I think I'll go back to Grandma Ann's house today. I don't have a good plan of what to do next and how to get out of there though.
I sort of want something good to do--like work in urban planning, something related to carfreeness, affecting public opinion, marketing, organizing. I read a lot of the Worldchanging blog last night--but was thinking that way before then.
I don't have a lot of faith in my ability to commit to something long-term. I still think I may go with or at least check out that sailor, redpillsailor, when he's ready to leave on his long trip.
Being here was healing in a way in that it nearly could be an urban environment that is humane. . . parts of it, and makes me want to participate in it rather than avoid it.
The monastery is another possibility. A very good one, perhaps. They specialize in humane environments--at least Deerpark seems to.
I will use up a lot of $$ if I go to Deerpark-$25/day, but perhaps I should.
The only other path seems to be urban planning somewhere--and most urban environments seem to too depressing to me to want to move around in, to want to try to help. The Worldchanging crew seems to be able to live in it and work to change it.
So, the monastery then? Register for a two-week retreat? -$350? Stay at Grandma Ann's until it is time to go?
Monasteries or sailing--two fairly carfree environments. By putting myself in either, I think I do help--
So I don't need to return to Ann's--I can arrange from here to visit the monastery, and only leave a bit before it is time to go.
But it is time to move somewhere.
Deer Park, Metta Forest, then? Sail? Would like to be with others working on something good--sailing a bit questionable that way, but fear needing to be buddhist without really believing in some of their guidelines (no meat [not all buddhists], no masturbation, who knows what else), needing to deal with the built-in conservativism Brother Stream and others mentioned.
Imagining myself returning to society, needing new clothes, new shoes, not yet quite ready to make my own, like Mike--well, I suppose I could. . .
But do feel that buying--and fitting in with establishment, say as urban planning Intern, could be a poor step--unless I was with Worldchangers, if they really are.
So, I can head back and research worldchanging-type jobs. Make my own shoes or something. I don't want to deal with the urban mistakes wherever those WC opporunities might be. . . want the world already changed. . . Sort of want to stay south of the US--
As you can see, I don't really know.
I guess I will just fall back into rut. Stop this questioning. Release it (following Theory U, Scharmer). Next step will be apparent or will happen to me.
So, why should I leave here? Reasonably comfortably I can hang out on this hill south of town, going down once a day for water, food, exercise. . . @$5/day or less. Can do cheaper at Grandma Ann's perhaps (no $$ for water, & less food buying because storage, foraging easier).
So that's the state of things. Pretty sure I'll be returning today. Tried to contact activist friend Jorge, to visit his garden, but haven't gotten any word back.
Peace,
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Morso (walrus)
That googling was the last gasp of a seemingly endless one megabyte of data. I hit the race PDFs, partly to see if it _was_ unlimited--guess that took care of it.
The Hound Dawg skipper came to his senses, decided not to take me, but said it was an issue adding me to the crewlist in bringing me into the US. That is apparently not a problem, however, but concern with bringing a somewhat grungy stranger & his bag across the border may have been.
That left me little time to get to the marina where the day's race around Todos Santos Island--famous for monster 50-foot waves to surf--started to see if anyone else needed crew. I took, for the first time this trip, one of those ubiquitous little buses--$7, <$.70dlls. And got on board the Morso.
It had rained off and on the night before--but rarely above a heavy drizzle, and I avoided moving and pitching tarp. So got wet and wondered if should move and pitch, and amen'd Jardine's focus on synthetic insulation versus down (partly for usefulness when wet/damp, partly for ease of home construction). Who thought it'd rain on me here before November?
It took longer to cook in the morning than I expected--I was rushing at the end, though I woke at 0640. But I had to be at Hound Dawg by 0930--a half-hour walk. Hard shift from needing to pass as much time as possible as pleasantly as possible to needing to be somewhere at a time. I wasn't even sure there was no hour difference due to differences with daylight savings time between US and Mexico. I'd never before checked what the local time was.
Describing these events after the fact is too solid. In reality it was more like riding a wave--getting off could have happened so easily: being late, quitting after Hound Dawg's no, deciding to walk the whole way instead of taking bus, figuring out how to catch bus, being patient waiting, getting past security at Coral marina, finding a boat that had not left yet, that was ready to go, that was needing crew that instant.
The sailing was peaceful. Five hours.
Afterward the surfing began again: what do I do? Can I get a ride to SD? Is adding a crew to your list that hard? If I'd approached one friendly boat differently perhaps I'd have got a ride to Mission Bay--as it was I filled my jug with marina water--the Ensenada doctor I'd crewed for said it was fine if you boil it (forgot to ask about the water that boats put in their tanks)--and prepared to head to the hills--but knowing that their regatta awards party was in walking distance, perhaps I'd stop in--
It _was_ the way I was headed. I solicited inside for a bit, but then went out to wait for groups as they arrived, and got to talking with Mario, the security guy/parking lot attendant.
Magic. It is tranquil now--he said--I could begin to feel his sense. But the sound of the cars always there--I said. Beyond, above that--he said--in the light. . . in the breeze on your face, pausing to demonstrate, he gave more example than words. I then felt and knew his sense, what he meant, the tranquilidad he was describing. . . in that moment he is a great teacher, show-er. Are you a metaphysic? I asked (I had noted a vipassana & related presentation by a guy who used the word: metafisicasedecentral.com / metafisicayosoy @ hotmail . And that turned him on. He showed me a trance as he stared at the setting sun, and in him I saw Ramakrishna, knew he _was_ there. I am paranormal--he said (all this is my rough memory, understanding, translation, condensation of his Spanish, which was wonderful for me because of the intense meaning in his speech, his patience with my Spanish, his not switching to English [he's not proficient at it])--I speak with crows, los cuervos . . . I see infra-red . . . I see GPS signals. I kept listening--we each occasionally attending to our duties--him as greeter, me as solicitor of rides north--and I posed to him my life problems. How do I choose? How did you choose?
No resolution, perhaps, did he give me in his respuestas. . . but I have yet to really consider/contemplate this encounter, what was being expressed. Eventually I left to walk up to the hills. Partway to the path a man who'd come from the restaurant was waving up at me--I thought I had a ride. It was an employee/friend of the doctor inviting me to stay as the dr's guest.
The doctor knows my type (however momentary), I sense, and I'm not sure what my type's relation is to the established man and significant contributor to the life and wealthier/more powerful society of a town. He was ready to let me be. But his (younger) novia(o? thought I heard him say)--I bet it was her idea.
--
The broad details of the day are down, enough for now. Tomorrow? May call my activist friend, ask to visit his garden, spend another night on the south side of town. Make an appointment with a dentist recommended by the doctor (dr's name is Joel = Ho-el). Catch a bus back to TJ/ Tecate. Visit UABC library. Who knows. The Morso sails ~ every other Sunday, mentioned Terry, Joel's novia.
I walk up by the dr's house on the way to the sleeping spot closest to the center of town. Here, where I am now, I'm a bit further north, near where I was the first night, straight up from and a bit south of where the regatta party was--something like ~Sare's Steakhouse & Cafe, though we had mexican food buffet, $20dlls per.
Hound Dawg is a high-powered, fancy US racer, forty+ feet(?) (It took second today. Staghound was first, and did not attend the awards ceremony. So far ahead it was it may have gone on North right away.), with a laid-back (so the crew says) crew of more than five(?). Morso is an old 26' fiberglass nothing fancy--with a crew this time of four (Joel, Terecita, & Carlos, who showed up after me--a longtime crew-er of nine years with Ensenada yacht club races, he set up the spinnaker).
Peace,
The Hound Dawg skipper came to his senses, decided not to take me, but said it was an issue adding me to the crewlist in bringing me into the US. That is apparently not a problem, however, but concern with bringing a somewhat grungy stranger & his bag across the border may have been.
That left me little time to get to the marina where the day's race around Todos Santos Island--famous for monster 50-foot waves to surf--started to see if anyone else needed crew. I took, for the first time this trip, one of those ubiquitous little buses--$7, <$.70dlls. And got on board the Morso.
It had rained off and on the night before--but rarely above a heavy drizzle, and I avoided moving and pitching tarp. So got wet and wondered if should move and pitch, and amen'd Jardine's focus on synthetic insulation versus down (partly for usefulness when wet/damp, partly for ease of home construction). Who thought it'd rain on me here before November?
It took longer to cook in the morning than I expected--I was rushing at the end, though I woke at 0640. But I had to be at Hound Dawg by 0930--a half-hour walk. Hard shift from needing to pass as much time as possible as pleasantly as possible to needing to be somewhere at a time. I wasn't even sure there was no hour difference due to differences with daylight savings time between US and Mexico. I'd never before checked what the local time was.
Describing these events after the fact is too solid. In reality it was more like riding a wave--getting off could have happened so easily: being late, quitting after Hound Dawg's no, deciding to walk the whole way instead of taking bus, figuring out how to catch bus, being patient waiting, getting past security at Coral marina, finding a boat that had not left yet, that was ready to go, that was needing crew that instant.
The sailing was peaceful. Five hours.
Afterward the surfing began again: what do I do? Can I get a ride to SD? Is adding a crew to your list that hard? If I'd approached one friendly boat differently perhaps I'd have got a ride to Mission Bay--as it was I filled my jug with marina water--the Ensenada doctor I'd crewed for said it was fine if you boil it (forgot to ask about the water that boats put in their tanks)--and prepared to head to the hills--but knowing that their regatta awards party was in walking distance, perhaps I'd stop in--
It _was_ the way I was headed. I solicited inside for a bit, but then went out to wait for groups as they arrived, and got to talking with Mario, the security guy/parking lot attendant.
Magic. It is tranquil now--he said--I could begin to feel his sense. But the sound of the cars always there--I said. Beyond, above that--he said--in the light. . . in the breeze on your face, pausing to demonstrate, he gave more example than words. I then felt and knew his sense, what he meant, the tranquilidad he was describing. . . in that moment he is a great teacher, show-er. Are you a metaphysic? I asked (I had noted a vipassana & related presentation by a guy who used the word: metafisicasedecentral.com / metafisicayosoy @ hotmail . And that turned him on. He showed me a trance as he stared at the setting sun, and in him I saw Ramakrishna, knew he _was_ there. I am paranormal--he said (all this is my rough memory, understanding, translation, condensation of his Spanish, which was wonderful for me because of the intense meaning in his speech, his patience with my Spanish, his not switching to English [he's not proficient at it])--I speak with crows, los cuervos . . . I see infra-red . . . I see GPS signals. I kept listening--we each occasionally attending to our duties--him as greeter, me as solicitor of rides north--and I posed to him my life problems. How do I choose? How did you choose?
No resolution, perhaps, did he give me in his respuestas. . . but I have yet to really consider/contemplate this encounter, what was being expressed. Eventually I left to walk up to the hills. Partway to the path a man who'd come from the restaurant was waving up at me--I thought I had a ride. It was an employee/friend of the doctor inviting me to stay as the dr's guest.
The doctor knows my type (however momentary), I sense, and I'm not sure what my type's relation is to the established man and significant contributor to the life and wealthier/more powerful society of a town. He was ready to let me be. But his (younger) novia(o? thought I heard him say)--I bet it was her idea.
--
The broad details of the day are down, enough for now. Tomorrow? May call my activist friend, ask to visit his garden, spend another night on the south side of town. Make an appointment with a dentist recommended by the doctor (dr's name is Joel = Ho-el). Catch a bus back to TJ/ Tecate. Visit UABC library. Who knows. The Morso sails ~ every other Sunday, mentioned Terry, Joel's novia.
I walk up by the dr's house on the way to the sleeping spot closest to the center of town. Here, where I am now, I'm a bit further north, near where I was the first night, straight up from and a bit south of where the regatta party was--something like ~Sare's Steakhouse & Cafe, though we had mexican food buffet, $20dlls per.
Hound Dawg is a high-powered, fancy US racer, forty+ feet(?) (It took second today. Staghound was first, and did not attend the awards ceremony. So far ahead it was it may have gone on North right away.), with a laid-back (so the crew says) crew of more than five(?). Morso is an old 26' fiberglass nothing fancy--with a crew this time of four (Joel, Terecita, & Carlos, who showed up after me--a longtime crew-er of nine years with Ensenada yacht club races, he set up the spinnaker).
Peace,
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Hounddawg
If all goes well (or who really can say what would be best?), tomorrow I'll get to crew on Hounddawg (Annapolis, MD; captain: Drew) in the race around Todos Santos (?) Island (an island at the edge of the bay). I may be able to sail with them back to San Diego too.
I almost blew the whole thing: the paper I read about the race in, _The Log_ or _Baja Times_, said, I believe, that they would not arrive until late Saturday afternoon at the earliest. While shitting on the hillside around 4pm this afternoon, I googled "San Diego Ensenada race sail" and found they had already reported times, that it is only 60 nautical miles from Point Loma to Ensenada, that the awards ceremony was at noon today, and so on.
I walked quickly over to Hotel San Nicholas and asked around of the people still there--and found these guys in red shirts, playing pool, a bit drunk, who had been shorthanded on the way down.
This got me into the Cruise Port Marina, where I could take a shower and post more notes about seeking to crew. Now I'm back on top of the hill closest to town. Btw, midnight two nights ago one older guy and two younger ones walked by this spot--oblivious to me it seemed.
Aside from that, I had managed to enjoy being patient on the hillside, looking around (I never noticed a lot of sailboats coming in, but they may have all arrived Friday night), reading Calvino, partly in the shade of a bush. I was going to go down, get water, come back up, not go into town until Sunday.
It's drizzling.
2008-10-04-0940
Peace,
I almost blew the whole thing: the paper I read about the race in, _The Log_ or _Baja Times_, said, I believe, that they would not arrive until late Saturday afternoon at the earliest. While shitting on the hillside around 4pm this afternoon, I googled "San Diego Ensenada race sail" and found they had already reported times, that it is only 60 nautical miles from Point Loma to Ensenada, that the awards ceremony was at noon today, and so on.
I walked quickly over to Hotel San Nicholas and asked around of the people still there--and found these guys in red shirts, playing pool, a bit drunk, who had been shorthanded on the way down.
This got me into the Cruise Port Marina, where I could take a shower and post more notes about seeking to crew. Now I'm back on top of the hill closest to town. Btw, midnight two nights ago one older guy and two younger ones walked by this spot--oblivious to me it seemed.
Aside from that, I had managed to enjoy being patient on the hillside, looking around (I never noticed a lot of sailboats coming in, but they may have all arrived Friday night), reading Calvino, partly in the shade of a bush. I was going to go down, get water, come back up, not go into town until Sunday.
It's drizzling.
2008-10-04-0940
Peace,
grad school
If I last out here until October 20th or so, maybe that's a way of looking at this time. [grad hobo school]
There's a big ground-breaking for a community garden near where I used to live on 10/21, and my mom may be in SD at that time--
Thursday I did not meet the marineros, but the activists instead. The sailors don't meet at Vendimia _every_ Jueves, I was told. However, at the end of the SD -> Ensenada race which started Friday, they gather at the Saint Nicholas hotel--
I did mend my pack: for me a great accomplishment and industry and some inventiveness (used the tab of a Tecate can to run drawstring through so it doesn't cut the sil-nylon any more).
Tues night I was out near Sauzal. Went back to UABC library Weds. Found beautiful coast walk and another back way (past security) into El Coral marina. Posted note seeking to crew. Found new spot practically right over town (in hills) Weds night. Thursday went back out coast walk, swam, found shade, sewed, lay hypnotized by sounds and sights of ocean and ocean life. Have not spent this kind of time right on the coast for years--if I lived near water and beach in SoCal, maybe. . . [something].
But mind was voided [what now? Nothing], and Thursday asked about buses to TJ. Could cost only $10 dlls, but haven't verified. ABC bus line. Every half hour. Trip is just an hour or less? So easy to return. But heard the Valle de Guadeloupe(sp?) is even more beautiful than the coast for at least one SoCal transplant (a marketer). I believe this is along the road from Sauzal to Tecate. Were I headed back north and manage not to rush, hope to go that way--catch the smaller buses or hitch. Wine Country.
I managed to hang on though. I have nothing to do in SD, nothing to do here[--nothing comes to mind]. Why leave? And I won't let myself return to old rut, won't return without some plan of what I'd be doing and when I'd get out.
I did meet the activists in the plaza of large gold heads. October 2, 1968 students were killed (50 or so?) by soldiers in Mexico City(, at UNAM?). The activists would like permanent display space for information about this killing and related issues in this plaza of (~2m altura) gold heads( of prominent males in the fairytale Mexican history--hidalgo, juarez, and??[ De Goma/de Vasca?]).
I spoke most with Jorge--he could find me folks to stay with, invited me to 10peso/pint beer the next day at Amigos, shared info so we could stay in touch. I had my carfree vest on--this is sort of my crowd. . . we knew folks in common from the City Heights Free Skool & Organic Collective. He'd watched from the top of the fence, Mexico side, when the Border Patrol came in on 'no borders camp' (US side) and grabbed one activist and were beating the guy.
Well--I haven't followed up yet. Was sort of thinking of heading north at the time. Things are different in the mornings. I was a bit tired out yesterday [Friday] and laid around in various spots where I found shade: where I woke, until sun was higher, reading papers I'd collected; by the rock wall of the overlook on Chualtepec (sp?) hill, listening to a probably professional drummer practicing in one of the large, interestingly-architectured houses nearby; and in the oasis of shade and mellowly great public space at Parque de Revolución--a ways off the main tourist street. Cruise ship patrons were running through the latter, the town bimbos trying to catch the (generally American, somewhat frat-ish) cruise ship bimbos.
In el Parque, practicing sitting on a bench, sort of felt like a Quaker meeting. Eventually settled down and just sat. Eventually got to reading more Calvino--this time a Spanish translation, his Cuentos Fantasticos del Siglo XIX (something like that). At one point helped my benchmate move our bench a bit so he could be more in the shade. Eventually the little whiffs of exhaust I'd been getting got to be too much. Resolved to get food and make for the plaza near the harbor (better air) and head south for the evening. So now I'm on a hill south of town after having spent some time along the beach south of town [in the afternoon shade behind a deserted guard box/casa de vigilancia].
Some notes of things to look up sometime:
o a google search on "baja permaculture" -- I did this and . . . A site near TJ came up--
o http://trifund.org - united world of art, evironment, culture
o Augen Optics (has a fancy factory near where I spent night in Sauzal)
o Santorini ? Fancy blank façade--toughish males out front. & sanoviv(e) , while you're at it--the med school.
o Ongley Institute
o IWAHQ.org - publishes _Water_ a water industry mag.
o Titulos en español y en lenguas indigenas - www.culturaspopulareseindigenas.gob.mx / cnca.gob.mx
o council cudadano de atención al tourista - ccat
o Coleus (a genus of plant?)
o Comisión de Amor
o Frente Popular Revolución - pcmml.com
o junkraft.blogspot.com - ecomariner Joel Paschel
o solidnav.com / repower
o hospitalityclub.org (ensenada hosp. club)
o bajanews.info
o ensenadadentalgroup.com (a visit to dentist could be good, if they were)
o juventud con una misión (rehab?)
--
A lot of the wondering, when mind not blanked by rolling waves, waves hitting rocks, pelicans flying, surging water, sparkles, light, has been '. . . well, now what?'
Haven't been driven to head to that mountain--not yet, so far. Sort of feel I'm done wandering alone? So: wait around still more to try to meet some sailors who may need crew. Wait until redpillsailor is ready to leave--. Go to family farm and grow something(s). Go to monastery. Continue to hang out and do nothing/read ebooks/whatever. Go back to SoCal or US somewhere (along beach? or anywhere else--) get some sort of job [McDs?], make money, pay rent--, go work on some permaculture project-- , urban planning or library school/work--
have entertained and imagined out those possibilities and a few others. . .
The continuing themes: not wanting to commit to any significant ?? (such as becoming a buddhist, such as making the effort to visit the permaculture site, such as asking anyone for anything [let me crew, let me have this job], such as . . .)
Lest you think it's too idyllic out here--always seems to be at least one spry mosquito out on these hills. And I haven't sewn Ray's anti-mosquito gear, and not until tonight has it really been cool enough to stay covered with quilt.
Peace,
There's a big ground-breaking for a community garden near where I used to live on 10/21, and my mom may be in SD at that time--
Thursday I did not meet the marineros, but the activists instead. The sailors don't meet at Vendimia _every_ Jueves, I was told. However, at the end of the SD -> Ensenada race which started Friday, they gather at the Saint Nicholas hotel--
I did mend my pack: for me a great accomplishment and industry and some inventiveness (used the tab of a Tecate can to run drawstring through so it doesn't cut the sil-nylon any more).
Tues night I was out near Sauzal. Went back to UABC library Weds. Found beautiful coast walk and another back way (past security) into El Coral marina. Posted note seeking to crew. Found new spot practically right over town (in hills) Weds night. Thursday went back out coast walk, swam, found shade, sewed, lay hypnotized by sounds and sights of ocean and ocean life. Have not spent this kind of time right on the coast for years--if I lived near water and beach in SoCal, maybe. . . [something].
But mind was voided [what now? Nothing], and Thursday asked about buses to TJ. Could cost only $10 dlls, but haven't verified. ABC bus line. Every half hour. Trip is just an hour or less? So easy to return. But heard the Valle de Guadeloupe(sp?) is even more beautiful than the coast for at least one SoCal transplant (a marketer). I believe this is along the road from Sauzal to Tecate. Were I headed back north and manage not to rush, hope to go that way--catch the smaller buses or hitch. Wine Country.
I managed to hang on though. I have nothing to do in SD, nothing to do here[--nothing comes to mind]. Why leave? And I won't let myself return to old rut, won't return without some plan of what I'd be doing and when I'd get out.
I did meet the activists in the plaza of large gold heads. October 2, 1968 students were killed (50 or so?) by soldiers in Mexico City(, at UNAM?). The activists would like permanent display space for information about this killing and related issues in this plaza of (~2m altura) gold heads( of prominent males in the fairytale Mexican history--hidalgo, juarez, and??[ De Goma/de Vasca?]).
I spoke most with Jorge--he could find me folks to stay with, invited me to 10peso/pint beer the next day at Amigos, shared info so we could stay in touch. I had my carfree vest on--this is sort of my crowd. . . we knew folks in common from the City Heights Free Skool & Organic Collective. He'd watched from the top of the fence, Mexico side, when the Border Patrol came in on 'no borders camp' (US side) and grabbed one activist and were beating the guy.
Well--I haven't followed up yet. Was sort of thinking of heading north at the time. Things are different in the mornings. I was a bit tired out yesterday [Friday] and laid around in various spots where I found shade: where I woke, until sun was higher, reading papers I'd collected; by the rock wall of the overlook on Chualtepec (sp?) hill, listening to a probably professional drummer practicing in one of the large, interestingly-architectured houses nearby; and in the oasis of shade and mellowly great public space at Parque de Revolución--a ways off the main tourist street. Cruise ship patrons were running through the latter, the town bimbos trying to catch the (generally American, somewhat frat-ish) cruise ship bimbos.
In el Parque, practicing sitting on a bench, sort of felt like a Quaker meeting. Eventually settled down and just sat. Eventually got to reading more Calvino--this time a Spanish translation, his Cuentos Fantasticos del Siglo XIX (something like that). At one point helped my benchmate move our bench a bit so he could be more in the shade. Eventually the little whiffs of exhaust I'd been getting got to be too much. Resolved to get food and make for the plaza near the harbor (better air) and head south for the evening. So now I'm on a hill south of town after having spent some time along the beach south of town [in the afternoon shade behind a deserted guard box/casa de vigilancia].
Some notes of things to look up sometime:
o a google search on "baja permaculture" -- I did this and . . . A site near TJ came up--
o http://trifund.org - united world of art, evironment, culture
o Augen Optics (has a fancy factory near where I spent night in Sauzal)
o Santorini ? Fancy blank façade--toughish males out front. & sanoviv(e) , while you're at it--the med school.
o Ongley Institute
o IWAHQ.org - publishes _Water_ a water industry mag.
o Titulos en español y en lenguas indigenas - www.culturaspopulareseindigenas.gob.mx / cnca.gob.mx
o council cudadano de atención al tourista - ccat
o Coleus (a genus of plant?)
o Comisión de Amor
o Frente Popular Revolución - pcmml.com
o junkraft.blogspot.com - ecomariner Joel Paschel
o solidnav.com / repower
o hospitalityclub.org (ensenada hosp. club)
o bajanews.info
o ensenadadentalgroup.com (a visit to dentist could be good, if they were)
o juventud con una misión (rehab?)
--
A lot of the wondering, when mind not blanked by rolling waves, waves hitting rocks, pelicans flying, surging water, sparkles, light, has been '. . . well, now what?'
Haven't been driven to head to that mountain--not yet, so far. Sort of feel I'm done wandering alone? So: wait around still more to try to meet some sailors who may need crew. Wait until redpillsailor is ready to leave--. Go to family farm and grow something(s). Go to monastery. Continue to hang out and do nothing/read ebooks/whatever. Go back to SoCal or US somewhere (along beach? or anywhere else--) get some sort of job [McDs?], make money, pay rent--, go work on some permaculture project-- , urban planning or library school/work--
have entertained and imagined out those possibilities and a few others. . .
The continuing themes: not wanting to commit to any significant ?? (such as becoming a buddhist, such as making the effort to visit the permaculture site, such as asking anyone for anything [let me crew, let me have this job], such as . . .)
Lest you think it's too idyllic out here--always seems to be at least one spry mosquito out on these hills. And I haven't sewn Ray's anti-mosquito gear, and not until tonight has it really been cool enough to stay covered with quilt.
Peace,
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