Bob Wasn't Nude.

We're at Short Mountain Sanctuary, Tennessee. It's another community devoted to growing their own food, using solar power, composting waste, recycling all materials possible, sharing work and food. Everybody has been to Asheville, Austin, San Fran, and Portland. Everybody has a unique food allergy that requires special herbal care and dietary restrictions. Somehow people who vote for democrats can't digest gluten products. There's a sociological research paper dying to be written on the subject.

And there's a lot of talking. It's really about talking. We've done a lot of talking about capitalism and duality. The people at Short Mountain do not like capitalism. Or consumerism. Or Western Civilization. Jimmy blames society's ills on the invention of writing. He thinks writing is responsible for the breakdown of brotherhood and community. "Writing created the division. 1st person and 3rd person." I got flashbacks to teaching 7th grade English. My students would've been ideal revolutionaries. They could never tell the difference between 1st and 3rd person.

"Once the 1st person and the 3rd person split, we became alienated from each other." Jimmy's problem is that he learned about the evils of writing by reading a book. Jimmy wants to bring about the downfall of capitalism. I can sympathize with his sense of focused anger at the system, but I'm not convinced the way to do unify humanity involves Pageants and Drum Circles. I asked him about this. I said, "It sounds noble, but a little too theoretical. For the 'Revolution' to succeed don't you need to reach out to the mainstream? Don't you need to convince the guys watching the New York Giants to watch pageants, and the guys watching pageants to watch the Giants?" Jimmy replied, "I watch football. I love football. I watched Vince Vaughn in the National Football Championship help his team from USC beat Miami. He made 14 points for his team in the last two minutes; it was beautiful!" I didn't have the heart to tell Jimmy that Vince Vaughn was really Vince Young, and he played for the University of Texas. He made his point. And mine.

The members of Short Mountain do not like capitalism, but they do like arts and crafts. They have a Maypole and Decorative Gourds all over the Short Mountain grounds. And they like to play Rummikub and Scrabble. And watch John Waters movies. And giving each other names. Among others, there's Branch, Driftwood, River, and Socket. Socket is one of the few females here. Or as Socket phrased it, she is one of the few female-bodied individuals, but one of many who are female-identified. In other words there are many hes who are shes. Bob kept referring to Socket as "Ratchet," in conversation, which was a real scream.

Once again, Bob is our savior. The members of Short Mountain are clearly uncomfortable with our project, for obvious reasons. They want anonymity. They asked we spend a day or so without filming so they could get a sense of us as people. I've spend most of the time watching. Bob made about 40 friends. I'm too detached. I couldn't even use the outhouse yesterday. I made up a lie and drove into town to use the bathroom at the local Hardees. I'm not sure anyone believed me.

But Bob is a winner. Last night a guy named Jai asked Bob to model for the daily 10 am drawing session held in Jai's bungalow, called "the lighthouse". Bob did not think it humorous that I teased him about this when we woke up this morning. Bob does morning stretches. I asked him if he was limbering up for nudity. Then I asked him if he wanted help practicing nude poses. "Is that your only joke?" So I refrained. When I went to spy on the drawing session I was dismayed to discover Bob wasn't very nude. He was sitting in a wooden chair, wearing his threadbare yellow Bambi t-shirt and his Pink Bunny Hat while avant garde music chimed on in the background and Jai and Lucy sketched him on easel pads. With all the focus of a cold-war spy I slipped away, trudging back to the main cabin.

It's noon. We have to go now. I need to go to Hardees.

Until then.