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Re-motivating

rainey_wilson

Re-motivating

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Last time I wrote, I was all:
 I met a guy on the co-op shuttle who has me thinking there may be a way for me to avoid rent altogether....but more on that later.
Rainey
*more later, also, on how the co-op shuttle scheme works. I love its big-hearted, high-tech, all-aboard nature.

I talked about the co-op shuttle a bit in my Shout Without for week 9 (about 3 minutes in), so I won't repeat that. Of course these days the shuttle isn't running as often, so we make an effort to give as many ppl a ride as we can to make maximum use of the gas. We're getting better at planning our time around when trips can happen, instead of planning trips at the drop of the hat as soon as we think about something. Noam sane? Like renting DVDs (see my comment to saint3milion's  proposal for the  A-Z Without Oil mission), or tending late-night snack cravings, or more to the point, just wanting to get out of the house. Do you feel stuck like I do sometimes? I feel like it's especially awful for me. Ugh. I'll get back to that.

Yeah so, that guy who had me thinking I could ditch paying rent. He was one of the forest dwellers, a loose community of DIY anrachist punx that build treehouses in well-hidden corners of the forest near the UCSC campus. He'd been living in the same cozy pad for a dozen years or so, and on the shuttle that day he was telling me about his little library and his tea set up, windows overlooking the forest, his system of suspending the house from the tree in such a way that it didn't hurt the tree....gawd it sounded good.

He & I made a date to check out his place, and when we hiked up there it was beautiful. I mean, I live in the forest too, but he lives deep in there, and knew which gnarled branch to turn at, which mossy rock signified a place on the path, and we did cover-your-tracks stuff like spreading pine needles behind us & making a point of not following right behind each other. Adventure! And it was a pretty nice set-up. We climbed up the tree and through the floor of his place, and it was roomy enough for a double bed, a little desk (he had a set of those plastic horizontal shelves with scrap papers, a thrift mug of pens & pencils, an old manual typewriter, and a battery-powered lamp) and another little chair and table. He had wall sheves with a few pantry items, including his bitty stove and teapot and jars of looseleaf tea and mugs, but also jars of rice, couscous, spices...and a collection of free, mildly bruised fruit & veg, & dumpster-dived tofu burgers, which he offered & I declined. But it was nice up there. He insulated by stapling lots of thrifted and gifted cloth to the walls, tapestires, batik sarongs, sheets, and tarp both inside on the ceiling and outside on the roof. And yeah, the view was pretty great.

Over tea he told me about hauling water, digging a---well he called it a sh***r, a place for you to responsibly deal with your, uh, human waste---and otherwise being low-impact & on the QT,  which sounds like a bit of a bear, but at the time I felt robust & up for anything. I thought about the periods of time I'd lived simply, primitive camping (as they call it in the south) on an extended road trip, living with a host family in Oaxaca without  running water indoors (best shower of my life,  dipping a bowl into a pot of hot water & pouring it over myself ), and decided I was up for it, those were some happy times. They were also vacations from real life.

In my Shout Without for Week 11, I mentioned my cat Snarky wasn't doing well. I think it was the free catfood I'd gotten from a neighbor whose own cat had died. I should have put 2 and 2 together. A couple weeks ago, Snarky died, and it wasn't pretty. And then I had big doubts about moving from my safe little unheated cabin, my home sweet home. It's been pretty lonely without my longtime pal Snarky, but at least I have neighbors. When looking at all the empty spots in my cabin when Snarky used to be gets too much for me, I can step out and help in the garden. At first it was pretty hard to motivate that much, but then people would come by, too. One neighbor left me a six-pack of her chicken's eggs and a condolance note, so sweet. When I saw it I started bawling again. Would there be th at kind of community in a secret tree house?

Turns out, it may be a moot point. I ran into that guy on the shuttle again last week. Rangers busted his place. Over the past few eeks, they've been beating a lot of the forest dwellers out of the hidden depths of the forest. I was all set to be indignant on my friend's behalf--I mean, what a time to get all Nazi about busitng the folks who've been living the most WWO of anyone! But my friend was bigger about it than me. Turns out that chainsaw noise I've been hearing isn't neighbors building greenhouses, or I don't know what I thought it was. Some sort of preparation. Well I guess it was, actually, it was tree poachers. They are cutting down trres in the forest for fuel, or if it's a redwood thay can get lots of money for it, $100s tro $1000s depending on the size of the tree. SO the rangers have been on a more thorough beat than usual, tryingto protect the public land. Unfortunatley, they see the forest dwellers as anotherthreat to the public land, so they've been booted.

Now I don't know what I'll do. I kinda wasn't up for it anyway, but at least I felt like I had it as an option.

RW
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