A trembling voice echoed in the depths of a wandering voicemail from a California number. I knew it was her after the first word, the “Hey” in “Hey, Man” — wrapped in an unmistakable, Russo-Gyspy, one-of-a-kind accent. My heart swelled with purpose as it finished with a call to action.
“I could really use a friend right now.”
My youth returned to me. I had a calling, a noble reason for adventure. A favorite Box Tops song from my boyhood cycled in my head. “Ain’t got time to take a fast train”
Governor Gavin Newsom’s executive order to phase out internal combustion engines by 2035 will effectively convert 10% of all traffic in America to EVs (Electric Vehicles). He signed the measure, despite the pandemic, to push distributed, smart electricity grids — a necessity when all those EVs get plugged in for recharging in the same window of a post-rush hour and for overnight slow-charging.
What happens when Californians cross the state line? And long-haul electric trucks for shipping? A serious demand wave for EV charging will swell over the next decade. …
In 2019, it wasn’t clear that Biden would be President. After the lack of COVID response and leadership by the Federal government, it seemed dubious that the Feds would be building an EV Charger Network for America. Now, Biden has proposed this very undertaking for his first term. This is how a nationwide charger network might have been built, or could still be built, by the states when the Federal government fails to act.
In September of 2019, twenty-two states joined together to oppose the rollback of California’s authority to set higher emission standards by the President. Two things were clear. First, states can collaborate when the federal government slows the cause of sustainability. Second, passing laws that restrict traditional vehicle emissions has been the main tool for states to reduce emissions. That’s fine. But regulations alone don’t help the bigger transition to Electric Vehicles as a standard. …
“70% of greenhouse gas emissions are generated by 100 companies.”
I first heard this statement in the summer of 2017. The shock of it started a feedback loop in my head. Three simple, distinct questions emerged, loud and clear:
1. Who are these companies?
2. Why are they not taking action?
3. How does change happen?
Answering the first question was easy. The names on the list show energy companies. Coal, Oil & Gas — all the usual suspects. They drill and mine and refine the fuel (still somehow) required to run modern human life. Mainstream philosophy around climate change often focuses on the impact of consumers, on things individuals can control and choose in their daily lives, ignoring the huge emissions from energy companies. …
The wave of calls for inclusion and change has begun to rise from the moat over the high castle walls of venture capital.
In the current state, one-percent, that’s 1%, of venture-backed companies have a black founder. 81% of VC funds don’t even have a single black investor. Not one. Last year, only 2.7% of all VC funding went to women of any color. Not twenty-seven percent, two and seven-tenths of one percent. And black women? 0.2%
It passed over the green peaks, spilling down and filling up the valley. Laguna’s disparities and eccentricities began to wake up. Nina had fallen back to sleep, in the fallen apartment, behind me.
A few hours before, the soup kitchen had me talking politics with the stalwarts of Laguna politics, the delegates of the rich. They spoke of the “homeless problem” and what to do with them. There must be balance, they said. We can neither lose the tourists nor the allure of a beachtown scrubbed of sadness. This is how we govern an artificial paradise.
Nina tended to everyone: serving bowls of soup, smiling, connected, moving with grace through her new-est family. …
The writer and critic alike see it too easy, cliched ends to a story.
The script waits — not for a particular age or marker of retirement. A finality of exploration, a conclusion of experiment, a stoic epiphany as preconditions.
It is Woolf wading past her collarbones in the cold truth of an English river.
It is Faulkner thrown from a horse, lying solemn, practical, unrecognized as his heart stirs and sputters.
It is Brautigan’s hot and slutty revolver curling blond smoke.
Or the insecure cliche, the spoiled and predictable shotgun of Hemingway.
Or Baldwin’s unknowable gut pain, digesting vicious undeniables. …
Fear of missing the free-est flows
The third decade’s poet chases the boldness of the second
An empty page and rushing night like anomolies
Flirting and full and empty
all at the same time, romantic time
When dreamt, once told, a simple life
whispered in trust ‘round the place
where it does not rain enough for anyone to know what a raincoat is
Damn I’m stubborn
Like the bleed of the ballpoint
Or the simple life where I wore a blue-collar
from necessity not pride
To craft, and watch, and write
on scheduled time
and speak only when spoken…
Dan Spanogle expanded his wellness center in Albuquerque, New Mexico into the vacant space next door at the start of the year. It was another rent payment, but he increased revenue with new services, yoga classes, and a partnership with an IV nutrition clinic. He planned to leverage other assets. Dan was going to make an offer, shift his rent into a mortgage and hire more staff to build out a dream.
Then the nightmare hit. Every class was empty. Almost every appointment slot was unbooked. The staff increased cleaning frequency to every two hours, everywhere. It wasn’t enough. Consumer fear pushed beyond the CDC’s guidelines into negative cashflows. Bills and payroll continued. Income ground to a halt. A few days later, Dan followed the Governor’s Directive and closed down. …