Iron Rail Infoshop and Plan B Bike Recyclery

The Iron Rail anarchist infoshop and the Plan B bicycle recyclery both occupy a portion of an old brick warehouse building on the corner of Marigny and Decatur fondly called the Ark. Although they are two separate organizations (which a volunteer at Plan B emphasized), they seem to benefit from sharing a space. In fact, their close proximity is similar to the layout of Santa Cruz’s Bike Church and Subrosa Infoshop. What do bicycles and anarchism have to do with each other anyways?

Well, for one, anarchists tend to concern themselves with a DIY mentality– making and fixing things yourself versus purchasing new items or paying someone else to provide a repair service. Indeed, this is one thing that attracts me so much to anarchist culture. Too often, people hear the word “anarchism” and they scoff. That’s what some dude from Dallas at the last farm I was at did. I immediately felt pissed off and defensive, even though I don’t even self identify as an anarchist.

Don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater! Anarchism has lots of lovely little shiny babies– take ‘em out of the bathwater and dry ‘em off, will you?

Anywho, the Iron Rail’s doorway opens up to a foyer, with open space for meetings and film screenings, a bookshelf full of free books, and a big ol’ pile of free clothes— a “freecycle,” Zena said. Zena was at the front counter on the other side of the foyer, in the infoshop proper. She has been volunteering at the Iron Rail for three months– as long as she’s been in New Orleans. All those who work at the Iron Rail volunteer their time. Zena said she likes volunteering there because she just wants something to do, wants to help book stores in general survive, and likes supporting what the Iron Rail is all about– giving the community positive ideas about revolutionary anarchism, feminism, and DIY through literature.

The Iron Rail creates “a space for learning about radical ideas” through their free library and store where you can purchase music, ‘zines, and patches. Zena described it as very well-run, and indeed, it has been at the Ark for nine years, since 2001. Organizational meetings are held every Wednesday at 8pm.

Zena offered me some coffee, and I sat on the couch and read for awhile. Several people came in and out, some obviously travelers, some locals. One chick brought in a bunch of dumpstered cupcakes. They had been in her freezer previously. I’m always into dumpstered food, but it was kind of a yucky cupcake. I purposely dropped most of the frosting on a patch of dirt, and ate the cake.

Apparently, there is no Food Not Bombs active in New Orleans. That’s really too bad. I would expect it of a city with such size and fame and large contingent of radical-y people. Zena said there used to be an organization similar to FNB called Fuck No. They wold serve under the Claiborne Bridge. For some reason, the organization dissolved. She also mentioned a “bum feed” called The Wall, a punk house called Nowe Miasto (nowemiastonola.org), and noladiy.org (a good website for New Orleans music shows).

After hanging out in the Iron Rail for a bit, I walked into Plan B. It was probably the busiest bike recyclery I’ve seen. I spoke with both volunteers working that day, Jascha and Amy. Jascha had been volunteering there for five years, and Amy for two. Like the Iron Rail, Plan B has no paid employees, only volunteers, although they do have what Jascha described as a core group of volunteers.

They do not charge for the use of the bike stands or tools, but do sell new and used parts. For those who cannot afford to buy the parts, Plan B offers a work-trade option at the rate of $5/hour. Technically, work-trade can be used in exchange for an entire rebuilt bicycle or new parts, but Plan B tries to keep work-trade restricted to used parts alone.

All patrons of the shop on the day I was there were men, but like many bike recycleries, Plan B has a women/trans day, so that women or female gender-indentifying folks can have a safe, quieter space to work.

Amy said that although many of their patrons are men, the volunteer group is gender-balanced. When I asked her why she likes volunteering at Plan B, she said that she simply likes to work on bikes. She finds bike shops are typically financially inaccessible, and bike recycleries allow those who normally could not afford bike repair a place to care for their bike. Amy believes that bicycle accessibility is important because people use bikes to get to work, to go on adventures, and to travel. Additionally, Plan B provides a clearinghouse for used parts that would normally be thrown away. “It’s either here or the dump,” she explained.

Amy explained the problems with an all-volunteer organization such as Plan B. “There is a rotating group of committed people,” she said, “and people get burned-out easily, but then a new group of people emerge who are excited about it… It would be better if we could have paid employees– the shop would be cleaner, more organized, and we would have more parts.” Currently, though, Amy explained, Plan B is barely keeping its head above water. Every month the rent gets paid is an accomplishment.

Keeping non-profit community-centered organizations like Plan B open and thriving in a society that aids and favors money-driven enterprises certainly is an accomplishment each day running.

www.bikeproject.org

www.ironrail.org

The DIY Hostel

On “the scruffy side of the tracks” in Marathon, Texas, sits La Loma Del Chivo. An eclectic variety of buildings occupy this city block of land, from a kiva to a sweat lodge, to a bedroom sarcastically entitled the “Mc Mansion.” The special thing about all of these buildings is their DIY flavor– all have been built not according to some professional architect’s idea of what a building should be, but according to the vision and creativity of those actually building it.

The hostel is an inexpensive option for those traveling through West Texas, or going into the Big Bend National Park. It’s even free for bicyclists traveling down highway 90. If you cannot afford the $15 a night, there is also a work-trade option, and the hostel is host to several folks in the WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) program. How refreshing to find a place where so much creativity and property is allowed to flow and the feeling is so laid-back. WWOOFers are encouraged to start whatever project they would like, and owner Guil funds the materials cost. A workshop is available for all who desire to use it. The result is papercrete buildings– some big, some small– a brick pizza oven, an organic garden, and pathways made of crushed glass tumbled smooth.

One WWOOFer, Jarrett, showed me around, and explained to me his vision for La Loma. He stays in a small steel trailer on the property that he hopes to collect rainwater from. The water would run off from the roof and onto a garden adjacent. A kiva-in-the-making will have a domed roof. At the time I was there, the kiva had been dug, lined with papercrete, and large tree stump set up in the middle to support the roof. In the warmer months, a movie projector is set up on the roof lounge of the main building, and pizzas are made in the brick oven. The roof lounge wall is decked with block letters forming the phrase “malls and malls of dessert in every direction,” which Jarrett interpreted as a commentary on suburban sprawl.

While I was there, a delivery of lumber, cinder blocks, and pavers was made, and everyone helped to unload, along with several neighbors, who Guil pays by the hour. Once the materials were unloaded, one WWOOFer exclaimed “beer time!” I really wished I could have stayed and enjoyed that beer time with everyone, but, alas, I had to depart on my way to San Antonio. See ya later, West Texas!

Eve’s Garden: Making a Living and Maintaining Meaning

Eve’s Garden has been meticulously designed, built, and landscaped for the past eight years by owners Clyde Curry and Kate Thayer. Their vision, which Eve’s Garden embodies, is increased “localized self-reliance.” Hence, the Garden is not only a wonderous place to stay, but is also built to inspire the creative spirit. Clyde describes the B&B as a “Hope Center,” a place where folks can experience an example of more responsible living.

Entering through the large front door, you step inside the main house to a welcoming foyer, painted brightly and with findings from the natural world dispersed throughout. Going forward, you walk between two dining rooms, where Garden guests enjoy an organic meal each morning. Next, the kitchen where the magic happens is chock-full of every implement you could possibly imagine for creating delicious and nourishing food. Down a few steps, and you come to the main lounge area, where a coffee table is host to a number of inspiring books and rags— ACRES USA and The Transition Handbook, to name a couple. The house is 100 years old, standing within a few blocks of Marathon’s main drag and small shops, and local art decks the walls.

Exiting the house through the back french doors, you reach the lap pool, oxygenated by a tranquil waterfall. From there, you walk into the outdoor courtyard, with many colorful places to sit and relax or chat. This is where the bulk of the original construction begins. The walls of these buildings consist of a material called papercrete– an adobe-like material made up of paper and mortar that can be molded into all manner of shapes. Each building of papercrete at Eve’s Garden exhibits smooth angles and lines, as well as intensely bright colors– for color-therapy, said Clyde. Papercrete is relatively easy to use, and is also super-insulating. This building method provides an example of how people can create their own dwellings, taking responsibility for the origins of their property into their own hands.

Clyde and Kate keep on going with the construction, building more rooms, and planning for another garden, dedicated to edible produce. They hope that their methods provide inspiration to people, as well as the fact that they refuse to stop and ‘retire’ like so many others in our society do, to the detriment of their bodies and minds.

The guest rooms surround a 7500-square-foot greenhouse where flowers and butterflies abound. It’s a welcome humid respite from the dry desert air, and two fountains elicit a feeling of peace and well-being. Each room has its own flavor, and are given names like Lotus and Boquillas. The name of Eve’s Garden itself is a “socio-political-religious joke,” Clyde explained. With this project, he and Kate are attempting to give the garden back to Eve.

Tucson, AZ: Sleeping Frog Farm

I arrived in Tucson on Saturday night, January 2nd, and pulled into the gate of Sleeping Frog Farm, where I was to work and stay for the next week. Teddy Bear Chula cacti mingle with mesquite trees, and hawks and doves fly.

Sleeping Frog proved to be an inviting place. The farmers, CJ and Adam, are both under 35, two of the 2.3% of farmers in the U.S. in their age group. I must give them props for running a farm, as many difficulties are faced particularly by young farmers. They hope to sign a 30-year lease on land in Cascabel along the San Pedro River and move out of the property they have been renting and farming on just outside of Tucson— but their much-needed move is dependent on funds that can be difficult to acquire.

The property that Sleeping Frog now calls home supports two fields totaling a half acre, two chicken coops with about 100 chickens total (recently, they lost several to a bobcat), and three goats. The farmers hope to raise their chicken population to 1000 on the new land in Cascabel, and their acreage under cultivation to 50.

Although CJ and Adam are the technical farm operators, many others contribute to running the farm on different levels. Debbie, Adam’s partner, lives on the property and is the main goat caretaker. She also works full-time with the food bank teaching children’s gardening classes. Her job’s income and goat milk sales help to support the farm. Initially, Debbie bought a goat to milk for her own use, but so many people wanted to purchase it, she decided to start production for the market. Although demand for her goat’s milk is much higher than she can produce, Debbie must find loopholes in order to legally sell the raw milk. Officially, the milk is sold “for animal consumption only,” although ask any of the customers, and I’m sure they will tell you that they are purchasing the milk for their own human use. This need of loopholes for a small farm to exist speaks to how outdated our agricultural policies have become, and the necessity for new policies and systems that support— rather than hinder— local, organic production of food goods.

The other main, unofficial farm operator is Mr. X, a Tucson local who came to Sleeping Frog seeking to work on the farm full-time in exchange for room and board. He has been on the farm for a year now (and now receives a small stipend), and all agree that his work is integral to the smooth workings of the farm’s various daily and weekly tasks. Mr. X’s presence on Sleeping Frog is part of a trend of people who, for varying lengths of time, seek to work on farms not for monetary compensation, but for the experience and learning that they can gain, and the pride in doing good work. I myself am seeking the same in my farm work, and I hope to use the knowledge gleaned to start my own farm or urban garden— or at least to learn more about the earth and those creatures and plants that exist upon it.

Edendale Farm: A Permaculture Site

Edendale Farm is nestled in a hilly suburb west of Silverlake Reservior. It occupies an acre of land, half of which is employed in permacultural design. I came for a week to this little L.A. gem through WWOOF to work, eat, and learn, parking my van along the street in front. It worked wonderfully in the quiet neighborhood, and I could leave my door open during the day for my curious cat to wander through the landscaped front yards.

Edendale is less a farm than a general permaculture site. David Kahn, the man who runs the farm, envisions Edendale as a model for what everyone should do, and cites the UN figure that the world needs to increase food production by 70%. Although some criticize this discourse of scarcity as causing false fear (thereby allowing corporations to engage in unethical practices under the guise of alleviating scarcity), David has a point. People– even in L.A.– should do their best to fill their space efficiently, growing whatever food they can in whatever soil they have, engaging with resources directly at their homes, and creating space that is conducive to community formation.

The way in which David has accomplished this is through composting toilets, a rainwater catchment system, a soon-to-be pond with fish that can be harvested for food, chickens, pigeons, swales, and an outdoor theatre and kitchen (also in the making). The garden aspect was a bit M.I.A. when I visited in December. The place is certainly a work-in-progress but has tons of potential, and David’s vision is a beautiful one– one that involves not only food, water, and energy production, but also community fostering, learning, and events.

David has eggs up the yin-yang from his 25 chickens (email him to purchase them!). The pigeons can be harvested for their meat. The composting toilets are porta-potties that were originally painted by artists for the Coachella Music Festival. Pee and poo are kept separate. Human urine, when diluted, can be applied directly to the soil, while humanure must be composted for a year or more before being used to amend the soil.

While I was staying there as a volunteer, I dug a lot of swales, which are essentially ditches that are filled with organic matter in order to catch rainwater runoff, keeping the water in the soil for the plants to use, and preventing erosion. I also helped David put up a fence in the front of the property. Instead of concrete, we made a clay sludge to stabilize the posts. My favorite project of the week, however, was creating the front pathway with pavers. Another volunteer, Jenny, and I created a checkerboard pattern, and filled in the empty spaces with broken pieces of old pavers.

Edendale was the original name of the area from Echo Park to the eastern edge of Silverlake until the 1940’s. According to David, there used to be a farm in Edendale, where a Mexican immigrant lived. He had been exiled from Mexico for questioning the dictatorship, but continued to write and engage in activism from his home in Los Angeles. David was influenced by this history in naming the urban garden.

He is concerned with creating an “alternative nation,” with its own economic system– alternative ways to own property, and produce and consume food and other goods. He sees the revamping of the system as occurring from the ground up, in small-scale steps that slowly create another system parallel to the one currently in dominance. Edendale farm is just one of those steps in the long, winding staircase.

Visit www.edendalefarm.com for more info.

L.A. Food Not Bombs

My first experience cooking with a Food Not Bombs outside of the East SF Bay was in the Silverlake neighborhood of Los Angeles. There is a co-op there called Aglago (“Ag” as in the elemental symbol for silver, and the Spanish “lago” for lake). They started cooking at 2:30pm, setting up an EZ-up, and chopping on folding tables and cooking on an outdoor stove in the backyard. The remnant posts of the back fence still stand, but the fence itself has been taken down to reveal a garden and a beautiful view of hills on the other side.

Just as I suspected before going on this trip, people everywhere are very much the same. Several folks at the L.A. FNB reminded me of those I had left behind in Oakland. You have your general radical-y, anarchist-y, bicycle-y people that FNB tends to attract. And yay for that. Contrary to what I had thought possible, there is an anarchist community in L.A. There is also a thriving bicycle culture. In fact there are several diy bike repair spaces in L.A. (Bike Kitchen, Bike Oven, and Bikerowave being a few).

There were about six men and three women cooking, including myself. I was given a Map For An Other L.A. while there, and met a man named Noen who plans to start a vegan bicycle catering collective.

Chop, chop, and a lovely veggie dish, salad, rice, and pinto beans. Also, bread and scones.

First, food was served in Pershing Square, right in Downtown. We all carpooled or biked there. About 8 folks helped to serve alongside the children ice skating at the rink built in the park every year. One FNBer described Pershing Square as L.A.’s “concrete park.” He was certainly right. Not much greenery to that park. About 50 people lined up to get served, and many of the cooks ate, too. I was told by an FNBer that several servers had been arrested by the LAPD some years ago. Later, they sued and won a settlement that helped to fund new equipment like pots, pans, and utensils. Since then, the LAPD is not allowed to interfere with FNB servings.

After all were served, everything was packed up again to be moved down the street to L.A.’s skid row. I was warned to prepare myself: skid row is where the missions and shelters of L.A. are concentrated, and where crack is used quite openly on the sidewalk. As we neared, the amount of trash strewn on the street rose exponentially. Another FNBer told me that people throw their trash on the street after all the feedings at the missions and soup kitchens. It didn’t seem to me that folks would have any other option at any rate, since there were no public trash cans. In skid row, we served over 100 people.

It felt good to be part of that again, and to see how similarly this non-formal organization runs in another city.

Santa Cruz Home and Garden

Santa Cruz have proven to be a good place for Field Trip fodder, even though I mainly came to visit my friend and long-time S Cruz resident, Autumn. I arrived here Thursday morning, and decided to search the web for good happenings about town. First, I discovered the Homeless Garden Project.

The Project was founded in 1990 with the aim of helping people who are homeless or formerly homeless transition into stable housing and work. The Project serves as a laison to many systems of help, as well as providing several job training programs. Participants not only learn to garden on their 2.5 acre CSA farm at Natural Bridges, but also help run two businesses: a flower shop and a plant nursery. Through this work, people can gain skills and experience for future job opportunities. What I like about this program is its emphasis on small business, local economy, and handcrafted/hand-propagated goods.

So, I went for a visit, and toodled a borrowed beach-crusier bicycle over to the Natural Bridges Farm. The peeps there were welcoming, and chatted with me a bit. The farm is always open to the public, for anyone who would like to take a stroll and check it out. No fences needed, it seems. I biked up and parked in their bike parking spot (made of old bike frames). I approached and introduced myself to a woman named Suzie, who told me more about the farm and the project.

When I told her that I was interested in local ecnomies, she began discussing the economic hardship their program is under. It’s not exactly a big money-maker, she said, and they’re in a catch-22 situation in which they cannot afford to hire a grant-writer. I wonder, though, if these programs would be easier to support if they were the norm rather than the exception— if nearly everyone in a community made something to add value and exchange with others.

I took a walk around and ended up chatting with a volunteer, Sam, for about 20 minutes. He continued his weeding down the crop row as we talked, and I periodically moved along to catch up with him. Sam is a Santa Cruz native, and studied…. economics! at UCSC. He is now preparing to work with the Peace Corps in Africa doing agricultural development. He said that the practice of slash-and-burn agriculture is a detriment to the environment there, and his job as a Peace Corps volunteer will be to educate farmers on more concentrated farming techniques that allow a high yield from a small area by nourishing the soil. Sam volunteers at the Homeless Garden Project to satisfy a request by the Peace Corps that he gain more experience in agriculture. He also said that he plans to get a Master’s in Alternative Energy following his Peace Corps time.

I asked him why he thought it was important to participate in community agriculture, and he cited the “dire situation of the Earth.” He believes that sometime in our generation, the planet will either go on a trajectory of depopulation, starvation, and desertification or a trajectory of renewing equilibrium. Sam is hopeful for the future because he believes that places like the Homeless Garden Project indicate that “there are people out there thinking these things.” It is a “manifestation of the recognition of a problem, and a sincere desire to change the course of history.” He believes the Homeless Project does indeed affect real change, but that the scale is not magnificent. “It’s less ‘save the world,’ and more small-scale community building.” He believes that the program’s main accomplishment is that it has significantly changed specific people’s lives by giving them activities that make their lives more meaningful as well as preparing them for a job. I agree that work that someone can feel ownership of and be proud of is the most important economic requirement we can hope for in this small-scale setting.

The Logistics

After having my Gypsy Fund Yard Sale and Farewell Party, much of my stuff was sold or given away. The rest I packed into my 1985 Chevy van, along with Simon the cat. I cheered the big metal beast on as I drove to Granite Bay, where my brother lives. Thanks to my moral support, it made it. Simon was a bit confused, but not as upset as he usually is in a car. I think the fact that he was in a big space with familiar things and smells and not in his pet carrier helped. I am writing this now in the van and he’s sleeping soundly next to me.

The eight days in the suburbs was difficult, especially because the van was making grinding sounds as I drove it up, and I was leery to drive it except to the mechanic. I regretted not having the van checked out prior to leaving the apartment. Now, if the van needs repairs, I need to set Simon up somewhere, as I don’t think it’s generally a good idea to leave an animal inside your vehicle while it’s at the shop. Just one of several logistical details I did not pay enough attention to. Some others I have run into have been: climate control, lighting, music, and organization.

Firstly, climate control: If you are living in a van, you will be battling the elements, especially if you have a pet with you. Heat is more of an enemy than cold, as heat will more easily harm a furry creature. So far, cracking windows during the day has been enough, but the nights have been in the low 30’s— enough to warrant a heater if I want to do anything more than crawl under the covers.

Second, lighting: This relates to the first conundrum, as they are both about energy— power, that is. I read up a lot on the internet about electrical systems in vans/RVs, and there’s a lot of fancy systems you can set up. With my van, I only have a starter battery to work with. If I want to power things via a battery electrical system, I would need to buy one or two “leisure batteries,” and either a generator or hook it up to the starter battery (and alternator). The latter would require me to run the van’s engine often in order to recharge the batteries. Not to mention there is quite a bit of technical skill involved. The former option—the generator—would take up too much room and be too noisy.

I decided to completely nix any further fancy electrical footwork. For heating, I purchased a propane heater: Mr. Heater’s Little Buddy. The heater plus two 1lb propane tanks cost $75—quite a pretty penny for someone in my position. I mean, I don’t want to end up spending so much on prep that there’s hardly anything left for the actual trip. But, I decided that the heater was a good idea, especially for emergencies, and I instantly loved it the first night I used it. It made the van feel cozy and homey.

I also purchased six yards of heavy duty black felt on sale at Joann Crafts, covered several of the windows, and replaced the sheet curtain with a two-layered felt version. Now there is felt covering the big windows in the back as well as separating the cab from the living space. The van already has tinted windows and blinds, so hopefully, the black felt won’t absorb too much heat in warm weather. For the other windows, I cut a windshield protector (made of reflective “Reflectix” material—basically bubble wrap and foil). This material is said to insulate well. It’s also very inexpensive, and the blinds hold it in against the window. Additionally, the reflective quality should keep the heat down in warm weather. The downside is that you can see the Reflectix from the outside, which knocks a few points off the stealth scale, in my opinion.

For music, I found a weird-looking iPal mp3-playing plush toy at the Goodwill for ten bucks. It runs off three AA batteries. The sound quality is poor, but it’s portable, and I can use the rechargeable batteries and charger I bought at Big Lots.

You can tell that I did all this shopping in Roseville. Again, prep in Oakland, where I know places to get good deals and used equipment, would have been good, but in this case, I didn’t know what I would need until I started actually living in this van. Hence this guide to help you along! Generally, however, I would say to work with what you have as much as possible, and don’t buy anything unless you’re absolutely sure you will actually need it. I had to return some of the felt, since I didn’t cover all windows as planned. I also returned 15’ of Velcro that I ended up not needing. Also, be realistic about how much work you want to put into a project: turns out I wasn’t so motivated to sew Velcro around all the felt curtains.

Ooo, yes, and a staple gun! If you have a van that has already been converted with upholstered lining on the walls, a staple gun is your best friend. I put up curtains, repaired the upholstery, and ‘hung’ stuff on the walls with it. Indispensible!

And, lighting: still not all the way there on this, but I plan to find some LED, battery powered lighting to mount (yeah, with some Velcro—but not 15’) on the wall. LED lights use low amounts of energy, but I am having a hard time finding one that will work with AA or AAA batteries (what my battery charger uses, so I think I’ll just end up using regular batteries. Lighting is another element that will make a van feel more like a home, and will allow ease of activity at night. If it’s too much, however, dock yourself on those stealth points. City lights in warm weather allow open curtains and less lighting needs inside.

Organization: Staying organized on the road is extremely important. You will be frustrated if things aren’t kept orderly and you have to pull all of your crap out of the vehicle to find your ratcheting tie-downs. I haven’t totally figured this out yet, so stay tuned for that. I have all my clothes in baskets (I love woven natural baskets) and don’t want to give them up. If you’re not a silly basket-whore, though, plastic sets of drawers are ideal, as they are lightweight. Bungees or a Velcro/staple combo can keep em in place when you’re on the move (or if they fit perfectly-wedged, you should be fine.

List of good stuff to have when you’re living in a van:

• Staple gun Tool set (I have a 45-piece stubby set from Home Depot with a ratchet, a ratcheting screwdriver, a wrench, and tons of bits and sockets)
• Rechargeable batteries and battery charger
• Portable MP3 player
• Propane heater (be sure to crack a window!)
• Prayer candles (the tall glass kind you can get at the dollar store)
• Cigarette lighter adaptors (you can get them with standard outlets for about $30, but don’t drain the car’s starter battery!)
• Curtains (felt or wool)
• Reflectix (window insulation)
• Fuzzy ball trim (get it at a craft store in the ribbon section)
• Cooler (my van has a built-in icebox with drainage—yay!)

I am now in Angel’s Camp, CA for my family’s Thanksgiving festivities. Back to Oakland for a short spell after this, and then south! And I’m not gonna even look back, I swear.

My First Farm

I was offered a gig by a friend to help trim buds on a pot farm in Mendocino. I accepted and used much persistence to make sure it actually materialized, as I was b-roke.

I didn’t think of this farm at first as the start of my field trip, but in a way, it was. It certainly provided a travel egg for me. And, of course, it was just as much a farm as any other. Plus, talk about alternative economy! Marijuana is a major source of value for California, and some of the best buds in the world are grown here. I felt honored to handle such beautiful works of nature and agriculture, and was pleased to be able to participate in the process before leaving my home state.

Part of what gives the pot economy such appeal is its on-the-ground nature. It feels more like a club than a business (although, don’t get me wrong– it’s definitely a business). To work as a harvester or trimmer of the buds, you must have personal connections– the ‘in’. There are no resumes, and it makes no difference how qualified you are. In this way, it’s more face-to-face and based more upon a social economy than your typical business.

Some worry that the small, local, personal nature of the business will become overridden by large, corporate, industrial-type farms if marijuana is legalized, regulated, and taxed. I cannot tell what exactly will happen, but I do have a feeling that the taxing and regulative bureaucracy will serve to push out the small growers, just as what occurred with Organic certification. Then again, if it’s legalized, anyone can grow it. I argue, however, that most people will purchase the inexpensive industrial stuff. It will get them high, and they won’t have to work very hard for it. One thing that would keep this from happening is by keeping the prices high. Smokers would then be encouraged to grow their own. Then, we are left with the issue of access to this powerful medicine for the poor.

Hmm…. how to get people to do things for themselves?

Now, a bit about my specific experience: I left Oakland on October 9th for a small town in Mendocino County. I had gotten food poisoning the night before and spent the whole morning sick, so I wasn’t able to make it there at noon as planned. The boss, G, wanted to meet several people at once in town and caravan up the hill. When I called him at noon and told him I was sick and was just leaving Oakland then, he was pissed. He said, “I’m not going back into town again today.”

I said, “But I’m already on the road. I left as soon as I could. I couldn’t help it. I was puking until 10am.”

He eased up, “I’ll send someone else to get you.”

I arrived in the Mendo town at  about 1:30pm, and waited until 4 for the other grower dude, E, to come meet me. I caravaned with his car and two other cars. I was insanely tired and worn out, and E was on edge. Getting everyone in a neat little caravan line seemed quite a feat. I was confused and worried that I would be left behind. I needed this work so badly.

As soon as we hit a dirt road, E pulled over and all the other  cars in the caravan pulled behind him. E got out of his SUV and fed a joint to each of the drivers through the window. Ah! That was awesome. I felt instantly better about the whole situation, and my nausea was somewhat relieved.

When we arrived, I set up my tent, and was ready to take a nap, when E called out to me that G wanted to see me. Arg. I was so exhausted, but G had hooked me up with the work. I felt obligated to say hi at least.

Several people trimmed in the trim-room (a carport propped up on a foundation with a long table, office chairs, and desk lamps), while I hopped on the ATV with E to the dry shed where G was hanging branches of weed on strings strung high across the shed (another plastic carport deal). I chatted with him for a bit, but had to excuse myself because of my illness. I fell asleep at about 7 or 8 pm, and woke with the sun.

I stayed and trimmed for 12 days, about 10 hours a day. For the first few days, my body was sore from all the sitting, but then I got used to it. I made sure to get up and go for a walk or run every day. Trimmers came and went. I met a lot of really awesome people. It can get really intense, sitting in the same room with people all day long, talking but not looking into each other’s eyes (as you must keep your eyes on the buds), and listening to music; eating together, drinking together, and playing music together. I think I stared to get a little bit loopy after about a week and a half. There was the intensity, the isolation, the exposure to high amounts of intoxicating compounds via skin and breathing the crystals in, and the tension resulting from the nature of the work.

Getting everything weighed by G and put ‘in the books’ was difficult, and there was some conflict over how and when the buds should be weighed. For example, there were several times when we were trimming very wet buds. Your scissors get super-sticky and the cut leaved stick to the bud, giving it an unattractive,  hairy look. Despite this difficulty, G insisted upon letting the trimmed buds dry before weighing them. This struck many as unfair. We felt it should be weighed right away, so that we would be paid for the work we had done, not what the work we had done was like a week later. When I brought it up to G, I was yelled at. Hmmm. Not much trimmer’s rights in an illegal business. That’s one thing that legalization would do– help the workers to be paid properly and have some kind of security. It can be worrisome, too, when you are paid in full at the end of two weeks of work. A great amount of trust in the grower is required. They have all the power. Interestingly, too, all of the growers/managers on the farm (there were three) were men, and most of the trimmers were women. Quite an unpalatable dynamic ensued. Yuck. G had expressed such reverence towards women when I knew him before, yet at the farm, he made dirty, sexist jokes constantly and refused to take into account the views of anyone else.

A few others on the farm were my saving grace. One was another trimmer, A, who was one of the funniest people I have ever met. Maybe it was my attempt at not going crazy, but I laughed and laughed so much while he was there. I nearly peed my pants every day, I was laughing so hard. The other was the third ‘manager,’ V, who was big and strong and exuded a soft, protective energy. I felt safe as long as he was there (plus he was hot!).

Also among the trimmers were a Brazilian couple, a model, an architect, a Kazak woman, and a naturalist. The group composed a temporary community of sorts. I gave most everyone my info, but only got the model’s phone number. I left on the 22nd of October, $2400 richer. I was supposed to take the model and Kazak back up to Mendo on the 24th. I was the only one with a vehicle, and the three of us were to work at another farm. I gave the model a ride into the Bay Area, and kept her tent and sleeping gear in my VW.

It so happens that then, I was told via text by G that i was “not needed,” but Kazak and the model were still going. Hmmm. Why would he say that when I have known him for 6 months, but he had known the model and Kazak for three weeks? Plus, I was the one with the vehicle. Is it because I confronted him about wieghing? Was it because he grossed me out and I wouldn’t put out? Whatever the reason, I had to meet the model at the BART station and give her her stuff. She said she would try to hook me up with the work, but of course, I never got so much as a line of text. It’s a cutthroat world, I guess.

I was angry that I was cut out. I probably could have just ignored G’s text and gone anyways. I don’t think the other grower even knew who exactly or how many people were coming. But, it was probably for the better. I had my share, and I had only a few weeks to move out of my Oakland apartment and into the van…