The King Just Don't Never Quit...

Like a few before me, I saw the fallacy of the story I've been sold my whole life... and stepped off that "treadmill" some little while ago...

The thing is... sometimes when you're pulling weeds... you get carried away and yank up some of the good flowers in the process. It may take some time... but eventually you come to realize that they're missing... they leave a void inside that gnaws at you.

So... Haven't moved so much this winter. Been pondering that a lot. Where I've been and where I'm goin'.

Came to a decision a while back. I'd recognized that the discomfortable feeling I had was the missing of something that is truly a part of me... Horses, and my leather... and I wanted those things back.

So... the first thing to do was put the bike up for sale... well that worked not at all. Been for sale for more than two months... and not a call... not a looker... not one... never before experienced such a difficulty selling anything... well... except for one dang house... 

Then, you'd think Arizona would be a likely spot for such a simple camp... lots of room... right? Well... you'd think wrong. It seems that Arizona has changed a lot in the last thirty years.

The biggest issue is... even if  you find a likely spot... a piece of dirt that you believe you could afford... and a nice spot to carve out a decent little camp out on the back side of beyond...

...In a lot of the counties of Arizona there's now a fine that has to be paid... apparently for being alive. Yup, before you can even pay the hundreds of dollars for even the first permit to put in a septic system you have to pay their fine that only gives you permission to apply for any other permits.

Interesting isn't it?

You get tired of having the kings men come by and prod you along because you dared stop on the kings land for too long. And mostly the issue is if you're parked on open ground, nobody is making a profit off of you (Open ground being defined as that land that Nobody Owns) so they kick you down the road hoping you get tripped into being profitable to the King.

Now, to deal with that you start to reconsider buying a piece of dirt so you can shut your engine off for as long as you please without being hassled by some bureaucrat that thinks soh-sigh-uh-tee (The King) owns every bit of the earth and everyone in it.

... Only to find that there's even higher "Fines" to be paid... to simply exist on your own land. Hell, they Fine you now, $3200 just for being. Yup... Thirty two hundred bucks. I call it a fine... they call it an "Impact Fee" or a "Road improvement Fee"... that you have to pay up front before you can do anything. You get Nada for it. It disappears into another government black hole... and only then can you apply for and pay the hundreds of dollars for the permission of the king to put in a septic system... or even a well... nothing happens until the fine is paid.

A few hundred miles south of here they've another name for it... and ever'body here is aghast that such things go on there... Yup, the "Law" in Mexico... in one form or another collects its Mordida before you can do anything...

You call it Impact Fee... I call it Mordida... the reality is the same... Politicians, Bureaucrats, "Law"... be they American, Mexican, Syrian... all of 'em... are filth that pollute the air we breathe.

New day... same old coyote crap...

... The storm came and went. Left some snow up on the high peaks and deep soft mud in the bottom... I get a new windshield today to replace the too badly cracked to continue glass... annnnnd pick up a propane bottle from being revalved... and then I'll move camp again... gotta stay ahead of the kings men...

... I continue hunting for a buyer for my bike... and a place where a poor boy can set up a decent camp... where I can live with my horses again... and carve some leather... and live without the kings thugs.

Brian

Kaleidoscoping Cowboy Visions

 **WARNING** 

**Cowboy Tirade Alert** 

-Proceed at Your Own Risk-

If this was the sixties I'd say somebody slipped some LSD into my orange juice. Ever'thing is a kaleidoscoping tangle of colors and sounds and memories and visions... sort of like Alzheimers in reverse.

Yeah... instead of forgetting ever'thing EVERYTHING is buzzing in an endless reel. Hell, I don't know that I can keep a single thought going for 12 seconds before another comes crowding in and...

Oh look! A butterfly!...

See what I mean?

To start off... How''d I ever get to sitting in a box on wheels... in the desert... with not a horse in sight? My saddle is right here. I can touch it... but not a horse hair around. A kid who only ever wanted to cowboy... and somehow let himself be talked into so many lost years doing what other people said do... rather than what deep in his soul he -Knew- was the right thing__just a durn fool.

Then there's the fable of freedom... the Holy Grail we get beat with in this country__that only exists if you're a critter.

Think about it... if you get caught fishing without a license what happens? Yup. A fine... or jail if you resist the fine hard enough... or... Get caught speaking your mind, if somebody doesn't like the fact that you don't like jews, or gays, or romainians... do not pass go, lose your job and go straight to jail.

Forget what the men who wrote the Bill of Rights said about the Freedoms of Belief, speech and the press... That you must defend the Rights of those - who hold opinions abhorrent to your own - to EXPRESS those opinions... or you do not deserve and WILL NOT KEEP your own.

But... back to critters...

There's beavers... yup... beavers. If you go out, deep in the mountains and cut some trees down and build yourself a tiny lil' cabin... what's gonna happen? Why, the first brain dead tree hugging disney educated moron that comes along is gonna have a coronary and fall over dead... right there.

So then, the first talks-to-bears forest ranger, that is trying to teach the bears and bunnies to coexist,  that comes along is going to charge you with illegal tree cutting, building a cabin without a permit and contributing to the coronary of a moron.

... and if building that cabin happened to dry up a seep that only showed by a ten square inch patch of greener grass? Why... "THAT was a wetland you sick beast!" shouts the EPA.. and That's $5000 more fine and ten more years on your probationary period!

But... that Beaver? He gets to dam up whole rivers... build however he sees fit in a way that pleases HIM... without ever having to get the permission of another damned beaver... just to live... and Lord help you if you interfere with that slick tailed rodent.

Then of course there's cougars... thousands and thousands of cougars... Them damned things take a deer a week on average, Each. That's FIFTY TWO deer a year X thousands and thousands of house cats on steroids. No license. No bag limits. No "Season"... just the cougars... Free on the Earth.

But... the man who toils away on the "King Permitted" ranch the cougar hunts on? Why... if he got caught taking one of the kings deer... or in actuality... obstructing that cougar from taking his? Why he's an anti social pervert who's gonna get paid a visit by black helmeted toughs imposing the Kings authority...

Freedom? Ha! It's the stuff of legend. You can't buy a book without the King getting a cut. You have to file permits to walk through the wilderness. You're BARRED totally from thousands of acres of land for months and months at a time... to preserve it "For the critters"...

You have to get a PERMIT to exercise the RIGHT to produce your living. Either a permit to work for somebody else... or a permit to run your own shop... to which, of course, you pay a split to the King.

You have to pay for permission to build a shelter... and must, by law, build a shelter HUGELY greater than what you may need or want... because; "That's the Law"... as if Law was some great and honorable truth... rather than only the brutal force it is... imposed only because those who own it have the force to do so.

There's little "Life" you're permitted to live... without first... buying a permit... It's the Law.

uh huh. Law... schoolyard bullies with badges and authority. but resist their bullying and you're labeled a pervert of some variety...

Where's that darned Butterfly when I need it???!!!

Yup... many's the day I'd have rather been born a Beaver or a Cougar... or hell... a Horse! I'd have made one hell of a fine Bucking Horse!

...and those are just a few of the kaleidoscoping colors and sounds. I've edited out those I calculated to be of an even more offensive nature to those inclined to defend the "Rights" of the King to impose his values and authority on Everyone... King of course spelled s-o-s-i-g-h-u-h-t-e-e.

... maybe that's where this lost ol' buster belongs... astraddle a saddle on a fine horse in new country... extending one finger in partic'lar to those who would impose their ideas of "What you have to do"... as he rides away... giggling...

Brian

Here We Go Again...

Kinda stuck in a hole for a bit. Been trying for three days to put up a post. But the vaunted technology of Verizon hasn't been up to the task.

They seem little concerned. My money is locked in for the forseeable future... and they know, poor as their service is... ever'body else's is worse. So they do nada.

The air card won't stay hooked up. They say it's just a "bad spot" where I'm at. Not the jetpack.

Hmmm... really? Then explain why this overpriced under performing phone can operate in the same exact location?

Yeah... they already have the money soooo... :-/

On occasion I guess I'll email in a post from the phone... unless/until Verizon chooses to back it's marketing hooey.

Till then I'll just keep on sucking down coffee and building the next book.

Brian

***Edit/update***

After multiple tries slogging through there oh so helpful automatic phone system... I finally managed to get to the right gal... who led by by phone to the place buried deep in the computer... where somebodies update... be it Verizon or Microdud... landed an update that flipped a switch best left un-switched... arrrrgggghhhhh. and things are once again working... 

... so I believe I'll just turn the dang thing off and go kick a pig... and hope the buggers in silicone valley will stop with the updates to improve things... that only dig the hole deeper!

Kaleidscoping Gypsy Cowboy Writer Tangling With Characters Talking At Him From All Directions...

... Hmmmm... isn't that sort of the definition of a fella bein' a Schizo? I mean a guy "hears voices" talking to him... that nobody else can hear? :-P

... and the neighbors can likely hear him through the screen door sayin'; "wait! wait! slow down"... as the keyboard rattles as his fingers bang away... "ok... I'm ready now... keep goin'..."  ... buuuuuut those neighbors are knowin' the old fool is sittin' in there by his lonesome?

Yeah... so...

I Moved to the Pima County fairgrounds a few days back... to provide shelter for during the continuing annual gem and mineral show buying trip. Since that stuff long past lost its shine for me... the town of Tucson has small attraction as well... and the rigs in the fairgrounds are wedged in belly to butt with Vaseline and crow bars... I've been brushed up inside with Brenn Hill crooning on the Ipod and my tiny lil' brain rattling around inside a mostly empty brain pan...

After publishing my fifth Novel, The Horsemen I was planning on taking a few days off to cool out. Readers are collecting copies of that book at what's a nice rate for me and my first review has come in... and a Five star too. :) oh yes... It is a purty simple thing to inflate the ego of a puss gut mountain cowboy!

So... even though I was taking a few days off... ideas started tickling unbidden so I couldn't help but start tinkering with my notebooks__ warming up for the next project.

One, #4 in the Taylor series that will come along behind "The Horsemen" is titled "Kincaid" and the other the long delayed third volume in the Jensen series; "A Cruel Wind" (Which is only a working title - Too many already published with that moniker)

I keep a composition notebook for each book I write. All the ideas, clips, scenes and quotes that come to me while I'm out and about doing other things get copied down in there. It's as far as I go toward any sort of planning of a story. Those notebooks are like jumbled up clips of a movie taken out of all context... just flashes in a kaleidoscope.

Mostly when I sit down to write I only have a very fuzzy starting point from where I just saddle up and follow along copying down the events as they unfold.

The stories truly do get told to me by the characters and I just relay 'em to my readers. I hear voices... they speak to me and I truly work like one of those court recorders just putting down the words.

Well... there I sat all cabin fevered last week, in the mud of Snyder Hill, while Tucson got washed out with nigh on to 48 hours of rain... drinking too much coffee and doodling down kaleidoscope flashes into those notebooks...

Now... about a year or more ago I attempted to deliberately strike off and write on two stories at the same time. I've had many people tell me they are impatient and I write too slow. :-P

My thinking was that one story might could feed off the other... or ... if one hit a spot with failing inspiration I could take off with the other.

Yeah... good idea that crashed and burned for lots of reasons. Anyway... I gave it up.

Now... In sorting through the ideas for the coming Taylor book... a few things occurred to me regarding the Jensen book and I scribbled 'em down... which led me to an idea for the OTHER story... Back and forth it went... one thing after another soon gained momentum like a truck going down hill with no brakes.

The upshot of all THAT is... a  New manuscript got opened up on the laptop for each story...

... and now, quite unintentionally, I find myself torn between the two Tales. Writing on one flashes keep coming for the other which I have to stop and scribble down...

Mornings one book is on the screen... afternoons the other... and jumping back and forth between notebooks like a crackhead squirrel ALL day... 

Yeah.... You've heard the old joke about How do you drive a moron crazy? ... Ya put him in a round room and tell him there's a quarter in the corner... so... spin spin spin I go...

Both stories have fleshed out in my head much farther along their trails than any have ever before. The urge to carve them out is keeping me at the keyboard for hours and hours to see how it all unfolds.

Funny thing this Writing game... It seems akin to being a gypsy in many ways... You move along when the urge pushes... and sit still when fatigue says sit.

Brian