tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77659622007314806992024-03-12T19:02:20.703-07:00The Hardcore EcologistAn obscene mash-up of hardcore music and environmental activism.TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-59280619052474354612015-07-11T19:58:00.001-07:002015-07-11T20:01:03.520-07:00Forest MandalaSlowly tracing the<br />
Mandala of Forest Life<br />
Feeling the thorns, branches,<br />
Fur and slime of its wild surface<br />
While singing gratitude for berries,<br />
Mouthing sutras for salmon,<br />
Hymns to hemlock,<br />
Prayers for penstemon<br />
And a host of such rustic rosaries<br />
<br />
Its ochre hues and dappled greens<br />
Are soft against my eyes<br />
Bearing concentric circles of<br />
Light and Dark<br />
Beauty and Decay<br />
<br />
A fish carcass rots in the grass<br />
While a fresh lily opens<br />
It's pale petals<br />
<br />
Moss cushions my every step<br />
Along this living contemplation maze<br />
Weaving between ancient spruces<br />
The foundation, the pattern, truth<br />
Encrusted in sap<br />
<br />
The bones of each creature<br />
Sinking deeper into<br />
The forest floor<br />
<br />
Detritus:<br />
The ink of the Mandala
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1937352298/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=2ebd35/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://listen.20buckspin.com/album/aria-of-vernal-tombs-2">Aria Of Vernal Tombs by Obsequiae</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-31741701513642296982015-05-08T20:12:00.001-07:002015-05-08T20:12:11.171-07:00Seven DevilsI hear laughter,<br />
Sinister cackling<br />
Echoing, blowing queerly<br />
Over this thin ridgeline<br />
In brewing storm<br />
The Seven Devils<br />
Are made known<br />
Amidst their ritual thrall<br />
<br />
They've scattered the<br />
Flowers<br />
They're shaking the doors<br />
And creaking the floors<br />
Searching for an<br />
Entrance<br />
<br />
Twilight's Luciferean lilt<br />
Beckons with growing voice<br />
I can't get their<br />
Multitudinous<br />
Horns, eyes, teeth, grins<br />
Out of my reeling head<br />
Clutched between feeble<br />
Knees<br />
<br />
I thought myself against<br />
Christian convention,<br />
Absent of faith<br />
And doubtful of the safety in<br />
Flocks<br />
<br />
Until this accursed place<br />
Took my peace<br />
Casting it to Satan's<br />
Icy hove in the ninth circle<br />
Leaving only twisted madness<br />
And a void so dark<br />
As to drive me back<br />
Towards the<br />
Light<br />
<br />
At least while this<br />
Storm still blows<br />
And Devils still dance<br />
At my door<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1677403103/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e32c14/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://profoundlorerecords.bandcamp.com/album/scar-sighted">Scar Sighted by LEVIATHAN</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-32033375009581498322015-04-29T20:53:00.002-07:002015-04-29T20:53:50.260-07:00Drew Drop's Birthday Hymn<div class="MsoNormal">
Mannn, you tight as emo jeans</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Munching on those kidney beans</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Walkin’ in a land of silky dreams</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re in all my favorite memes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baking up these fuckin’ Krispy
Kremes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But real, do drew even climb?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pouring out these sandbags of
time</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ain’t a fuckin’ mime</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Get up that rope and make it dope</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before I donkey punch the pope<br />
You’re getting older but don’t mope</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cause you’re smile is the only
thing that helps me cope</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They ask if Drew is even a mortal
man</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And you say ‘Nope’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I’m just immortally dope’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Majestically riding all these
flying goats up in here</div>
Get this dude a beer!<br />
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1360255144/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e32c14/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://blood-music.bandcamp.com/album/behemoth">Behemoth by GosT</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-67350716806515577302015-04-19T21:36:00.005-07:002015-04-19T21:41:35.776-07:00Loon LakeFrom within my mountain cloister<br />
I can see<br />
The night grow heavier and heavier<br />
Weighing its darkness down<br />
'Til the thick phalanx of spruce crowns<br />
Pierces into the viscous black ink<br />
No stars will wink tonight<br />
Cassiopeia is blind<br />
With the absence of light,<br />
The suggestion of annihilation<br />
A void hanging, so close.<br />
<br />
Such are the nocturne thoughts<br />
That rattle through my brittle brain<br />
When my eyes as heavy as the night<br />
<br />
Yet while the forest remains verdant<br />
Strewn with overgrown boulders<br />
Its waterfalls playing subtle music<br />
A celebration of energetic form<br />
With stoic owls holding vigil<br />
<br />
I can rest easy<br />
And pull this coverlet of moss<br />
Up to my chin<br />
To draw within the<br />
Parallel void of my dreams<br />
Where Heaven and Earth<br />
Are inseparable.<br />
<br />
<iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1405063497/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e99708/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://cromdubhvan.bandcamp.com/album/heimweh">Heimweh by Crom Dubh</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-52381617810872690512015-02-28T20:19:00.000-08:002016-02-15T21:05:18.264-08:00ConvocationVultures dance,<br />
Circling one another<br />
With arched wing tips<br />
Pointed skyward<br />
Bending the stiffness<br />
Of the evening breeze<br />
Ominous figures sharp against<br />
A pastel sunset<br />
Bearing the elegance of death,<br />
Descending towards<br />
The ashen body of<br />
A failed fawn<br />
The cause of its<br />
Expiration unknown<br />
<br />
The sheath of the grain<br />
Remains to be harvested by<br />
These red-hooded scavenger priests,<br />
These woodland wraiths<br />
Accepting the sacrament<br />
Of stilled flesh<br />
The seizure of blood's<br />
Mercurial passage<br />
<br />
The wake continues their<br />
Ruination vigil<br />
Into the depths of night<br />
As their silence<br />
Reverberates<br />
Through this cathedral<br />
Of skeletal oaks<br />
Where the light slips away<br />
Like the spark from<br />
A does' eye.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1506079330/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e99708/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://willowtip.bandcamp.com/album/blessed-be-my-brothers">Blessed Be My Brothers by Sarpanitum</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-5354167750767013372015-01-19T20:58:00.000-08:002015-01-19T20:59:45.244-08:00A Hike up Hood MountainEyes lifted<br />
Up across the valley<br />
Above the brush stroke of vines<br />
The sweep of the rivers<br />
A stone carcass, heavy<br />
Serpentine bones supporting<br />
A crown of gnarled Manzanita<br />
An oxidized skull of basalt<br />
Body armoured with a vest of Fir<br />
Greaves of rich Madrone<br />
Ancient sword forged in<br />
Volcanic ocean-fire<br />
Now quiescent sentinel, watching<br />
Waiting<br />
Hawks dive from their perches<br />
On Gunsight Rock<br />
Talons drawn<br />
Circling the wheel<br />
Bringing new death from above<br />
Melding decay into the earth<br />
A thrumming magnet of life<br />
Mayacama<br />
The Great Old OneTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-80563929992916442382015-01-12T21:09:00.000-08:002015-01-12T21:09:12.694-08:00On the Adversity of Revegetation I've been on the job as a Restoration Technician at the SEC for nearly a month now, and through our various projects have encountered the inevitability of failure. Success rates are rarely 100%, and a certain amount of mortality is expected among transplants, yet I'm still trying to figure out how to cope with these disappointments. And consequently this has prompted me to dig a little deeper into what exactly is the purpose of our labour, as it relates to themes of futility and impermanence. Seeing and contributing to all the effort that goes into a restoration project, only for half the plants to die is certainly devastating. There is some consolation in the percentage that survive the initial stages, but even these are vulnerable to disturbances such as flooding and could be wiped clear in a single event.<br />
<br />
For me it evokes this Sisyphean image of pushing the boulder up the hill only for it to fall backwards on you again. Even if the plants take, there will be a long term shift in community composition, as species compete against one another for light and resources. When we design a restoration plan, it is very much an idealized version of what we would like to see thrive. But that's before the weeds regain their foothold, the soils proves inhospitable, established trees cast their cold shade or any other physical challenges. We have very little control over what it will look like in 5 years time, or 50, 100 and so on. Which is nothing on a geological timescale. Life doesn't do static. The power of nature can feel overwhelming at times, as though our efforts are wholly insignificant. And perhaps they are, when tempered by the concept of infinite time, Earth's eventual destruction, etc. I find it easy to get lost in this existential crisis for both myself and the plants I'm putting in the ground. Where's the point when we're all going to die?<br />
<br />
The answer I find is in the tiny victories and our own creations of meaning, as well as enjoying the moments that go into each project. Sometimes we humans have to work for the sake of work, doing and undoing tasks over and over again. The way I see it, at least restoration is a more healthful way to toil. Out in the winter sunshine, away from a desk, using muscles, watching rivers flow, touching soft moss, watching birds, laughing with coworkers, squishing mud between my fingers. I can appreciate these moments in between, even if the end result bears no permanence. The dead plants will be recycled. Some of them will grow. And I will find some sense of purpose along the way, being unafraid of impermanence, embracing the opportunity to at least try to make this a greener world.
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1102585580/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=9a64ff/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://mechinamusic.bandcamp.com/album/acheron">Acheron by Mechina</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-41452484101442211842014-12-26T17:53:00.000-08:002014-12-26T17:53:08.782-08:00Full CircleWell here I am again, back in Glen Ellen following the circus that is college. A full four years plus a bit have passed since I first set off for Whitman up in Washington, believing my path to be secured and straightforward. Yet it morphed into something wholly unexpected and heavier on the life experience than the academic rigour, though nonetheless worthy of being cherished and valued in its own right. In the end I emerged with a Bachelor of Science in Environmental Science and Geography. At least I hope so. This still needs to be confirmed by an academic board meeting in February. Graduation is a very strange process in New Zealand. I'll also have to pay the courier fee to have my scroll delivered overseas.<br />
<br />
Despite all the wonderful diversions along the way: living in Motueka, Waiheke Island and travelling to Argentina, I am happy to be home for the moment. This first week of reconnecting with people and place has been fantastic, heightened by the cheer of the holiday season. In fact, it was a dear friend who encouraged me to re-ignite this digital journal at least as some personal catharsis, even if no one reads it. The Hardcore Ecologist has existed in one form or another for the past four years and I appreciate anyone who has been a part of it. Regardless, I love my friends here and they are wholly irreplaceable. I am consistently amazed by their warmth and their own achievements while I've been geographically detached. Though I have received many compliments and envious remarks on my travels, oftentimes I am more impressed with what my friends have become moreso than anything I've stumbled my way into. Things always look rosier through the facade of Facebook or Instagram. Things have not always been easy, in fact living in rural NZ was frequently isolating and lonely, with no stability to even entertain the idea of a girlfriend, etc.<br />
<br />
But I suppose in a lot of ways I should be proud that I have been able to make good on my early ideals and plans hatched back in high school; much of my daydreams have in fact come to fruition. For example living in New Zealand and connecting with my roots, managing an island permaculture farm, working in an organic vineyard, backpacking and travelling heaps. I have also finally properly earned the title of Hardcore Ecologist, given that I am now employed by the Sonoma Ecology Center as their Restoration Technician. There are even some small, more personal 'achievements' that I've reached such as finally getting the crazy haircut I've wanted since I was obsessed with Daveky Havok of AFI as a teen, having both of my legs tattooed, as well as getting the nose piercing I've envied for years. So things really have come together for me in some beautiful ways. I know a friend of mine commented on this, saying that I've really fulfilled the ambitions of my youth, and he was right really. The foundation has been laid as a young adult of 22, and now it is up to me to build and create upon that platform in the most br00tal and eco-groovy way that I can. I don't know what happens next, but we'll keep rolling along. Thanks for being a part of it.<br />
<br />
Always follow the Left Hand Path.<br />
<br />
-Troy<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=590052989/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=0f91ff/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://earache.bandcamp.com/album/left-hand-path-full-dynamic-range-edition">Left Hand Path [Full Dynamic Range Edition] by Entombed</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-46043940907950926152014-10-10T20:35:00.000-07:002014-10-10T20:42:21.915-07:00Dig In<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3198760395/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e99708/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://darkdescentrecords.bandcamp.com/album/ecdysis">Ecdysis by Horrendous</a></iframe>
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3922736959/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e32c14/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://blackcrowninitiate.bandcamp.com/album/song-of-the-crippled-bull">Song of the Crippled Bull by Black Crown Initiate</a></iframe>
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3202462489/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://coldbluemountain.bandcamp.com/album/old-blood">Old Blood by Cold Blue Mountain</a></iframe>
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 470px;" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1759114345/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=2ebd35/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="http://youngandintheway.bandcamp.com/album/when-life-comes-to-death">When Life Comes To Death by Young and in the Way</a></iframe>
TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-60131840903710537692014-08-09T20:58:00.000-07:002014-08-09T21:04:34.435-07:00Harbour-watchingLooking out,<br />
I'm trapped in a postcard<br />
A view of perfection<br />
Every day a testament<br />
To this island oasis,<br />
Its effortless beauty spilling over<br />
Irrepressible<br />
<br />
Yet from inside the frame I cannot<br />
Grasp it, make real contact<br />
With its features<br />
When my mind is stalled<br />
On the memory of your smile<br />
The grace of your limbs<br />
The stars that I saw<br />
Reflected in your eyes<br />
<br />
Alone, the world falls flat<br />
Even when it's at my feet<br />
For the taking<br />
It lacks colour, texture,<br />
Even the salt of the ocean breeze<br />
Tastes bitter on my tongue<br />
<br />
What ungrateful agony it is<br />
Being unable to unwrap<br />
The gift of each day<br />
When my spirit is halved,<br />
Unrequited<br />
<br />
While distant ships stretch brilliant<br />
White sails, gliding as if a dream<br />
Over turquoise glass<br />
My own ship is sunk, wrecked<br />
In the harbour rotting with<br />
The barnacles and urchins<br />
After years of adrift finally<br />
Settling to the bottom,<br />
Unseaworthy<br />
<br />
Perhaps one day you'll<br />
Set sail<br />
Hoist your colours<br />
Tying a scarlet ribbon<br />
To the mast for me to see<br />
And come drifting into this<br />
Rocky harbour<br />
<br />
You know I'd race down<br />
To the beach and meet<br />
You there<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-67348950513738530632014-08-05T20:07:00.000-07:002014-08-05T20:07:57.326-07:00More Metal Offerings <iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2452986771/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=de270f/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://nailssl.bandcamp.com/album/abandon-all-life">Abandon All Life by Nails</a></iframe>
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3441849153/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://profoundlorerecords.bandcamp.com/album/clawing-into-black-sun">Clawing Into Black Sun by WOLVHAMMER</a></iframe>
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=979066111/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=7137dc/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://fallujah.bandcamp.com/album/nomadic">-NOMADIC- by Fallujah</a></iframe>
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2686374725/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=e99708/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://tempelofficial.bandcamp.com/album/on-the-steps-of-the-temple">On The Steps Of The Temple by Tempel</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-1599070325894489062014-08-05T17:58:00.001-07:002014-08-05T17:59:20.408-07:00Project Gratification I finished building my new steps! And they don't look half bad if you ignore the imperfections and don't inspect them too closely. But considering the adverse conditions under which they were built, and the fact that I have roughly zero experience in building, I'm rather please with how they turned out. The most gratifying thing however is feeling as though I'm having a positive impact on the farm and leaving a legacy of sorts for those to come to enjoy. Instead of a muddy slippery slope, which I personally fell down several times, they will instead have six well-spaced steps to glide up. I really don't understand the motivations to be rich and famous and powerful when so much joy can be derived from completing a simple project like this. I'm finding contentment in small victories and simple doings. I may not be working in a laboratory pipetting aliquots of the latest miracle drug or engineering some clever new contraption, or whatever else is considered a successful career path for a young professional my age and what many of my friends are pursuing. But I'm proud either way of the peaceful, rustic niche that I've crafted for myself here, where my impact is minimal and the birds sing all day long.<br />
<br />
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In the beginning...<br />
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In the end...<br />
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Beautiful.TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-85946070703727347472014-07-30T22:50:00.001-07:002014-07-30T23:32:41.653-07:00Country Grind Quarterly So apparently there is a newspaper/zine being produced in Canada for rural punks and misfits, delivered free if you have a rural address. The Country Grind Quarterly. This is such a great idea. Recommended for anyone who loves blasting Antischism, driving tractors shooting off guns, and generally telling society to fuck off. If only I lived in Canada.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.countrygrind.net/">http://www.countrygrind.net/</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=1251381675/size=large/bgcol=333333/linkcol=e99708/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://martyrdoedsl.bandcamp.com/album/elddop">Elddop by Martyrdöd</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-87575838149968125062014-07-29T14:59:00.000-07:002014-07-30T23:23:38.380-07:00Right, so what's been going on at Uma Rapiti. Well we've weathered a few storms and things are starting to look up a bit. The sun has been out longer and stronger, and even though we're still in the depths of winter, this Waiheke Island microclimate is starting to feel like spring. And as a result, a few of the seeds that I sowed earlier on have begun to sprout.<br />
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Other things that have gone in the ground so far are garlic, potatoes, lettuces and some kale sprouts. Most of the work however has been in the greenhouse, getting seeds started in their trays and waiting till the time and the climate is right to plant them out into the rested beds. With garden activity being pretty low-key, I've had time to strike up some other projects like putting in a new set of steps up to the woolshed and digging in some paving stones to create new paths. The photo below is just a rough dig to make sure everything is going to fit right and my measurements weren't way off. Still working on the tricky task of screwing everything together in order and making sure it's all level. Not exactly the kind of thing I have heaps of practice with, but challenging myself like that is what this experience is all about.<br />
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Aside from work, I've had a good bit of leisure time to explore the island by bike, car and even by kayak. I paddled out to a small island just off the coast and had a good rummage around and came away with a good haul of mussels that became a delicious stew that night. There's nothing quite like plucking your dinner straight from the sea. I'm just loving all the opportunities to enjoy real, fresh food while living here on the farm. With eggs from the chooks, all the garden veggies and the orange trees producing, I'm feeling pretty well fed. It's definitely a special place.<br />
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<br />TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-17453092365464765742014-07-09T00:11:00.002-07:002014-07-09T00:11:41.616-07:00Dirt RitualWorking outside in the mud<br />
Boots sticky, skin flecked, muscle flexing<br />
Rain drips in silver threads<br />
Down perspiring chin<br />
Following the etch of veins<br />
As I open a hole into the earth<br />
Spade thrusting and cutting deep<br />
Standing back from its gaping wound<br />
Feeding its black flesh the<br />
Quivering seedlings freshly sprouted<br />
Filling that void with an arboreal hope<br />
As fat worms thrash and flee<br />
Retreating to the dark<br />
<br />
With this gift<br />
The dead and living are wed<br />
Mineral bonds broken and re-forged<br />
Nourishment taken from decay<br />
A ritual of rebirth at the<br />
Interface of soil<br />
<br />
A sacrament<br />
Cast from my hand<br />
Taking root<br />
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<br />TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-9291070857646824602014-07-08T21:41:00.000-07:002014-07-08T21:41:19.977-07:00Slugdge: Garden-themed Metal So this is very fitting for the farm: a metal album full of puns and references to slugs and their slimy gastropod allies. With song titles like <i>Dark Side of the Shroom</i>, <i>Lettuce Pray</i>, <i>Salters of Madness, </i>Slugdge may sound like a joke, but these songs absolutely rip. An infectious mix of death, sludge and doom. Maybe I'm the only one who gets excited over these sorts of things, but Slugdge is going to be on heavy rotation while I go about my business in the garden from now on. No garden pests, no mercy.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Dedicated to he who harvests the cosmos, Mollusca the Greatfather."</span></span><br />
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<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=4001402247/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=7137dc/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 720px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://slugdge.bandcamp.com/album/gastronomicon">Gastronomicon by Slugdge</a></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-23425277125548526942014-07-03T16:20:00.001-07:002014-07-03T16:20:15.637-07:00First Week UpdateSo what's been going on here at Uma Rapiti in my first week? Well, a lot of mulching really. The main goal has been to get the garden beds covered and in order in anticipation of spring planting for the seedlings we've started in the greenhouse. So chop and drop is the name of the game at the moment, turning all those pesky weeds into green mulches. I need to replenish my stock of cardboard for sheetmulching purposes, such has been the demand. Simple things like cardboard and newspaper become highly valued commodities within a permaculture system. I've also sown broadbeans and peas as cover crops for their nitrogen-fixing contributions, plus as a bed full of garlic. I've been making lots of trips into the surrounding karaka forest to collect sack-loads of tasty leaf litter as well. It's pretty sweet to be able to listen to birdsong from tui, kereru, etc. while doing my job. I just hope none of the karaka seeds decide to take root in the garden beds. I also headed down to the beach with my trusty wheelbarrow for a load of seaweed to grace the uppermost asparagus bed. Other jobs have been things like digging out gigantic flaxes and attacking it with an axe to divide it into three pieces before I could even move the behemoth, let alone replant it. A new tamarillo has gone in as well as more olives. I'm awaiting the arrival of about ten new banana trees to fill out the subtropical garden. Oh and I also restarted to the worm bin that had gone to wrack and ruin previously, so fingers crossed that the new worms are happy and healthy in their remodeled home. <br />
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In terms of produce that was growing when I arrived here, it's been mainly leafy green like silverbeet, brassicas like broccoli and cauliflower, a bunch of chili peppers, a few radishes, lettuce, leeks, some young potatoes, and there's a stash of kumara and an assortment of squashes in storage. The chooks are laying many eggs, but still getting a few feeds out of them. Oh and the brined olives from last years harvest are ready and so I've been cracking into those and they're delicious.<br />
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The upper garden all dressed up in leaf litter. <br />
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Lower garden bed<br />
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Seaweed-laden asparagus bed<br />
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One flax divided up<br />
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<span id="goog_1131934591"></span><span id="goog_1131934592"></span>Filling the void left by that gigantic flax, becoming a pathway to the forest sleepoutTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-87789681813725298802014-06-26T19:25:00.000-07:002014-06-26T19:25:35.361-07:00The Hardcore Farmer Up until this point The Hardcore Ecologist has been a miscellaneous mix of addled-brain theories, tirades, metal videos and random poetry. All surely of varying levels of quality, coherence and interest to my micro-audience. Now however it is about to enter into a new phase: permaculture farming. Today I moved onto a small lifestyle farm on Waiheke Island for the next four months of winter and into spring while also finishing my BSc. Environmental Science by correspondence. I'm going whole-hog hippie farmer in order to back up all the eco-smacktalk that I've been pushing here. It will no doubt be a challenging, often lonely experience as the sole permanent resident, but one of great growth and beauty as I learn what it means to work with the land in an ecological manner. I'm sure to wrestle with all the pests, shit, rain, failed experiments, and overwhelming level of responsibility that I've never before held over so many forms of life. Whatever happens, I'll get into the habit of documenting my trials and travails here in hopes that it can be of some value to anyone else.<br />
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<br />TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-25137164606162823152014-03-31T23:24:00.000-07:002014-03-31T23:24:35.793-07:00A Few New Tasty Metal Jams to Spread on Your ToastYou have to keep the demon inside pacified, right?<br />
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TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-83236414545062819852014-03-29T21:07:00.000-07:002014-03-29T21:07:23.831-07:00Since that day you dug it up,<br />
my peridot heart, prising it from<br />
basaltic womb where land<br />
and sea collide,<br />
its sharp green flicker has been<br />
fading.<br />
<br />
A dull orange shell crusting around<br />
where you you once wiped the still-<br />
warm earth from its angular faces.<br />
Now it wastes away, too fragile<br />
for human keeping, it crumbles<br />
back into the natal dirt.<br />
<br />
I always knew this would happen<br />
ever since I saw its mineral gleam<br />
tied with a ribbon around your laughing throat.<br />
You wore it so well,<br />
Your eyes reflected its dancing glimmer,<br />
And I was enchanted anew.<br />
<br />
But the light always fades,<br />
the crystal always cracks<br />
And I lose you, like all the others.<br />
<br />
This heart of mine, forged<br />
in the stomach of this earth<br />
under fire and weight married into form,<br />
it erodes so quickly at<br />
the surface.<br />
<br />
Reminding me that at the core<br />
I am nothing<br />
but a rotting gemstone,<br />
and that permanence<br />
is just an illusion.<br />
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<br />TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-49301951973225869062013-09-20T12:47:00.000-07:002013-09-20T12:47:33.358-07:00Eat for SustainabilityThis is just a reminder that the world's ocean environments are in perhaps even greater peril than our terrestrial ones. Bottom trawling, overharvesting, imbalanced foodwebs, acidification, etc. are all driving widespread ecosystem collapses. Simply because they're less visible to us land-lubbers and we can't immediately see the effects, it doesn't mean that things are alright. Play your part by making sustainable seafood choices and demand change from an egregiously exploitative industry.
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TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-46462740449207768482013-09-13T17:38:00.000-07:002014-07-08T21:45:28.153-07:00I Just Want to be Robinson JeffersThese stone-heavy limbs weigh me down;<br />
Keep me tied to the earth<br />
If only I could shed their mineral casings<br />
Sheet by sheet unloading<br />
Until my crystalline innards stand exposed<br />
To the circling condors above<br />
In the deep sapphire California sky<br />
Come dine on the rubies and garnets<br />
Of my opened chest<br />
Spread my jewelled offering aloft<br />
Drifting across dry western winds<br />
<br />
I could rest easy then, knowing myself<br />
Freed from brittle form<br />
Safe inside those Great Decomposers<br />
Agents of Shiva<br />
Closing the perpetual circle<br />
To be cast again into form.
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/QXA13R73GSI" width="420"></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-20683271688608379362013-08-29T20:22:00.001-07:002013-08-29T20:22:29.624-07:00RuahineGravel roads and rattled bones<br />
Fish-tail turns round blind corners<br />
Arriving at the Beginning<br />
Parked; dogs barking<br />
Geared-up for farmland slogging<br />
Opening gates: one, two three<br />
Up the fenceline pointed skywards<br />
500 metres gained through Achilles strain<br />
To where forest girds property<br />
Ceding ownership to the old Gods<br />
Tane-mahuta, Tawhirimatea, Hine-nui-te-po<br />
Entering a palace of beech, trimmed with moss<br />
And studded with fern, horopito<br />
A verdant hall within the clouds<br />
Shrouding all connection with humanity below<br />
As we continue to rise<br />
<br />
Two pilgrims following hallowed steps<br />
Towards a wild, ancient shrine<br />
Penance upon ridgelines<br />
Rain soaking, chilling skin; wind shattering thoughts<br />
Sacrificing and surrendering<br />
But still onwards, one foot and the next<br />
Communing with those nameless, formless ones<br />
Those that be<br />
Without passion or anger<br />
From these unchanging entities<br />
We achieve renewal, rebirth<br />
Naked of discriminating mind<br />
<br />
Cleansed<br />
The blessing of the mountain<br />
Follow us downwards<br />
Descending back to the common realm<br />
After one solitary night<br />
Where the fires of Purity burned hot<br />
In the chambers of the sky<br />
Destroying to restore<br />
Bearing with us the good news<br />
To all who will listen<br />
And heed Ruahine's call.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/2mboxRZGSB8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-16368796704835334162013-08-02T17:46:00.001-07:002013-08-02T17:46:25.259-07:00A Few Glimmers of HopeHere are a few inspiring examples of the transformative powers of nature. Long clips I know, but well worth a watch. Have you ever seen such complete restoration of ecological activity from marginal or degraded scraps of land? Because I haven't. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/LJ8pjOG4pXI" width="460"></iframe>TChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08174165358026257535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7765962200731480699.post-72350469411503608312013-06-13T01:46:00.001-07:002013-06-13T01:46:02.575-07:00Truly Holistic Agriculture This blog is no doubt full of young idealism and proselytizing with regards to organic agriculture. I started writing at 17 with these outraged notions of big agribusiness with its chemical bastardization of plants/soils and its animal abuses; all largely informed by the usual suspects of Michael Pollan, Wendell Berry, <i>Food, Inc. </i>and so on. I'm sure plenty of young college students would have shared in my experience. Sustainable food is most definitely the rage these days. Yet our 'holistic' critiques of the modern food system are still incomplete: discussion remains curiously subdued on the subject of the actual <b>farm laborer</b>. And it's something that should genuinely concern of all of us who profess an interest in sustainable agriculture. Inquiry into the topic betrays an awkward tension between organics as a movement and organics as an industry. When pursued as a movement, operations tend to be on a smaller scale with more equitable and steady employment. But when organics grows into the size and practice of industry, workers find themselves as marginalized and disposable as before, if not moreso. Organic husbandry is acknowledged as more labor-intensive because of its rejection of synthetic pesticides, but no consideration has been extended to the wellbeing of the often faceless laborers who bear this burden. On a commercial scale, the work is not quite so idyllic as weeding your backyard garden. This is the type of repetitious work that can break bodies.<br />
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California's agricultural labor force is overwhelmingly foreign-born and even illegal, and so they receive very little in the way of representation. Their bodies are classified as 'the other' and therefore not protected with the same venom as most red-blooded American workers. The problem is that an effort to improve labor conditions for these employees is often politicized into an attack on the merits of organic production. Yes we believe organics is good and noble, but some of us want to minimize the effects it has on fieldhands where possible. Democrats just don't know what to do with themselves in this instance, because they're not meant to oppose organics, but nor do they want to be seen opposing equitable labor laws. So they abstain. Is this how we reward the people who put their health on the line so that we can eat fresh produce? By ignoring them. All the while bragging how we know what local farm it came from; when really we don't know the half of it. The demographic divide from farm to plate remains enormous. The fashion of the organics trend is built upon the stooped backs of Mexican immigrants.<br />
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All of this leads me to wonder when agriculture will be raised to the level of a respected livelihood again. I believe the people who feed us through all seasons and conditions deserve at least some monetary stability and not the transient, impoverish existence they lead today. Rectifying this will involve paying authentic prices: a concept which scares the Pakistan-made pants off any consumer. Organics already cost more because of the field practices they employ, but this doesn't necessarily see any more money going to the workers. The reality is that food is expensive produce. For some reason though, we've come under the assumption that it's almost a given. This lets us spend the rest of our disposable income on non-essentials and frivolities that effectively drive the degradation of our planet and other social justice crises. What we need is a rearrangement of economic priorities. We can afford to give agricultural workers the wages they deserve, but this requires trade-offs in other segments of our budgets. Paying more for food could really be one of the best ways to decrease anthropogenic environmental impacts.<br />
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But really, this whole labor issue needs to be brought up for broader public discussion. For now it only exists in the shadows of our white Anglo-Saxon minds. Today's budding foodies need to expand their understanding of the American agriculture system if it is going to be both ecologically and socially sustainable. With more middle class, college-educated folks showing interest in farming and the 'simple life' away from the city, maybe debate can begin when they realize you can't always make a living at it and that not everyone enjoys their privilege. That's sort of how it happened for me.<br />
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