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
Of course it’s simplistic, I didn’t even factor in the corruption.
The important point is that politicians and the agribusiness lobby don’t expect you to add up the true costs of industrial agriculture.
Just as they’ve drained the aquifers and deprived future generations of water, industrial farming has run up huge debts that they don’t intend to pay.
And their political cronies have tricked us into co-signing the loan, so we’re stuck making all the payments. [You’ve probably seen that in those court shows, and wondered how stupid those people were.]
If these agribusinesses are such an economic asset, why can’t they pay off their own debts, and clean up their own messes?
The rural poor have to, why shouldn’t the rural rich?