Oh yeah, I have a website.  Where once upon a time, I wrote a thing or two.  Sometimes interesting, often not.  But it exists!  And much as my lack of attention to said website might indicate otherwise, I also in fact exist.  And a handful of people have even caught glimpses of me here and there.  Fancy that.

So, what did I do with what we'll (charitably) call my "summer vacation"?  Transition, mostly.  Seems an annual occurrence, but it'd be fucking outstanding if that weren't the case.  Spring sort of brought some things to a head, and I've only recently managed to get them under any semblance of control, in large part because the summer that followed quickly spiraled into a somewhat surreal clusterfuck of (no shit, here) downright epic proportions.

For starters, I moved out of the Dharma House.  The material cost of living there had become prohibitive, but additionally... It turns out I really, genuinely don't like group houses.  And my objections to them are probably not terribly standard.  I can honestly say that I truly liked everyone in the house, and would stay up into the wee hours of the morning rapt in conversation with any or all of them.  Add to that the seasonal resumption of gardening that was going on, and the study groups we'd gotten going... I was really enjoying the quality of and increase in activity in the project.  But the feeling of constant observation (while perhaps totally self-inflicted) was just brutal.  I got offered a spot in an apartment in Mt. Pleasant that I'd always loved, with the opportunity to take over the lease at the end of the summer, and it was just too good to pass up.  Hill's sublet at the Lamont Street Collective was up, and the apartment offered her a place to land, even if only temporarily.


And literally days after moving in (little had been unpacked, really), life hit the proverbial fan.  I watched tensions with co-workers at Brighter Days reach a breaking point around their lack of respect for the trough from which they'd been eating (and the surreal, petty, and cynical tactics they resorted to in order to neutralize such conversations), and their hurt feelings and/or offense at my being rather blunt about the matter.  Our new landlord reneged on the agreement we had with him, and informed us we'd need to move out at the end of the summer so that he could renovate and re-rent at a higher price.  And the final (most horrific) blow was waking at 4am to the news that some asshole in Maine got into his SUV with a blood alcohol of .23, consequently flipped it at some absurd speed, killing Hill's little sister who was walking nearby with friends.

Words really fail that last one.  So, I won't try, here.  What I will say is that it clarified a good deal for me.  There's really no blueprint for being a presence to someone carrying that kind of suffering, much less a whole family (even if at a distance).  And I realized that I could slap-box with the bullshit behavior of my would-be peers (and/or co-workers, you pick) and thus allow them the room to encroach on my life in totally unacceptable ways, monopolizing my emotional reserves and attention... Or I could be a grownup, and tend to the people in my life who genuinely need me to be present.

So, I quit Brighter Days.  Not a decision I came to lightly, but at certain points, it just becomes apparent that even our most cherished aspirations, creations, identities, etc. have to be let go.  We put ideas out there, and have to be prepared for what they might look like when they find their way back to us.  Sometimes, there's little or no redemption in what we see.  As Redbeard, Irene, and I were driving to the beach one weekend, I began calling clients and notifying them of my decision -- a reasonable thing to do, given that I co-founded the collective, and its startup capital was comprised of a $30K worth of client relationships I'd personally cultivated over several years.  When I finally gave notice with the collective, $50K in clients had offered to leave with me, many of them cheering me on in launching a new (perhaps) more ambitious project, which is now underway -- slowly.  I'll write more about that, another time.


And about the time I began my post-Brighter Days work routine, Hill and I moved into a cute (vaguely European-feeling) apartment in lower Adams Morgan, around the corner from a handful of friends, and half a block from seriously cheap vegan pizza.  Life's calmed down considerably since, though I think we're still reeling in a number of significant ways.  I also finally gave in to Cindy's persistent nudging about joining the IAS Speakers Bureau and I've begun easing back into presenting a bit -- beginning with a panel in NYC a few weeks back.  At the moment, I'm some 10,000 feet over what I'm guessing is the midwest, en route to reprise that panel in San Francisco, and will be heading to Hartford, CT next weekend to participate in a panel on Anarchist Economics at the North American Anarchist Studies Network Conference (new project, helmed by what appear to be fully badass folks).

Alas, the Daily Show's on, here at my seat.  So, I'm gonna see about some sparkling water, and settle in.  Thanks for hanging in there.  Hope you're all doing famously.