The Object We Call A Book Is

I Often Think That The Reason Capitalism Hasn't Completely Destroyed Everything Is That A Huge Amount Of Anti-capitalist Endeavor Goes On, From Labors Of Love, Nurture, Friendship, And Barter To Gift Economies And Different Kinds Of Exchanges, Not Just One Alternate Model But A Whole Host Of Other Ways In Which We Engage With Each Other And With The World That Aren't Financial And Debt-based.

I Don't Think My Work Has To Be Loved By Everyone, And It's Loved By Enough People That I'm Grateful And Able To Keep Going.

You Write Your Books. You Scatter Your Seeds. Rats Might Eat Them, Or They Might Rot. In California, Some Seeds Lie Dormant For Decades Because They Only Germinate After Fire, And Sometimes The Burned Landscape Blooms Most Lavishly.

The Rhythm Of Walking Generates A Kind Of Rhythm Of Thinking, And The Passage Through A Landscape Echoes Or Stimulates The Passage Through A Series Of Thoughts. The Creates An Odd Consonance Between Internal And External Passage, One That Suggests That The Mind Is Also A Landscape Of Sorts And That Walking Is One Way To Traverse It. A New Thought Often Seems Like A Feature Of The Landscape That Was There All Along, As Though Thinking Were Traveling Rather Than Making.

Perhaps Walking Is Best Imagined As An 'indicator Species,' To Use An Ecologist's Term. An Indicator Species Signifies The Health Of An Ecosystem, And Its Endangerment Or Diminishment Can Be An Early Warning Sign Of Systemic Trouble. Walking Is An Indicator Species For Various Kinds Of Freedom And Pleasures: Free Time, Free And Alluring Space, And Unhindered Bodies.