first church of dirt : salvation this way

Friday, March 20, 2009

on-demand rights

the first church of dirt approves the teachings of Grow Your Own Drugs. at least, the first church of dirt would approve them if the internet would let me watch. as the first church of dirt does not anathemetize or excommunicate, I have very little in the way of leverage. balls.
Posted By reverend tel At 5:48 PM • Comments (0)

Sunday, March 15, 2009

holy water

at long last, the first church of dirt has obtained—at great expense*—the two rare and beautiful piston water pumps we've been praying and self-flagellating for:

this one might still work
greeeeeeeeeeeeeen!

the piston on this pump is seized, possibly from being used to pump congealing blood
doesn't wooooooooork!

now, who can teach me how to repair and use these things?

next, we're getting a Botafumeiro.

*fucking Monos, but those pumps are heavy

Posted By reverend tel At 10:01 PM • Comments (2)

Friday, March 13, 2009

scripture

there are some books we like. for example: The Nature and Properties of Soil by Nyle C. Brady and Ray R. Weil. remember: The Nature and Properties of Soil won't do you any good if you leave it on the shelf.
Posted By reverend tel At 8:06 AM • Comments (1)

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

declaration

sometimes it's just too expensive to take the train all the way from Kelso to Seattle. sometimes, when I'm feeling especially stingy, I only ride Amtrak as far as Tacoma and take the bus from there back to Seattle. I switch buses at 4th Avenue and South Jackson Street. sometimes I take the 26 from there, sometimes I take the 71, 72, or 73. the 26 stops closer to my apartment, but the 7Xs run more frequently and get me home a little bit faster. last night, I took the 73, but only because I just missed the 26.

while I was waiting at the stop for the 26, just north of South Jackson on 4th Avenue, another bus stopped about thirty or so yards short of the bus stop and three or four folks got out. one of them immediately fell on the ground, and another immediately hit that guy. with his fists. then he jumped up and ran off as a third guy slapped him on the back and had a look at the guy on the ground. this third guy then told the bus driver that somebody needed to call 911, but then told the bus driver that he would take care of it himself, at which point the bus driver drove off. in the bus. the third fellow ran off to join the puncher. I don't know whether or not he called 911.

I sat on the bench at the bus stop looking at the fellow on the ground for a moment. he wasn't moving. I walked toward him to see about that. he slowly stood up and walked toward me. I saw that his jacket was wet. when he got closer I could see that his face was pretty beat up. when he got closer, I could see that his entire jacket was shiny with blood. and his face was a leaking mess. I told him to sit down and I called 911.

while I was talking to the dispatcher, the guy stuck his finger up under his mushy swollen eyebrow, where it looked like an eyeball ought to have been. must have been itchy up under there because he dug around in the same spot several more times during our brief time together. the dispatcher indicated that dispatching had taken place. I hung up as I tried to run down the 26 that was leaving me behind.

I walked back to my new friend. he stood up and staggered a little. I told him to sit down. he told me he needed help and wanted an ambulance. I told him an ambulance was on the way and to sit down. he sat down about three feet to the right of where he had been, and quickly made a substantial puddle of blood that merged with the one next to it.

the chap said he needed help, he wanted to go to a hospital. I told him I would stay there until an ambulance showed up. he said that he had made a mistake. he said other things, but not clearly. maybe he was a mumbler. maybe English wasn't his first language. maybe he was drunk. maybe he was impaired by the beating he had obviously taken recently. probably his mouth was mushed. I couldn't hear him very well.

a few minutes later, I heard sirens, and then a fire truck drove west on South Jackson and very slowly turned into the bus lane to where my friend and I waited. a fireman went to business asking questions.

"what happened?"

"hit me"

"with their fists or a weapon?"

"bottle"

another fireman thanked me and went to work, I think, repairing a severely ruined face. I walked across the street and waited for the 73.

statement:
the first church of dirt, with very few exceptions, can not condone hitting folks with bottles. please do not hit folks with bottles.

also, Brian and tel birthday party in Woodland the weekend of April fourth. probably. the moon will be waxing gibbous and the theme* this year is birthday party. dress accordingly.

* theme** is subject to change without notice
** everything else subject to change without notice

Posted By reverend tel At 8:56 PM • Comments (2)

Monday, March 09, 2009

honesty

I spooned a goat today. it wasn't the first time. perhaps some context is in order...
Posted By reverend tel At 5:17 PM • Comments (1)

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

northward

I'm headed north April 25th with Rob and Debbie of Fall City Farms to see everybody's favorite celebrity farmer, Joel Salatin. my previous encounter with Mr. Salatin was diverting: he encouraged a large room full of small-scale food producers to ignore USDA regulations. very diverting.
Posted By reverend tel At 2:00 PM • Comments (0)

new lid

western red cedar lid for twenty-gallon crock, by Grant Jensen: that's sixteen inches across and about an inch and a half thick to support heavy weights piled on during fermentation (to keep anything/anyone from escaping). a closer view of the handle:
Posted By reverend tel At 1:45 PM • Comments (2)