My Obsession With Motorcycles

Since I abandoned this space in early 2013, another friend of mine rekindled my obsession with motorcycles. It literally took one post on his Book of Face page and less than a month later I had bought one. Let's preface this by saying it had been a long stretch of...

Kick In The Ass

Today I was contemplating a few strategies, but not really getting anything done. Contemplating is just another word for procrastination, therefore an enemy to getting actual writing done. It's a personal downfall, one of many. There are many pieces I will put on...

Thank you!

Wow, what an amazing response. Thanks to everyone who's pulled down a copy of "Mr. Rain and the Weathermen"! It's #16 on Amazon under Science Fiction short stories and #66 in short stories overall (it got up to #13 and #53). Of course, once it's no longer free we'll...

Periscope

I have to admit, I’m becoming a bit addicted to Periscope…but it’s not what you think, really.

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.

Bones

Tristan’s crawler stopped on a worn ridge with a view of bones. They had been a metropolis, once, before civilization retreated and the weather went mad; though it was the retreat of civilization, more than weather, that had destroyed this particular city. Elemental forces, time–they’d stripped the skin, though Tristan hardly gave it more attention than a convenient waypoint. It’s former status, the ghosts or history it may have held didn’t matter. Warning chimes sounded, reminding her that this was not the best time to stop and that was it. She silenced them with the push of a button that crunched as it ground particulates into finer substance and sat, listening to the sound of her own breath through a respirator.

The recent past…in writing

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

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

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

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 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 …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

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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Videos…no writing here

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