Remembering Ice and Cold

Remembering Ice and Cold

If I look at measures, I think in winters. Not moons, suns, stars or the ticks on a ruler or those of a clock. I recollect by the numb freeze of fingers and ears. Heavy feet in boots. The rhythmic puff clouds huffed out in blue-grey morning light.

Capture Them

My parents are on a timer, and they’ve both led amazing lives…especially my mom. This week she’s in the hospital and it kind of struck me that, while she’s pretty damn indestructible, she isn’t immortal.

It’s time to get those stories of theirs down, to capture them and archive them, so they’re not lost in the rain.

Riding white water through tunnels in a mountain.

Standing on the beach, watching the cloud rise as the Bikini Atoll was incinerated by a Hydrogen Bomb.

171.5

171.5
It could have gone (should have gone) much faster, been a cleaner process, but I’m a hired gun; I’m working in a team that is very unfamiliar with one another, and not every piece of our source material was ready–hell, some of it didn’t even exist! But, that’s why I was brought in; I know this stuff from the general to the most technical and I can teach it all, to anyone. This is going to sound terribly arrogant, but I am one of the very few people in the world who can do this type of work, on this scale, in this scope…on a world-wide stage.

Boy

Tossed through the air in a slow tumble. Numb, in smoking clothes and a cloud of dust. Above, the Veil moved from its slow wash of pale color to violent, stabbing flashes and rippling light. No sound, just the flashes from above and the movement of battle from...

Begin. Again.

Earlier this year we literally gave away everything we owned and went full-time in our 5th wheel (the Grand Oppression Palace, of GOP). Then, of course, life happened!

The recent past…in writing

Failing Happiness

Failing Happiness

Failing Happiness is the place of wilting, not dying, wilting. I can't generalize for everyone suffering from Mental Illness, I won't speak for them; if anything, this shit is so random my own descriptions can't really match up to anyone else. I do know...

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Hail Mary

Hail Mary

Life doesn’t stop between posts, it just…degrades.

I am out of options, hitting for the fences now. 

I really, really hate mental illness.

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2018 Harley Davidson FXBR, Breakout

2018 Harley Davidson FXBR, Breakout

The Great Motorcycle Hunt of 2018 is over! A couple of weekends ago I bought a 2018 Harley Davidson FXBR, Breakout.

And since this damn blog shares a lot of words about riding, and since Spivey (my 2014 Yamaha Bolt R-Spec) is now in the loving hands of my daughter; you’re going to hear a lot about this 2018 Harley Davidson Breakout.

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Pessimistic Idealism

Pessimistic Idealism

My dreams are woven from dark fabric; bound in smoke and fire – embellished with tears. Yet, to see such decoration our eyes need light. It is pointless to weave intricate patterns that cannot be seen. There can never be destruction without creation.

Pessimistic pondering must be balanced by Idealism, or the entire dream collapses into depthless nightmare.

So, yes. I am a man with Pessimistic Idealism driving my thoughts. Since nothing is mutually inclusive, these two clashing concepts work in balance to create some future vision. I think they birth Hope…and a fragile Faith.

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The Great Motorcycle Hunt of 2018

The Great Motorcycle Hunt of 2018

The Great Motorcycle Hunt of 2018 Spivey is now in the loving hands of my daughter. He was a faithful steed and I miss him. But I am very happy he is where he is.   Searching... This Spring I will get my next bike. Since I have a habit of researching...

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Toxicity

Toxicity

Toxicity …is everywhere, and it’s seeping into life — both waking and sleeping. This is what I’m doing about it.

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Isolation

Isolation

White Supremacists in the Full-Time RV community have forced me to deactivate my FaceBook account. Old friends are not really speaking to me right now. We have one car, so while Julie’s at work I’m land-bound.

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