Tuesday, February 26, 2013


A few of my "tweets" from the last week:

Gather in the lunch room at noon; the issue is whether we take over the factory and move to a worker-owned society or not. Please attend.

Old-time post cards were the original and best tweets. Found: "Dear Son, it is supposed to get cold here and I am low on wood. Love, Dad"

Bangtail Boneyard Broomtail Buzzard Bait Cayuse Crowbait Fantail Hammerhead Hay Burner Man Killer Ringtail Gut Twister Choppin' Horse Nag

La tierra está lista para sembrar. Ahora, vamos a regar de asiento.

10 Ways to Make Money in the Country: 1) fish pond 2) apples 3) goats 4) meth 5) squash 6) fur 7) poultry 8) melons 9) corn 10) asparagus

The stars are Her eyes, the grass and trees are Her hair, and the rivers are Her bloodstream. She is the heartthrob behind all hearts. God.

Passed my drug test! Looks like I'm back to driving a truck... not long-haul and not a semi, though, fortunately. 

Remembering my Grandpa Bob Sand this morning: swimmin in Wolf Creek, ridin horses, herdin sheep. No rules, no utilities, no fences. . . 1919

Consensus is such that the factory is now owned by us. Who will b the delegate 2 discuss w/ the other factories how we coordin8 production?

Follow me here: https://twitter.com/rappincowboy

Friday, February 08, 2013

Who knew parenting would take so much out of a blogger?  Anymore I feel lucky to post anything, even a baby picture on Facebook.

Life is going swimmingly, nevertheless.  Daily I move more and more away from my solitary habits and toward the big community.  Wife, daughter, town life, house, nine-to-five job, regular meals.  No traditional church yet, but something similar perhaps.

Pretty soon I'll be completely unrecognizable as the skinny, rappin', truck-driving, bug-spray sprayin' cowboy in the movie.

It's for the best.

What I ache to do is write the real story.  Something almost anyone could relate to.

And maybe, when I find sufficient time, I will.

"Don't start me talkin', I'll tell everything I know . . ."