I’ve decided to quit that stupid laundry list bullshit. It seems that everytime I make up a list, I end up throwing it away and doing other stuff. So I have decided to throw it away!

I spent most of this week out in the suburbs/country where my mother and step dad live. They have quite a classic garden and I spent a lot of time working on things around the house and yard. My plans have altered quite a bit since my original plans a year ago. Next week marks my half-way point for the year and I still feel quite at a loss.

…I don’t really know what to say at this point. Too busy taking care of shit to write.

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This week at Rabbitstick I fell way off the paleo diet wagon into a world of foggy-brains, swelling lymph-nodes and runny sinuses.

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When I think of “resistance movements” I envision a small group of people resisting against a much larger and all-powerful militarized machine. To think of civilization as an all-powerful death machine, the idea of resisting makes me feel small and paralyzed. But when viewed through the eyes of rewilding, resistance looks and feels very different.

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I have always used the term primitive skills to refer to things like making hand-made tools such as the bow and arrow or the the social systems such as tribal organization or educational systems such as mentoring or body skills such as heightening senses or rituals such as giving thanks to the landbase. After spending several days at Rabbitstick Rendezvous (the oldest primitive skills gathering in the country), I figured out why I get a funny feeling when I tell people that I practice “primitive skills.”

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I noticed that my blog hits jumped to a lot more than usual yesterday, and holy shit people have spent a lot of words on my behalf! Someone linked to me at MetaFilter posing the question: Urban Scout. Sincere crusader for sustainable living, or poseur hipster douchebag? Well it seems the Internet nerds, who have a long history for not reading into irony or reading at all (and a deep, deep love of civilization) have made a unanimous choice: Poseur Hipster Douchebag! You heard me right folks, unanimous; 42 out of 42 commentors hated on me. I can’t help but think that just last week when I complained to my friend Rory that I had gotten a few letters of hate mail, he said:

Seems like a “Hate on Scout” theme has popped up on the good ole Intraweb-thingy lately. Sucks but it means you are doing some shit right. There is a comedian who’s name escapes me who said, “Got 5 haters? That’s not enough!! You need at least 50 haters. That way you know you’re doing shit right, makin’ waves and getting yourself out there. More Haters means More badassness on your part.”

Holy shit Rory! I think I did it! A whopping 42 people (42-fucking people) took the time to hate on scout so far, and not a single one who came to my defense! If you add those with last weeks letters… I’ve hit 50 dedicated haters! Now I’ve got more badassness than ever. (sniff, sniff) You hate me. You really, really hate me.

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So, as many of you know, I sort of act like a drama queen sometimes… okay, fairly often. And as you may have read in Penny Scout’s genius tabloid spoof “Scout’s on the Outs,” we broke things off on Wednesday.

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