How does a dirty plastic cup end up in a bush? There’s so much trash everywhere. It’s hard to keep up. From cigarette butts to mail to plastic thingys. I read the saddest article this morning about the amount of plastic. It’s hard to fathom how humans get themselves out of this mess since we’re the ones who created it.
The nurdles are beyond terrible. This Washington Post article is what I read earlier today. It’s sad so if you click through the link, be prepared to get depressed.
If there’s anyone who deserves to be brought back as a well-cared for (ahem, spoiled!) kitty…you know who you are.
Another beautiful day in the neighborhood. I wonder if the angle of the sun is what makes the water sparkle.
If the doors of perception were open, everything would appear as if is: infinite.
William Blake (via Dad)
I really liked the therapist I saw for a bit when I was falling apart in Indy. There was one thing that rubbed me the wrong way. She said I made this place sound like Shangri-La. Her tone had a touch of condescension or maybe she was genuinely concerned I was putting all my happy eggs in one basket.
If it’s the place where I’m most content, why not call it Shangri-La? I don’t believe there is such a place. Nothing is perfect. Nowhere is utopia. But when you can walk your neighborhood and come home with fresh-off-the-tree oranges, it is quite nourishing.
Late fall roses and lavender make it that much sweeter. No matter how lonely I might feel right now, all of this keeps me good company although, if living in snowy cold winter would bring you and CT back, that’s a deal I’d be willing to make.
What the hell is going on with these orgs? So much trash. Why do you – Sierra Club, The Nature Conservancy – have to send all this stuff? Is this really working?! Can’t imagine it’s good for anything. If it’s good for fundraising isn’t it sending the wrong message? Do you really make money from all these piles of crap? I don’t need planners, calendars, maps and stickers. I also won’t give you another dime as long as you’re using these old, harmful marcom practices.
Weighing heavily on my mind. Maybe it’s the time of year. In 2019 I drove from Indy to SB, man do I regret not stopping in Joplin. Never thought I’d say those words. Miss you so much.
I’m gonna write you a letter
All the things I couldn’t say
Gonna put it in a bottle
Let the waves take it away
If something dramastic happens, I’ll be there. It may not be a word but it’s so fitting that I can’t help but use it.
That’s what popped out of my mouth when I was describing how I would step in if one goes quickly, outta-the-blue before the other.
Who knows whether that’ll actually happen but even if it doesn’t, it all feels dramastic and not in a good way, when one leaves. Even when planned.
A perfectly Santa Barbara day with my two original people (yes, parents). Saturday market, a clear view of the islands, birds and the bittersweet of big, majesty cats at the zoo. Don’t need to wait for a vacancy, for things to be gone, to add a little note and a glimpse. Back to basic ole blogging. Soon I’ll go find a plug in so you can subscribe for updates. Until then. Dropping this into and onto the energy of things.
It bothers me – really fucking bothers me – that org’s like Sierra Club send all this crap in the mail. I have a huge issue with it because it’s old thinking. These mailers have been landing in my recycling bin for decades.
Is this the best way to reach people? Does anyone read these letters? Plus, the energy required to go from the concept to my mailbox has a price tag in so many ways other than hard dollars. Why would an organization dedicated to preserving some of our remaining resources show such blatant disregard for those same resources?
I know you’d agree – all y’all out there – that there is no good reason to keep putting all this shit out into our already suffocating world. If there’s ever an obituary for earth, the cause of death should definitely include: Sierra Club mailings.
Oh and those fucking ASPCA envelopes with the return address stickers. I think The Nature Conservancy sends them, too. No. We don’t need more of them and they don’t seem to make me wanna send donations. Who is swayed to become a card carrying member of any of these orgs? I’m genuinely curious about the return. Do a mailing, get a flood of new members? Inquiring minds wanna know.
Quiet, soft air. The SB version of Fall. Tiny birds feeding on the hillside behind me. Big birds hovering over the eucalyptus trees. A container ship out in the channel just passing Santa Rosa Island.
Will these days always remind me of you? The perfectly blue sky, easy sun and light smell of flowers. Probably. The daybreak also reminds me that you would say “enjoy” and I’d grumble something about work but not today. Today I listen closely to the sounds, feel the air in its stillness.
It’s clear enough to see details of Santa Cruz island as the boat overloaded with stuff no one needs cruises on through.
Another cup of coffee. A Thursday 11/11. Make a wish. But not that one.
But too early to be this dark.
Not knowing it at the time, this photo became the last one.
