September 2024 Monthly Roundup

Autumn is upon us, Waywards reader.

For folks in the Midwest, it’s about time to pair a comfortable hoodie with baggy shorts and marvel at—if also rake and bag—the different-colored leaves that fall from the trees. Here in California, where we don’t have seasons in any meaningful sense, it’s about a hundred degrees at present, though we’ve had a few cooler days as of late, and dusk sets earlier now than it did mid-summer.

My fall quarter class at the local university just started last week. I spent a solid chunk of September preparing for it.

The piece I wrote and shared with you two weeks ago, “Running With the Anarchists to Support Political Prisoners,” was x-posted over at ZNet.

Aside from that, there’s nothing I’ve authored that was published this month.

I’ve been doing research and interviews for a book about the 2016 nationally coordinated prison strike I’m trying to put together. Hopefully it materializes.

I also got commissioned to write about a union-run cannabis cultivation certification program in nearby San Bernardino. That piece could be published later this fall or early next year.

In addition, this month I pitched a reported essay I’d like to write, arguing why class, or position and lived experience within socioeconomic hierarchy, should be better theorized and actively addressed in labor and social movement organizing. I seems to be a sorely neglected topic and consideration.

And earlier today I pitched an editor a piece about treating dysplasia of, and osteoarthritis in, the hips of dogs.

As for my dog, he’s quite the precocious pup. Buddy can now sit, shake with both paws, high five, lie down, roll over, stand, stay, jump and walk in a ~360 degree circle around me on command for treats. Buddy is a good dog.

Now, far be it for me to underestimate the full range of abilities you might’ve flexed not long after you emerged from your mother’s womb, but I doubt you could do all that my five-and-a-half-month-old lab can do before you reached six months of age, Waywards reader.

Best not to compare yourself to Buddy.

You can find an image of him below, followed by a poem I finished this month.

Joy Comes in Spurts

Life is pain;
it hurts,
in the main.
Yet we endure, 
all the same.

Love can cure. 
And it can heal,
if it's pure,
people have said.
Are they so sure?

In my head,
in my mind,
and in my bed,
I wonder why;
a tear is shed.

Years go by.
Pain persists.
It doesn't lie. 
It reveals truth,
until we die.

Death from life,
life unto death.
The former is rife,
with enough anguish,
to cut with a knife.

While I languish,
I take solace, 
since I am which,
will later be no more.
Now, that’s outlandish.

But when it hurts,
and you can’t stand it,
read these words, 
to remind you,
what life asserts:

Joy comes in spurts! 

Until our paths cross again, do me a favor and enjoy some apple cider, or maybe treat yourself to a little hot chocolate, you good Waywards reader you.