/ Stories / Conviviality vs. Hierarchy / Neighborhoods /
I began camping in Sebring Gardens in 1989. By 1990 I’d initiated recycling for the park. I’d heard there was a guy who took aluminum cans down on Highway 27. I mounted a sign on a couple of garbage cans by the wash room, put up a notice on the bulletin board, before I learned that the guy down on the highway paid cash for the cans by weight! I was for recycling because I’d detested waste all my life. My friend Bucky Fuller preached recycling to the world, was famous, actually got paid! I put my little aluminum cans in the big tin barrels. So did a few others. One day I went to look things over and was body-blocked away from the collection station by residents acting in concert, taking over the collecting. Apparently some members of a residents association had decided to use recycling to collect money for the association.
The thieves didn’t prosper though: for a couple of reasons. One, the city had decided to supervise recycling. The guy who paid for aluminum stopped appearing in his spot, probably evicted. Some guy collects and delivers mail, the government knocks him down, takes over, charges more, does a far less good job. The schools mention the post office, just about never the guy who got knocked down. (See Lysander Spooner in this connection.)
Today recycling is run by the landlord, under instructions from the municipal government. He doesn’t know that I founded the practice, that my role was stolen from me by the association, that the association’s role was stolen by the municipality: he does know that the municipality is dictating what he has to do. Now there’s a big bin that collects aluminum and also takes cardboard, glass, newspapers … Sometimes the bin sits there un-emptied for months, you can’t squeeze another can into it sideways.
The bin sits next to the park dumpster. Residents are supposed to sort their trash, recycling this and thawing away that.
Jesus tells us to love each other. A church forms. Then an imperial church forms, tells us to love each other or the centurions will shove a red hot bar up our ass.
Last night I saw a movie of 18th-century Spain: the Inquisition prays to God to temper his mercy, to glut himself of revenge …
I’ll expand this, develop a section of other Sebring Gardens stories, and stories of other neighborhoods: neighborhoods of real neighbors, neighborhoods of failed neighbors.
For a while I lived in Jonathan Dickenson State Park. Trapper Nelson had run a little zoo there, wrestled alligators for tourists. Florida shut him down, no ‘coons in cages, no ‘gator wrastlin’; now the State shows tourists ‘coons in Trapper’s cages, wrastles ‘gators … while the state has taken over the lotteries, the numbers running … all having shoved the ethnic bookies and runners into the gutter, put ’em in jail.
Does anyone in Sebring Gardens know that I started recycling there in 1990? That I got shoved rudely aside (by people that I bet didn’t know they were doing it?) One thing about these Florida parks, the residents are 80, 90 … They die. Or they’re bums, get evicted. Some of us, like me, get hauled off to jail: by centurions! thugs who think they represent order! No, no one knows anything. And you can’t tell them, because they’re busy believing that they’re the good guys. The people who bombed four million gooks to death in Vietnam think they’re the good guys! It takes all of their attention to believe this, so don’t try to present any facts to them.
former start: much to do.
i’ll also make a menu of links to fragments on the subject already woven into other K. posts, bits and pieces told all over.
Jesus told us to love and respect our neighbors. But who are our neighbors if we live in an apartment in Manhattan? or the Projects in the Bronx? I lived on the seventh floor of 305 Riverside Drive for years before I ever so much as saw let alone met my next-door neighborhood. The other people on the floor I never saw, never heard their name? Did they know that I had run the Free Learning Exchange from 7E, the world’s first offer of an Illichian learning network, the prototype for a Christian-anarchist internet? Did they know I was soliciting contributions to build the infrastructure? Did they know when I took this or that ordinary job to trickle some income toward my family? or when I launched PK Fine Arts, Ltd. there, promoting and distributing multiple original graphics, $75 through three figures to low four figures? When we joined a food coop, did anyone else on the seventh floor know about it? Did others in the food coop know who I was? that I was inventing the internet right before their eyes?