From crooked wood comes unusual character

 It takes a battle axe to break my character and a simple effing robot to curse my vibe. WTF??? They didn't teach me this shit at outdoor school. Trying to scribe a blog on a phone is like doing brain surgery on a crab-boat. If you're any good, please share. It's taken 12 prayers to Divinity, a swift kick in the ass to find a new way. You know I can't be beat. I can be beat up, beat down, stained in beets, and I may even roll with, Tony Beets. I'm just never going to be beaten. "Get up, go make me some more money!!!" LaMontra.

My world is crooked if you look at it. I look to the dirt, the animals, and the flora to make my judgements. Humans have indescribably torn a scar into our planet that it may never heal from. Not in any lifetime you or I or your children's kids may know. Earth is kinda wrecked and we need to nurse her a lil bit before she gets all pissed off and starts hucking hot lava at us again!!
Wow. All 203 words of that cost me 1.45hrs. Talk about a wreck, I'm writing on a phone and I haven't even gotten to the girls and brush......first-world problems can be a serious pain......he says chuckling, while sipping his Perrier and sampling the freshest fruits, meats, and cheeses from all the ports across the globe. It sucks to be rich, huh.
I wish I knew. I just finished a hotdog that I was lucky (enough to find to begin with)to have some mouse-turd and cat-soup to spice it up.  It ain't easy being me-eeesy....and to top it off with.......
Ahw, fuck that was too easy.  Call your friends, I need some velveta. Oh yea!!!!! Here we go!!!!!!

THE COWGIRLS AND THE SAGEBRUSH
(If I can copy and paste I think I have a medium that works) get your hands off my velveta!!!
CG vs. SB CASE IVXXL CIRCUIT COURT EASTERN OREGON
Today XXIXMARXVII
HERE WE GO AGAIN!!!!!!
The gloves came off!! The boots came off!!! The GIRLS came off!!! Flowers were flying and heads were spinning this year at the local summit. As we 'try' to do every year the CG's, the SB's, & myself make an attempt to get together to help resolve our battle. This year, much like every other year, we gathered at Big Summit Prairie in our spot past the cinnabar mine.  It's a comfortable locale for all of us. Not that all of us are comfortable we still manage. It's a summit. As most weekends go, this one started Thursday night with the Girls running barrel-like lines around willows and imaginary markers in the pasture. The Sage sat along in the shade and watched in glee as they witnessed the beauty of the Girls running their horses without a threat of being trampled. The Sage may have just become aware of the beauty their counterpart. In the meantime the Cowgirls noticed the calm and unthreatening ways of the Sage. The calm demeanor of the plant was inspiring and its cool green glow gave the girls  feel of glee as well. They felt more secure in their exhibition while not being threatened by the tall Sage. This went on for nearly an hour with both parties thoroughly entertained.
As for me, the me-de-8-tor, (fuck spelling correctly, right???!!) Fuck using a phone to blog. This is like hauling a freaking mule over the Klondike on your back the mule is broken & your leg is broken in two, and the horse that is trying to haul you and that mule up the hill is broken as well and just fell off the cliff......with reins attached to you (&the mule) & yeah that's how much fun it is trying to write a blog is on this fucking phone.
Low and behold that was the fastest most well typed paragraph I have done yet today(upon further review it took damn near an hour to edit, fucking phone!!!) I should probably just stick with dictation instead of trying to type. I hate you iPhone I hate you I hate you I hate you.
OK you don't interpret Uber well, that's fine. U still don't enter anything well either, but what can I say? Sorta? Sorta, what? Sorta nothing. That's not so fine. anyway back to the ranch. Geez, we're talking Sage and Cowgirls, here....says the guy with fingers too fat to type....PLEASE-continue

We're on big summit Prairie the Girls are out riding and enjoying the flatlands of the prairie and having a great time running the horses around. The Sage, are sitting back in the shade enjoying in the escapades while partaking in their own festival of sorts(grooming and preening, things we don't often see). The Sage, not commonly known to partake in activities this high in altitude (5000ft⬆️sea level) became quite fond of a critter they don't often see. The Clarks Nutcracker came by to pay a visit and was welcomed by the Sage with open branches. Clarks, Clarkie from here forth; became a buddy to the Sage and comforted them in an unknown environment with a treatment the Sage had not received anywhere else. Clarkie was a masseuse. He picked through the Sage like that bird on an elephants back, scouring everything until that bug was caught, or that branch was fluffed, as the case were. The Sage felt at home.
 The weather had warmed and many bugs began to come out. Usually this is the Sage's breaking point. When Clarkie called in a few of his mates, and they began to tear through the bugs, The Sage were so happy and comfortable they felt like this may be the time to negotiate.

Meanwhile back on the prairie the CGirls were tearing it up!! The Girls were blazing, the horses were glazing, and the dim fog from above began hazing into the prairie.
As twilight grasped its handle on the day, the girls wrapped up their rides and the dust began to settle as the prairie began to mellow. The Sage settled down, out of the wind and the Girls put their 🐴 s up for the night and hit the sack for the night.
The night came, moonless and dark. The soft sounds of the prairie were only interrupted by the howl of a coyote or the hoot of an owl for a brief second.

As dusk becomes nights and our constituents settle in for a well deserved rest under a moonless star filled night, the summit appears to be getting off on the right foot. When all of the sudden, in the midst of the darkness, a loud noise rips across the prairie, harsh enough to chill the blood of the warmest soul.......


Stay tuned. 10 years of radio didn't teach me much but it taught me how to tease😘I may not keep my tenses straight, but I can see I'll tease.

Find out how this evening on the prairie turns out and if the Brush & Girls ever find resolution. *Insert soap ad here* or will the sound be the beckoning of a rift they may never recover from *insert more expensive soap ad here*

Thanks to the fine folks at Westinghouse, Morgan Steel, The General Electric Light-Bulb Company, and RCA; for making this telecast available to all 16 of you spread across this wide wonderful world or ours. Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for what you can't grasp yet!!!!! Love ya all!!!
A to the B 2 the C'yalll!!!! Carmen, oooot

Wood grows crooked, so do I. Trains are loud and so are dogs.

Welcome back!!! Sorry to leave you hanging for nearly a year. Too much red hot chili peppers and too much Western-voodoo medicine. I could have rendered myself lost in the wind two weeks ago. I chose a path away from the meds and I'll follow the path back to the Madre I know. So here I am and ready to update the progress of our lady-friends and their sagey nemesis.

When last we left, your author was dealing with scitzophrenia and other mis-diagnosed dilutions. So the story could have been a bit foggy and untold. I'm here to 'right' the ship 🚢 and get us back on course. Granted, I'm looney as two pet-coons and twice as unpredictable while being prettier than two sage brush in full bloom. That is a beautiful segue into our actual presentation.....

Sage and the girls are still at odds. Nothing settled but still trying. When we last left, our ladies were bitching about how tall the Sage were growing and the Sage were bitching about 'cowgirls' in general.  "Running too fast, shitting on us, blatantly trampling our house!!!!"

In the words of Phil Collins....."there must be some misunderstanding......"


That where I come in. I am the meteator in a battle that can't be one (won.)
I listen to rock-n-roll music and hope to interpret a solution to all of our problems. Since it hasn't come, I still listen to Rockin roll and attempt to find a vein. I am simply an interpreter. All I do is gather information and interpret it the best I can. So as I listen to Brad, from sublime, talk about how early in the morning. Id

**** evidently it is a waste of time going any further with an iPhone. This piece of shit cannot interpret anything I say or allow me the availability to write what I want to write. For this I will have to reconstruct my approach and hopefully find a better writing apparatus. Courson BU garbage can interpretation of blogger to the iPhone or Welp be at iPhone

Ten scents smell better than five

It's been a long time but nothing has changed. The day continues into the night and the night continues back to the day I don't have anything to say other than I'm watching a race car race…

There is a stew cooking and look for me to be back with something pragmatic and intrinsic.  For now I must find the Porsche one for he needs to relieve me of my exes liquids thank you very much good night now and I'll put a period on that.

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.