The Sun Ra Ship is Leaving this Planet!
For over 20 years, all this fun and creativity has been a DIY labor of love. Keeping the Stencil Archive, and this WordPress site, upgraded, updated, secure, and available has taken my gladly given time and money. If you would like to support these sites, the stencil work, and future projects, please consider giving what you can.
Other ways to support the projects: The “Stencil Nation” book is still available and there are now four San Francisco/Oakland street art tours to choose from.
Stephen Bass just texted me asking when our puppet play “Up a Tree” ran at Intersection for the Arts. My photos and archive of the show was not on this site, and the paper media was in a box in storage. I tried a few different searches via a few search sites, and couldn’t get a hit. I even tried the Wayback Machine to see if Intersection had a decent website then (it was mostly a page of broken images).
I then found the story of the activists vs. Maxxam Corp., including Julia Butterfly Hill and David “Gypsy” Chain, and correctly guessed the show’s run as being in 1999.
Hill famously lived in the top of an ancient redwood tree named Luna (Hill said the tree named herself), and our show featured the tree and the activist. Chain was part of the Earth First! direct action tactic, and was killed when a logger felled a tree on the young man. Chain’s story was also in “Up a Tree”.
“Up a Tree” was a low/no budget puppet installation about the plight of the old growth trees up in Northern California, incorporating marionettes with Bunraku operating options (basically, rods that allowed floor-level performers to manipulate the stringed puppets), shadow puppets for flashbacks, soft hand puppets for the animals in the forest (The boss Fox kept trying to trick the logger Beavers into making as much money as possible for Fox’s multinational corporation). Luna was a huge tree going into the rafters of the puppet stage with real tree bark and moving parts used when the tree spoke to Hill.
This show was thrown together with glue, bins of tree bark, the amazing puppet-crafting skills of Jonathan Youtt and David Morley (Joelle LaPlum probably helped as well), and directed by Dan Chumley (with some visits from Peggy Snyder) of the SF Mime Troupe. I played one of the Beavers, the voice of Chain’s abusive father in the shadow flashbacks, and was on the floor-level to be the Bunraku puppeteer for most of the marionettes (and pulled the rope so Luna could “talk”).
I made friends for life during this show, and also got a masters class in puppetry and theater arts. Julia called in one show a week from her platform in Luna and took questions. We went out to visit the tree and be part of some civil disobedience for an action, and there was a massive circle at the end where a woman gave us all a tincture of Luna’s tree sap. When Julia came down from her 738-day sit weeks later, she came straight to CELLspace to meet us all and get in on the fun when she could.
Other great memories: Michael Franti brought his family to a show one night. Building the set, the puppets, the props, and the redwood bark install at the Intersection’s entrance, was a CELLspace community effort. I even cut an EarthFirst! stencil for Chain’s puppet’s small t-shirt. Pod was our amazing sound tech and Leon Rosen helped with that as well. There’s a video of the show, but I recall the sound being horrible.
Dan Chumley must’ve known a theater critic at the time, because a quick search of the show name with his got a direct hit from SFGate’s repost of an “SF Chronicle” review. Here is that review in its entirety.
In “Up a Tree,” a new hourlong installation at Intersection for the Arts, there’s no…
By Steven Winn, Chronicle Theater Critic
October 30, 1999
Puppets are especially beguiling when they appear to have a life of their own. In “Up a Tree,” a new hourlong installation at Intersection for the Arts, there’s no attempt to disguise how labor-intensive that illusion can be.
That’s entirely fitting in this gentle, somewhat fuzzy piece of communal puppet agitprop about Earth First activists and their battle against logging of the Northern California redwood forests. Marionettes, Bunraku-style figures, handheld animals and Balinese shadow puppets share a fragrant forest set with seven visible members of the Monkey Thump Puppet Collective. Explicit and implicit is a message that everyone must work together to protect an endangered environment. The show celebrates the work of two real-life protesters, Julia Butterfly Hill and the late David “Gypsy” Chain. The set, by director Dan Chumley and Peggy Snyder, stakes its own claim on reality. It’s filled with trunks and limbs of real redwood, gathered by a group that retrieves “naturally fallen trees.” Kevin Cain supplies the filtered forest light.
Hill, who has lived for nearly two years in the branches of a Humboldt County redwood tree, is played by a tiny marionette (voice of Deborah Ben-Eliezer). She scampers along the high limb of a tree named Luna (Whitney Combs), who talks back to Hill and shakes several lower limbs for emphasis.
Gypsy (the raw-voiced Jonathan Youtt), a full-sized Bunraku puppet who operates at ground level with a cadre of protesters, is a relative innocent who dies when a felled tree lands on him. A foulmouthed logger (David Morley) is the pat villain of the piece. But the script raises the intriguing possibility that Gypsy may have martyred himself without really thinking much about it.
That mystery takes form in the show’s most haunting image, when a legless Gypsy flies on his strings over the forest floor. Here, strikingly, there’s no human intervention in in sight. Gypsy has floated free of his past (detailed in a few shadow puppet flashbacks) and his own murky motivations. He’s become a spirit force for the movement.
A dopey animal subplot involves an entrepreneurial fox (Star Rose) with a cell phone grafted to one paw and a couple of reluctant beavers employed as loggers. These puppets, unlike the carefully crafted humans, look slapdash, and their scenes add little to the piece.
“Up a Tree” is a labor of love and a devoted tribute to a cause. It’s anything but elegant, in writing or execution, but an authentic soulfulness is as clear as the fresh redwood smell that fills the house.
UP A TREE: The theatrical installation continues through November 21 at Intersection for the Arts, 446 Valencia St., San Francisco.
Relix magazine just put together an entertaining recollection of the 1992 H.O.R.D.E. concert tour, with the festival’s founders (the musicians) going on record about how it all began. Love the fact that most of the tour revolved around giving massive love to Col. Bruce Hampton and the Aquarium Rescue Unit. I am quite humbled that I got to see the ARU at their genesis, b/c their show was straight up different from much of the live music I was going to!
Everybody had this common idea that they had to help Colonel Bruce Hampton and the Aquarium Rescue Unit. That was like the secret squirrel agenda of the whole thing. – Dave Frey, Blues Traveller mgr. (via Relix magazine)
My brother Mark and I knocked out bootleg tee shirts for the Atlanta and Carowinds stops of the first H.O.R.D.E. tour. Mark had the art skills, we both did graphic design, and I was working in a screen print shop. We printed a nice pile, only to have undercover cops confiscate them before we even had a chance to sell any! Luckily, I’d pulled several dozen to sell to friends and keep back for the NC show if we sold out, so still had a few to sell and break even on cost.
Mark and I had a fun time making the 1992 lot tee image. We thought up and brainstormed the idea, Mark then drew the monster, and we worked on the lettering together via Mark’s Apple computer (and probably Photoshop 1 or 2 or similar). Then I took the file, via a floppy disk, to the Microsoft machine I had at the screen print shop where I worked, printed the front and back images on vellum paper, taped them up and corrected lines, pulled a rubylith separation for the monster’s color screen, and then burned the two screens.
My screen shop boss, Randy, was very cool about letting us schedule our own prints into the shop’s work flow. I’m not sure if he or Freddie, another amazing screenprinter, pulled the ink on these. I bought the shirts at wholesale cost, and whoever did the labor usually got a shirt. We also always helped each other with our own print runs, so the labor usually got paid back in kind. This shirt had a larger run than usual (I think I printed about 3-4 dozen tees), so Randy may have made us do this after hours. Either way, we were all into putting multiple colors into the one screen to easily make the shirt a 4-color job.
LOVE AUDITORIUM, DAVIDSON COLLEGEDavidson, NC
SET 1: The Landlady > Runaway Jim, It’s Ice > Sparkle, Chalk Dust Torture, Esther > Cavern > Rhombus Narration > Divided Sky, I Didn’t Know, You Enjoy Myself
SET 2: David Bowie[1], Colonel Forbin’s Ascent > Fly Famous Mockingbird, Golgi Apparatus, Bathtub Gin, The Squirming Coil > Llama, Hold Your Head Up > Terrapin[2] > Hold Your Head Up, Possum
ENCORE:Ā Horn,Ā My Sweet One,Ā Sweet Adeline[3]
[1] Four Charlie Chan signals and Popeye, Simpsons, Oom Pa Pa, and Random Laugh signals in the intro. The band responded to Popeye signal by singing a random note.
[2] Fish sang only one out of every few words.
[3] Without microphones.
Terrapin was announced as the ārestrained versionā and Fish as the āMaster of Restraint.ā In response, Fish sang only one out of every few words to the song. Trey also clarified during the show that Colonel Forbin is not to be mistaken for Colonel (Bruce) Hampton. Bowie was preceded by a Funk #49 tease. The Bowie intro included HYHU teases, four Charlie Chan signals and Popeye, Simpsons, Oom Pa Pa, and Random Laugh signals. The band responded to the Popeye signal by singing a random note, which is the Random Note signal’s “secret language.” Trey teased Dave’s Energy Guide in Possum. Sweet Adeline was performed without microphones.
Newness! What’s this? Who’s that? Waaa??? Huh!
Then one of the guys I didnāt know asked, āYou think we can hit the wrestlers with a balloon?ā The general response was, āThereās no way one of us can shoot a ballon that far. Letās try it!ā
After over 30 years, I think I can safely tell this story to the public. During my sophomore year at Wofford College in Spartanburg, SC, I almost got a beat down Mid-Atlantic Wrestling style. Some details, and names, are hazy, but there are parts Iām retelling that I will never forget.
One lazy afternoon, most likely in 1989, I had nothing to do on the Wofford campus. A freshman, named Bill, asked me if Iād like to check out a guyās water balloon slingshot. Iād never heard of that kind of slingshot before, so instantly said āYes!ā We walked over to the Wightman dormitory, which had open hallways, like a motel, that faced into campus on one side and over the shared parking lot of the Spartanburg Memorial Auditorium on the other.
We walked up about four flights on the auditorium side and saw two or three Wofford guys standing around a marvelous apparatus. The water balloon slingshot was basically surgical tubing, most likely stolen from the science lab, tied off of two of the building’s vertical support posts, with some kind of pocket in the middle that held the balloons. These guys were slinging water balloons onto cars in the parking lot. Iād say the range was maybe a few hundred feet; about halfway into the fairly large parking lot.
It looked fun, so Bill and I tried a few to see how it worked. My attempt wasnāt that good: the balloon didnāt go that far into the lot and it totally missed what I was aiming at. āYouāll get better with practice,ā someone told me. A second try was about the same.
At some point during our senseless fun, three pro wrestlers walked out of the back exit of the auditorium, far up on the other side of the parking lot. I only remember the two legends: Roddy Piper and Ric Flair. We stopped slinging the balloons and had a moment of starstruck awe. Wrestling gods, in the flesh, and just chatting behind the auditorium.
One of the guys I didnāt know asked, āYou think we can hit the wrestlers with a balloon?ā The general response was, āThereās no way one of us can shoot a balloon that far. Letās try it!ā
I cannot remember who pulled the slingshot back, possibly a second person helped, but I do remember that we opened a dorm room door to pull the slingshot further back to make the extra distance across the parking lot.
With no real way to aim, a direct shot on Piper and Flair was remote and against the odds. When the balloon was launched, we all watched with low expectations. It went past the middle of the lot where we were hitting cars. It kept going over the other cars, towards the exit where the wrestlers were talking. Our excitement grew. I can almost remember leaning in to try to help the balloon keep going. Then, the small dot of a balloon, most likely red or blue or white, keenly headed home… onto Ric Flair and Roddy Piper!
IT WAS A ONE IN A MILLION DIRECT HIT!
āHoly shit, you hit them!ā someone shouted.
As time slowed down, Piper and Flair literally didnāt know what hit them. The āpunchā was wet, with rubbery bits all over their splashed faces and clothes. Like they tend to do on TV, Piper and Flair went from a friendly chat to being 100% pissed off. As we stood frozen, hundreds of feet away and watching, they looked towards Wightman. From all that distance, they made eye contact with us.
āTake this slingshot down now!ā one of us screamed. It was too late, because Piper and Flair were pointing at us and screaming. We couldnāt hear them, but I clearly saw what Flairās mouth said: āWeāre going to fāking kill you!!āĀ
āWhat the hell do we do?!ā someone asked.
āSplit up and hide! Run!ā someone answered.
As the wrestlers ran across the parking lot to beat our asses, and probably send us to the ER, we took the slingshot down and ran into one of the guyās dorm rooms. What Piper and Flair didnāt know was that the Wightman rooms were suites: four different rooms shared a toilet and shower in the middle. Fortunately, we ran into the room where the wrestlers knew we were and went on the other side of the dorm through another roomās open bathroom door.
We didnāt bother to explain to them what was happening, but did manage to tell them ādonāt open the doors! Donāt open the doors!ā We split up, and I ran with Bill and a few guys that hastily pulled their dorm room keys out of their pockets. We ran down the campus-side hall into one of their rooms and hid. Maybe the other guy split off and went to his own room. I recall trying to hide under a bed, but it was a wooden bed frame like you see in hotels. Instead, we cowered in the dark and shut the hell up.
For a good 20 minutes, Piper and Flair (and the third guy) slammed on doors and yelled āCome out and get a beating, you bastards!ā āWe know who you are! Weāre going to be waiting for you!ā Eventually, after final threats and insults, they left.
Out of the group that I hid with, I was the only one that lived in another dorm. My peers werenāt going anywhere soon, but I had to leave at some point! My memory is vague, but definitely I left well after dark. I may have changed into a shirt that Bill loaned me. I went down a different exit on the campus side and took a very long route to my dorm.
Looking over my shoulder and under every bush, I never saw Piper and Flair, and didnāt want to. I told myself that they wouldnāt hide behind bushes; they had better things to do. I didnāt take any chances during my fast walk and was glad that I got through that with my face and ribs intact.
***
I have told this story for years. You may not believe it, and I get that. Like that moment when the launched balloon hit two wrestling legends, I still ask āhow could this have possibly happened?ā Yet, when Ric Flair wiped the water and balloon bits off his face, tensed up in anger and screamed at being assaulted by a strange object, Iāll never forget what I thought: āThat REALLY happenedā¦ and theyāre going beat the shit out of us!ā Did I learn a lesson form this experience? Beyond believing that miracles happen in twos, not really.
If the Pandemic cooperates, Phish will continue their 2021 4.0 tour into the Fall. Starting Aug. 13, the band plays Atlantic City, and then will be at Harveys Casino in Stateline, NV starting Aug. 31. The Fall tour ends with a Halloween run in Las Vegas.
Ask anybody and they know that I love gifiting creative items to unsuspecting people. Over the past 20 or so years, I’ve given away stickers, posters, buttons, stencils, and other fun items. The fist sticker I ever made was the “Creativity Begins Within” for 2000 Burning Man, and I gave them all away. I love the concept of “Free” espoused by the San Francisco Diggers, and Burning Man is onto something with the ideal of giving it for nothing in return.
Then there is the ancient concept of Dana, practiced for centuries, which can be about giving just to feel the goodness of the act while expecting nothing in return.
When I saw that u/churchisweird and his wife were giving away poker chips (with fun band quotes and show details) at all the Phish shows in Atlantic City and Las Vegas, I got excited. A few Phish subredditors had already asked about the Harveys shows in Stateline, but u/churchisweird and his wife weren’t going to the shows.
I DMd him, told him I loved his idea, and said I’d give away chips for Stateline/Harveys if he wanted to make any. We started chatting, and he told me that he actually bought the chips from an online company (Chiplab). He wouldn’t be making any for Harveys. Along with the chip-making site, he also shared a great Phish resource for word searching songs to get money-themed hits within Phish’s original and cover lyrics.
We both agreed that giving away something to the community we love to be part of was a great idea. The good vibes of the idea kept piling up for me, and I happened to have some free time to poke around on Chiplab. After some trial and error with their simple graphic design interface, I had two chip designs for the two-night run at Harveys. I made sure to use a color and some Phish lyric quotes that u/churchisweird hadn’t used, and I ordered several dozens to get printed for my own free giveaway.
The chips were delivered this week, and are now ready to hand out to the lucky few in Stateline. I’m quite excited about this and hope that the shows don’t get postponed due to the current Delta wave of the Pandemic. My plan is to dress up as a Phish-themed croupier (ahem, a GROUPier, lol), with a vest, a bow tie, and my funny fish hats, and wander around a bit each day of the show to hand out some chips. I’ll take what’s left to the show each night.
The table is open and ready for play. Put your money where your mouth is and drop some goodness in your pocket. Time to feel that tingle that gifting gives, being present with each moment where a phan smiles, laughs, or wanders off a bit confused. Whatever happens, it’ll be all right….
I guess the Pandemic caused me to miss the 30th anniversary of Roger Waters performing the Wall in Berlin as promised. So I caught this year’s after seeing a post up on the Internet. I would say this was one of the craziest live music experiences I’ve ever had. The fact that I had an actual ticket, mailed to a travel agent in Greenville, SC, helps make the whole thing feel more real.
I still have that program, along with the t-shirt (XL, doubt I’ll ever wear it again) and the paper mask hand-out they gave us to hold up at a point in the show. In good timing, I just visited back East and got to pull out my memorabilia from the show. My mom has always kept articles for me to read, so one of these photos has the clippings she took from the two local newspapers (both AP reports, but one was longer than the other).
I recently bought a used CD of the show, but must admit I haven’t watched the video in a while. After finding this link below, I got sucked into the amazing spectacle once again and watched it all the way through. This version of “Mother” is the go-to version I always listen to when the ear worm hits. And it is still quite powerful to hear the masses roar when the staged wall comes down.
After posting the stub on Facebook, I decided to write out the adventure that started when the Post Office delivered my subscription copy to Rolling Stone. Once the travel agent made that phone call to NYC (or it could have been London), everything worked out and we lived to tell the tale. I’ve lost touch with Virginia, the person I knew who, prior to this Berlin weekend, let me crash under her sink in a small dorm room in Innsbruck. I am glad she and her friend (cannot remember much about her) had the patience of a mountain to get through that crazy weekend!
This very lucky adventure all started with a subscription to Rolling Stone, where I read a short article about this concert. I knew someone from college who would be in Innsbruck, and she and a friend were down to go. I had no idea how to work out a way to get to the show, and that puzzle piece was found when my mom suggested I talk to a travel agent she knew. I think his name was Richard Young. He was a “let’s make it happen” person, so got on the phone with a ticket broker and literally lied his way into getting me 3 tickets for the event. He booked a hotel room in Berlin, early enough to get one of the last rooms available (1000s were sleeping in the parks and train stations the night of the concert). He even got us train tickets with reserved seats (the train was packed to the ceiling when it arrived in Berlin). I knew this show was going to be insane, so we got there early and grabbed a spot by a sound tower. Good thinking, since most of the crowd got pushed around on and off during the now free-for-all show. That was about 200,000 people! The two people with me were not used to going to shows, but understood the “do not move so we can go to the toilet and find the tower to get back together.” The sea of pushing scared them, but folks around us were so nice and helped protect them. The show was an insane spectacle, complete with a full marching band and dozens of “drones” building the wall. When the wall came down, the joy of the masses was powerful. We were exhausted afterwards and had to catch a train back to Innsbruck very early the coming morning. We walked over 100s of people sleeping in the train station to get to our train. We slept well that day back in quiet Innsbruck!
Support Josh MacPhee, Celebrate People’s History, and Justseeds by pre-ordering the 2nd edition copy of this great book here on the Justseeds website.
In 2010, I blogged the backstory of creating a poster for the 2010 edition of “Celebrate People’s History.” Working on the poster goes as far back as 2006, with artist Mark Cort, about a somewhat forgotten slice of South Carolina colonial history: the Stono Rebellion. I researched the event, cut the stencil, and wrote the text while Mark handled the illustration and layout. The art was in pieces which Josh kindly took and scanned and assembled into a nice CPH poster.
I got an email from Josh earlier this year with the news that the book was getting a second edition publication. He asked for autobiography blurb updates, with more news to be coming soon. Turns out the book will be released early August. I was honored to be in the first book, and glad there will be more posters to discover in this edition. And I’m still fascinated by the events that occurred at the Stono River in 1739, along with the event’s reverberations that can be felt today.
The unit also had a tiny window in their bathroom that looked out into the screen-printing shop. In the quieter moments, they would gaze out the bathroom window and watch the T-shirts dry. They would imagine a better world. A world with art. A world with community. One morning, the window showed the business moving out down in the warehouse.Ā – From the CELLspace FoundSF page.
Last August, Chris Carlsson asked me to write something about the CELLspace “Blurb,” a short-lived tabloid newspaper brochure that I helped Jonathan Youtt make in the height of the Dot Com boom. Chris sent me the pdfs of the scan he had made for the FoundSF project, and I struggled to remember as much as I could about the “Blurb”. I even managed to create a draft, but never liked it and didn’t have much to say about this paper version of the cell website.
Once the Shelter In Place order hit for the COVID-19 pandemic, Chris started working on his FoundSF backlog, which included my shelved draft for the CELLspace project. He got back in touch with me, this time letting me know that CELLspace didn’t even have a proper page. With Chris being more active regarding what he needed, I spent about six weeks helping him grab photos, videos, and text for CELLspace’s FoundSF page.
Jonathan Youtt helped flesh out details, especially the end of the history, and source photos and videos. Skot Kuiper gave me advice on which episodes of cell.tv to link up there. I also incorporated text from Devin Holt’s 2013 “Obituary for CELLspace“, appreciating his doing work then for what I was trying to remember now. I’m glad I got to talk briefly about this page with one of the co-founders and three caretakers of the cell. And I even worked in a paragraph about the “Blurb”!
Any mistakes or omissions in the FoundSF post are my own. Any corrections can be sent to me via reply or DM. Chris always appreciates other voices and recollections, so here’s to this version of the new page.
A Tweet Blog for Future Reference
Blown away by a 100-year-old bee hive in a 200(+)-year-old house’s wall. Swarm leaves when queen dies but they usually come back.
Saddened at the thought of a young boy, ignored and locked in his room.
Will 8pm be the next world-wide scream moment? Will it replace New Years Eve?
I have recently asked myself, “What would Octavia Butler do?”
Always enjoy the Reddit photos of stuff people are digging out of storage.
Those health care workers facing the MAGA idiots’ car protest: our Tiananmen Square photo moment.
Right-wingers willing to die for the free market. Willing to kill others for capitalism. No surprise there!
IĆ¢ā¬ā¢m still not comfortable wearing a mask in public. I keep wanting to run from riot cops but only looking for the goat milk in the market’s cooler.
The four things always on my shopping list: dark chocolate, avocados, peanut butter, and wipes.
Woah. Michael Savage has a PhD in nutritional ethnomedicine (including epidemiology) and thinks MAGAcult science-deniers are wingnuts.
Last night, I just didn’t want to participate in the zoom call. I’m here without you, so you can’t make me!
Low-carb mousse: whipping cream, chocolate powder, a little vanilla. Make sure you whip the chef while they whip the mix to hard peaks.
Seeing lots of past thinking posted online. I’ve been scanning my old paper ticket stubs and enjoying the ride.
You know I’m snacky when you see all the nut-butter stained spoons in my sink.
I spent some of my COVID-19 subsidy money supporting local book stores. I now have to track a package from USPS, FedEx, and UPS all at the same time.
I usually only bike to get somewhere or do something. My pandemic rides have been towards the sun, here, there, checking out crowds and grocery store lines.
I do not miss all the tech commuter buses, or the piles of Lyft/Uber cars. Looks like the birds don’t either.
Should I feel guilty throwing away a bag of clothes left behind on the street?
Golden Gate Park looked like a normal busy day this afternoon. The Skystar wheel wasn’t on, and no tourists were around. Don’t walk there if you’re anxious about distancing.
Eat that strawberry like it is the last thing youĆ¢ā¬ā¢ll ever taste!
Learned to play Lennon’s “Imagine” on the guitar. Loved having my Sweetie sing along with me.
A Howze man without a vacuum cleaner is like lemonade without the sugar. Sad day when the 1960s Electrolux’s on switch died. Here’s to a new vac this week!
I never thought I’d begin my day by wiping down high-touch surfaces. Now looking forward to the weekends when I don’t have to wipe down the work station.
Have had most meals at the table with my Sweetie. We thank the farmers/laborers, the animals, the plants, and the folks at the market or restaurant every time.
Buying meals from local places about every four days, including cocktails and portions large enough for several left-over meals.
I’m ordering more things online, but still haven’t given Amazon a dime. Bezos is rich enough!
New things I’m trying: working out via zoom, baking, sardines. Baking sardines while working out is not an option.
Inspired by the “Catching ‘Trane” doc, we listened to 5 hours of Coltrane several Saturdays ago. 12 vinyl sides and two albums off of Hoopla.
I’ve hopped on the Twitter train (@Russell_Laughed) but am only posting content for two people. The Other Russell is the only audience I care about.
You know you’re sheltering in place when you get excited about the exercise up and down the stairs to take all the garbage, recycling, and compost out.
My plastic footprint has gone up. So has the frozen foods in our freezer.
Now that I’m on Twitter, these simple cut/paste ponderings will keep me going for weeks.
Should I not wear my hoodie for today’s zoom meeting? Maybe I put on the heavy metal concert denim jacket instead?
A few weeks ago, I noticed that I had four screens in front of me. Felt like I was in a Dave Eggers novel.
NY Times reporting that COVID may have hit California in January. Our office had a spat of deep-chested cough sickness in early/mid February. I got it and coughed for two weeks, but my Sweetie had no symptoms. A true thing to ponder [insert chin-scratching emoji].
