AGM Seeks CDR for F&E

Yes, much to the consternation of sanctimonious right-wingers, drooling developers, and haughty misanthropes throughout Northwest Washington, this reporter has resurfaced. And I couldn’t ask for a more hospitable place to come up for air than Whatcom Watch, this region’s eco-conscience in the flesh. Or at least in the paper and the ink.

Countless (if countless means, say, “more than three”) times over the year and a half, my fan(s) have stopped me on the street, in the market, or exiting Video Extreme and asked such pithy questions as, “Where have you been?” or “Why haven’t you been writing?” or “Jeez, have you gained weight?”

To which I respond, “Pithy? What the heck kind of a word is that?” And, “Well, if you must know, I have been writing.” And, “I just started working out six months ago,”

And life intruded in the following ill-mannered ways:

1. This reporter went under the knife. Hernia. How did I know I had a hernia? First clue: my post-umbilical “innie” turned into an “outie.” A most unexpected development. The corrective procedure wasn’t so bad, except the whole experience filled me with intimations of mortality. As in, “What if the knife slips? What if it’s not just a hernia, but some exotically fatal tumor? Yikes! This could be the Big One!” It may surprise you to learn that I survived. It did me.

2. I am no longer a business owner. Two pieces of advice to those of you out there in printland who are considering starting your own business: 1) Don’t do it. And, 2) If by some act of sheer lunacy you ignored #1, then do NOT ignore this: never ever under any circumstances in any way shape or form at any time intentionally or unintentionally take on a business partner. If, as they say, a business partnership is like being married, then I was wedded to Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest. Three strikes, I’m out.

3. I became an employee. I work for a small, local, family business that’s been around roughly since the Polk Administration. In my capacity as, well, whatever the heck it is that I do, I work closely with the proprietors. As a former proprietor, I feel their pain. Which is just fine, since they are healing mine. Symbiosis at work!

4. I began to live again. No longer the slave to 14-hour days, bitchy customers, and Dumb, Dumber or Dumbest, I’ve gotten to know my wife, kids, and friends anew. Spending more time at home and in the companionship of comrades. For some reason, my family and friends now seem to miss my working those 14-hour days. Huh!

5. I began to write again. Not columns, mind you, but a book. Not just any book, mind you again, but (according to those who’ve read it – many of them alarmingly sober) apparently a pretty darn good one. What’s it about, you ask? Well, on the one hand it’s about close encounters, out-of-body experiences, psychic phenomena and such. On the other hand, it’s about the American Empire, where we are as individuals and as a species, and how we have lost our connections to ourselves, each other, and Mother Earth. On the third hand, the book suggests that we are being invited to evolve as individuals and as a species, and that maybe we ought to accept that invitation. Thankfully, it’s a short book – a short book currently in search of a tall, three-handed agent or publisher.

Which brings me to point #5A: you are now reading a column in search of a title. You, dear reader, can be of immeasurable assistance by giving these appellation-challenged scribblings a name.

So allow this aging (physically, anyhow) Green (as in Green Party) male (as you grow older and greener, you need to check every now and then just to be sure) to introduce himself:

I’m a (step) family man whose existential odometer rolled over 100,000 miles last year (if one year = 2,000 miles, well, you do the friggin’ math). Both step kids are, more or less, out of the house, and my wife is devoted to me with a passion that defies logical exposition. Along with out-of-body experiences (of which step parenting ranks among the most bizarre), I enjoy baseball, boxing, reading, and music. Hence, as a born-again Pagan, Jay Buhner, Muhammad Ali, Roger Zelazny, and Bruce Cockburn enjoy prominent positions in my pantheon. Not to mention Loreena McKennitt, Lucinda Williams and Iris DeMent.

I cotton to neither Republicans (with the lone exception of my entire misguided family), nor religionists (with the lone exception of my long-suffering mom and her church-going cronies).

I absolutely revere Mother Earth (occasionally frightening my step family with seasonal “rituals” involving buckets of Merlot, an athame, and wild chanting/howling), and the human spirit (if you think being human is a sin, then get the hell off our planet).

So I invite you to do me the service of naming this column. It’s a contest. You might win a prize.

Hey, even a Republican can relate to that! §