home at last

Well, it’s been a month. A month that felt like hell and high water was kicking me in the lip the whole damn time. Friday was my last day at work, so finally some pressure will be off for a while and thank hell for that. I tell you. Moving during covid, packing the entire house, training LeDoux as well as working full time — utterly overwhelming. And the whole time i just wanted to sleep and write. I don’t think i’ve written properly for a month. I’ve taken notes and had word prose coming out of my ears — why sure. But i haven’t had a novel thought since Laramie. Laramie which seems so far far away now. It already feels so far in the past but it was less than two weeks ago.

Yellow Texas flowers
Fields of flowers.

I didn’t want to leave Wyoming and it’ll always have a place in my heart, as will the Black Hills and the dead gulch of South Dakota, but i was ready to go back to Texas where i can buy my heart full of land to live on. Not wanting to move or pack boxes anymore or live through old furniture that has eight poor-man generations of farts and ugly seeds living in the lining. A new start in an old place with a clear vision ahead and dead reckoning the rest. It’s good to be back.

Palo Duro Canyon, TX

After all these long years out there in the states living and dreaming — we’re finally home in the Lone Star state. It sure is weird to be back. The place has changed a lot and i almost don’t recognise it. I’ve had job interviews, but selfishly i’ve been hoping it’d take a little while for them to get back to me so i have a chance to catch up on a few things. As i said. Friday was my last day working for my job in Laramie, Wy. Covid at least enabled me to keep my job whilst moving and a little thereafter. Everything was sent in, but no one spoke to me for the last week or two. And no thanks or goodbye. Not that i expected any. Riddance and good and feck away. Im glad to be unburdened by it all.

Dog off leash
LeDoux free running like a boss.

I wanted to restart this post once or twice but theres no real way to express learning for the first time what coming home really feels like. My heart pumps in my chest desperately trying not to wake me from my reverie, but im really here. Out in the fields amongst the horses and june bugs zooming at 80miles a minute into my face. Doux running like freedom could lift him. And on top of it all our apartment is ace with a view of the paddocks and outback of  piney bush n’ wood.

Dog and horse communicatin through fence
One of his new best friends.

Returning to Texas was like being welcomed with opens arms and served a dr.pepper in a glass bottle as soon as the welcome sign flew past the window. All that long time no see bullshit but this time it cut me up and i fell head over boots once more for the Lone Star State. Right now im unemployed and the place is settled enough that i hope i can work on my writing again next week. There are a few other ventures im hoping to dip into while i figure out my next steps. Some acting, stand up prospects and filming ideas. I’ve been considering trying to get an acting agent but i don’t if i want to drown myself down in that rabbit hole. I mean, i want to act but i dont know how it all works. Whether i’d need two separate agents for acting and writing. Meh. Time will tell. For now its crap o’clock and all i got is dreaming to do.

calamity B

I never thought that life could be beautiful. I didn’t think any good things were meant for me aside from giving people laughs at a night show, with me slipping out the back door before anyone could catch me in the light. What i thought doesn’t matter, what matters is that i admit that i was wrong. And i do. I admit. Hellfire and broken arms — i admit it.
I didn’t get where i am by luck. I gave in every time life got hard and i cried and i bled and i died over and over and over again, but i still went on with all those cigarette burns and piss sodden pants i was locked away for. I always said what if? I never believed a single dream to be too stupid to try.  And thats how i ended up in the BlackHills on a god damn stagecoach with the love of my life. Pulled by a sweet pair of Haflingers called Tuff and Tea.
If i had given up all those times that i thought the world did not belong to me, well i’ll go on and say what you’re not supposed to, the world would’ve been mighty poor with me six feet deep. A lot of kids in bad schools would’ve had to take their own beatings, cause i wouldn’t have been there to stand in for ’em while they ran to some place safe.
I’m good at a lot of things, and i’m bad at a couple, but lately i’ve been trying real hard to find out what it is to be me and living on every edge of the American frontier. Only now, the first day of the rest of my tomorrows, do i know that i’ll do it all. Eventually

There’ll be no choosing this over that, calling her over him or giving up that to live like this. I can’t be one thing, i’ve tried and in my heart it don’t make no sense.
I wasn’t born for that. I’ll be the artist my mother is, the musician my father is and i’ll be the parent my stepfather showed me — the heart that a man could be.
If those days come my way. I’ll write, i’ll be the runner i wanted to be, i’ll feel it all a little harder than most but thats how you get me. I live through all those pains, bad eggs and rotten boys so others can read about it in their sun room with a cup of tea, from a dusty porch with a bloodhound at their knee or simply for myself. I sit here and i write for all of you, but the most important of my writing is that every word, letter, broken heart and bloody gape its all for me. To keep on living through hell to see the sunset in Texas. To see it all. And maybe one day, when it’s time to die, i’ll be able smile at myself and say, “holy shit, you did it. You did it all. And yet still, you’ll never find sweet tea in South Dakota girl. Thank hell for that.”

So when you think that bad thought about giving in, or letting her walk all over you or whatever the hell pain you see yourself in. Turn the fuck around and go a different way. Get out of that sad bad marriage, let go of that ugly feeling you get when you look at yourself. Flush it out like Sundays Curry and move the hell on with your life. If this cynical bastard before you can do that — there ain’t nobody who can’t. Be you. Be selfish. Be good. Be human. So you did a few bad things — its ok they’re only mistakes. And help change the world.

Where words fail.
Words fail.

Deadwood Gulch, Dakota Territory


Well, my time came, there in the gulch of rotting gold mines, smoke and dead wood i turned the ripened age of twenty eight. I don’t feel any older. I dont’ feel aged at all. I reckon  i’ll stop recognising my birthday as time goes on, feels a little like i’m living on a timer. It’s not an attempt to escape the daunting journey of old age and perspiring into the casket — more a case of saving my brain from feeling like its got so much to accomplish and far too little time to do it in. I don’t expect to grow old much anyhow.

This year my birthday was something out of this world, something more fitting of the old world we all left behind — a world most of us choose to forget because we’re too scared to face how cruel we could be. Jack surprised me with a trip to Deadwood, South Dakota, a place i’d always wanted to see. I wanted to walk to the badlands, sculk around Chinatown and stay at the Bullock Hotel on Mainstreet with its ghosts and windows looking into the old thoroughfare. All of which we did. Together the best way i know how to be.


We rode the Cheyenne to Deadwood Stagecoach around town and made fast friends with the drivers. They asked us to move into the house down the street and start working the town with them. And that was only the first hours of our first full day, my birthday.  We found a new favourite haunt in the Wild Bill Bar, the original number 10 lot on discovery where Wild Bill Hickok was shot by Jack McCall, with a buckboard full of dead animals nailed to the wall and red lantern lights hanging from the embellished bar frame; we couldn’t resist the place. I hope to make it there often even though it’ll soon be nine to twelve hours away. I shall never forget my life, though brief, when it was in South Dakota.

We visited Mount Moriah where Hickok, Calamity Jane and many other familiar names rest in peace, at least for the most part. Seth Bullock and his wife rest on top of the hill (its actually a god damn mini mountain haha), forever looking over Teddy’s tower somewhere beneath trees on the other side of the gulch. It was murder for me getting up that damn hill but it was worth it, i of course insisted on wearing my finery, to see my sweet Calamity and pay my respects to her and her supposed lover of time gone by, all of which consisted of boots, linen shirt with long sleeves, my good felt hat and my best jeans.

I see a lot of myself in Martha Canary. I suppose all my years i always had been a little different. I cut off my hair and i dressed as boy for most of my youth, and even once my hair grew back, and to this day, im still largely mistaken for a man. The cussing and such dont much help on that account. All this while i was dreaming of living in a place where it always felt free and everything else was unnecessary. It was a dream i didn’t believe would come true. The difference between her and i, is that my choice of self neglect is not juicing the corn, i have long since made the decision not to drink but that didn’t hold up all that long in Deadwood. No. Its a place where the folks are good, the nights are something to aware of but the Black Hills are scared land and i have never in my life seen anything as beautiful. There were fresh water creeks laced with wild bank flowers of all colours. Red deer danced and pranced through life all safe and fine. A little ways away you’ll even see mountains and hills full of buffalo. Right now their babies are all red, small and unsteady but perfect. Anyway, Calamity to me is who i am by day, all cussing and unladylike.  However when my depressive state  and sad sad suicidal ideations take over i believe i become more like Joanie Stubbs. Thats what i’ve named the dark side of my life. Joanie and Jane. I don’t mean that in some weird fan obsession in regards to the show or movie, i mean that as a survivor and that is something that helps me keep on.


Deadwood for me was always going to be a game changer, i just had that feeling you know? And in my previous blogpost where i mention coming to the end of our travelling days, the end of finding some foreign state to live in being done. Well i don’t know.  I could move yesterday to be amongst the Black Hills. Its holy ground to the Indians, the red nation, whatever they prefer. We’ve caused a lot of harm on that land, any land, but to me that land is a powerful, a spiritual place and something i can never un-feel. It all lives there on those hills. Though we may never move there, its a place to come as often as a wage allows.


Theres something wild and strange about meeting real like minded people who just fit into your life like puzzle pieces created millions of miles apart. The folks doing the street and bar shows took to us quick and fast. They were all like us and they impressed us as i believe we impressed them. I never have had the feeling that i wanted to interact with people, because i always felt that my head and my heart were some place else. Somewhere i’d never find anyone worth talking to who was the same. But i found  folks in Texas, and i sure as shit found some in Deadwood to boot.

For now i believe thats all i have. Im trying to juggle a lot lately. Training LeDoux, working full time, packing house, keeping appointments and writing and reading. Sadly i dont believe i’ll have my photo editing time till im in my new place in Texas. We’ll see.

our travelling days

Well, we’re coming to the end of our life in Wyoming. Our travelling days toward a brighter tomorrow are taking one last trek along the American frontier. Down to the deep South where it all began like a midsummer nights dream of lovers and fairytales and foolish fools. With our bundles packed and LeDoux in tow we’re making our way home. To Texas. The God Of All Places. Truly.  I’m sad to see Wyoming go, but i’m proud to say i lived here and that i love the state. Forever i will. 

 But life is too damn short for long winters and 9 months of hermitting beneath blankets by a tiny nordic stove. Besides, I’m ready to settle on down and build a homestead with corals, barns and film sets. Horses galore and rescued burros. Im ready to live writing and making short films for the end of time, rescuing critters and driving around in new trucks. 

I will miss the cactus in the deserted plains of Laramie valley, the antelope prancing on the plains and the wild mustangs — how dear to me they are. Of course. I had hoped that Wyoming would be it, but whenever im away from Texas something is nagging at me. 

 I’ll miss the vistas and remember them fondly. And i shall forever be mad that i missed my chance at getting a good close up photo of a moose and that i never did see those grizzly bastards with the mean dispositions. There are many things i didn’t see that i wanted to, mostly because the winters are so harsh meaning we have only really had a month or two so far that hasn’t been snowing. South Pass city (the one i’m most bummed about not seeing), Jackson hole, the hole in wall, Grand Tetons and Yellowstone are for another time. Another go, maybe another life if thats how it all looks. Thats alright. Im learning to let the world go a little. 

We’ll return to Wyoming one day and what i did experience i am grateful for. I don’t believe i would’ve ever finished my novel in New England, and when i lived in Texas i was in a much younger mindset than i am today. That girl up there is still a dumb toddler but now she’s a little more devilish and easy. I found the place i gotta go, and now im going. For good. Thank you for the memories Wyoming, and im sorry to cut our little love affair short. But when the Lone Star State calls — you gotta go. 

jlit

where the wild horses go

A few Sundays ago i went out with Sarah. We took a trip out to the bottom of Sheep Mountain and sat amongst the wild horses that live there. We pointed and picked out the ones we thought were prettiest, we talked and we took picture after picture. It was supposed to snow and at the lull of that mountain we saw it brewing like an ugly pot of tea with too much old milk.
Suddenly we found ourselves in a curdled barrel of wind and sleet and snow.

I think i did pretty well considering i didn’t actually own a Zoom lens then, so had to make do with the equipment i did have. The zoom lens i want is around $1200, however — i had my eye on a cheap one to use until i can afford to spend a random $1200 from a single paycheck. Well — last week Jack jsut went ahead and surprised me with a little zoom lens and it works great! It does the job it needs too even though its not “top of the range” so to speak, not that that matters of course.


I’m looking forward to giving it a try out there one of these days. Photographing these animals is genuinely a dream come true for me, and i can’t really believe i get to do it on weekends now, and go to the barn and ride during week — working with good folks and learning to train horses. I feel pretty lucky.


It gives me the same feeling when i go sailing, this great surge of passionate inspiration rushing through me, desperately wondering if i wrote it all down and if i remember.
And i do. I always always always remember.
Anyway, It’s Sunday night now — i’m ready to go to bed soon and wake up to do the whole spiel of a work week all over again. I hope you enjoyed some of my wild horse photos from my first trip out to see them in Laramie. Over time i’m hoping to share a little more about my life at home with writing and whatever else. Its something i don’t really do much of because my house doesn’t look how i want it to, so i prefer not to take pictures inside. If that makes any sense? Bad lighting and dark corners and a lot of  wooden boards that whole deal. Also, when i’m home i don’t really do much. I’ll knit a sweater or work on a logo for the rescue — maybe take a quick 30 minute yoga session, but nothing really worth pulling out the camera for and snapping a picture of. I thought of perhaps taking pictures of my work station where i do my editing, videos and write. I guess if i fixed it up some it might be worth seeing.