Ms Bauske

Funny you should ask.
What kind of work am I looking for?

Ms Ellen Bauske was the highschool biology teacher at Country Day School in the 1980's.
She was everyone's favorite teacher because she taught science. Everybody loves science because science explains our strange, fragile, uncomfortable existences in a vast unknown universe on a finite planet. It unravels and creates words that reveal mechanisms, chain reactions, chemistry between our brains and hearts and the food we eat, the air we breath, the water that sustains life.
Science is understanding.
The language of science is control and dominion over nature, over our selves.
Science is the study of how we've survived our past and why we are still able to imagine multiple futures despite every attempt to distract and blind us with doom, fate and shame.
Science is our way out of mortality.

But I didn't want to be a scientist.
I wanted to be a journalist.
I wanted to testify.
Without breaching walls, invading privacies or extracting valuables, I wanted to journal about real and fake news, to tell the story of the end of the world, the end of times, the paradigm shift between documentation and realization, between fear and freedom, big picture stuff.

Yesterday 25.01.2020 Ms Bauske reached out on the Facebook chat to help again.
A question, what KIND of work am I looking for?

We're all currently living in the multiverses of darpa, fluttering between sources of information, those who would keep their privacy private and those who have traveled the rabbit hole, opening doors and entering rooms named after Roberts, those who have attended the churches and bowed at the altars, and kissed the ringed hand in dreams.

I would work as I always have, at a table with other humans, sharing stories; waking before the sun to pray and to garden and to keep appointments. It would be a KIND of work were I to let money in IT. So that's what I want, to answer your question.

The work I want is letting money in.
The land is here, at La Ultima Finca, in Costa Rica. These are the last farms, I know where they are and how the water flows through them. I know all the plants personally, which animals and trees have disappeared in the last few years. How the street lights at night have gaslit the pollinators, the owls, the bats. I know that to make these farms fertile again, we need to repopulate the forest with snakes.

The money will multiply here, over time.
And since Ms Bauske is a science teacher, here's my wager.
$1200 divided over the next three months: February, March, April...
So that by May, I can ensure the seed funding of $12,000 to take my journal to the radio broadcasts to the north and south of the American continent and another $12,000 to bring the other journalists to a table where we can talk about the economic benefits of legalizing and growing hemp to replace and heal the damages of mining. Turn 12 hundred into 12 million over the next ten years.

A campaign to talk like grownups, about warfare and lawfare, about food, maps and timelines.

La Ultima Finca 2020

de mapas y maniobras.

se disputan las alcaldías de las aldeas costarricenses.
los barrios, las cuadras, los centros de salud y educación.
saben que como el año, la rata comienza el cero de acuario.
quieren borrar las actas, las asociaciones, los anónimos.
y cuenta nueva.

la última finca lleva funcionando al margen de los blogs ya 13 años. sigue siendo una ventana, disque puerta a las contradicciones y contraindicaciones que cansan el andar forestero.

la última finca es un lugar de verdad.
sobre el mapa google esta desfazado, pero es el cerro boscoso que se ve en todas las fotos de ciudad colón. es el rodeo, es san rafael y san bosco, es quitirrisi, es el centro, sus cuadras, sus condominios alicante, colón y la tertulia, sus barrios bermudez carvajal y calle las carreras, es brasil y la trini.

es un dormitorio particularmente occidental de una ciudad capital chepita josefina, y cómo tal, representa barrios de alajuelita, escazú, santa ana y piedades. una calle vieja sobre sendero que conecta muchas finquitas y muchos apellidos.

la última de la calle el porvenir, por longevo y enclaustrado queda al nombre apellido mckinney.
cliente del ice 1980 d.c. # 49-12-31.

ciudad colón le lleva pagando al difunto marido de laura chinchilla, josé maría rico, un español, una palabra de una cifra que no existe en castellano, ni en maya, por entrar y salir de nuestro cantón, bastante, suficiente.

muchos dicen, y me consta, que hemos pagado por todas las carreteras del sol existentes en todos los países de la #globalvia. los obreros que asfaltaron nuestra ruta 27 venían de venezuela y chile por cierto.

alguno de los candidatos a algunas de estas aldeas aledanas a esa carretera se atreverían a desapropiar el recaudo diario de sus casetas los peajes? para financiar programas de capacitacion y trabajo en technologías, materiales y energías nuevas? un ser tractor es buen candidato para gobernar en un mundo orgánico que perece ante las marcas de la indolencia? cocacola y bayer, venenos de una máquina, formula química de minerías si Curie, se las pueden con el descontrol del espíritu que provocan?

queremos vida, queremos agua, queremos aire.
queremos dormir de noche sobre un planeta que desconoce la amenaza, que celebra el peligro, que corre con lobos.