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I just glanced up at the top right corner of my screen – it’s January 11, 2024, 1:11 pm as I write this. That number always seems to crop up whenever I’m doing something seemingly important – 111. Call me crazy, but the last few years of my life have convinced me to let go of societal norms, and take whatever signs and signals I can get in this world, even if they arrive from sources which my peers might define as “woo-woo.” Numerology, astrology, gut instincts and intuition – I’ll warmly embrace anything that offers a sliver of hope in an increasingly cold and mechanical world. “Trust the science,” I think the fuck not. I’ll trust my numbers, and they’re telling me to go ahead and write this post. So that’s what I’m going to do.

Speaking of woo-woo, I’ve been oddly fascinated with the subject of astrology since 2024 began. I’ve never been too interested in the topic, but it’s weighed heavily on my mind these past weeks. So to soothe my angst, I looked into my forecast for this year. Today appears to be a rather important day for me, though I can’t quite remember what it was that I read on that one random blog post, which I didn’t bother to bookmark. Something about making crucial decisions about the path going forward (fast forward to the day that I’ve finally decided to pull the trigger on this post – I vaguely remember the 21st being important for some reason, too). I do know that this morning was the new moon, which mostly just alludes to the fact that I slept like shit last night. And apart from that, the only other thing that I know for sure is that, on this particular day, I am feeling the urge to be honest with myself. Brutally so.

I hate my life.

Bunny Glamor Shot

Now you may be wondering how I could possibly say a thing like “I hate my life,” whilst holding such an adorable bunny. And you may be wondering what kind of weird life path has led to this moment, in which I am holding such an adorable bunny in my hands to begin with. Or should I say, 12 adorable bunnies?!

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Well, that’s a bit more story than I’m feeling up to telling today. Suffice it to say that the past few years of my life have been a process of reinvention – a shedding of my old skin. I’ve leapt head first into a new lifestyle, built a tiny house on wheels, moved to a vinyard in Ohio, started raising chickens and breeding bunnies, all because something deep inside me told me to do so. On paper, it’s been a productive number of years for me – though it doesn’t feel that way from my perspective. I’ve given this new life my all, taken every risk, left no chance for myself to ever utter the words, “I wish I had tried that”…and yet today I find myself in a position in which I am absolutely fucked.

First and foremost, I find that I am fiscally fucked. I’ve worked so hard over the past 11 months (and over the past 9 years) to overcome my fears, pushing myself through the heavy pockets of uncertainty and hopelessness to try and bring this life that I’ve been dreaming up for a decade into reality…only to find myself in this perpetual position of penniless poverty (no more alliteration, I promise), with every one of my ambitions left painfully unfinished or woefully hobbled together. The hours that I’m able to sit at my computer working for money feel long and hollow, even though I never seem to work enough to keep my head above water (it’s grown increasingly difficult for me to focus on computer work that doesn’t promise to alleviate the host of concerns that lie just outside my front door – even though a steady income would absolutely help resolve many of my problems. It’s a mental block that I’ve always had, and it’s only getting worse as time goes on).

This tiny house that I’ve designed and built is not completed, even though I moved into it nearly a year ago. No, there is still plenty more to be done to finish it – but prior to doing so, I first must fix the cluster-fuck of problems that have presented themselves recently. The onset of winter has shown me the flaws of my design – condensation, freezing/bursting water lines, breaking windows, etc. And I just don’t have the fucking money, time or energy to fix any of it. I have a colony of Silver Fox rabbits living in a half-completed corral, and a flock of Black Australorp chickens that are living in conditions that I consider to be deplorable. And again, I feel that I have no time, no energy, and not nearly enough money to fix any of it. Recently, I haven’t had enough income to pay the minimum monthly on my loans while at the same time feeding myself (thank god that I’m raising some of my own food now)(thank god again that my father was able to give me several loans to keep myself alive). But outside of all of my shortcomings, I do have to admit that I am blessed to see that all of my animals seem to be alive and, from my perspective, relatively happy – at least someone is.

The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world.
The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world.

No, I am certainly not content. With or without an astrological sign, I can recognize a moment for change when I see one. Today, I found myself sitting on my composting toilet, begging whatever god or spirit is out there to show me the path forward, and to let me escape this eddy current that’s kept me stuck for the past year. This path that I’m treading now doesn’t feel wrong – actually, it feels incredibly right. I’m here, holding these bunnies for a very big reason, I’m sure. But it feels as though there are anchors in my life – bits of dried skin from my former self which are still stuck to me, yet to be shed. And there are things in my life which I’ve wanted to incorporate for so long, but have never had the “time” to do so – music, art, gardening, writing. I’ve had a book in mind for years now, but have never had the courage to actually write it. Almost a decade ago, I started this blog about a transformative journey that I took, and never finished writing it. Actually, the idea for the book that I want to write came from what I saw on that trip. And I’ve had this business idea which I’ve wanted to start – Black & Birch is the brand name. Black and Birch Farm, Black and Birch Design – a million possibilities for how I could make my income have swirled through my mind. I own the domain name, but as of yet there’s nothing there. And to tie all of these shortcomings together, I feel empty. Spiritually, I feel like a shadow of who I could be. I want to see the beauty in each moment. I want to sense that the path is beneath my feet, regardless of where I find myself. I want to walk out into the moonlight or the rain, and feel that I’m a piece of the puzzle. I was there once, for a short moment in my life (perhaps one day I’ll actually write more about it on this goddamn blog). I would love to find myself there again.

Yet here I am on this disheveled little plot of land that I’m renting, living the worst version of my best life, wanting desperately to improve it – and failing to do so at every step (for reasons which are starting to feel cosmic in nature – as though all of my failings are part of some twisted, warped, universal effort to get me to finally do something that I’m supposed to be doing).

And so, on this new moon, I feel that it’s time to publicly announce a pivot in my path going forward, to no one in particular. I don’t have any dedicated followers on this blog as of now, and I’m happy about that. I want to use this antiquated, poorly designed old WordPress site as a means by which to let my seething, bitter, unsettled mind flow unfettered out onto pages that someone, someday, might take an interest in reading. I want to use this blog to hold myself accountable to the one and only shred of hope that I have left for getting myself out of this shitty, unpolished, impoverished life that I’ve come to loathe – my undeveloped ability to write.


That’s the only rule. I will publish one page of writing each day. I will wake up in the morning, do my morning ritual, and then handwrite one page of something. Anything. Then, at some later point in the day, I will type it up and publish it as a blog post. On most days, I’ll be publishing daily snippets of the rough draft of this book that I’m attempting to write. On others, I may post updates to my living situation. I have a few short stories that I may finally get out of my head. And I may even occasionally upload posts about that old road trip that I started writing about a decade ago.

Be forewarned – things will not be organized or neatly edited going forward, like the posts that you’ve read thus far. I’ll do my best to categorize and label each post, so that we can eventually look back on what I’ve written and trace out the underlying story arch to my life – however, the authorship of this blog from here forth will largely serve as a mere pressure release for a frustrated and dejected mind. This is a story that will likely not have a comfortable, clean conclusion. By continuing on, you may witness a pitiful decent into madness or a triumphant tale about a broken man who was eventually able to carve out a beautiful life for himself. Either way, my efforts going forward will not be focused on creating enjoyable content. I am not writing for the sake of human consumption. I’m writing because I have nothing else.

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