Regretsy has some great pictures of the Rapture, if like me you were too busy not getting raptured. I particularly enjoyed:

Because that’s pretty much my days off, minus the panties.

Helen Killer also posted why she hates hippies, including

2. I don’t like women who call each other “Mama”.

Enough said.

3. Making your own bread is not brave.

Hippies are not heroes. It’s nice that you make compost, but no one fucking cares. Washing your reusable bamboo panty liners in a stream with a rock does not make you Gandhi. Not that he wore pads, but that’s not really the point I’m trying to make.

And really, more often than not, these people who live so simply would be thrilled to do their laundry at your place. Hippies are not Amish, they’re broke. And they’re usually broke because they don’t want to work, or they can’t get real jobs because they have a lotus tattooed on their face and smell like kefir.

…There was a market behind our apartment house called Wild Oats. This was the only market in walking distance, so we went there a lot. It was frustrating because they had nothing a normal human being needed. If you wanted a Coke, you’d have to settle for a Yohimbe Bark Spritzer. If you wanted aspirin, they’d suggest shoving aloe leaves up your blowhole. I remember going in there for some instant rice, and they looked at me like I voted for Mike Huckabee. Of course you could get as many American Spirits as you wanted, which hippies perceive as a vegetable.

Over the weekend I managed to get out of town and spend quality time with burners. The first few years of burns, I just kinda showed up. Volunteered. Hung out. Having those people pervade my real life and become friends, good friends and best friends is one of the greatest joys that has ever happened to me. I had a mental breakdown Friday night and decided that I have GOT to figure out how to get out of here. So, if you would let me move in with you and cover my bills while I finish school let me know, k?

Even ChaCha is ready to go:


4 Responses to “”

  1. Issa @ LoveLiveGrow Says:

    I would let you move in with me, and we could figure something out about the bills, but I don’t know how Knoxville would fit in with school-finishing, plus I don’t actually know any other burners here. Might just be another place you’d have to get out of. Also, I’m definitely a hippie. Not a perfect one, of course – I bleach the shit out of my reusable bamboo panty-liners, which makes the other hippies sad, but Google Analytics says 5000 people a month care about my compost, so there! 😛

  2. Joshua Says:

    Issa is right. We have no burners here in Knoxville now that Trevor has left, although to be fair, Issa and I are burners, so maybe we count. You can come live with us if you want, and maybe you could go to UT and wear ORANGE AND WHITE EVERY SUNDAY FOOTBALL WOOOOOOO1!!!!11111!!

    I submit that baking your own bread can be viewed as an incredibly courageous and subversive act, in a world where participation in the Corporate Capitalist Machine is a patriotic duty, and those who Make instead of Buy are seen as heretics.

  3. Joshua Says:

    You’d probably be better off from a social perspective, to move to Atlanta, but I don’t know anybody who’s going to be as charitable as we would probably be about the bills.

    • J Says:

      That is gracious of you both and I thank you! I certainly have my farm fantasies and look to your respective blogs for daydream fodder, but fear it might be more The Simple Life than a simple life. 😛 I honestly came close to trying to skip the rest of the week at work and go on to you from Asheville. Just can’t afford it. Maybe I can pitch that as a reality show, city-lovin’ goth girl moves to a farm and turns her black thumbs green…hee hee.

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