I have no idea what is happening – it’s like throwing pennies off a bridge. I just can’t get comfortable – it seems like the only thing that connects my life and art together is pain – it’s painful when I put them together – and more painful when I pull them apart. In 2007 I quit straddling the pain, quit my job, and moved to a rural studio in New York State. I work on creative projects, work on my life, and work on the day-to-day necessities of existence. No cell phone, no social media, no networking. But as I work on the books displayed on this author’s page; I feel another kind of pain — the pain of not working on something else: my printmaking and drawing are being neglected, my poetry output is a dripping faucet, and it looks like I’ll be telling NYFA that the Idea Enhancement Project just added another year to its timeline. When I read what I’ve just written; it’s as true as anything I can think of — but then so is the opposite: I need to process everything that happens . . .
September 8, 2021
There just had to be a Hog Farm Sing-a-long in the book. Nothing connects the bucolic rural past to the future’s industrial farming dystopia better than the hog.
When the tide finally turned in the last century, and factories became accountable for some the destruction they caused, that greed went underground, and popped up as Agriculture, complete with all the arrogance toward the community and the environment that they displayed as factory towns and coal mines.
But now they had learned the power of public perception and a wholesome image There was also a new sense of power. As the agriculture industrialists know: If you don’t have a new car you cry, if you don’t have food you die.
Agriculture is an industry that is exempt from meaningful regulation in this country, and it’s located in areas that are kept free of urban reporting.
Follow this thread and you’ll realize that it’s like a living portrayal of the saying “give them enough rope and they’ll hang themselves” — and us along with them