Okay. First things first. I’ve long ago come clean as a violence junkie. Maybe even a scholar. But, okay, okay, this is not about me. So, your new book, Pot Farm, deals with your experiences working on a medical marijuana farm in Northern California—the politics, the narratives, the social hierarchies and what-not. Your first day there, you mention some guy named Hector the Treetop Sniper or something. Is this some sort of metaphor (I really hope not, just to let you know) for the way violence rises, approaches the ether, spreads, and returns to us earthlings as, say, a “black rain” of sorts? Or are you talking about an actual sniper here? I mean, a dude with a gun.
Hector was an actual sniper, flesh and blood. Highly trained, but not bloodthirsty. A real sweetheart.