"All in all... I prefer a campfire-roasted porcupine that I killed and butchered... slathered with highbush cranberry ketchup..."

"... foraged chickweed salad with mushrooms on the side, a hot cup of stinging nettle tea to wash it down and a handful of wild blueberries for dessert. Bugs, sticks, sand and assorted forest floor debris sometimes makes it into my vittles but... 'It’s clean dirt.'.... My toilet is a hollow cottonwood stump and I bathe with a kettle of hot creek water. Some places along the highway offer showers but they cost money and contribute to ecocide, so I clean my crotch in the creek occasionally. But personal hygiene is not a priority.... Instead of washing my clothing – layers come cheap from thrift shops – I air it out, hanging it on a tree branch for a snowstorm or two, then turn it inside out and put it back into rotation.....  My presence on this planet leaves little trace, which is how I feel it should be. While that’s pleasing to me, I also understand my withdrawal is meaningless in the grand scheme. The world needs systemic change. In my solitude and self-imposed isolation on the side of a mountain in an undisclosed location, I find it all mildly amusing."

From "Houseless in Alaska: why I opted for mountain views and porcupine dinners/Homeless implies a moral failure while being houseless – lacking a permanent three-dimensional structure – is less stress on the planet and on my brain." Just something I noticed in The Guardian this morning. It feels like something Brits want to read about America. And for some reason it makes me want to embed this video I happened to watch yesterday:



I can see that this is a whole genre. Women go on camera and list 50 things they don't buy anymore. I'm interested in frugality as an active avocation.