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photo by Sheri Dixon

Friday, January 2, 2015

New Year's Resolution

I never make these. Because I know in my heart and my head and everywhere in between that I'll never keep them. And yet, here I go- making one in front of ya'll and everybody.

This last year I completely sucked at blogging. I'ma changing that here and now. Twice a week, people. Ya'll will see a new blog twice a week. And at least for the most part, I'ma changing up the format from 'just shit that pops into my head and out my fingers' to 'just shit that pops into my head and out my fingers that relate to this linked article'.

There will also be a post script with something warm and squishy at the end.

We'll see how long this lasts...

IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE A BURNED-OUT WASTELAND

One thing I've noticed in most of the shit-hits-the-fan books I've come across is that when the world ends, the big cities pretty much eat themselves almost instantly...like within hours of (fill in the blank with your favorite zombies, terrorists or nuclear attack). And I have several problems with that scenario.

Oh, sure you can point to New Orleans during Katrina or Ferguson after Michael Brown's death, and I'm not saying that right at the git-go, there won't be people losing their damn minds. But that will be happening whether you're in a metroplex or out in the country. You can't tell me the good ol' boys won't be all gun-happy and the fundamentals won't be all shut into their churches and both groups will fend off anyone else, enemy or not. You just can't. Between small-town mentality and survivalist hermits, in a lot of ways, being in the boonies would be more dangerous than a big city 'when the lights go out'.

Because here's the thing.

People in a big city are used to adapting to a lot of other people and situations- most out of their own personal control. There are many micro-communities in a city in the form of either individual neighborhoods or individual buildings, city people literally brush elbows with each other every single day.

Most things are walking distance- and that is a huge benefit when the world is 'blown back into the dark ages' by zombie terrorist nuclear weapons.

Even lacking zombie terrorist nuclear weapons, some cities are already in practice-mode for the end of the world. Detroit is one. Flint Michigan is another one, and the source of today's hopeful message.

Here ya go- literal food for thought.

http://civileats.com/2015/01/02/an-urban-farmer-breaks-new-ground-in-flint/?mc_cid=0f47f3273c&mc_eid=d461ac6f14

See? Even WITH gangs around and even WITH obstacles, this chick is getting shit done and growing food in a place that for all intents and purposes has given up on itself (by outside observers' standards). I submit that when the going gets tough, and after the initial zombie terrorist nuclear warfare smoke clears, that the big cities will not, in fact, be molten piles of the remnants of the dregs of society and places that even rats will be loathe to habitate.

I submit that residents will pull together, regroup, and get shit done.

As proof, please see these badass grannies-

http://thebabushkasofchernobyl.com/

2015. A brand new year. Lets not screw it up.

PS- The other day was weather-challenged to the max. It was cold. It was windy. It was the kind of gray that pushes on my sinuses and gives me a headache straight down to my knees. I headed out the door and across the foot bridge to let the horse out for her afternoon of eating weeds and looking majestic. I'd crossed about halfway when I was stopped dead in my tracks by the upward rising of a Great Blue Heron lifting silently from directly beneath me. He seemed to use his wings as mere suggestions of flight; they were completely silent and barely moved at all- he was suspended a few feet above the creek and was carried downstream with the current.

As I walked to the barn, the horse was feeling the biting of the wind. She snorted and tossed her mane, pounding back and forth in her pen and into the stall, going from full-speed to zero an inch before the gate. I opened the gate and she floated out, prancing on air and dancing on invisible pillows. Turning her huge liquid doe eyes to me, she came close, closer, closest. I could see every eyelash and feel her breath. She paused for effect for just a moment, then snorted horse snot all over me, wheeled around and thundered up the hill, tail high and mocking.

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