I got in the shower yesterday to, yet again, a trickle of water. This time I tried to take the shower without screaming downstairs to have Janie turn the water off in the front yard. I shudder to think of what our water bill will be this month. Plus, watering makes the grass grow and creates the need for Jesus (pronounced Hey-Seuss) to come over and charge us yet another fee for cutting the grass. I am fairly happy taking advantage of not doing any of the above while remaining fresh and clean each morning.
I heard again on the radio about food prices going up 5%. I hate this, happens every year due to something. Watching the media finding something of grave consequence is the real story here-a hurricane or disaster of some sort will be the only thing derailing what will become the story of the summer. Gas prices and sur charges will grow to epic proportions, due to something attached to the draught. There will be all sorts of reasons that the mere broadcast of the heat in the Midwest will create opportunity for the market to change, and the media will be responsible for it. It is in their charter to report on what can go wrong, their wish to be the first to say they are right.
I had a dream the other night. One of those really curious dreams that left me lying in bed thinking about what had just unfolded in my head minutes before--it was the feeling one gets after watching a really good (Frontenac) movie with a message that had to be sorted out, one that delivered a slow burn of intrigue, one that you think about for a couple hours after the fact, talk about. Those are the best movies, always the best dreams.
In my dream I had gone off the grid again--a common theme that I explore many times while conscious and while sleeping. I think it's in my fabric. I am adaptable and love a challenge, always wanting to be in a situation of crisis and perseverance. I know a lot of folks like this. Most of my friends are this way. Both men and women I know would be up for this. No, I'm not collecting things for use later, a cache in my cellar, etc., but a T-shirt business out of the back of a Vista Cruiser?--that and a guitar sounds downright delicious.
I think my problem is post traumatic stress syndrome from being in business for so long. This while having to navigate the red tape of the fed and the threat of failure. Did I just say that?--this combined with the fear of what might have happened when I decided to sell the business, the fallout of the cash flow, the outcome of the taxes, the shutdown of the companies that had evolved as a collection of companies and in strategic position with the others all coming to a head and leaving me without any money to pay back. This type of thinking is enough to keep you medicated; the unknown. The fact that it is very much a reality for all business owners is downright scary.
Unfortunately, there is no short list or clear manual for closing down your business. But is very easy to create an LLC and get a tax ID number. To close down a business, you need help from a war chest of legal and accounting services, talk about how the system works against you. How about re-captured depreciation? Every heard of that tidbit?
So anyway, I was involved with a group of people who had created our own village, hidden in the woods somewhere, deep in southern Missouri, near a series of caves. The caves where there for a reason because it was the only place you could go to get out of the heat; a resource to the relief of the sun, and the heat and from those trying to find us. While my group of friends gathered and hunted and traded at night amongst other groups of people who had gotten off-grid, collectively, our existence remained underground. We were governed by a group of survivors, business people centered on using their strengths in an effort to create a better way, and the traditional government had no idea. We were better.
I didn't want to wake up, and tried to "go back" to the story that was unfolding while I lay there in bed. It was that familiar cranking of the knob, that hollow water pipe release, calling from the basement, alerting the water sprinkler to do its thing at the hand of my wife. It was the sound of money and the conforming to traditional standard that jarred me out of my sleep. I was satisfied, having gone to a place with just a little more optimism and just a little more possibility than what would greet me on the radio, and in the shower, ifyouknowhatimtalkinbout.
I heard again on the radio about food prices going up 5%. I hate this, happens every year due to something. Watching the media finding something of grave consequence is the real story here-a hurricane or disaster of some sort will be the only thing derailing what will become the story of the summer. Gas prices and sur charges will grow to epic proportions, due to something attached to the draught. There will be all sorts of reasons that the mere broadcast of the heat in the Midwest will create opportunity for the market to change, and the media will be responsible for it. It is in their charter to report on what can go wrong, their wish to be the first to say they are right.I had a dream the other night. One of those really curious dreams that left me lying in bed thinking about what had just unfolded in my head minutes before--it was the feeling one gets after watching a really good (Frontenac) movie with a message that had to be sorted out, one that delivered a slow burn of intrigue, one that you think about for a couple hours after the fact, talk about. Those are the best movies, always the best dreams.
In my dream I had gone off the grid again--a common theme that I explore many times while conscious and while sleeping. I think it's in my fabric. I am adaptable and love a challenge, always wanting to be in a situation of crisis and perseverance. I know a lot of folks like this. Most of my friends are this way. Both men and women I know would be up for this. No, I'm not collecting things for use later, a cache in my cellar, etc., but a T-shirt business out of the back of a Vista Cruiser?--that and a guitar sounds downright delicious.
I think my problem is post traumatic stress syndrome from being in business for so long. This while having to navigate the red tape of the fed and the threat of failure. Did I just say that?--this combined with the fear of what might have happened when I decided to sell the business, the fallout of the cash flow, the outcome of the taxes, the shutdown of the companies that had evolved as a collection of companies and in strategic position with the others all coming to a head and leaving me without any money to pay back. This type of thinking is enough to keep you medicated; the unknown. The fact that it is very much a reality for all business owners is downright scary.
Unfortunately, there is no short list or clear manual for closing down your business. But is very easy to create an LLC and get a tax ID number. To close down a business, you need help from a war chest of legal and accounting services, talk about how the system works against you. How about re-captured depreciation? Every heard of that tidbit?
So anyway, I was involved with a group of people who had created our own village, hidden in the woods somewhere, deep in southern Missouri, near a series of caves. The caves where there for a reason because it was the only place you could go to get out of the heat; a resource to the relief of the sun, and the heat and from those trying to find us. While my group of friends gathered and hunted and traded at night amongst other groups of people who had gotten off-grid, collectively, our existence remained underground. We were governed by a group of survivors, business people centered on using their strengths in an effort to create a better way, and the traditional government had no idea. We were better.
I didn't want to wake up, and tried to "go back" to the story that was unfolding while I lay there in bed. It was that familiar cranking of the knob, that hollow water pipe release, calling from the basement, alerting the water sprinkler to do its thing at the hand of my wife. It was the sound of money and the conforming to traditional standard that jarred me out of my sleep. I was satisfied, having gone to a place with just a little more optimism and just a little more possibility than what would greet me on the radio, and in the shower, ifyouknowhatimtalkinbout.
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