Writing is therapy???

It sure as hell better be! Otherwise this could be the prelude to an awful evening. I need therapy. I've slipped into the unknown. My friends don't want to see me anymore. No one listens to what I say (under the age of six). I have the credibility of a rattlesnake. My home life is a f*cking wreck, to say the least. I live at odds with the woman who birthed me. You think bio-physiology could have been more kind. If I say black, she says white....she say white, I say gray. Never is there common ground. ARGUMENT is forbidden. Gawd forbid you actuality  argue out a real solution. PERSONAL BELIEF is forbidden. Never mind PC, I can't even be right. I am the antithesis to her whole existence. I'm afraid she feels she has to feed me to fulfill her duty to the devil and regrets every second of it. I can't blame her, she never learned to love. Surprisingly, her mother was the most affectionate woman I have met. I am her curse, in her eyes, and without love, she searches for a solution to cure me. Cure? No cure needed. Some rehabilitation maybe nice. C2H6O (google it) is not the issue anymore. That boats at the dock. The rehab needed is spiritual, in a conducive atmosphere for healing. Opposed to the currently constant battering of the senses. Not one second of "Peace of Mind" has been logged since I left the Redwood Forest {img} last year. Peace of mind, yea, that thing when your head hits the pillow nightly.....not here. It's a wonder it was a skateboard that disabled my progress and not a shotgun..... That's why I hang on. I didn't die. I REALLY don't know why. It should have been done, over, finí. 

But it's not.

Now I have to figure out why. Being a logical man, there is no apparent reason. It must be underlying......there is not a single person on this planet who's life would be altered [other than my landlord's] if I were gone. So what the fuck am I still doing here????? No, I'm not smart enough to see what's in front of my face, I need glasses. Plus, as of nearly a year since the back of my head was introduced to asphalt from 6'6" above terra-ferma, I still hear constant ringing and only 40% out of one ear and 65% out of the other, taste is a 'five-taste barrage of guessing, 'what the hell is this?'," and smell....may as well be the DMV. It can't interpret although it works, it does not recognize. Kind of a clusterfuck if you really want to know. 

Ok. I've cried enough. Crying isn't my thing. It's just hard to interpret your situation without a bonded (by heart) interrupter or sounding like you're crying. The last thing I wanted to do is stand on a promontory and cry how bad my life is. The fact is my life is falling apart and I'm running out of glue. 

If I'm supposed to be here then I'm going to need a sign or an epiphany. The constant day-to-day battles have gone beyond my corral and now I need to hire some wranglers. Don't bullshit me with Obama's Taco Bell Wranglers (the OHP insurance accepting "quote, Doctors, unquote" who get you in/get you out/rather never had seen you/thanks for paying the bill, mother fuckers.) I need REAL wranglers. Those who know personal care means something. Enough recruiting. 

I'm fuct! Plain and simple. Either I slip through, the genius that is our bullshitized, errrrr-socialized; medicines, asshole and become a very intelligent street dweller, WITH MY OWN DAMN SHOPPING CART!!!! Or I'll just go visit my coyotes and leave the rest of this shit up to you. It's hard to care when you're perceived as, useless, worthless, not necessary, too old, retarded, brain-dead, too slow........& on and on. I'm too old to stand up for myself as a third grader but it seems this is my current ice-breaker. What the fuck is the point. If there is someone who really gives a shit about me, I'd like to know. No, not all you others with your busy life's that can't stop to pick up your nieces or feed the cat, let alone hear what Gil has to say. Not you!!! You're too damn busy. Just looking for someone who gives a fuck about me. Someone who may have an arrow in their quiver they'd be willing to share....to point some direction....into the 'what-the-fuck-osphere'. I know I only planned to be here 50yrs, now I'm stuck trying to figure out what to do with the last two. Besides, cowgirls and sagebrush are even more out-of-sorts than I am. What's the point? 

Done arguing. Done fighting. Done being "your" bitch. I'm fucking over it. Something had better happen soon or this may be the last

 "SageBrush & Why Gawd Created Cowgirls" post ever. Epiphany? Please.................

Carmen fucking oooooôøooot! Psy Anne Aura. 

Reasons why & why not?

We know there are many reasons why and why not. Why to, or why not to, your choice.

Right now I'm arguing with, why not to........XXXXXXXXX on it all. All of it. 

Fuck this. If I can't see what I'm typing. What's the point. If the one fucking little line I can see would come up into view maybe I could type what I want. Fuck you Blogger!!!! Fuck it All!!!! No use wasting anymore time. 

DONE DONE AND FUCKING DONE, fucker!

It's been a while ......since I first saw you....it's been a while

It sure has been a while. 

Been a while since I last saw myself. 05oct14 is a day that will go down in infamy. At least for me. The last day I saw myself as who I was. Now things have changed and I've found myself in a different pair of shoes. Right now they sure don't fit. I'm doing what I can to comfort my feet, as well as I can. This is just strange. 

From out of no where comes a dynamic, unforeseen, inconceivable event that changes everything, forever. I had been through a similar event as a youngster and the healing occurred as it does with time. It just doesn't warn you, that another one my be on the horizon. It didn't, and I fell. It hurt. It also woke me up. Perhaps focused me. 

Since the event, I've experienced every emotion known to man, and only knowing a couple of them to begin with, it came with quite a rush. Time had no bearing on my conception of reality, actually nothing did. I was a wreck and had no clue why?? "What are these emotions and why are they here??" Chaos. One of my favorite words in the world, except when it applies to me. It was utter chaos! I felt like a bull in a china-shop, a real BULL, in a REAL china-shop!!! I was. I broke stuff I thought couldn't be repaired. I'll give you a minute to imagine what a 'bull' might do in a 'china-shop'......yea.........so we move on

Unfortunately I was unable to attend the last meeting of the sagebrush & the cowgirls, and unfortunately I found out the results where nearly the same as they've been the last ten meetings. Pffffft.....maybe theses two both need brain trama, like mine, to see the road to reperration. C'mon you guys!

Anyhow, when my staff all comes back in tact, perhaps we'll address that issue in full. In the meantime, I'm going to be putting my pieces back into the puzzle they belong in, so I can figure out how to get outta here. 

Likewise, I'm praying for the sage & the girls, to put the hatchets down and make some progress. I'll even leave some breadcrumbs...

Summaries have never been my thing, I've always had more breath than a dragon. Fortunately for you, I have less breath and summaries are all I'm capable of, so please enjoyyyy!!!!

Carmen, oot. 

Did someone say fire...?

Last time I was here, stuff was blowing up at Nellie's.

Craven and Hunter had stirred the pot at Nellie's to a boiling point. 

The rednecksand 

spare-O's 

were squaring off in the bar and about ready to turn on a blender of their own.

To the naked eye some might think this is just how it goes down at the waterhole but for those who read between the lines it shapes up much differently. 

The relationship between the Cravens and the RTH's has been a struggle for many moons.

The rednecks and the spare O's are similar in the strife but usually only cause you to think the boat is rocking, not tipping over. That's the difference between these two feuds around the waterhole. When the Cravens and the RTH's start into it, no one knows where it's going.

That was the case just as the night began to shine. The view from Nellie's Kitchen to the west is one of great grandiose views.

You have three sisters guarded by 

broken top while 

a wiley bachelor chases them from the south. 

An old man Washington,

his buddy Three Fingered Jack,

and that old hemp farmer Mr. Jefferson watched the northern horizon.

They have a wrangler who hangs out on the eastern forest and his name is, Blackie. He keeps things in order out on the flats lands and has the task of managing one of the regions three biggest rivers.

Most of this could be seen from Nellie's but not on this night. As the rednecks and the spare O's started scuffling and Craven Baby-Row left with Hunter no one seemed to notice that the skies had turned gray and the sun appeared to be red. As Nellie noticed the sky Flaggy jumped to his feet in pure joy.

Robin had announced that they were going to be parents and Flaggy began to flutter in happiness. They had a Flaggy Jr. on the way. Nellie came rushing into the dining area to let everyone know what she had seen. Unfortunately they were all too busy with their own business. Calamity had broken out at Nellie's with the Cravens and RTH's & the rednecks and spare O's, Flaggy and Robin were giddy as school-girls while all the while no one had noticed the reddining sky. With all the commotion Nellie had nothing left to do but ring the dinner bell. With several passes around the metal triangle she struck each one with a sense of urgency. After her fourth swing around bell she started to draw some attention. Nellie looked to the faces, who had distracted themselves long enough to listen, to say "I know I'm not suppose to shout FIRE in a theatre but THIS ISN'T A THEATRE AND THERE IS A FIRE!!!!!" 

Nellie pointed to the hazy skyline and by now had everyone's attention. You could see the faces in room just drop. This was a place were the rednecks fly out to every Sunday. The Cravens and RTH's both have property out there. They all knew Woody and his friends spent a great deal of time out there. 

The shell shock was so brutal you could have heard a pin drop. What five seconds before was a raccous barroom environment had turned into an environment that could have been witnessed at a funeral. Beaks hung in astonishment. What has happened? They all gazed around the kitchen at each other looking for answers. None of them had it. The sky continued to light up and the gang at Nellie's began to plot their resistance. 

It took hours of planning and compromise. Finally they all came up with a solution but they would need some help. Nellie suggested some old friends. These old friends have been in a bit of a feud lately too, but she figured that if everyone at the kitchen could overcome their differences so could these guys. Everyone at Nellie's agreed it was time to contact these old friends and hope that they can put their differences behind them for the time being. 

Nellie had to call up some friends that have been embroiled in a battle since time and memorial. These two had been able to come together on occasion to solve many a problem but never seem to have come together for good. It was going to be a challenge for Nellie to get their cooperation for this event but she knew she had to try. As the smoke began to loom ever closer Nellie finally picked up the phone. This was going to be tough. "Who do I call first? How will I get them to cooperate? Will they even do it?" All these questions running through Nellie's head. She finally knew what to do. She got on the party-line (a reference from the pre-70's, in rural areas people shared a connection to the switchboard {google it} on one line. That meant multiple parties could use the same line, picture: community well of trans-communication) and told Mabel to hook her up with ***duh Dunn duhn**** the Sagebrush and the Cowgirls. 

Mabel, the switchboard operator, had been at her post since the fire had began and had taken many calls. Some important, some delinquent but none as monumental as this call from Nellie. Mabel thought she just might start the Third World War if she were to place this call. Nellie steadfast and true stuck to her guns and made sure Mabel was able to place the call. Nellie reassured Mabel as she talked her through the process and Mabel began to relax. Then both lines started to ring. Mabel then lost her marbles and began to go off like a flapping hen that just got sprayed by the hose. Nellie tried to settle her down but took for granted that it was Mabel who once on her own tried to reunite the Sagebrush and the Cowgirls. Unfortunately this turned out upside down for all parties involved. It was a rainy weekend in Sturgis and the sage and cg's were to appear on stage together for charity. Different story for another time. It was wet, slippery, and you know how thunder sounds. Let's get back to our story at hand, we prayed for rain this evening when Mabel connected with both the sage and cg's. Nellie eagerly awaited the connection and with a deep breathe gathered herself to deliver the news. Mabel had curled up in her rolly-chair awaiting the fallout while Nellie had to tell the both of them their homeland was on fire. Nellie laid it out as smooth as she could, all knowing she was going to break some terrible news. Silence was heard as Nellie ended her bulletin and neither the sage or the cg's seemed to know what to say. As a couple of seconds passed that felt like a couple of decades, a simultaneous chime of "what can we do?" was heard by Nellie. Unprovoked it appeared that the sage and cg's had come to the same conclusion at the same time. 

The kitchen at Nellie's had been bustling in the meantime. All the rednecks and spare O's had set up watering stations while the RTH's and Cravens began to alert neighbors. The J's were all called in to help spread the word as Nellie continued to sculp a plan with the sage and cg's. As the seasons grew closer to the shortest night of the year, they all knew that darkness was their friend against the raging orange monster. By now Nellie's Kitchen had filled up with neighbors from both far and wide. Some to elude the combustion others to assist with what they could. Everything was buzzing as Nellie sat back and listened to the sage and cg's negotiate a plan of attack. Nellie was amazed with the continuity and accuracy that the two rivals managed to strategize their strike.

As night fell completely, the clouds glowed an eary orange, the moon shown like a little pumpkin, and the stars looked like a spilled bag of Reece's pieces. The sky smelled of winter comfort, a warm fire and the crackle of good wood, the only problem is that it's not winter and this isn't comfortable. As everyone gathered forces and battled into the night the sage and cowgirls finally reached common ground for once in a blue moon. 

I'll keep you all posted from Nellie's Kitchen as soon as I can get back in. Reporters have to take the backseat to those involved in the action, as it should be, so I'll get you what I've got when I get it. Til then. Let the ones you love know it. Tickle someone today, it'll be fun. 

More to come from Nellie's, don't let the smoke screen fool ya

Carmen, oot. 

 From the land of thunderbird feathers and porcupine tails, believe in your  imagination. The solstice is here and so are all the things that celebrate warmth, growth, greenery, and the feeling to be naked. Love your Summer, no matter what it's name is. 

To be enlightened is a gift....

Quote of the day

If you are a musician these are great adages to live by. 

"If you make a mistake, keep playing. You'll only get further away from it" JC via Bobby Lindstom

Vs. 

"You can run, but you can't hide from it"

Brent Mydland, GD

Music is awesome art.  Nothing is more simple or more complicated for those involved. Always looking for the perfect medium to sow the seeds of enlightenment and happiness. You can turn someone on with a simple rhythm just as easily as a full symphonic orchestra and everything in between. That's the beauty of music. 

To address the quotes today I found myself in an ineresting conundrum. Both are true and both make the art what it is. When combined with they are the representation of musical history. Some artists are known for famous faux pas. One hit wonders as well as legends have all made mistakes. Some have gone on to feed off of those mistakes and create magic, where as others have crumpled beneath the pressure. I would like to draw a parallel to politics here but if you read my initial post (many moons ago) I drew a line. No politics, religion, global warming, or abortion. I may have just added global warming but it's off limits, too. Look at how they handled their mistakes. I'm not pointing fingers at anyone specifically but all of us know of a mistake, here-or-there, and how it was rectified. 

Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone tries not to. We all still do. What do we do?  We take the next day like the next step. Sure a whoops or two happened today. What did you do? Did you sit in lement? Did you feel guilty? Did you tie your shoes with too many knots? I hope not. 

Back to the adage thing. Here's one I learned a long time ago from an athlete of pro caliber (a corner-back, former NFL) two simple words and two effective words. SHORT MEMORY. Barring a castastrophy nothing is that important to hang onto. Skip the little stuff and move on. Don't waste your time putting wood on a fire that only wants to consume you. 

Yes, we all have memories and we don't forget mistakes as well as we remimber accomplishments, so you're going to have to live with it. Regardless. 

So now what do we do with our mistakes? 

Perhaps you've heard of honesty. It makes everything digestible. You may not like how it tastes, it may even stink or have an insatiable desire to make you look silly (among other things.)  It's a jagged little pill to swallow, but it will allow you to move on. Honesty is the responsibility of the beholder. It comes from within and frees you from the arguments you have with yourself over your mistakes. Only you get to decide how you apply it.  Simply own up and carry on. Learn from it and be sure to do your best not to do it again. Take it as a learning experience. A new arrow for your quiver. Then forget it. Life IS too short to sweat the little things. 

Continue to grow. Learn something new every day. Let the ones you love know it and the love will come back to you. Thanks for stopping by again. To you first time visitors, please leave a comment for your free case of nothing. 

Sage and Cowgirls have come to a boiling point again. With no new negotiations, wild-west law has taken over again. If I were a betting man I would put the odds at 450:1 nothing is settled in the next month until order is restored.  

Carmen. 0000000000000000t

Hannah says, "Aloha" from Turtle Bay

Kids tell the best jokes

It's funny how kids know the best jokes. This one was learned when I was just a lil June-bug out on Bear Creek Rd. The following content is rated PG-13. Also modified to fit the narrators point of view. 

It all started when I went to work as a school bus driver a few years back. I was the rookie and one my first day all the other drivers told me I had to buy lunch. No big deal. I knew where the closest Micky D's was at and willing to be a team player.  So I went to mcdonalds and ordered Big Macs for all. I even got a few extras. I brought lunch back to the gang and from there on I was know as Big Mac. They loved it and loved calling me Big Mac. 

So I wore the moniker of Big Mac and was starting to become proud of it. Every time I bought lunch everyone knew what was coming. They liked it and I was starting to fit in. So much that I was promoted to run the Sesame  Street bus route. I was confused seeing how my town had no street named Sesame. I was stoked though, so I got the info on the route and come to find out it only had four stops. I was like, wow. This oughta be cake. So Monday morning rolls around and I'm off from the bus barn, en-route on my latest journey. 4 stops.... No problem. The clock wasn't being my friend this morning so I was trying to cut some time. I got to my first stop. A minute late but alright. Two young ladies boarded the bus. Ironically both of their names were Patty. Although one spelled her name Patti. These were some large young ladies. I mean really large. I was just thankful that each one sat on different sides of the bus, otherwise I would have been driving in circles. I got the Patties on board and set out for stop two. I could see from about a half mile away a young man and it would seem he was licking a mailbox. The Patties told me his name was Ross. The kids all called him Special Ross. He was a good kid and hopped on the bus and away we went. Come to find out it was only a three stop route with four pickups. So on to my last stop. The kids were talking and I learned that our next rider was Lester Sneeds. Lester was out waiting when I arrived and was excited to get on the bus. It was odd though. He was wearing flip flops in February. Then it came clear, he started picking at his feet. Picking bunyons. Ick. Now it was time to get this bus on its way to school. I looked at my watch and had lost about three minutes on the timeline. I was homeward bound so I decided to step on it a little. Bad idea. Next thing I know I'm getting pulled over, in a schoolbus no less. While waiting for the officer to come to the door the kids and I are all getting nervous. They are starting to get loud and this is making me more nervous or at least a lil tense. I have to get these kids to school on time. The officer approaches finally after damn near five minutes. My clock is screwed at this point and I'm a bit upset. The officer proceeds to tell me I was doing 23 in a 20mph school zone. Now I was really ticked!!! I had to light this mounty up. 

"Look man, I need to get this bus to school! I've got two obese Patties, Special Ross, Lester Sneed, picking his bunyons, on the Sesame Street Bus!!!" 

Regards. Big Mac. 

Just a breify...Carmen oooot 

Photo journalism..."every picture tells a story, doe nit?"

Damndelion

When the ponderosa grows up inside a thunderbird feather

Lakes are cool. Even cold this time of year. 

Look who I found on the lake. Now that's a teeter-totter

My big sister. She's kept her eye on me since I was a twinkle in the Bend drinking water. 

This is my sisters boyfriend. She just can't seem to find a way to make him commit.....always the bachelor. 

This is where ducks live. Never mind the UFO crash in the background

There she is again. Show off. 

My friend G Deagle. 

Did you see that????

Photo essay complete. For now. Never say never like you mean it and try not to hate anything. Even those damn spicy peppers in your Chinese food. Let the ones you love know it. Carmen, ooooooooooooooot