13 December 2009

dropped me down a memory well

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And I doodled and doodled and doodled while thinking about all my years working to save the forest. I put on my big ultra-warm jacket I always wore out planting every winter and took one really, really, really awful shot of myself in forestry mode, that flashed so hard it about whited out the rims of my super-duper drugstore cheaters, and then fiddled with it like mad for about three hours' worth of remembering my life in the trees.

That's the one thing I made my space alien bodhisattva neurosurgeon god promise me: That I'd be able to go back to planting trees every winter. He emphatically told me that, yes, I would be able to do that. Well, he decked me, and my body flipped the hell out, and getting on past four years later, I'm just now starting to think that is feasible... maybe... only now my finances are completely blocking me from even getting the beginning of a plan for how to get to it to do it!

All the people who fight to get me for planting season are about four hours of hard driving away... and I'm not even sure where to start about getting to the right people here... if there even are any.

I don't miss all those stultifying agency meetings where bubkes gets accomplished, except maybe the sacred information you can pick up there and fellow sufferers you get to catch up with, but it drives me nuts not to be planting trees. I've planted literally thousands of trees every year for many, many years, and I have the best survival rate of any of the people the green foresters ask to do this.

Maybe I should just start hassling Derrick Jensen some more... even though he wants to be a turtle and not bother with new people. He's a sucker for the environment and knows everybody on earth. He lives stupidly close to me.

I just hate hassling hermits. I am one, so I know....

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