Recommended Reading: Ethan Miller – Occupy, Connect, Create

Victorian bookshelfIt’s been many months since my last update here. I still keep up the Facebook page a bit more frequently, but since I’ve been getting a few e-mail queries lately about the status of this blog, I should be clear about the reason for the lack of updates.  Most of my limited writing time is being devoted to my Pagan blog, The Black Stone Hermitage, and to my current book manuscript on dark ambient music and culture.  Rethinking the Job Culture is NOT going away, though; I’ve only put it on the back burner for awhile.  I’ll continue to post things here once in awhile, and eventually – probably a few years down the road – you will see my focus re-directed to this project.

Since I won’t have any new material from my own hand to post here for awhile, I’ll take the liberty of occasionally sharing things written by others that I appreciate.  On top of that list is the work of Ethan Miller.  He and Charles Eisenstein are the two writers I know about at the moment whose work seems most aligned with my vision for Rethinking the Job Culture.

Ethan Miller’s brilliant and inspiring article Occupy, Connect, Create receives my highest recommendation.  I printed out a copy in 2011, and have come back to it many times for reference ever since.

Here’s a taste:

“Many of us who once relied on the basic economic institutions of our societies–education, employment, healthcare, public infrastructure, retirement, social assistance in times of need–are confronting the brutal reality that such faith is no longer merited. Meanwhile, the “experts” poised to deal with this mess are working in the service of the very institutions that profit from it.

“And what if these experts could “fix” our economy? What if we could convince them to “curb the excesses of Wall Street” and get our economic engine “back on track”? This demand would ignore the fact that the very success of the capitalist market economy–the ways in which it has seemingly provided so many with so much in so short a time–is built on violence and plunder. […]

“The sorcery of capitalist economics is precisely to make its own violence invisible, so that it can appear to be nothing but the miraculous liberator of human potential and the progressive deliverer of ever-abundant goods. And there is a disturbingly good reason for us to give in to this illusion: most of us are dependent on the very economy that has systematically exploited us and undermined the health of our communities and our environments. We have come to rely on the very “job creators” (that new euphemism for exploiters) whose project of profiting at our expense we condemn. We have come to need the very economic growth machine that is eating our world and destabilizing our planetary climate in the name of “progress.”

“We can no longer ignore the immense challenge at the heart of this moment in history: We are trapped in patterns of life on which we have come to depend, but which we must fundamentally transform as a matter of our very survival. How do we acknowledge our dependence, and address the needs that it gives rise to, while also imagining and constructing new forms of freedom? […]

“The economy” is a way of thinking and experiencing the world in which our power and agency is robbed from us…This economy was constructed by processes of enclosure, where people were forcibly separated from their means of subsistence (land, community, tools and skills) and pushed into dependence on wage-jobs and commodity purchases. […]

“It is not a naïve notion of “dropping out” (as if everyone had the privilege to do this, or the privilege to choose otherwise), or a dreamy hope of evading hard work and struggle. It is, rather, about recognizing that the work of breaking out of our dependence is a necessary site for our creative action. […]

“We must shift from simply asking how we might create more (or better) jobs to asking about how we can progressively create the conditions in which we no longer need them.

“…how can we begin to build a world in which the unpaid labor of birthing, parenting, caring for elders, building community, creating art, working for justice, and defending and restoring our ecosystems can be supported as shared social goods? What forms of accounting would make this work and its value publicly visible? […]

“And second, how do we re-common the enclosures that created our dependency on wage-work in the first place? […] Life beyond “jobs” is not for everyone, and nor does it need to be. But it must become an ever-more available option. […]

“Do we know how to make this possible? Not yet.

“But we can say this: It is time to launch the largest explosion of practical experimentation that our society has ever seen.”

New blog title: Rethinking the Job Culture

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll note that it is no longer called Radical Unjobbing.  The URL will remain the same, as will the What is Radical Unjobbing? page.  But hereafter, I will refer to this blog by its new name:

Rethinking the Job Culture.**

The change came about after I spent some time pondering the range of responses I have received whenever new acquaintances find out that I’m a writer, and ask what I write about.

I noticed something interesting about these conversations: most often, I would feel very hesitant to tell my querents right off the bat that one of my main projects is a blog entitled “Radical Unjobbing” and a book manuscript with a similar theme (working title: On the Leisure Track: Creating Radical Alternatives to Conventional Employment.)  Usually, I would just respond that I am working on a long-term book project about “philosophy of work and leisure.”  That description provided enough information about the subject matter to answer the question, and did so in a way that rarely resulted in further questioning, except perhaps by other hardcore philosophy nerds whose interest had been piqued.

But why, I asked myself, did I always hesitate to mention that my blog was called Radical Unjobbing, and why did I so often describe my work in a way that discouraged further questions?  After all, this is a project that is very close to my heart; it’s a labour of love in every conceivable sense.  I believe in it.  Why shouldn’t I be singing its praises, so to speak, whenever I have a chance?

That line of questioning helped me realize that it was time for Radical Unjobbing to adopt a new name.

Why?  Because inviting further questioning is exactly what I want to do.  Yet the old name was somehow working at cross-purposes.

I want to create a space for deeper questions and ongoing respectful dialogue.  I want to encourage critical thinking of the sort that is rigorous, heart-centered, and spiritually motivated.  I want to do my part to encourage our culture to get past our initial resistance to the notion of a way of life that isn’t centered around jobs and earning money.  I want to explore as fully as possible the terrain that lies beyond our job-centered ways of thinking and living.

But I don’t want to preach only to the choir.  I don’t want to shout into an echo chamber.  And I really don’t want to get sidetracked into fractious political arguments about anarchism and libertarianism and capitalism and socialism and objectivism and The System and The Man and left vs. right and corporate greed and who’s greener than whom.  After many years on the Internet, I have concluded that a good number of these “discussions” are mostly a waste of valuable time, especially as they tend to degenerate into name-calling with astonishing rapidity.

There are all sorts of erroneous and half-baked ideas floating around out there about what a “radical” is, and these ideas bear little resemblance to the heart of what I am writing about.  Too often, I noticed that people’s knee-jerk responses to the idea of a blog called Radical Unjobbing would simply reinforce their existing biases – whether for or against – about the word “radical.”  The name came across to most people as challenging and confrontational in tone.  This worked against my larger purpose of creating more opportunities for productive, respectful dialogue in which no one is trying to change anyone’s mind or convince them of anything – rather, we are simply telling each other our stories, and using these stories to critically examine the job culture in all its manifestations.

Biases are a simple fact of life; we all have them.  However, I wanted to minimise the chances of having those pre-existing biases dissuade anyone from reading my blog – or from at least giving it a chance.  So the blog now has a new title.  It’s a title that better reflects my deeper intentions, and it’s one that I will not hesitate to discuss openly, even in casual conversations.  Yay!

Thanks, readers, for your support!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Bibliophile corner:

Readers who are familiar with Claire Wolfe’s work will note that the phrase “job culture” is also used with similar intent in her fascinating 2005 book How to Kill the Job Culture Before it Kills You: Living a Life of Autonomy in a Wage-Slave Society.  While I don’t agree with everything she writes, this is a courageous and thought-provoking book, and I am very grateful to her for writing it.  (I also loved the way she autographed my copy with “To D.J. – May your life always belong to you.  Claire Wolfe.”)

I am also grateful to Michael Fogler for writing another book I love, and one that happened to come into my life just when I needed it most – Un-Jobbing: The Adult Liberation Handbook.  I bought the first edition of this book in 1996 just after its release, and I vividly recall how it affected me at the time.  In 1994, I had read Your Money or Your Life – a personal finance book that would later become very influential – and while I found it impressive and inspiring in many ways, I also felt some nebulous misgivings about many aspects of the investment-oriented approach, as well as the entire concept of “financial independence”.  (I would argue that there is no such thing as “financial independence” or “self-sufficiency.”  Those are simply concepts, with no real substance. We are all interdependent. I will have more to say on this topic in later entries.)

After devouring Fogler’s visionary book voraciously, however, I shouted enthusiastically to no one in particular: “YES!  Sane people live!”  I don’t agree with everything Fogler writes, either, but I found his book very cogent, and it put into words something deeply radical – something I myself had been struggling to articulate for a long time.  A couple of years later, in 1998, I founded Creating Livable Alternatives to Wage Slavery (a/k/a whywork dot org).  Then, in 2010, I named this blog Radical Unjobbing, partly in honour of Fogler’s work.

These authors’ influence on my own work is most gratefully acknowledged.

Your attention is a gift

I appreciate you, my dear readers.

I mean that sincerely.

There are countless other blogs out there that you could be reading right now, and a vast number of other things you could be doing with your time.  But you are reading this one.

And for that, I want to thank you.

I have high standards for my work.  (That’s one of the reasons I don’t post here as often as I’d like.)  I try to stay free of conventional jobs whenever possible, so that I will be able to devote more time and attention to offering you my best work.  Whenever I sit down to write, I keep in mind that if I want my work to serve the greatest good possible, it must honour the gift of attention that my readers are giving me.

Accordingly, here is the prayer I say when I sit down to write:

May the words I write serve the greatest good of all who read them, and may they help us build a beautiful and thriving culture of joyful leisure, work, and sustenance within a context of community interdependence and deep ecological wisdom.

It must, therefore, be the best quality work I am capable of offering to the world at that moment.  It must be honest and genuine; the world is overrun with snark and sarcasm, but sincerity is all too rare.  It must be clear, thought-provoking, emotionally appropriate, uplifting and joyful without being fluffy or saccharine, and informed by (but not limited to) scholarly research.  It must be the product of rigorous critical thinking as well as personal experience and spiritual insight.  It must somehow manage to convey the seriousness and magnitude of the multiple social, economic and environmental crises we face, yet without falling into the trap of draining much-needed energy and straining relationships by dwelling too heavily in dark and horrible places without offering respite.

I want to earn the gift of your attention by making the best possible use of my own gifts, and delivering the results to you by way of my writing.  It’s a tall order, but for me it’s the only way to go.

You do know that giving someone your full, undivided, uninterrupted attention is a gift, right?  One of the beauties of this is that it’s a gift anyone can give, regardless of financial means.  It’s the kind of gift that makes the world a better place to live.  What we pay attention to matters, as our attention is limited.  It should be treated like the precious resource that it is, and it should be allocated mindfully rather than squandered unconsciously or allowed to atrophy.

Attention is not something that you owe me.  If I try to hijack your attention and use it for the wrong purposes, I will lose your trust, and rightfully so.  These days the web is clogged with dummy blog posts and “articles” loaded with keywords and search-engine-friendly catch-phrases, but with no real meat.  I’ve been online since 1993, and sometimes I miss the early days of the web because it seemed easier to find words that were obviously written by real people from the heart, instead of having my attention hijacked by commercial interests, useless arguing, and content-free “content” at every turn.

I want radical unjobbing to be real, I want it to be honest, and I want it to facilitate connection.  Most of all, I want it to be worthy of your attention.

I may be the one “assigned” to bring radical unjobbing to you and tell you some of my stories, and it’s true that writing for this blog is a labour of love…but ultimately I’m not doing this for me.  I’m doing it because I believe wholeheartedly that other, better ways of life are possible, outside of the job culture.  I’m doing it because I want you to identify and use your own gifts in service of the kind of world you’d like to live in.  Gifts are sacred.  I want you to think about what you have to give, and in what ways you can offer your gifts.  And I want you to learn how to receive and accept nourishment in the form of gifts, too.

That’s what radical unjobbing is about: learning to live in the culture of the gift, where giving and receiving are one, and freeing ourselves from the scarcity-driven job culture.  You can do this whether or not you have a conventional job.  You can always start with your attention.  Where will you place it?  What will you do with this gift?

I appreciate the gift of attention that you have given by reading my work.

My prayer today is that I may continue to produce work that is worthy of this gift.

Unjobbing is a Process

I often remind myself that unjobbing is a process, and not a destination.

It’s not somewhere I end up.  It’s more like a meandering trail through a dense forest, with switchbacks, elevation changes, and occasional backtracking when I get lost.  Sometimes it leads into uncharted territory, and I find myself wondering what to do next.  If I can muster the courage to brave the hazards of blazing my own trail, I forge ahead.

Unjobbing can be approached as a conscious choice – a commitment to be made after realizing that life is too short to spend so much of it in a job I hate, just for the sake of earning money.  It can be a decision to unlearn conventional notions about jobs, work, and leisure, in order to make room for a new way of life.

Unjobbing can also be something done out of necessity, or a need for survival, when it becomes clear that the old approaches won’t work any longer.  Given the current state of our economy, many highly educated and qualified people who nonetheless can’t find conventional jobs are now finding themselves in this place, and they (we) are letting go of illusions that finding a good job will provide them with security or “financial independence.”

Or perhaps you can walk the unjobbing path like I do: through a mix of necessity and conscious choice.  You can just muddle through one step at a time, pick yourself up when you stumble and fall (and you will, many times), and see where it leads.

Right now, I’m staring out into uncharted territory.  Instead of feeling trepidation, however, I feel strangely and deeply at peace.  Somehow I have the sense that I’ll be able to navigate the terrain ahead without a map.

Culturally speaking, I’m privileged: white, middle-class, and highly educated.  Though I’ve faced some difficult and demoralizing financial struggles and endured years of minimum-wage drudgery, I’ve never known true poverty.  Yet for the past few years – especially since an unwanted divorce in 2007 left me financially devastated and buried under an avalanche of grief, brokenness, rage, and despair – I have been driven by a primal kind of fear: the fear of scarcity.

For years, I have made too many of my decisions from this place of primal fear.

There are many things I’ve learned while walking this path.  I’ve learned in countless ways that the greater my ability to live simply, the lower my debt, and the greater my ability to refuse consumer goods, the less need I have for conventional jobs…and the less I am forced to participate in the ecological destruction that is driven by the extractive money economy.  I’ve learned that the less need I have for earning money, the less time I need to spend in “full time” paid employment, and the more freedom I have to shape my life according to my ecological values and the guidance of deeper forces.  These lessons have served me well.

I’ve also learned that every single moment of my life, consciously or not, I am making decisions about how to spend my time and energy, and where and how to direct my attention.  Even in the most constrained circumstances I’ve faced in life, it has become clear to me that I still have a certain element of choice, and I can exercise it to the best of my ability.  In this truth lies a great source of power.

I may be broke in monetary terms, but I am not broken in spirit.

I may not have a job, but I am not “unemployed.”

In fact, I am wealthy.  While I don’t have a job or much money, I do have immense wealth, for which I feel great appreciation and gratitude.  I live and move about in a world of fundamental abundance, and I don’t mean this in some flighty New Age way.  I mean it very straightforwardly.  I have a roof over my head, food in my cupboards, and no immediate threat of homelessness.  I live in a beautiful city that I adore.

But there’s much, much more.

I am wealthy in time. Ah, what a great luxury time is!  I can go about my daily tasks in an unhurried, mindful manner.  I can wake up without an alarm clock.  I can enjoy my tea rituals at leisure.  I can work when my body is most inclined to do so, rather than at the behest of my employer.

I am wealthy in leisure. I firmly believe that true leisure is much more than an absence of job-related constraints on my time, and much more than “vegging out” with the aid of passive sources of entertainment.  Real leisure – the kind that restores me at a bone-deep level – contains a significant active and creative dimension as well.  Gradually, I am learning something difficult: how to allow myself to do nothing at all without shame or guilt.

Sometimes, a funny thing happens when I do this: words come to me.  Writing gushes out of me in torrents.  (It isn’t always good writing, mind you; that part comes later, after the editing and proofreading stage.)

I am wealthy in relationships. I have a wonderful and nourishing web of relationships: blood relatives with whom I am very close, friendships I cherish, acquaintances I like and with whom I share common interests, and correspondents with whom I enjoy exchanging ideas.

I am wealthy in education and skills. Advanced reading comprehension and writing skills, three baccalaureate-level university degrees, research skills, critical thinking, autodidactic abilities, a lifelong bookworm’s passion for reading and learning – all of these are gifts, and I do not take any of them for granted.

I am wealthy in time alone and ability to enjoy solitude. As an introvert and loner, regular and copious time alone is essential for me; I would be but a shadow of my real self without it.  Divorce-related grief robbed me of the ability to enjoy my time alone for quite some time.  Being abandoned by a loved one taught me a lot about the difference between loneliness and solitude, as well as the complex (and paradoxical!) relationship between intimacy and solitude.  Once again, at long last, I have been gifted with the capacity to take deep nourishment from solitude.

And that’s just a start.  I could go on and on!

With this kind of abundance and freedom in my life, I needn’t be driven by the kind of artificial scarcity perpetuated by the money system.

While it’s true that I will continue to need to use money as a means to an end – my utility bills can’t currently be paid with barter arrangements or work-trades, after all – I know in my bones that I don’t need to believe the stories that say I must live in fear of scarcity any longer.

So here is my vow.

I hereby commit myself to walk the sacred path of radical unjobbing.  I will continue to deeply question and unlearn the fundamental assumptions of the job culture, and use my gifts in the service of helping others to do the same.  I will continue to critically examine any beliefs, attitudes, stories, habits, and systemic factors that keep me mired in the muck of artificial scarcity.

Henceforth, I shall live as much of my life as possible within the abundance of the gift culture.

Thank you, and Hail to the Powers That Be.

I am a radical unjobber because…

I am a radical unjobber because I believe people should have lives based on living, not on making a living.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe that leisure is more than “free time”.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in an ecological ethic of service, interdependence, and care…not a “work ethic.”

I am a radical unjobber because I don’t believe people’s value in a relationship, family, or community should be diminished because they do not have jobs or earn wages.  Having a job and making a “contribution to society” is not a measure of worth, and people should not be expected to work to justify their existence any more than a tree or a river should.  (I do believe that most people have a desire to be useful and creative, rather than just being consumers; we need to find ways for people to fulfill this desire outside the wage economy, as there simply aren’t enough jobs to go around, even for those who want jobs.)

I am a radical unjobber because, although I’m not “anti-work,” I am critical of jobs and the entire job culture.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe there is an important and oft-overlooked difference between work and jobsWork is intrinsically worth doing, and may or may not involve earning money.  A job is a set of tasks performed for wages or other compensation, and controlled by an employer.  (The two are not mutually exclusive; I’ll have plenty more to say about this in future writings.)

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in the importance of rethinking our cultural and societal assumptions about the proper relationship between work and leisure.

I am a radical unjobber because I have spent my entire adult life trying to figure out ways to live a life that is not based around earning income, and encouraging people to find ways to live a less job-centered life in general.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe that freedom from the job culture is an inside job that starts (but doesn’t end) within the minds and hearts of human beings – which means, among other things, that it is possible to be free of wage slavery even if you hold a conventional job.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in not letting whatever you do for income interfere with your life’s work.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe lowering expenses is preferable to increasing income through having a job.  Like Amy Dacyczyn (author of “The Tightwad Gazette”), I prefer the luxury of freedom from a job to the luxury of material goods.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe “do what you love, the money will follow” is essentially a lie. Though there is a kernel of wisdom in that saying, it’s often misinterpreted as “if you can find a job you love, eventually you’ll earn money.”  Not everyone can do what they love through finding a job, and it isn’t their own fault; that’s simply not the way the economy functions.  Conventional jobs in the wage economy have an underlying purpose, and it is not to allow people do what they love.  It is to facilitate the movement of money, and concentrate wealth in the hands of the elite.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe the job culture impoverishes us by creating conditions where so many of us are forced to abandon our Work to take jobs, and then impoverishes us even more by diminishing our opportunities for true restorative leisure.

I am a radical unjobber because I don’t believe that paid work is inherently more valuable than unpaid work.

I am a radical unjobber because I resist the brainwashing that paints people who don’t have a job in the wage economy as idle, lazy, parasitic, undeserving, good-for-nothing, worthless, or not trying hard enough.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe money (and the need to earn it through wage jobs) is the ultimate root cause of the ecological destruction we face.  However, I am not inherently “anti-money” and I accept money without guilt or shame, since I live in a world that has made it near-impossible to function without it.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in the value of working toward urban and rural interdependent self-sufficiency and homesteading skills (growing and preserving food, fiber arts, home brewing, cooking, baking, home building, passive solar design, etc.) as paths to freedom from the job culture.

I am a radical unjobber because I encourage people to dig deep and think critically about the toxic cultural messages we’ve absorbed about jobs, work, and money, and to do the hard work of uprooting them so that healthy attitudes can be consciously cultivated in their place.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in the value of barter, gift economies, alternative currencies, community currencies, basic income schemes, and other alternatives to the use of money earned through conventional jobs.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in small-scale farming, cottage industries, local production of goods, and in the value of handcrafted items made with love and care.

I am a radical unjobber because I want to live simply, mindfully, consciously, and deliberately…and I encourage others to do the same.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe that energy descent, climate change and resource depletion will require radical changes to our current way of life, and because I want to free myself and others from the demands of conventional jobs so that we can collectively devote as much time as possible to the necessary and urgent work of preparing for a different way of life.

I am a radical unjobber because I have made a conscious choice to live a car-free or low-car life as much as possible, in order to minimize expenses and dependence on earned income from jobs, as well as for health and ecological reasons.  (I am fortunate to live in a pedestrian-friendly city with great public transit, which makes this much easier to do.)

I am a radical unjobber because I have chosen not to have children, partly in order to maximize my leisure, reduce my ecological footprint, and lessen the income I need to earn.  (There are other reasons too, of course, such as the fact that I have never had a desire to be a parent.)

I am a radical unjobber because I believe that the best work is the kind that is done with joy, and if we are unable to take any joy in our work, it is a sign that something, somewhere, is fundamentally wrong.

I am a radical unjobber because I don’t believe success in a conventional job is necessarily proof of value, skill, or intelligence.  Often, it’s simply an indication that someone is well-connected, wealthy, status-driven, and/or willing to play the game.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in the value of thrift and frugality (as distinguished from cheapness) as a way of life that brings joy and increased freedom from the need to earn job income.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe it’s possible (even preferable!) to live very well far below the official “poverty line,” and in fact I am doing it right now, as I write this.  What matters is access to resources – food, shelter, clean water, health care, etc.  Money can facilitate this access, but it is ultimately nothing more than a means to an end; it should never be mistaken for real wealth.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe in asking radical questions: the kind that get to the roots of the problems, rather than “hacking away at the branches” (thanks to H.D. Thoreau for that phrase.)

I am a radical unjobber because I believe philosophies and practices such as deep ecology/ecophilosophy, ecopsychology, systems thinking, permaculture, Earth-centered ritual, herbalism, sacred plant medicine, folk magic, religious mysticism, polytheism, animism, feminism, LGBTQ rights, arts & crafts, music & dance, neo-tribal and village living, hunting and gathering, wildcrafting, home-based organic gardens, natural building, the tiny house movement, gift giving, barter, community currencies, and simple living all have an important role to play in building a world outside the job culture.

I am a radical unjobber because I consider indigenous peoples’ sovereignty and land-based ways of life/work to be essential.  In particular, I take inspiration from the Himalayan Ladakhi peoples and the peoples of the Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan in thinking about how to repair our ecosystems and build a happier, less job-centered, less money-centered culture.

I am a radical unjobber because I believe that if enough of us can learn skills to support our basic needs, and can learn to do this work in an interdependent way…then together we can figure out ways to support each other using as little money as possible, and outside the bounds of conventional employment.  I believe extended families, villages and tribes should support each other in times of need, instead of clinging to an ideal of “independence” that does not serve our needs.  (The falseood that there is such a thing as a “self-made man” is so widely promoted in the media because it serves the needs of the elite.)

I am a radical unjobber because I believe that if we want to get out of the job culture, we will need to get the job culture out of us.

I am a radical unjobber because when I am asked what I do for a living, I respond with “I work for the land.”  The natural world is my teacher.

A question for you to ponder, dear readers: Are you a radical unjobber?  Why or why not?

Welcome to Radical Un-Jobbing!

On The Leisure Track

On The Leisure Track

Welcome to Radical Un-Jobbing!  This is the new online home of me, D. JoAnne Swanson, founder of Creating Livable Alternatives to Wage Slavery (CLAWS) and former owner of whywork.org.  Whywork is a pro-leisure and anti-wage-slavery site that has been online since 1999 when I originally merged my work with Sarah Nelson’s Leisure Party site.

Although whywork.org is still online, I have not been involved with it since 2004, and I have no control over the state in which it currently exists.  Its design features have been stripped, leaving nothing but raw text, and its last update was years ago.  Even the forums, which were once fairly active and well-loved, are now eerily quiet.

So consider this the temporary home of the fledgling “CLAWS 2.0.”  I will be re-posting my old essays and book reviews from whywork.org in new revised versions, and there will be news about the revival of my long-dormant book project, On The Leisure Track: Creating Radical Alternatives to Conventional Employment.

This blog does not allow comments.  To contact me, use e-mail: radical.unjobbing AT gmail.  Please understand that although I read all e-mail I receive, time does not permit me to answer all of it.