There was a City on a hill.

There was Lady with silver hair and sparkling eyes.

It didn’t start out so nice though.

It started as these things so often do, in my rambling parent’s house, trying to get rid of piles of excess garbage. It began in giving things away and trying to recycle responsibly.

The new transitional world was made possible by the sudden availability of cheap and almost disposable cars-with-beds, from a kind of China.

They were long, narrow, white. Not capable trucks at all. Just little buses.

The bed was no king, just a cot that folded down from the side. Eventually I figured I had done enough dutiful good getting rid of the things no one wanted any more, and I drove the long white bed car down into to the city.

The living center of the city was a social club of sorts. It was a place where all the best people spent a majority of their time, interacting when they did so purely out of desire to interact. With each other. Anarchically. Because they shared a definition, of Best.

There was a bulletin board of opportunities. “Jobs”, situations for living.

One that caught my eye was a compound down at the beach. They were looking for club people that had long white bed cars and a desire to find a productive Situation.

The posting offered variations on a theme for becoming part of the project. Volunteers were welcome, but so was a deeper involvement. More involvement, more time, earned more recompense; for example, in the form of a non-moving place to stay and eat, at the beach project place.

There was no mention of a wage or in fact of money at all. The arrangement seemed more based on barter and everything seemed worker-owned, at least to new eyes from another world. And, there were many such situations, ranging along the coast, up the hills of the city, and far out into the real mountains beyond.

I sip my Equal Exchange and I consider what felt so good about it.

I felt valued and attractive to a wide deep group of people that I felt had value, and was attracted-to, friends and strangers alike. This transcended the familial and tribal, like anyone could become special suddenly and easily.

In this city and especially within the walls of the social club, Amour was foundational and poly and ubiquitous. I did fall in love, and there was no guilt about it.

Maybe the important lesson here is about staying unbroken by this world that exists, so that such a culture could emerge. Not that it will, ever, necessarily.

Just so that if it tried to, you and I would not naturally become part of what is trying to smother it in its cradle.

Yesterday in the RT, my dental hygienist was full of probing questions, about the cargo trailer and the youtube channel and eventually ‘what I was going to talk about’ in videos.

I said something like: It’s going to be like essays and less like advertisements for anything. It’s going to be art.

Then I told her I was feeling shy about relating such intimate things to someone I barely knew; that it was making me shy.

I think that kind of blew her real-world mind.

My teeth are really clean now. So, I’m dreaming big.