crumbs

If my summer were a delicious cookie, here’s what’s left on my plate right now:

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We have two kattens: bubbles (cos he ate detergent), and an as-yet unnamed gray lady.

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Crazy thunderstorms happen regularly…

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The east-coast experience is blessed with train rides

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Mano a mano.

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Old friends!

West Athens, ME

For the fourth of July, Michelle (my Greenhorns’ intern partner-in-crime) and I drove up to West Athens, ME, urged on by our friend and W.A. local, Petey. It proved to be a several-day marathon of drinking coffee-brandy milk, playing pool with tugboat drivers, and participating in the most American fourth of July parade I can conceive. Thousands of people from the county show up every year. And despite the rampant drinking, tomfoolery, and water balloons, there was no sign of police, paramedics, firemen, or any other type of authority figure. The parade culminated in a contest for the best float, followed by a SF mimetroupe-esque play that poked fun at Madoff (“he made-off with all our cash!”), corporate piggery, and creationism. It was great to be on the inside of a small town for a few days. Rock on, read on.

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Our float was called “Fallen Angels.” It didn’t move cos the engine melted, but it did spew bubbles and fog. We doled out “angel juice,” a modified version of coffee-brandy milk.

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Brother and sister.

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Our very on Smithereen farm angel (she ain’t fell yet).

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Our fallen angel.

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Right before I took this picture I got pelted right in the face with a water balloon… my camera did not escape unscathed.

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Michael Jackson featured prominently on at least three floats. This was a keg-boarding take on the man.

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These guys ended up winning the contest. Not pictured here: homemade covered wagon with spinning life-sized wheels. It was pretty awesome.

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This town isn’t big on authoritay.

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That’s Petey in the wig and nighty…. since our float didn’t move, he took it upon himself to terrorize the other ones.

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This float was amazing – piles of trash mixed with old mashed potatoes and god knows what else. Oh and this chick in a bikini under a giant magic mushroom.

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Thug life.

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Fish, hunt, eat cunt – what more could anyone want?

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When the play started, two things happened: a torrential downpour began, and I ran out of film. So I’ll leave you with the West Athenian reenactment of God’s 5th day of creation: when he brought out Big Pharma to heal our imperfections, and it’s side effects.

Amen!

I’m living in upstate NY for a bit. Here are some moments. FYI: there are a few images that some would consider graphic in the way of dead animals mixed in. On a farm one sees death and birth frequently; in some seasons they are an almost an everyday occurrence. That said, neither occasion is taken lightly. Just something to keep in mind.

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Harvesting pea shoots on one of our plots.

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Poison ivy is kind of an issue out here.

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The pig in transport to it’s new home.

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We had a big event that required a lot of clean jars.

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Fresh from the pond.

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Harvesting elderflowers to make syrup.

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This old barn had such thick beams! And a giant vulture roosting inside.

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U-pick strawberries are infinitely more tasty straight from the field.

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We killed a goat for an event. These guys are pros and handled it quickly.
If you were upset by this image, the next (and last) won’t be to your liking.

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Elysian fields

After working for one Ted Fuller (rancher) for about a year, selling his meat at the farmer’s market, I got to go check out some of his land. His cattle are of the Scots Highland variety, sporting shorter statures, longer horns, and nattier dreads than the common bovine.

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Petaluma ain’t too shabby.

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The one on the right is called Buttercup. She has a dread over each eye.

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Ted and Courtney, my successor.

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The main man lets the little bulls spar with him every now and then, but everyone knows who’s boss.

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Yup.

treading lightly

There once were two silly folks
hiking, they told lots of jokes
“will ya look at that fungus!
There are giants among us!”
they made it without any tokes

(a silly limerick that sums up a beauteous week spent on the north coast)


candied peels at Lulu’s


ran into these kids in mendo

Oh, life!

bye, bye birdie

digging through the archives, found some things I will miss while on the east coast

here, there, everywhere

Apparently, KG is my muse. Setting, food, hospitality courtesy McClellan/Handley, also Babe House. May claims some at the end. Here’s to the end of an era.


May here on down

I spent about three weeks this winter in Moscow visiting family. I also hung out with my friend Daria and a handful of young Russian activists ranging from the Food Not Bombs to Anti-fascist movements. This trip, compared to others I’ve taken in my homeland, was the most intense and touched me the most closely. It was a real pleasure to meet with such a wide variety of people. Check out my friend Lubava’s website for transcripts of interviews and pictures (especially if you can read Russian!).


My father’s father, Yuri Mihailovich, and the estimable Barsik.


My father’s mother, Lutsia Antonovna, whom my grandfather wooed from Latvia. She is a great cook.


He worked at the steel plant for many years, wrote several books of memoirs and poetry, and is still standing after 3 heart attacks.


Eating homemade salted fish and drinking beer at my mother’s parents. First time I’ve seen them since I was five.


They’ve been canoeing each summer on the wild Volga for over thirty years, and are both very able with their hands. Still in love.


One year later, traveling with my mother once again.


My father. He has too many great stories to tell that I can’t write here.


Father and wives, past and present.


My little sister Varvara – imp! commander! acrobat!


A friend’s apartment had interesting decoration.


We are poseurs.


Went drinking with my cousin’s friends one night.


They’re an ecclectic and musical bunch.


Every metro station in Moscow is completely different in design.


My cousin Nikita, who is in a metal band called Made in China, took Daria and I to a show.


Daria… I’m so glad she was with me to discuss and process everything we were seeing.


We spent many hours talking to activists from Moscow and other Russian cities.


Our main contact was Lubava (what a generous, rebellious soul! and vegan to boot), the organizer of most FNB actions in Moscow. Through her we met many people, even from different cities, and got to share our experiences as young activists. What we found was both jarring and inspiring… the level of violence and oppression in daily life is not something sheltered college kids in Berkeley ever really see.
We wrote an article that’s going to be published in the upcoming Slingshot mag.


The outskirts of the city.


The night before we left it was my grandmother Galya’s 70th birthday. She made just about everything laid out on the 12-foot long dinner table.


It was great to end the trip with music, laughter, food, and the love of family.