I revisited a place that I’ve been to many times in my visions, but this time I learned its name.

Before I go off dream-spewing at you again though, I want to say a little about why I got that privileged information. It’s got something to do with being in the right mood, and being in the right mood has something to do with some blessed spark of inspiration I’ve been gifted with.

Back when I was Institutionalized, which as you know means gainfully employed by an Employer, it all seemed obvious. The goal was to spend a few more years selling off my time and not really living, in order to get to that place where I didn’t have to work–and then life could begin! The writing would pour out of me and I would publish and publish and never never would what I wrote be tainted in the slightest by needing the money!

Crash and burn like a gray james dean. It’s all been spilled, you can go back and back into the archive, but please don’t bother unless you do it out of some kind of twisted love.

Really what did it was that triple-dip of Greenwald. Those interview segments were holy to me for a bunch of reasons. I listened on the edge of my seat; not just because of his awesome political worldviews, but also because of his … Moxie.

When he got fired-slash-quit, yes it hurt for him too. Yes he had a monster reputation to fall back on, and a great big pile of cash, but he had a lot more expenses too. A manwife to support, security teams to pay for because of the death threats, lawyers upon lawyers for trying to stay out of jail in Brazil, a fucking dog rescue project for Chrissake. The man was and is living on an epic scale, and being fired from his own magazine didn’t faze him for a moment as far as I can see.

I am so insanely filled with admiration for all of that, especially the last part.

I’ve never known what it feels like to live heroically. I am only now beginning to see that it’s even possible.

So what did he do? He flipped off the institutionalists, ran down to the internet store and grabbed up a place to continue writing and publishing, just like me, except his place had a low-level built-in monetization structure. He specifically said something in one of the segments about being able to make a good living there.

I already knew that Matt Taibbi was at the same place, making the little bank, and that guy’s no slouch either.

The path seems clear. The spill must blossom.

***

The place is a little like Jerome and a little like Bisbee. Old architecture, some of it quite opulent and ornate, but all of it falling apart, reinforced only in places where specific individuals have a specific reason to pour in resources and battle the entropy.

Just before I sent myself there, the hospital fell over. Maybe that was the cause of my trip, the story I was assigning myself to cover, but once on the scene and on the ground, the project morphed.

Instead I met a guy who had started the first jeep tour company in the area, and was now running the only bookstore as a personal enterprise.

Moderately epic and institution-free.

The town is called Mulberry and the writing is alt-journo, poised on the mythopoeic edge between fiction and non.

I’ll return there someday and you will come with me.

In the meantime I have to go pour resources into combating relational entropy in Prettytown, something to do with cutting great slabs of foam and wedging them for insulation or something–we’ll see; every little thing gonna be alright.