On cafés, creativity, and the rising cost of staying human.
I wrote recently on my desire to move to somewhere walkable. Some might argue that where we live in the PNW is already “walkable.” And maybe it is – in theory. But walkability doesn’t matter much when the place you live is unaffordable for anyone who isn’t earning six figures. I’ve lost count of how many tech and federal jobs were purged in the past year alone. It doesn’t matter if you can stroll through a lovely historic neighborhood to a juice bar or wine bar if you can’t afford $18 for a green juice plus tax and tip — or $30 per person for “happy hour.”
Food prices are up (thanks, tariffs). Rent is up (thanks, corporate investors). Wages are flat. Unemployment is climbing. The math no longer works.
So how does one responsibly maintain a travel/arts blog — one that encourages exploration and support of local businesses — without actively participating in gentrification? When I was growing up, I watched adults who didn’t appear especially wealthy or bougie spend their days in cafés, theaters, and bookstores. They read. They made art. They lingered. And they seemed able to live that way for years. As an adult after the 90’s, I was lucky to get in a year or two of that before the cost of living would catch up, forcing me to move in search of affordability.
I applaud my Democratic Socialist neighbors who are fighting to preserve stability and sustainability in a world increasingly driven by greed, resource wars, and labor exploitation. Communities everywhere are asking the same questions: how do we elect leaders who will prioritize health, education, infrastructure, and housing over courting monied investors who have no real stake in the lives of the people who live there?
Scotland Parliament has just passed state one of the world’s first Community Wealth Building Law. With final approval, every local authority there would be legally required to reduce economic inequality by using public money toward local economies over large corporations. Local businesses would be prioritized in local government contracts, and wherever possible worker cooperatives would be given preference. In short, keeping wealth within communities instead of shipping it to distant shareholders.
My goal has always been modest. I want space in my life to read in cafés, to write, to make art — and to earn enough to buy food from local markets and support local restaurants, artists, and musicians. The ambitions of tech and asset-owning overclasses too often go beyond meeting their needs. They seek to scale endlessly, to build empires and asset portfolios. That way of living feels utterly alien to me.
Historically, the artistic and bohemian classes resisted being lumped in with aristocracy (even when ironically those born into means were often the only ones who could afford the time to create). That tension hasn’t disappeared — it’s hardened.
I’m a strong proponent of Universal Basic Income, especially for the creative class. Our content and our data has been used for almost decades to enrich a minority of billionaires. I’m opposed to platforms underpaying artists, musicians, and writers while siphoning millions to advertisers and executives feeding off our labor, content, and data. The same corporate model loves to vilify younger people for opting out — or creatives for daring to sit in public with a latte — as though that indulgence were anywhere near as destructive as draining communities of water to power data centers.
It’s unavoidable that this blog will be political at times. Living is political now. Supporting equity, dignity, and sustainability is political.
There are better ways to live. And we have the right to fight for them.
J.R.R. Tolkien spent thousands of pages reminding us of exactly that.
