Wednesday, January 19, 2011

words as they go by

Food, food we understood would require a certain amount of forethought, for although novels may be full of ancient apple orchards growing in forests, we did not fancy a diet of found fruit, nor were we particularly clear on the details associated with the growing season. And so we had harvested fruits, nuts, and berries from the aisles of a well-stocked grocery store; after a certain amount of searching and no small element of trial and error we located a vehicle, and we were off, off to set the world to rights and to pursue truth and justice wherever it needed a bit of assistance to prevail.
Things began well enough. There was a map. There were companions. There were clear skies and high hopes and books of poetry and theories of intentional living and creating communities, how out of inhospitable earth we could build an epicenter of escape from the constraints of society, a place for thinkers to gather and for artists to dream and for those who knew what they didn't desire to dedicate a week, a month, a year, a lifetime to living deliberately.

It's midwinter! Save the date : February 8 : for the second annual candlepin bowling extravaganza!

The industry of souls / Martin Booth