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So this happens during a fast: you realize you reach a line when it stops being your body that’s carrying the fast and it becomes the heart and mind. I have always said a hunger… Read More »Formosa Plastics Hunger Strike: Day 23

Well, all I can say for today is that it is blowing a gale. White caps all over the bay when I came across the causeway. The truck was rocking to a cowboy song I… Read More »Formosa Plastics Hunger Strike: Day 22

Dear Mr. Chairman, Yes, day 20. Here I am again writing you. I am not even sure you are reading these letters at this point, but I will continue writing until there is a response. There was… Read More »Day 20: Dear Mr. Chairman

Day 19 and I’m walking like an old grandma –which I guess I am. Slowly dragged all my flags out then pounded a few in the ground, and after finding my chair and positioning it… Read More »Formosa Plastics Hunger Strike: Day 19

Had an entirely different truck in the ditch today. A white one to take the place of Ol’ Red until she is fixed. There is an ace mechanic in town, but he has 40 broke… Read More »Formosa Plastics Hunger Strike: Day 18

Today marks the 17th day of Mrs. Diane’s fasting for the Hunger Strike. Over the past 17 days, she has consumed nothing but water. She and I have completed a busy and exhausting three-day speaking… Read More »Day 17: A Poem Honoring Diane

Well, my old red protest truck broke down on a lonely Texas highway today. I don’t know what happened first: the smoke billowing from the engine of Ole Red, or the fact that she stopped moving… Read More »Day 17: Ol’ Red Breaks Down

This morning was pretty good. I felt more charged up in general, like a second wind. Felt like I could do this a few more days. Today was overcast, so not needing the shade of… Read More »Formosa Plastics Hunger Strike: Day 17