you've got a

Blue eyed soul. And I don't think you will ever let it go.

You are a cymbal crash and a snare drum bang. A roughstock pony and a Sundance all rolled up into a difficult sequence. Your sky is a star-quilt.

You wear your hat at a tilt because you can't get it right and you don't rely on mirrors. You walk with a limp because the world has worn half of you down.

An owl follows you. He's telling you to go home. His night-time song haunts your last days. He's waiting just like you.

He follows you to White Clay, lands on your old Ford that won't start. So you start walking north with the others.

They might make it. You won't.

scare easy

My love's an ocean
You better not cross it
I've been the distance
And I need some rest
Yeah I had somebody once
And damn if I lost her
I've been running
Like a man possessed

I don't scare easy
Don't fall apart
When I'm under the gun
You can break my heart
And I ain't gonna run
I don't scare easy
For no one

Yeah, I am a loser
At the top of my game
I should have known
To keep an eye on you
Now I got a God
It ain't never the same
Yeah, I got a dream
That don't ever come true

I don't scare easy
Don't fall apart
When I'm under the gun
You can break my heart
But I ain't gonna run
I don't scare easy
For no one

Sun going down
On a canyon wall
I got a soul
That ain't never
Been blessed
Yeah and I'm a shadow
At the back of the hall
Yeah, I got a sin
I ain't never confessed

And I don't scare easy
Don't fall apart
When I'm under the gun
You can break my heart
And I ain't gonna run
I don't scare easy
For no one

Tom Petty

i did

Have you ever had something beautiful come into your life when you least expected it? When you were so lost you thought you might go blind? When you were so hot in the blistering desert sun but still feeling cold. The wind blowing dust around like snow.

Then she comes into your life just like magic. You see her and you can't look away. Can't pretend you're lonesome anymore. Her heart takes you to the other side. The side you weren't on before. She makes you feel high and wide. Big as an ocean. As tall as a tree.

I heard that music and felt the pulse. I saw her and everything else looked better, felt better, even in the background. Hell, the background faded from view. I could only see her.

I saddled my horse. Rode out onto the range. Listened to a perfect opera. It was hers. She sang it to me. She broke through the fences I'd put up. Crossed the cattle guard to my heart. Jump started the old truck. Smiled and made the sun rise again.

So if you ever ask me the that question, have you ever had something beautiful come into your life when you least expected it, I'll answer.

I did.

shaken not stirred

I rather be shaken than stirred. Been both. Stirred is too slow and deliberate, shaken is right here, right now. No time to lose. A freefall hurricane. Maybe you catch yourself in time, maybe you don't. You hear the sirens. You get in the ambulance and take the ride down to the infirmary. You're a thunderstorm. An earthquake. Shaken not stirred.
Just a sack of dust, just a bag of bones. A rodeo down the road. It's not where you've been, it's what you understand. Not thinkin', just feelin'. Roll out your bedroll in the back of your truck and roll it up again. Busted flat in a bar in Lame Deer. Goin' the full eight on the rankest bull. Throwing your rope at the right moment. Winning the girl and a little cash money.
Sittin' at a truck stop. Taping the knee and joinin' the rosin on your glove to your rigging. Boy, you better make it count. So heat it up first.
Shaken, not stirred.

dad gum

Dad Gum is keen on Lola Simpendorfer. Lola pushes soda pop at the cafe in Wasta and goes dancing at the Two Bit in Quinn every Saturday night. She paints the barn and puts on her best dress, hose and shoes. High heels. She can dance in them.
Dad Gum came in one night after cutting hay all day and saw Lola sitting alone across the dimly lit saloon and steakhouse on Highway 44. He couldn't look away. He decided to ask her to dance even though he was dressed in dusty overalls and work boots and hadn' t shaved for days.
But Dad Gum was an accomplished Cali, Columbia Salsa Style dancer. Dad Gum preferred the common name Boogaloo and pumped two bucks into the CD jukebox, calling up his favorite, King Bongo. This caught Lola's attention. She herself was an accomplished Salsa Cubana dancer and the styles are complementary.
Dad Gum always keeps a red rose in his truck for just such occasions and went to fetch it. Lola's anticipation grew. Dad hurried, he didn't not want to miss his chance but as Dad went out, Enrique De Santiago went in. With slick black hair, a pencil thin mustachio, red polyester pant-suit and shiny shoes he swept past, reeking of cheap cologne. He glanced derisively at Dad Gum.
Dad Gum grabbed his rose and and hurried back inside, expecting the worst. But it seems Lola had seen Dad looking at her. Watched him fire up the jukebox and decided he was for her and she for him. She nodded at Enrique, indicating she was taken. She gave Dad her best smile and nodded yes. They tore up the place. Truly brilliant Salsa.
And made plans for next Saturday and a life together.
Dad Gum.

antidepressant

I take an antidepressant everyday. It's not a drug, but works just as well or really, a lot better. I simply text my best friend and she texts me back. It always makes me smile, sometimes I giggle. Yep, the old man still has some giggles left in him and she finds them every time. I love her for it. We are peas in a pod. Like goofy kids in school.
When I'm with her time stops. Or rather, it goes too fast. Way too fast. Hours evaporate. When I'm not, everything I do reminds me of her. She is the catcher on my baseball team. Catching all my dreams and pop flys. She is my running back. She scores touchdowns and never fumbles. She smiles at me in a way that melts my heart. I can't take my eyes off of her.
She is my sophisticated date at the best restaurants in town. She always tries to get the check before I can. She charms the waitstaff. She leaves a big tip.
She is my candied apple. My pumpkin pie. My heart.
She is everything to me. She is my best friend. She makes me a better person.
I love my best friend.
I always will.

pepa asalto

Is from Buenos Aires, Argentina. She is beautiful. In spirit and appearance. She is intelligent, sophisticated and charming. She is my friend. I am lucky that she chooses to be my friend also.
In her honor,  I support Argentinian football and I don't call those islands the Falklands, I call them the Isles Malvinas.
I would love to go to Buenos Aires. Meet Pepa,  her husband and her children. I'm sure I would be brought into her home and treated like a long lost friend. A kindred spirit. A world citizen. Like her.
It probably won't happen. But that doesn't matter so much. We are both Americans (there is a north and a south, you know) and we are friends. I will always have a place in my heart for her. I hope she's made room in hers for me.
Vamos Argentina!

let's get lost

Tripped over a dog in a choke-chain collar.
Traded a smoke for a food stamp dollar.
A weekend away from the cavalcade.

I never really ever had a problem because of leaving.
No one's gonna fool around with us, Angel.
Ours is a ballad of big nothing.You can do what you want to whenever you want to.
There's no one to stop you. It doesn't mean a thing.
Big nothing.

Smoking Camels. Picking lemons.
We don't belong here. Let's get lost.

Drink up baby, stay up all night.
Look at the stars.
Keep things we forgot.

Let's get lost.

for peets sake

Peet Terwilliger married Hedder Hoy on the 5th of August in 1999. You can probably guess what the theme for the reception was as both favored Prince at the time. Hedder wore a purple dress and Peet a purple velvet jacket and frilly shirt. Their spotlight slow dance was to Purple Rain and they left in Hedder's Uncle's van dedicated to Prince.

They drove pell mell into Wyoming, with reservations at the Buffalo Bill Super 8 in Cody. They were headed for the Bighorns and then on to Yellowstone. But something happened. The trip was cut short. Prince had left his record company and changed his name to The Artist. Peet was dissappointed, Hedder was intrigued. The Artist was traveling too, hitting swanky bars, playing country tunes at VFW's and Shriner events. He was in Rock River at Bill's Casino and Slots that Tuesday.

This was Hedder's chance. Catch The Artist while he's down, nurture and revive his musical soul. Drop Peet and move on. Right after the bond had been certified in the Lutheran tradition.

Peet could sense the tension. He couldn't keep his mind on the road. He couldn't stop wondering. At mile marker 116, Peet pulled the van over and ripped the neon guitar from the purple carpet wall of the customized van. He tossed the vintage 8 tracks onto the road. He pulled Hedder from the van. And gave her an ultimatum. I'm your Prince, he shouted, big rigs zooming past, smell of diesel and asphalt in the air. I'm will die for 4 u, he screamed, paraphrasing the title of another Prince hit.

Ms. Hedder laughed. A squeaky little erp of a laugh but just enough to set Peet off. Peet swung the neon guitar over her head and into the dry grassland adjacent. Another sqeak. Peet lost it. He stripped off his purple velvet jacket and frilly shirt and bolted into the roadway.

A Sweedish Hanna couldn't stop in time. The length of time to stop an eighteen wheeler is 40% greater than that of an automobile.  Depending on the weight of their load,  whether they are bobtailing,  road conditions,  and other factors.  To be sure,  it takes a much greater time to stop than an automobile… period. Pete met his fate on that lonesome Wyoming highway.

Asked later, Hedder refused to answer any questions and sat silently hurting. 
For Peet's sake. 

country dick

How did I miss his death? I met Country Dick Montana in Vermilion, SD in the vast Lakota Feeding Trough at the University of South Dakota Student Center we called LaChoka. The food was that bad.
Ol' Country passed in 1995 and I missed it. I must've been high.

cheese

Velveeta Linklater grew up in my town. She was genuine. Her toes pointed inward and she'd stand arms akimbo, admonishing us boys in PE class.
Her nose was chiseled to a fine point and when it pointed at you, you feared the worst. On that day when it came to my attention, we were practicing "tumbling". A vague word for cruel and inhumane punishment. Enforced with a relentless zeal by Velveeta, a failed high school gymnast.
We were directed to line up and run, one by one, jumping on a "mini" trampoline, to execute a "forward flip" and land on a mat two inches thick. I was not a natural. I usually landed on my ass. Velveeta had the solution. It seems I was closing my eyes (as most would when facing impending doom), and thus, according to Velveeta, losing my "gravity compass". This seemed sensible if incomprehensible and I was determined to give it a try.
I did. And the fear generated by the world upside down sent me sprawling to the floor, missing the mat entirely. Nonetheless, I gamely got up and limped to the back of the line dreading what was to come next.
But I got lucky. The exercise was suspended. Velveeta stood to the side, a veritable gusher of blood and tears. I said 'jeez, what happened'. My classmate Marli said, 'you went totally out of control and accidentally kicked her in the face, you didn't mean to, but it was really funny'.
I have to admit I laughed a little inside, a little payback for the unreasonable imposition of emotional and physical distress. And I thought, why would I need forward flipping skills in adult life? If I was going to make the circus a career maybe, but even then I'd probably be detailed to sell corn dogs, dill pickles and cotton candy.
Velveeta didn't like me much after that errant flailing kick but, heck, it WAS her idea.

she writes too

Ninjabeth writes well. Very well.
How does it happen, this ability to communicate so much with so few words? To establish a compelling grouping of words that blow up into a simple, fantastic melding of mind and universe? Why can some do this while others fall short?
Heck if I know, but I highly recommend her. Her writing is real. You will love it. I do.

sara

Sara likes Bob Dylan. A lot. So do I. Sara's from Oklahoma. I've never been there. She makes it seem really cool though. It must be. She's there. By way of San Francisco or the east coast, I can't remember which.
Bob just announced the US leg of his tour. One stop was Sturgis, ND. Yeah ND, not SD. Either way I might go. He's worth a road trip. Especially if Sara comes along.

but if you try sometime

You can get what you need. Like if you want a pony, maybe settle for a goat.
Bigfoot always wanted solitude, he got infamy. He wanted a splinter-cat, he got bitten and scratched. He wanted a bathtub, he got a pond. He wanted a friend, he got me. He wanted an iPad, he got an iPod Touch.
I asked him. Are you bitter? He said no. I got what I need.

new post

Sometimes when you ain't really got nothin' new to say, you just hit "new post" and wait for the flow. Sometimes it don't show up on time so you freelance. You make it up.
Maybe you ran out of cigarettes and the tank in your truck is gettin' low. Maybe your cat gives you a look, sayin' what's up Pa. Maybe your CD player broke and your girlfiend noticed. Doesn't want to see you no more. You think about takin' up rodeo again, but you're too old for that business. Gave your riggin' away a long time ago when you couldn't get a PRCA invite. Your rope is loose and your saddle's worn. It hurts a bit. The busted neck in Bell Fourche, collarbone in Payson. Losing your best friend in Layton. Missing the cut in Pueblo. Those good rides in McLaughlin, Sundance and Lame Deer come to nothin'. A few eighties don't make a career.
But a cowboy has a job to do when he gets thrown, when his rope slips, his horse stumbles through the gate. He get's up, finds his hat, dusts it off, smiles and keeps on cowboyin'. Guess I'll do the same. Washte kolas.

closing time

When the clock turned, I was suddenly one year older. Like magic. A whole year of work and perilous danger subsumed by a number. In an instant. It doesn't seem right. It took a whole year to get here. Now that year is history.
Funny. I still have the same friends and a few more new friends. Some re-connections with friends thought to be lost but really just out there wondering what the hell I'd been up to.
Yes. I've become lame. I drive carefully, keep the speed down, let others cut in front and refrain from using my cell phone while driving and at the gas station because the sign says I shouldn't. I eat more dark green vegetables. Wash the dishes by hand. Buy recycled paper products even if they cost more and they always do. I sold my guns and quit hunting and shooting animals except with a camera. I provide fresh water and litter for my cat almost daily. He notices and I think he appreciates it but how would I know. I just figure if I was him, I would want someone like me to do the same. His name is Willie. He likes country music just like I do. He's hoboed from Arizona to Minnesota with me.
And I still like punk rock. I'm still a straight-laced prep frat-boy in appearance and action. I voted then, I vote now. I pay taxes. I'm OK with both. I take a vitamin supplement and drink a lot of water. Usually only fruit if I want a sweet snack. But I still love cookies (I'm eating one now), ice cream and cupcakes. Overall, I'm a happy boy. I guess that could be brain damage from my years of excess. They're behind me. I've become more subtle.
I'm old now, but young at heart and in spirit. I wonder if it's because I took the time to make so many friends. Some go back to first grade, some farther. Some are more recent, but bonds build over time. Some quickly, others more slowly, and require careful consideration. Some I've had to let go as our paths diverged. But, that's part of the enjoyable challenge of it all. Like a warm chocolate chip cookie or your Mom's smile when you did the right thing. Or eating spinach. It grows on you and makes you stronger.
Closing time for me is a long way off. I can't get enough of this. Figure I'll stick around for a bit. So, for all of you friends, the bigger and the better and the in-betweens, thank you for carrying me this far. I won't forget you. Ever.

eating soup off the top of your daddy's head

I hadn't heard this phrase before tonight. The explanation was satisfactory but the image remains. Wouldn't the soup simply drain off? If Dad had a bald spot, wouldn't it be worse? A scald. A third degree burn. And a good pot of soup lost.
Like a pick-up game on the playground. You lose so often until you decide to stop losing. You get taller than your Dad. You scrap it out. And when the day comes when you're taller than him, you eat soup off the top of his head. And sink the winning basket.

could you would you

If you could I know it would be so good. The Magnolias have re-united but when will the Johnson brothers bring Run Westy Run back to life. We all wait patiently. Never missed a show. Usually a packed First Ave main room gig. Sometimes in the Entry for old times sake. Hanging from the rafters. Stocking cap studded with burning incense. You would have had to have been there to get the full picture.
Then there was the Iffy experiment. That was a chick magnet. Saw them at the 400. My cell was in my pocket. It redialed my girlfriend Mara at home. She heard us discuss the merits of various hot babes. Back in the car after, phone still broadcasting, she heard me tell my buddies that she was hotter than any chick there that night. Close call. Turned out well though. Still love my cutie from Grand Forks.

almost

Almost old. Almost. I'm fighting it. But if by chance I do get older, I'll remember all the special people in my life. There are so many.
I spend my days playing a game I call jump, jump, jump climb. I get tied up in it.  Then I hear from a dear friend I haven't heard from in years. Her smile is beautiful and it makes me happy. And the years fall away. Tomorrow, I think I'll play in a sandbox. Ride a swing. Take the neighbor kids for ice-cream. There's more than one way to jump, jump, jump, climb.

garrett bryan holly bryan

Garret Bryan Holly Bryan was poorly named. As a result, he suffered horribly at the hands of the grade school bullies and the assembled crowd. Chased, caught, wrestled to the ground for an Indian haircut, the turkey-peck or the dreaded "snake-bite", he'd take his punishment and shuffle off. Just a little tore up.
But then Garret Bryan Holly Bryan met Marli Feller Feller Marli. The prettiest girl in third grade. He carried her books home after school. He held her hand.
The bullies wouldn't stand for this behavior and so upped the ante on Garret Bryan Holly Bryan. But he remained true to Marli Feller Feller Marli. Sixteen years later, he married her. She kept her maiden name, so now she's Mrs. Garret Bryan Holly Bryan Marli Feller Feller Marli. Can't wait til they have kids!