuba, and there the Soviet Union used to wear uniforms that said: PCCC
He then started talking about technology, and how it was going to be our downfall. Because are separated from one another, and don’t actually talk to one another about the world.
Traditional Cuban music.
-World is an organism. harm one piece of the ocean, harm self.
-revolutions should never be violent. “So revolution with art” even art can be violent. propaganda creates wars.
-revolutions are like a rose. it’s not there until one day it blooms. all the ingredients have to be in place for a time before to make that bloom a reality.
-“You know you work for the government, right?”
I got his email, and he invited me to a music concert he was putting on in a few weeks.
-you know that slavery still exists, no? it’s cheaper, because you don’t have to feed or house your slaves anymore, these corporations never even see the people working for them.
-i sleep in my car. i’m homeless. don’t tell anyone. i can get thrown in jail for the fact of not owning property. illegal to live in a car, but not illegal to commit genocide for “safety” and own modern day corporate slaves around the world.
Jess walks up as we are about to leave, and I introduce her. He talks about butterflies, how they come out of their cocoons and become something beautiful and new. And that is one of the things Jess always talks about: becoming a butterfly.
i asked him about normalizing relations in cuba right now— he said that in his opinion, “normalizing relations” would not happen unless the us was benefiting from it in some way. it’s not communication- it’s a one sided culture war.
-please don’t arrest me. I’m not a terrorist or a criminal. i am just homeless. i am just an artist who is living my life. when you see obama, tell him what i told you. he’s a puppet, so actually, he won’t listen. tell someone who will listen.
Wearing a hood, one hoop earring and tan skin. Eyes clear and searching. Ready for change.
Follow flow. Led to him in that moment, not taking the perfect picture of the sea as I had planned. Go with flow and engage with whoever and whatever intrigues you. And give people a chance when you have the time, and you feel safe.
Help. Homeless illegal? What an idea.
Agitated eleven people in the car. So much commotion and anger and frustration. Then a nice piano song comes on over the speakers– and the van full of people is instantly soothed and silenced. Staring out windows with content and complacence.
“Oh shit, the piano song.” -Jess and I cracking up in the backseat. This happens everytime. It is some crazy pavlov’s dog shit.
I said I need a tiny music piano to carry around and play every time people are being dumbasses.
“Still vagabonds” “Most stories have a hero who finds/you make your past your past”
“Trailer trash people…” No okay to use those adjectives, people.
Eat everything touch everything be everything.
Smoking a cig on a horse in Fort Bragg. Not me, but someone else out in the world.
The other team is sitting there waiting for us at Glass Beach. Just like it was in Silver Falls. We are consistently twenty minutes late for everything. We’ve created it agenda, and set up ultimate frisbee as a thing we’re doing. And we didn’t bring a frisbee. Stop at the dollar tree and see just how far we can stretch other’s patience.
We never played with the frisbee.
We hiked Glass Beach, and it was actually a really scary beach. Great ridtide. There was a lot of the classic smooth sea glass, but there was also a lot of new, sharp glass. Don’t go barefoot. It used to be a dump ground long ago, and it still is a dump ground.
We hiked around down there, and I had a moment by the sea. I wished that we would get to live by the sea soon, but that just doesn’t seem in the cards with new information.
As we’re leaving them, I’m asking when we’ll see them again.
“Annie loves people.” George, the 18 year old self proclaimed sage comments. “Annie loves NEW people. She doesn’t care about us anymore.”
“It’s partly true. I do love new people and places. It’s where I thrive. Once I meet people and settle into a place, I’m like, shit, what do I do now??!”
But that doesn’t mean I don’t love the people I get to know, it just means that I’ve done the easy part. And I want to learn how to pursue knowing people longer than just a year. But I also know there are so many people out there in the world I can’t stay in one place for long, or around the same people for long. I’ve got so many people to learn about and from.
Blow kisses across the beach.
Humor master chess player: “I love when you plan jokes months prior, Jessie”
“RUNN!!!!! We’re hungry!!!!!”
“We’re horrible people.”
“Are we, or are they?”