Most of the time jCrunch is disgusted with the world, the devastation of the planet, at the hands of industrialized civilization. Sometimes, she has joy attacks- she has a great community in a beautiful place. She is enchanted and hopeful by what wildness remains and the parascopes created in her imagination. Lamenting fantastical bullshit in the third person, plotting to restructure the world, reconciling the painful with embellishment via narrative, writing as to make the beautiful visible, running, biking, and hiking. She tries her best to evade the identity police, is fond of pronoun game, keeping her shnoz warm inside books and zines, radical shit (fuck politics), people, polyamory and other queer eccentrics. Broccoli, beets, brussels sprouts and garlic are the keys to her heart.
